Hanna Johansen

Lena

«Es ist einfach zuviel drin, in meinem Kopf, zuviel Vergangenes, das noch da ist, und es wird mehr. Mit jedem Tag, der vergeht, wird es mehr.»

Lena is waiting for her niece Sophie who is about to come and visit at four o’clock. Until then, there is still some time, waiting, a long time: yearning – for her niece and for the past?
«Lena» is the monologue of a 80 years old woman who hears the ghosts of the past in her head. Life is memory. When Lena pulls on one thread of her memories, an entire bundle of entangled threads is set in motion – always the same ones. The reason why Lena is so tensely awaiting Sophie lies deeper though: Lena has to admit to her niece that she is in fact her daughter. A secret between sisters. There was never the right moment to tell her. At the end, however, it needs to be said, for truth’s sake. The 80 year old Lena is the last one who knows about it.
In her novel, Hanna Johansen weaves a fine net of memories, allusions and doubts which turn gently around the unsaid and the unfathomable. In an obsessive but also oblivious manner, Lena recalls the old stories. No one interrupts her. The artfulness of the novel lies in what opens up through these ephemere memories: an era of inflation, war and economic miracle where it was impossible to wish for anything.

(Beat Mazenauer, transl. by Anja Hälg)

Hanser Verlag, München 2002

ISBN: 3-446-20131-9