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Andreas Maier

The Room

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"€œI never set foot in J"€™s bedroom . .. I presume that even J"€™s mother rarely set foot in there and only in genuine emergencies, perhaps because not even she was protected by the awe that he held for her. He wouldn"€™t let anything touch his mother, but that wouldn"€™t necessarily have stopped him from touching her breasts . .. Even though I spent a lot of time in my grandmother"€™s house as a child, I can"€™t picture J"€™s room at all. I don"€™t know where the bed was, though there must have been one, and I don"€™t have a clue what else could have been in there. I simply can"€™t picture it. Venturing in there during the years of the stench would have been hell. I would have died of disgust . .. Today, it"€™s my study. I"€™ve always written novels in there, but until now it had never occurred to me to write about my mentally-impaired-at-birth uncle J. About him and his room. About the house and the street. And about my family. And our gravestones. And the Wetterau, which is the whole world . . . "€œ With brilliant irony, Andreas Maier describes his uncle J"€™s fraught detachment from the real world and the life of small-town Germany in the years after World War II. The Room is both a memoir and a novel, the first installment of an epic family saga, and a love-letter to an unknowable soul.
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