fle­shy inter­face: am ende der spra­che gibt es kei­nen unter­schied zwi­schen einem kör­per und einem vers (at the end of the lan­guage the­re is no dif­fe­rence bet­ween a body and a verse)

Lec­tu­re by Sen­thu­ran Varatharajah

Our lan­guage of love is a can­ni­ba­listic lan­guage. We speak of uni­fi­ca­ti­on, of con­nec­tion, of: Fusi­on. We say: I love you to bits. Or: I want to eat you up.
Sen­thu­ran Varatharajah’s second novel “Rot (Hun­ger)”, which will be publis­hed by S. Fischer Ver­lag in the sum­mer of 2021, tells of an encoun­ter: of Armin Mei­wes, the so-cal­led can­ni­bal of Roten­burg, who 19 years ago met Bernd Bran­des on the Inter­net and, as pre­vious­ly agreed, kil­led him, cut him up and ate parts of him.
“This is a love sto­ry.” With this sen­tence the novel will begin. “Rot (Hun­ger)” talks about the lone­li­ness of the body, ie: of the sad­ness of our mouth. Of what, accord­ing to Batail­le, weighs most hea­vi­ly, that ero­ti­cism is so clo­se­ly lin­ked to annihilation.

In the ope­ning lec­tu­re “Am Ende der Spra­che gibt es kei­nen Unter­schied zwi­schen einem Kör­per und einem Vers” Varat­ha­ra­jah talks about the litera­ry and phi­lo­so­phi­cal con­di­ti­ons of the pos­si­bi­li­ty of his second novel, i.e. about a poe­tics of fra­gi­li­ty: about hun­ger and ver­se, and about how the lan­guage of our jaws only ever tells a love story.

in coope­ra­ti­on with Literaturhaus