Friends and partners, mothers and daughters: Mieze Medusa’s captivating new novel is all about women and their right to not give a monkey’s about ‘what people say about them’. Laura, a native of Tyrol, lives in Innsbruck and hates skiing, cosy romantic chalets and the magic of the Alps. Forty-year-old Frederike, known as Fred, still hasn’t settled down and is frequently out of work. She lives in Vienna, previously with Marlis – until she falls in love with musician Milla YoloBitch. Marlis wants a baby, Fred wants Milla, Milla wants to rap, Laura wants to draw comics, Laura’s sister Isabella wants a family and a career. And although not all their wishes will come true, in this novel Mieze Medusa makes a passionate case for allowing women to be, become and want anything they please.

Witziger und pointierter ist selten vom Dilemma zeitgenössischer Weiblichkeit erzählt worden: Zwischen den unerfüllbaren Forderungen der allgegenwärtigen Mütter und der Sehnsucht nach den stets abwesenden, verlockenden „Fernfahrern“ versuchen fünf Frauen in Bratislava und Turin, ihr eigenes Leben zu leben. Familienbande erweisen sich dabei als genauso verhängnisvoll wie die Anforderungen des oftmals virtuellen Datings mit all seinen (falschen) Versprechungen. Ivana, Lara, Olivia, Gloria und Veronika sind hinreißend widerständige Frauen, die sich mit Humor und ungewöhnlichen Lösungen gegen die alltäglichen Zumutungen wehren und auf ihrem Glücksanspruch beharren.

Cornelia Hülmbauer describes childhood and teenage years in the country side using snapshots and images created from memory. A car workshop and a four-person family are providing the setting for this story of growing up; intimate experiences are mixed with poignant, witty scenes. Her text is so tightly intertwined and her descriptions so accurate that one is almost able to experience taste, smell, sensations and desires physically. In front of our eyes the “image of the author as a young girl” assumes shape. Seamlessly effortless, Cornelia Hülmbauer succeeds in revealing the past itself as well as the act of remembrance and the development of a literary sensitivity through short passages.

A doctor gives the author some surprising news: she is creating life. She has one son already, and now she’s pregnant again. With twins. After much discussion, she decides against termination. She also discovers that being pregnant with twins seems to make her public property: doctors and relatives, complete strangers and friends, her yoga teacher and work colleagues – everybody wants to judge, offer advice, and touch her growing belly. Radically subjective and unshakeably good-humoured, Anna Katharina Laggner explores the mystery of being a trinity: she writes about her life with and among ‘Strangelings’, about erotic dry spells and unreasonable social demands, about her fears, and about the tremendous joy that remains a constant presence.