In Germany, the novelist Carmen-Francesca Banciu is introduced as a Romanian author; in Romania, she's considered a German author. In the United States and Britain, she writes, she is considered transnational.
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Image: picture-alliance/dpa/J. Kalaene
These days questions of identity, integration and belonging threaten to overwhelm us.
It is interesting to see how the complicated and contradictory processes of joining, belonging to, integrating in and being accepted by a new culture affect artists and writers.
Born in Romania, Carmen-Francesca Banciu has worked as a writer and teacher in Berlin since 1990Image: Marijuana Gheorghiu
Emotion plays an important role in culture. For this reason, even if it seems paradoxical, it can be more difficult for societies to accept outsiders as part of their cultures than it can be to simply formally add them to the national social security rolls. That's because culture lies at the heart of every society.
I regularly think about questions of identity, integration and belonging, especially when the Leipzig Book Fair nears — more so if I'm about to publish a new book, as I am right now. I'm often asked to talk about my own sense of identity as an author, and not just about my identity, but about those of other writers who were also not born in Germany. Where do we fit culturally? And to which literary traditions do we belong? How are we portrayed? What matters is not just how we define ourselves, but also how we are perceived and presented to others.
Authors with a "migration background," to use the official term, often have multiple identities. For some of us, German is our native language. It should go without saying that these writers are integrated into the German cultural scene. However, when Herta Müller was surprisingly awarded the Nobel Prize in literature in 2009, many German journalists did not know what to make of the fact. They wondered whether Müller, who was born in Romania, could be counted as part of the German cultural scene.
Regarded as foreigners
Integration does not mean distancing and disconnecting yourself from your past. Instead, it means settling in a new place and evolving — and possibly even passing something on to the society where you have settled and become accepted.
Authors whose native tongue is not German are often regarded as foreigners. They are seen as experts on issues that pertain to the countries they came from, but their opinion on domestic topics is rarely solicited, even if they have lived here for years and write in German. And there is also the gradually shrinking group of novelists who consider themselves foreign and continue to write in their native languages. A third group of authors choose to write in a — culturally speaking — "neutral" language, mostly English.
In Germany, I am almost always introduced as a Romanian author. But the literary scene in Romania has long considered me a German author. Things are different in the United States and Britain, where I am introduced as a German and Romanian writer or sometimes a transnational author. Maybe that's because multiple cultural identities are more common in those countries.
I have lived in Germany for almost 30 years. That's almost twice the amount of time I spent living in Romania as an adult.
Bestselling writer Poppy J. Anderson
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A Berlin writer
When I first accepted the German Academic Exchange Service's invitation to live in Berlin as part of its Artists-in-Residence program, I only wrote in Romanian. And my books were translated. I soon decided to stay in Berlin for good. And that meant that, in addition to using German in everyday life, I would write in the language, as well. I now write in German from the point of view of a Berliner who has a rich cultural background and whose broad perspective goes far beyond the national context — whether I am writing about Romanian events and experiences, life in Germany, or stories I picked up elsewhere in the world.
I have gradually conquered this language. I've made it my own. I feel safe and strong using it. And I feel daring enough to bend linguistic rules if that strikes me as necessary for my literary work. I am perfecting the clarity of my writing and trying to make my language even more expressive. I think that I thereby contribute to a nuanced, wide-ranging and enriching perspective on life that helps shed light on its various protagonists.
No matter what else I might be, I am an author who belongs to both the German and the Romanian cultural scenes.
Carmen-Francesca Banciu began writing in German in 1996. Her most recent books include "Light Breeze in Paradise" and "Berlin Is My Paris," which were originally published in German. Her next novel will be released in German in March.
Artists After the Escape: Saša Stanišić, from Bosnia to Germany
Saša Stanišić is a celebrated star on the German literary scene. Winning the 2015 Leipzig Book Fair Prize garnered him international acclaim. He came to Germany as a teenager, as a refugee from the Bosnian war.
Image: picture alliance/dpa/A. Burgi
Saša Stanišić, acclaimed writer
For a long time, books by the Bosnian-German writer Saša Stanišić were regarded an insider tip — before they reaped awards because they are so truly authentic. Painstakingly researched, his amusing stories from Bosnia ("How the Soldier Repairs the Gramophone") and absurd tales about trapping and traps set in the eastern German Uckermark region ("Trappers") are very successful.
Image: picture alliance/dpa/A. Burgi
The Visegrad Bridge
He clearly remembers things that were once important to him, he told DW — and that includes his hometown of Visegrad in Bosnia-Herzegovina. In his books, he incorporates life on the Drina River, and the tales of the old men he would listen to for hours when he was a child. The 16th century Visegrad Bridge, above, is a landmark in his hometown.
Image: picture-alliance/MAXPPP/S. Daval
Fleeing the war
The Bosnia and Herzegovina war came as a violent intrusion. The Stanišić family managed to flee Visegrad just in time, carrying no more than three brown suitcases with the bare necessities. Saša was 14 years old. They made it to the Serbian border, walked all the way to Belgrade and finally flew to Munich, where an uncle lived and vouched for the family.
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Familiar landscapes
On August 20, 1992, Saša Stanišić and his mother arrived in Heidelberg, an idyllic German university town on the Neckar River. The landscape was similar to what he had known back home, and he enjoyed sitting beside taciturn fishermen on the banks of the river, like he used to in Visegrad. His father, who had stayed behind in Bosnia to move his aging mother to safety, joined them later.
Image: picture-alliance/dpa/R. Wittek
Bridge to a new world
For the teenager, the castle ruin high above Heidelberg's old town was "the most beautiful ruin in the world." In Bosnia, the only ruins he knew were ruins of war. The stone bridge across the Neckar River was like a bridge that led to the past he left behind in destroyed Bosnia. The family lived with the uncle before moving to a small apartment of their own.
Image: picture alliance/ dpa
Arriving in Germany
After arriving in Germany, an amazed Saša and his mother would walk the tourist paths. The cobble stones and street lights on the bridge looked strangely familiar but still foreign. The German language was a mystery for the 14-year-old. No one understood them, and they understood no one. He knew the German words for soccer and chocolate ice cream, and then learned to say "My name is …" in German.
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Language is key
Many languages echoed along the streets of Heidelberg's old town, a hotspot for tourists from all over the world. No one took notice of the Bosnian refugees. At school, Saša Stanišić enjoyed piecing together sentences in German in his language class for refugee children. At age 15, he began to write poetry, even in German. He was beginning to feel at ease.
Image: DW/A.Gassen
Young and ambitious
The German Immigration Office kept close tabs on the family. Following the 1995 Dayton Agreement, the family was meant to be deported to Bosnia, a move officially termed "voluntary return." Thanks to a friendly official's advice, young Saša applied to college and was allowed to stay in Germany. Eventually, he wanted to teach German as a foreign language.
Image: Kirchgessner
College life in Heidelberg
Saša Stanišić left his family home in Emmertsgrund, a migrant community on the outskirts of Heidelberg, and moved downtown. The fact that he was a refugee from Bosnia no longer mattered. The young man concentrated on his classes, completed his M.A. and went to the US for a year.
Image: DW/A.Gassen
Prize-winning literature
As a student, he began to write literary texts, honing his skills at the German Literature Institute in Leipzig. In 2005, one of his stories won the audience award at the Ingeborg Bachmann Competition. It launched his career as a German-language writer. Meanwhile, Saša Stanišić has written bestselling books, and received many literary awards.
Image: picture alliance/dpa/H. Schmidt
A German writer
Stanišić, meanwhile the father of a young son, received German citizenship in 2103. His parents, forced to leave Germany in 1998, moved to the US state of Florida. Stanišić is politically active as a member of the PEN center. He is also a great observer of the people surrounding him — they might find themselves pop up as characters in his next novel.
