Posted Sunday, July 18, 2004; 8:34 BST And the Moral of The Story Isn't BOOKS: With her gritty, imaginative children's novels, CORNELIA FUNKE is an international hit
Plenty of wonderful, widely read German authors have trouble finding success in translation. But Cornelia Funke is fast becoming a global brand, with hit children's books in Australia, the U.S. and the rest of Europe. Yet the world depicted in Funke's stories isn't pretty. Willi, the protagonist in the Wild Chicks series, is regularly beaten by his father; in The Thief Lord, runaways Prosper and Bo live on the streets of Venice, surviving by petty crime. "I want to write stories that touch on real life with all its ups and downs," says Funke, 45, who is based north of Hamburg. Kids (and adults) like Funke's gritty realism: over the past 17 years, she's written more than 40 books, which have sold 5 million copies in 28 countries. Funke, who started out as an illustrator, depicts real-life experiences in an entertaining, not merely educational, mode. "Pure moral tales simply don't work," she says. Louise Holzhauser, 13, agrees: "I love the way her stories take unexpected turns." Life in Germany has had plenty of twists — why shouldn't its children's novels? — By Regine Wosnitza
All of Germany Is His Stage THEATER: Playwright LUTZ HUBNER takes Germany's social and economic crises and makes them into funny, poignant dramas — and audiences are loving it
Given the persistence of Germany 's economic slump, it's perhaps not surprising that the show playing to full houses at Berlin 's Maxim Gorki Theater these days is about a financial meltdown. In Bank Play: The Money, the City and the Fury, author Lutz Hübner has artfully turned the 2001 crash of Bankgesellschaft Berlin, which was bailed out with €2 billion from the Berlin city government, into theatrical drama. That rescue forced many city departments to cut back on services, but the play leaps forward to 2006, when Berlin is gripped by revolution because people can't get their money from the bank. A revolutionary committee sets up a truth commission that stages a trial for those responsible for the crisis. Computer-nerd warlords incite mayhem in the streets, and
NATO troops put down the insurrection. The play has been a critical and commercial hit, with Die Welt calling it "often stunningly funny."
"It's difficult for the arts to deal with the economy," Hübner says. But he thinks theater is the ideal medium in which to try because plays can respond quickly to current events; witness the spate of recent British theater pieces about everything from the war in Iraq to Guantánamo Bay . Hübner says he decided to write the play because of a "feeling of injustice" among Berliners that the culprits for the bank's crisis were never punished.
Hübner, 40, is one of Germany's most prolific playwrights: he's written 20 works in the past eight years. His best-known play, A Boxer's Heart, explores Germany's generation gap through the relationship between a down-and-out teenager and a septuagenarian former boxer. Another popular play, Orifice of the Heart, is a psychological study of Mark Chapman, the man who murdered John Lennon. Hübner says his tales of crisis and conflict appeal because audiences "are looking for things that deal with their problems." But Bank Play's remarkable run may be threatened by the same economic crisis it dissects. Government cutbacks mean it's "more difficult just to make art," Hübner says. Maybe that will be the subject of his next great play. — By Charles P. Wallace.
A Twisted Palette PAINTING: Think Germany's mood is dark? Check out MARTIN EDER'S sick dogs and malevolent kittens. No wonder he's so hot
In Knocking on Wood, an oil painting by Martin Eder, a woman with a haunting smile reclines on a sofa that appears to be drifting off into an ocean landscape. A frightened poodle sits at her feet fitted with one of those protective collars that make the animal look like it's wearing a lampshade around its neck. The dog's name is Elvis, and Eder is a big fan of the original Elvis, having once made a pilgrimage to Graceland. Knocking on Wood is typical of the style that's made Eder one of the most up-and-coming artists in Germany: a command of traditional figurative painting combined with kitschy and faintly apocalyptic subjects. "Eder is able to reinvest vigor in very traditional images," says Michael Lynne, co-chairman of New Line Cinema and an avid Eder collector. Eder is part of a new wave of German painters driven by a desire to return to the roots of the country's art. A lanky 35-year-old with big hands and a fondness for cowboy hats, Eder works in a sprawling five-room apartment on the edge of Berlin's hip Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood. For him, Elvis the dog — and kittens, another favorite subject — represent an abuse of nature, an attempt to shape it to human needs. "That's what interests me," Eder says. "Insanity, cruelty, horror often occur within the confines of the home. To get at that, I have to work with figures and objects." Elvis may have crooned "Don't be cruel," but for Eder the strategy definitely works. — By William Boston/Berlin
Auf Wiedersehen, It's Been Good to Know You [Mar. 24, 2003]
As U.S. bases move east to New Europe, communities that used to host thousands of American troops come to terms with their loss
Mogadishu at 60 Miles an Hour Arms merchants are once again doing brisk business after a rapid change of power in this tough town, but so far the peace has held
The Year of The Nuke A rundown of the world's nuclear powerhouses, and what to expect in the coming months
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