Memoirs

Never having developed much of an interest for poetry, I had not known of Pablo Neruda before I flew to Chile. Once there and developing an interest in its literature and recent history, it is virtually impossible to avoid him. Someone had furthermore recommended his Memoirs to me before. So I felt it appropriate to bring them along on my trip even when I only managed to read through most of it on my flight out of the country. I really liked it. Quite honestly and in general, Chilean literature and culture based on the little that I have seen and read has made a really positive impression on me and I would love to read more of and about it. Preferably not in translation but in the Spanish original of course, but I guess that's just a pipe dream for the time being.

Neruda is one of those mythic early 20th century characters who seem to have perished from the earth since. A world-traveler, politician, philosopher, poet, bon vivant (in every sense of the word if you get my meaning), a communist and rich man. He spent time in India, China, Europe and of course all over his native Chile. He fled through the mountains into Argentina in order to escape his arrest and was in Spain during its monumental civil war. His life portrayed in broad strokes reminded me of Malraux (whom he fleetingly mentions in his Memoirs).

The book itself is a fascinating portrait of his life and times. I find it difficult to sum up the life of a man of his size in a few short sentences, but he follows more or less straight his development from life in rural Chile (near Temuc), to becoming a down and out poet and student in Santiago, to his career in the Chilean foreign service. His life long dedication to Communism and the people, Chileans and others. In his words: "The poet cannot be afraid of the people." His language is pristine (even in translation, did I mention that I hate having to revert to those?) and the book starts out with one of the most beautiful openings I have ever read: "In these memoirs or recollections there are gaps here and there, and sometimes they are also forgetful, because life is like that."

Again, I will not degrade Neruda to even an attempt on my part to truly reflect here the manifold issues and topics he addresses in his Memoirs. His descriptions are fascinating and the reader feels as if he really begins to understand the people, area and time-frame that Neruda lived with and in. The mistreatment of the natives by the Chileans, the poverty of the miners, the literary scene of Chile, life as an expat in the early part of the 20th century.

There are only two aspects that I would like to point out, cold political scientist that I am (and no poet). The life that Neruda lead is met with envy by the reader, especially his twenties, but his treatment and sexist perception of women served like a cold shower to me. Women are seemingly there to serve him in a subservient position. No equality, no companionship is possible. He shares his minds with friends not with the women in his life. Arguably, his relationship with Mathilde is different, but even here the words that were stuck in my head were that in his life with her, he composed poetry in the morning and she typed his verses up in the afternoon. I wonder whether he even realized what he was missing out on, or maybe partnership as equals were simply impossible to even imagine for him back then (and considering his background). I don't know, but I did feel bad for him on that account.

Finally, last point: Stalin. Neruda died in 1973. He wrote his Memoirs not long before that. Yet, for him Stalin was a great man. The 20th Congress seems to have not tarnished this image much. Maybe realizing in the fall of your life that whom (and what) you believed in was not and had never been the ideal you were looking for is simply too much to ask of a man. Still, I found that problematic.

What else? I need to read some of his poetry now. But for that I should really work on my Spanish a bit upfront.

Juncker Enters the Fray

A bit belated, but here another post I did for the Atlantic Council.

Merkel's Speech Before Congress

Another blog post for the Atlantic Council. This time focusing on the reception of Merkel's speech before Congress.

Travelling in Chile

Most people who know me will be aware of my aversion to travel. This might sound ironic considering my life style but I would beg to differ. I do not usually travel I live in a variety of places. There is a difference. Staying in a place for a few months even, speaking the language more than only in a cursory manner, having a routine and repeatedly going to the same bar/court/whatever, developing acquaintances there are important elements for me of getting to know a place. I feel like a two week visit to a country, residing in a hotel and incapable of communicating with large swaths (if not all) of the population, is a regrettable exercise that I am not a fan of. Yet, here I was going to Chile, my knowledge of Spanish limited to ridiculously few phrases and expressions and I didn’t even have the time nor the money to stay longer than for a bit more than a week. Being a conscientious traveller I did at least organize myself two books by Chilean authors as an introduction to the country, but quite obviously my understanding of the society, its people and the country as such remains rather ludicrous.

Following this theoretical preface I have to admit that I absolutely loved it though. I flew down with an American friend of mine, staying with a French friend who lives there and obviously speaks the language. From a language point of view my stay turned into a crazy potpourri of languages, with Spanish, French, English and sometimes even English intermixed. At times I felt incapable of formulating even a phrase in one language anymore (I sincerely believe that the brain has a hard time adjusting to too many languages intertwining, if you do so too much you end up speaking English with a French grammatical structure and German word choices). The surprise of my trip was the ease with which I could communicate with Chileans (who for the most part simply do not speak English), not that I could say more than a few basic requests and comments but I understood far more than I had expected too (7 years of Latin and fluency in French do some good even in South America I guess).

In general Chileans made an extremely good impression on me. The few more wide-ranging and interesting discussions I had with people (who spoke English or French) were extremely informative and helpful in understanding the country. Even everyday interactions, buying food or asking for directions, led to lengthy (usually rather one-sided) conversations – about what we were doing there, the (then) upcoming match between Germany and Chile, or simply the best way to find the bank across the street.

Santiago de Chile, a city of about 6 million, is in fact not all that jazz. It is at least as interesting as any city of that size, but it’s buildings, its downtown, even its people are just a tad bit too European or Western – business suites, the metro, alcohol-impregnated bar streets, dance parties dominated by bad pop music, an elegant erstwhile artistic barrio (Prenzlauer Berg, Williamsburg, Montmartre…). While globalization hasn’t hit to the same extreme it has in the West the city is not as different as one could expect, differences abound but are more of the nuanced kind than that they are glaringly obvious.

What struck me was the lack of attention I (we) received not only in Santiago but in the country side as well. People were interested once we started talking to them, but for the most part folks didn’t really seem to notice us or care about us being there. We spent one evening in a bar in a very rural area, surrounded by 50-year old, exceedingly wasted farmers who didn’t even flinch at our presence. I did get stared at a few times, especially in mid-sized towns and crappy (down to earth) restaurants, but I had expected more of that quite honestly.

Once you leave Santiago behind the differences to the West become a lot more striking. We drove into the Andes and hiked some in a national park there. In order to get there, we took our (well, my friend’s) trusty VW bus (a bitch to drive, but a sweet car nonetheless) up a dirt road for maybe 45 minutes in the ever dimmer dusk. I was driving along peacefully at 40 k/h when all of a sudden I realized that the pedestrian at the side of the road was actually a guy on a horse. Quite honestly, I never really got used to it, but we saw a lot of those. On the highway the sheer amount of people crossing, biking along, walking on the side, hitchhiking, simply hanging out (ok, maybe not) was quite astounding. Also, the word rural takes on a whole other meaning in some of these areas. When we hiked up El Endrillado we were one of only three groups making it to the top that day, the only foreigners and most definitely the least prepared one.

What else? Incredible dunes on an empty beach (and when I say empty I mean empty, it was just us three on there). Beautiful landscapes in the mountains as well as at the ocean. Valparaiso, a (semi-)picturesque port town built on a variety of hills and boasting (some) beautiful early 20th century houses. Random remnants of boastive fascist/communist architecture interspersed into the cities ensure one never forgets about Pinochet. You smell more weed out in the open and on the street. Why are there so many cops and why do a lot of them wear bullet proof vests? In the same vein why are cop cars equipped as if they could be attacked by a savage mob any minute? Everybody and their momma (seriously) warned us in Valparaiso to watch out and not to get robbed (with knives, even guns), I don’t think anyone even gave us a cross look. Played 2 on 2 against some random kids in Valparaiso, I love this game.

So, after Turkey, my second semi-developing country experience. It was worth it. Next time I need to actually speak the language and stay longer. Travelling just gives one a taste, it’s like an appetizer with no a main dish following. Chile was great though.

Curfew

I had found José Donoso randomly on Wikipedia under a grouping of Chilean authors. His book, Curfew, chosen as randomly proved as perfect to whet my appetite while flying towards Santiago de Chile. Donoso tells the story of a popular left-leaning singer, not a hero, no communist activist, not active in any kind of resistance, coming home to a Chile run by Pinochet's government agents after 13 years of a self-imposed exile. The day of his arrival happens to coincide with the wake for Matilde Neruda (the late poet Pablo Neruda's wife) and our hero learns about himself and how Chilean society has evolved through his old friends that he runs across constantly.

Donoso in a novel with autobiographical elements, the author went back to Chile with the dictatorship still very much in place, offers a haunting picture of how every day life in Chile was impacted by the whims of and fears from a dictatorial and corrupt regime. Apart from a disappointing Isabel Allende novel a few years ago, I had never read anything by a Chilean author. This book was not only easily accessible (unlike some of the other books I appreciate) but it also gave me a real taste of (pas) life in Chile and a desire to know more about the country and its culture. While most people undoubtedly will not go to this forlorn country on the coast of South America, Curfew is a great way of exploring Santiago without actually being in the country.

euro topics

I've been subscribing to a very useful newsletter called euro topics for a few weeks now. It provides an overview of interesting articles published all over Europe with the main focus being on political topics. The idea obviously is amazing, I read French, German, and English, but getting the Spanish, Romanian, or Bulgarian point of view on things is extremely interesting.

Yet, I noticed a sizable caveat today which made me remember the potential pitfalls that relying on a translation entail. Yesterday's newsletter included a commentary taken from Le Quotidien on Juncker's candidacy to the EU Presidency. Here is the excerpt:

"The Luxembourg newspaper Le Quotidien is all for Luxembourg's Prime Minister Jean-Claude Juncker becoming president of the EU. But it questions whether Juncker will be able to win over the rest of Europe: 'Other European heavy-weights have also thrown their hats into the ring. In 2004 it looked like everything would have gone Juncker's way if the European Constitution had been adopted. But now it's a completely different story. The British are determined to back Tony Blair come what may. Although he does enjoy an incontestable international popularity, his 'Eurosceptic' track record is dubious to say the least. But it remains to be seen whether the Europeans want Juncker as much as we do here in Luxembourg.'"

The problem is that this is at best a misleading translation of what Le Quotidien actually says (I noticed this only because I was working on a blog entry of my own on Juncker and had wanted to read the whole article in the original). The columnist for example never explicitly takes position in favor of Juncker's candidacy. The belief that Juncker would have had more success in 2004 is based on diplomatic circles not on the writer's personal opinion. Finally, the concluding sentence, while faithfully translated, is completely taken out of contact as it orignally refers to Juncker declaring before the elections in 2004 and 2009 that he would leave (for Europe) if not reelected. It does not comment on his popularity in Luxembourg today or even his compatriots' approval of his ascendancy to the EU Presidency.

I still am thrilled by the general idea and will continue to subscribe to the service, but I guess the lesson of the day is that one should never completely rely on something translated by someone else.

German Foreign Policy Under its New Government

The third installment of my work with ACUS: German Foreign Policy

Please note that I have nothing to do with, the irrelevant at best, title.

A Gathering of Old Men

After Mozart and Leadbelly A Gathering of Old Men is the second book by Earnest J Gaines and in a way I was surprised not to be enthralled. Maybe my expectations were too high, but something just wasn't right about this book. Gaines talks about the South, he talks about race, he mocks religion (or the priest in any case), on the face of it I would have to love the book. Yet, nothing ever remains as simple as it seems.

Gathering of Old Men tells the story of a group of old, black men who have suffered indignation and abuse by white people all their lives and finally decide to make a stand and defend one of theirs suspected of the murder of a white man. Gaines tells the story by switching from one character to another, providing varied view points while not becoming incomprehensible or impossible to follow. The problem of the book lies simply in the fact that it is too simple. It's message is too straight forward, the characters develop no depth (with the possible exception of one important non-main one) and the reader always feels longing for some more food for thought. The cover of the book is adorned with a very nice folk art picture of three old black men with guns. I liked that picture. I like folk art, but I guess as far as literature is concerned I like things a bit less obvious and straight forward.

Obama wins Nobel Peace Prize

Slightly late, but here is my second post for the Atlantic Council:
The View from Europe

Portrait d'un inconnu

Portrait d'un inconnu de Nathalie Sarraute a été une lecture frustrante pour moi. J'ai sans doute essaye de lire trop vite (comme je fais par l'habitude) mais ma (toujours limitee) connaissance du français en combinaison avec le degré de difficulté de la langage et du stream-of-consciousness (y a-t-il un mot pour cela en français?) ont assure que je n'ai pas beaucoup compris. Malheureusement. Je n'aime pas échoué comme ça et j'aime bien pense que cela ne m'arrive pas souvent, mais cette fois ci je n'ai juste pas réussi de me mettre dans le bouquin. Largement, j'ai évidemment qu'il y a un narrateur qui décrit un père et sa fille qui habite dans sa maison, mais je ne veux même pas savoir combien de détails (petits et grand) m'ont échappé. Pire, je n'avais même pas l'envie de retourner et d'essayer de comprendre mieux ce qui se passe et ce que lui (le narrateur) et elle (l'auteure) veulent nous dire. Lecture frustrante et sans beaucoup de compréhension, et je ne peux même pas réclamer que le livre n'est pas bien, cela n'a juste pas marcher pour moi peu importe la raison.

Requiem for a Nun

"The past is never dead. It's not even past." This might be a reminder to some Germans trying to leave Germany's pre-1949 history behind, or French ignoring the evils of colonialism, or in general anyone pretending their history doesn't matter anymore since it is (too far) in the past. yet, it is by William Faulkner as always talking about the South or more specifically his heroine's, Temple Drake, past. Requiem for a Nun (I feel like there aren't many of his books that I haven't read yet by now, and I am already looking forward to re-reading some of the ones I read a long time ago) is a bizarre novel (maybe something that Sartre would call anti-roman) in a play. Or a play in a novel. Faulkner tells the early story of Yoknapatawpha County in a novelized form, while telling us of a (white) mother's quest to liberate the (black) killer of her infant daughter her uncle(-in-law) serving as facilitator of this attempt. Faulkner aficionados will be familiar with most of the main characters (Temple Drake from Sanctuary, Gavin Stevens from all over the place, Gowan Stevens, but also the early population of Yoknapatawpha County, Sutpen, Compson, Ratcliffe (whose name will become Ratliff over time, Satroris...) and the combination of a historical novel and a modern play, one interrupting the other, makes for early incomprehension of the reader. I feel having read Sanctuary, already knowing Gavin Stevens and most of the characters from Yoknapatawpha's early days enabled me to appreciate the text much more than someone without this knowledge would have been able to.

What else can I say? I love Faulkner's writing, not merely because it is convoluted and takes forever to get to the point, not even because it twists and turns within one single sentence, maybe not even because his topics elicit a hard to understand pleasure in German middle class kid - what is my relation to the American South after all? what have I to do with racial relations from the early 19th to the middle of the 20th century - not just because his body of work has to be seen as one with interlinks between his novels and characters occurring constantly; no, his writing satisfies me through its intricacies, its long-winded sentences which seemingly never come to an end and which embody a Southern life style which move slowly, rejects outside influence and is willing to fight against it even when it might share the outside's intended goals. Read it, especially if you want to know why Jefferson is called Jefferson, I won't tell you.

Huis clos & Les mouches

J'ai normalement un peu du mal à me mettre au théâtre autant que dans la prose. Je préfère largement le théâtre joué. Mais Sartre dans ces deux pièces, Huis clos & Les mouches une fois de nouveau réussit à me convaincre. Ses œuvres littéraires sont vraiment très forts. Voire très forts. Surtout Huis clos; très court, est d'une force frappante. Un homme et deux femmes sont à l'enfer, ils y souffrent à l'éternité et ont quand même du mal à réaliser où ils sont et ce qu'ils attendent. Les mouches au contraire est beaucoup moins direct, beaucoup plus difficile à comprendre. Je ne veux même pas savoir combien m'échapper dans ce texte. Je devrais vraiment lire une interprétation. La pièce est une variation d'une ancienne histoire grecque. Le frère et la femme d'Agammemnon payent pour l'avoir tué, ses enfants le vengent mais payent en leur tour.

Je place Sartre dans mon panthéon des écrivains vraiment grands déjà. Je sais qu'il est connu plutôt pour ses essais politique ou philosophe, mais sa prose sans doute vaut le coup.

The Lisbon Treaty and EU Foreign Policy

I just started working for another blog. Here, my first post.

Is NY still a democracy?

Really just want to throw this out there, because I find it quite shocking. Basically, Mayor Bloomberg is ignoring a decision made in a city-wide referendum limiting officials to two consecutive terms running for reelection. (NYT) Sounds like the kind of thing against which the US would run amok if it happened in Central or South America and involved a left-wing President. To be fair, the government (aka, the CDU) of Hamburg also ignores its citizens' decision-making (SZ). Still, this seems kind of crazy in the biggest and (by name) most important US city. Today the NY Times made its readers aware of the fact that in two Democratic runoff elections (for public advocate and comptroller - whatever the fuck these people actually do) 8% of eligible Democrats actually voted. That means that 2% of the city's population decided on who will - undoubtedly - fill these positions. If that is the future of democracy, I sincerely do hope the last guy around will remember to turn the lights off.

The Power and the Glory

An old friend of mine had told me that I should read Graham Greene at some point. We are not in contact anymore, nor friends, but I did finally get around to read one of Greene's books. The Power and the Glory tells the story of a priest on the run in a Mexican province after a socialist uprising has razed all the churches and killed or corrupted all priests. The last remaining 'whiskey priest' devoid of any adherence to Catholic decorum and dependent on brandy constantly keeps on the move trying to avoid a ruthless, if morally sound, Lieutnant trying to serve his people by killing the religion still living within their midst.

Greene portrays this particular Mexican province as a desperate and desolate place and he does a great job describing a variety of stock characters most of whom are not deeply explored even while Greene offers a powerful portrait of them. The pious mother trying to instill religion into their children, her critical son, the poor and hypocritical Judas, the alcoholic Brit trying to leave, the atheist German happy on his farm. I cannot say that the story enthralled me per se, but I did eat up the people populating it. Maybe this was due to the philosophical or political questions touched upon in the book, religion and the state and the people, simply not being of any significant interest to me. I'll read another of his book and I can recommend him, but reading the book with the high expectations I had, I couldn't help but being slightly disappointed.

Hygiène de l'assassin

Je suis plus ou moins sur que je n'avais pas encore lu un livre d'une autrice belge née en Japon avant et je dois avouer que son livre est presque si bizarre que cette combinaison d'origines. Hygiène de l'assassin d'Amélie Nothomb décrit plusieurs entretiens par quatre journalistes différents avec un gagnant du prix Nobel génial, cynique et insultant. Il est peu clair ce que Nothomb veux dire au lecteur avec son livre. Il y a des indices qui font penser a une critique de notre société sur-médiatisée ou des journalistes peu critiques et trop facile a impressionner, mais le dernier entretien prouve cela absurde. Effectivement, le seul résultat de la lecture de ce livre est le respect devant la façon comment l'autrice (je sais, mais il faut être féministe un peu, non?) a l'écrit. Elle montre une bataille intellectuelle entre les journalistes (surtout la dernière) et la personnage principale qui est très bienfait, très bien écrit même exhilerant parfois. Le seul problème avec l'histoire est qu'on ne comprends jamais a quoi elle sert. La fin du livre laisse tomber le lecteur sans qu'il comprends pour quoi ces évènements se passent ou s'ils ont un sens.

The Armies of the Night

Norman Mailer is one of these numerous figures whom I have heard more about than I actually know or have read (if that makes sense). Noam Chomsky, who appears in this book, is another. I did read The Naked and the Dead is the, seemingly, dark ages, when I was too young and read too fast (I have virtually no recollection of the book anymore). So, I had no idea what to expect of The Armies of the Night, yet Mailer still managed to surprise me.

History as a novel, the novel as history. The book is split in two parts, the first one consisting of Mailer's experiences (recounted in a third person narrative, quite disconcerting throughout the book I found) attending an anti-Vietnam protest (the March on the Pentagon) in the fall of 1967. While the content of this part is quite factual, he lived all of it after all, Mailer tells it like a novel. The second part of the book is a recount of what happened in the lead up to the March and during the following 48 hours, while Mailer was in jail. It is the journalistic or historical part, but really the novel since Mailer wasn't actually present. This made for a very intriguing concept and split I found.

What is fascinating besides the story which is amusing, captivating and informative at once is to see Mailer portray himself as egocentric and selfish at the same time that he goes to jail for a cause and pokes fun at his persona's need to be the center of attention. He manages to step away from himself and provide the reader with an objective description of himself even while it remains clear that Mailer considers himself no slough.

It might be argued that the book today is more interesting because of its stylistic audacity as well as the author himself than the very journalistic and micro-orientated coverage of one demonstration against the Vietnam War, but I felt that the book is worth it out of all three counts. One not necessarily overwhelming the other and a glimpse into the war's opposition at the same time proved instructive as well.

Europe's Socialists Suffering Even in Downturn

In response to a really bad NY Times article:

To be blunt, this was just bad reporting, leading to an article containing factual errors as well as analytical ones. This starts out with the article's headline equating the SPD with European socialist parties. Actually, the Social Democratic Party as it is correctly named within the text itself is not a socialist party anymore in rhetoric either (it wasn't in fact long before that) since the publication of its Godesberger Program in 1959.

The author then claims that the 'Socialists [...] [are] fighting to preserve systems that voters think need to be improved.' That might well be true in some cases, in Germany the SPD lost voters precisely because they tried to reform the system in government with a red-green coalition from 1998 to 2005. The SPD is being punished not because it refuses to adapt, but because it tried to reform. The Left which refuses the need for social reforms and is the real socialist party in Germany, against the odds has succeeded to establish itself on the national scene. Steven Erlanger's claim cited above is simply not true then, the reverse is true for Germany.

Finally, it is of course not true, that the left (Greens, SPD, Die Linke) has a structural majority in parliament, that is exactly what changed on Sunday.

There are additional analytical mistakes concerning the relation between The Left and the SPD, but these issues are, to some extent, up to debate while the aforementioned three points are simply wrong.

Une mort très douce

Simone de Beauvoir et son Deuxième Sexe est sur ma liste des lectures depuis longtemps. Au lieu de cela je viens de finir un bouquin d'elle plutôt essayiste et très personnel, Une mort très douce sur la démise de sa mère. J'avais beaucoup aimé les trois romans par Sartre que j'ai lu et j'ai été un peu surpris d'apprécier l'écriture de Beauvoir autant que celle de celui. Le livre n'est pas captivant comme soi, la fin est claire dès le début, mais les réflexions philosophique de l'auteure sont d'une puissance frappante. Je n'ai pas été capable de les suivre d'une façon très personnelle, mes parents sont vivants encore et je crois (et pense et espère) que cela ne changera pas pour les années qui viennent, mais Beauvoir est une monstre intellectuelle et la regarder réfléchir est un plaisir. Je ne veux pas constaté qu'elle n'aurait pas de sentiment, elle souffre de la maladie de sa mère comme tout le monde le ferait, mais elle a une capacité de s'éloigner de soi-même et d'analyser ses pensées qui est fascinante et crée de la jalousie. Ayant dit tout cela son œuvre est écrit très simple et il n'est pas un grand travail de la littérature, il montre juste que l'auteure est impressionnante et donne envie de lire plus d'elle.

Das Gut Stepantschikowo und seine Bewohner

Dostojewski ist leider einer dieser Autoren, welche ich viel zu jung und schnell gelesen habe. Ich werde Schuld und Suehne sicherlich noch einmal lesen, doch fuers erste beendete ich gestern Das Gut Stepantschikowo und seine Bewohner. Ein furchtbares Buch, ganz ernsthaft. Basierend auf einer Geschichte von Molière dessen Titel ich mich nicht mehr entsinne, erzaehlt Dostojewski die Geschichte eines Mannes, welcher selber zu oft getreten wurde und nun als Tyrann ueber einen Haushalt herrscht in welchem er eigentlich nur zu Gast ist. Die Art und Weise wie dieser Foma Fomitsch seinen Gastherren misshandelt und quaelt ist furchtbar erniedrigend. Der Geist des Lesers straeubt sich noch staerker gegen die Selbstgeisselung des nominellen Hausherren, welcher den ihm moralisch, staendisch sowie nach Vermoegen unterlegen Foma, wegen einer leicht intellektuellen Ueberlegenheit, welche dieser in eine staendige moralische Dominanz verwandelt, richtiggehend verehrt und jeden Fehl und Tadel nur bei sich selbst sucht (und findet).

Das Buch ist also grausam und furchtbar zu Lesen, ja fast nur mit Widerstand, aber dies liegt daran, dass Dostojewski unglaublich erfolgreich ist darin diese abstossende menschliche Konstellation darzustellen. Ich weiss deswegen wirklich nicht, was ich von diesem Buch halten soll. Es war sehr, sehr unangenehm es zu lesen, aber kann ich Dostojewski vorwerfen, dass es ihm gelingt den Menschen von seiner schlimmsten bzw naivsten und deswegen mitleiderregendsten Seite zu beschreiben?