Simone Hirth
- Austria -
Simone Hirth was born in Freudenstadt / Germany in 1985. She studied at „Deutsches Literaturinstitut“ in Germany. After various removals and occasional jobs she settled down as a freelance writer and proofreader in Gablitz / Wienerwald.
She was awarded various prizes and scholarships, among them „Hermann-Lenz-Stipendium“ in 2008, Scholarship of „Kunststiftung Baden-Württemberg“, „Staatsstipendium des Österreichischen Bundesministeriums für Kunst und Kultur“ and „Schwäbischer Literaturpreis“ in 2014 as well as „Hans-Weigel-Literaturstipendium“ in 2015 / 2016.
Various publications in literature magazines and anthologies. Her first novel „Lied über die geeignete Stelle für eine Notunterkunft“ was published in autumn 2016 at Kremayr & Scheriau. In December 2016 her poetry will be published in the poetry book „Netzwerk: Poesie“ (Edition Aramo 2016).
After various removals and money jobs Simone Hirth has settled down in Lower Austrian Totzenbach, where the freelance writer and corrector not only furnished her writing desk, but also enthusiastically dedicates to gardening of vegetables. Sometimes we not simply write down our dreams, sometimes we write for our dreams to come true, who knows?
The brush turned
I swished the scythe
through the thicket
and the brush
turned into grass.
I’d long given up
waiting for anything
I sowed some seeds
and a garden grew.
I couldn’t twig it
but watered it
with my red watering can
when the rain stayed away for few days.
© of translation – Renée von Paschen
The next award for her writing followed soon – Hans-Weigel-Literaturstipendium 2015 / 2016. And her first novel „Lied über die geeignete Stelle für eine Notunterkunft“ was published in autumn 2016 at Kremayr & Scheriau.
Also in prose, in short texts as well as in her novel, the poet is very present in the construction of texture.
Who once approached polishing of the precise, condensing and exactly looking at the detail in the context of the whole, generally sticks to this quality, no matter which genre.
In this respect it has to be mentioned that the first publication of Simone Hirth is treated as a novel, however, it is no coincidence that the title contains the terminus „Lied“ / „song“. Also the critics reflect that the prose of the writer is dominated by a poetic concept: „A small-piece book with a lot of dreamlike-surreal images. Where the different worlds confront, the novel develops its own comic touch“. (Juliane Fischer, Falter)
The publishing house states enthusiastically „With every sentence Simone Hirth is taking the reader by surprise. She approaches literary borders and by doing so she meets the real. Cynicism is converted into gallows humour, language turns into experiment. An extraordinary novel debut!“
What regards the context, the writer has not only put up high the expectations, but also circles in her poetry again and again around the same topic, which she also addressed in her novel: she raises the question for the essential – transformed into the diction of the Russian fairytale of the same name, the question could be: „How much soil does a human need?“
In other words, Simone Hirth always is interested in the more than urgent question for the really essential, for the reliable. Here flashes an unmistakable claim, an attitude, which long, long time ago was labelled with „non-consumption“, which then tried to declare itself as „new modesty“ – with no long durability and even less credibility – and which as a quality nearly seems to be anachronistic in this more and more crazy greed for the newer, faster, better.
And therefore the writing of Simone Hirth means a consequently exercised attitude, which likably not confronts us with missionary diligence, but also renders irony and subtle joke as well as completely handpicked images, which in its intensity go far beyond mere atmospheric zeitgeist attitudes in individual situations.
Gustav
We come to terms,
fisheyed,
but signed and dated.
We buy ourselves new chairs.
We acquire favourite pastimes
and find a solution
for full vacuum cleaner bags and loneliness,
we believe in Gustav,
the rabbit, and poetry,
reverently.
We usually eat sausage.
It’ll be ok,
it’s on the radio,
legislative bills and furniture polish,
where should sign with an x,
when should we lose our heads,
washing powder, family planning, mustard,
and yes, we believe
our furniture’s doing fine.
© of translation – Renée von Paschen
Or – illustrated with a poetic short text:
In the Horsetails
I don’t want to buy any summer shorts, I don’t want any free minutes, I want to lie amongst the horsetails and forget all my access data. I want the pubs to drink up my beer and the cigarette machines to chew up my cigarettes. I want a compost heap in my bicycle basket and always need a bottle of rancid oil to lubricate the city when its business cogwheels begin squeaking again. I don’t want a weekend house. I don’t want monthly contact lenses. I want an annual subscription for sorrel, I want to take my beer into the pub and my lungs into the state forests, and I want to swallow a swallow or two now and then without digesting them.
© of translation – Renée von Paschen
Poetry
-
Avalanches off the Roof / Unter den Dachlawinen
-
Gone / Davon
-
Dumb Dialectics / Die dumme Dialektik
-
Glacial Boulders / Findlinge
-
Gustav / Gustav
-
Hah! / Ha!
-
A Beautiful Garden / Ein schöner Garten
-
A Shaky Spring / Ein wackliger Frühling
