born in 1939 in Pichl, lives and works as a freelance writer in Klagenfurt. Numerous awards; f.e. the “Wilhelm-Raabe-Prize” 1984, the “Heinrich-Gleißner-Prize” 1994, the “Adalbert-Stifter-Prize” and the “Cultural Prize of Upper Austria” 2005.
An anonymous narrator makes a complaint to the postmaster of a small Bavarian country post office about the weaknesses of the postmen: one is an alcoholic, the second a womaniser, the third has succumbed to a cultural vice. Of course, the com-plainant’s discontent also applies to the butcher, the vet, the teachers and others – in short: to the inadequacy of the world. The writer, a local resident, keeps complaining about the postal delivery. It is unreliable, he says; the postal delivery is the most unreliable thing. If that’s the way it is, says Blumauer, if that local resident is complaining about the postal delivery, then the following will happen: I shall complain about my moped.
From Austrian writer Adalbert Stifter to Rawlplugs, from Sebastian Brant’s “Ship of Fools” to the alarm system that his wife would like for Christmas, from holy relics to unholy bigots: Alois Brandstetter addresses the minutiae of everyday existence and the big questions of life with equal measures of inquisitiveness, insight and irony. Encounters with curious contemporaries and contemporary concepts give rise to reflections that are full of knowledge and worldly wisdom. The “certification of existence” which Brandstetter has to provide to the German Pension Department every year inspires him to deliver one of the most assertive and meaningful “signs of life” in this wonderfully enjoyable book.
Witty and inquisitive, Alois Brandstetter goes in search of his patron saint and namesake Aloysius. The journey takes him to Mantua in Italy at the turn of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The thoroughly chaste Aluigi, who died young, has just been beatified, and his mother is looking to have his portrait painted for the new church being built in his name. The job is offered to Rubens of all people, whose work celebrates the pleasures of the flesh, but he turns it down and recommends the boy wonder Van Dyck, nineteen and highly talented. Letters fly between Mantua and Amsterdam. Will Aluigi’s Portrait ever be painted? Perhaps not on canvas but certainly in the form of an enchanting historical fantasy created by Alois Brandstetter.
In the summer of 2012, a suggestion box was stolen from the Don-Bosco-Church in Klagenfurt. Did the thief confuse the suggestion box with the offertory box even though it had "Tell us what you think! Suggestions, requests, complaints" written on it? Or was the person who took it fed up with people being fed up with church and state? Or had the thief grown tired of the constant moaning and groaning and ranting and raging wearing out suggestion boxes all over? Or was it some kind of harmony-freak who needed his fix of fixing things?
Alois Brandstetter sheds light on this bizarre case. His criminalistic and detective investigation is poetically funny and reveals a number of strange coincidences and clues. An exquisitely witty read!
The three postmen Ürdinger, Blumauer and Deuth have all retired. Every week they get together at the local pub, reminisce about the old working days and comment on changes in today’s world. They speak about everything and everyone, including the national mail’s partners. The scope of their conversations extends to subjects such as crime (sometimes), “feminism” (more frequently), folklore (every now and then) and zoology. After all, there’s lots to be discussed: whether it’s the postmistress’ refusal to deliver mail to the local nudist camp or the two men who robbed the post office disguised in burqas…
The mental capers sparked by these discussions exceed the imaginable. The Austrian Post’s mascot fox says speaks as he pleases. Alois Brandstetter is still an unrivaled master of words, presenting us with a whirlwind of subjects and anecdotes.
In August 1791 Maria von Herbert from Klagenfurt writes a letter to Immanuel Kant in Königsberg. She is asking the ageing celibate for comfort and advice – because Maria von Herbert is lovesick. This is historical documented. The young and talkative amanuensis of Kant is answering her in the name of his master and he responds to problems, the young woman is not suffering from. This is documented in Brandstetter’s way. Kant’s amanuensis reflects on various peculiarities and strangnesses; f.e. whether one can admire Kant, when one is admiring Goethe as well. And last but not least he reflects on a question, that affects all of us: how to get rid of lovesickness?
This one-letter-novel is humorous, witty and smart, full of sarcasm as well as sapiency. Greetings from cant is a book is comfort and advice – but, most of all, it is a pleasurable read.
Unscramble the code!
Alois Brandstetter investigates in the secret world of graffiti.
“Korks” says the writing on the wall, over there, and there again, and there and there... Is it a code? A message? Or just a signature? Like a detective, Alois Brandstetter starts to track down meaning and origin of the graffito and adds his philosophic thoughts on manifestations of youth culture, resistance or simply the sweetness of forbidden fruit. But what is the motivation behind these markings? Starting from Josef Kyselak, the Austrian ancestral graffiti writer who even left his mark on the emperor’s desk, Brandstetter describes his personal struggle with the adversities of life. And there are reasons abound for irritation: from compulsory wearing of helmets to higher speed limits, from social injustice to the alleged right on individual freedom, from Günter Grass to...
While chasing “Korks”, Brandstetter draws an extensive picture of our society today. The world of graffiti artists, however, remains mysterious... An eloquent, funny and witty companion through the empire of the “unknown vandals”.
H. C. Artmanns prose has lost none of its magic, and feels as powerful, surprising and multi-dimensional as ever. Every line of these 1800 pages is full of the effervescent spirit, the immense wealth of form and imagination, and the subtle wit of this stand-alone figure of Austrian literature. There are few real wonders in the world but H. C. Artmann is one of them.