Arnon Grunberg

Hope

Vase

Should a novel give us a hope? Should literature enhance our capacity for empathy? It’s tempting to respond with “yes” to these questions. First of all, this is what people like to hear and also novelists are hoping for love and affection, love and money are the great corruptors after all. But for one reason or another we like to believe that it’s only money that can corrupt us.
Yes, art cannot do without a sense of idealism, a sense. And writing itself is an act of hope, as often has been said, so often that it became a cliché, whatever, clichés can be useful.
Probably even Adolf Hitler had hope when he wrote “Mein Kampf”, Céline had had hope when he wrote “Bagatelles pour un massacre”, not all hope is useful for mankind. Before we celebrate hope, we should keep that in mind.
I would like to praise despair, not all despair sucks life out of you, not all despair generates art or literature that is worth your while either, but without a certain sympathy for despair especially the novel cannot be understood or appreciated, I would even say without some sympathy for despair comedy cannot be understood or appreciated.
We are used to the idea: we are desperate, we should see a doctor, get some medicine.
I would say: enjoy your despair. Despair is to life what clay is to the vase.

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