Crazy

Informationen zum Autor Benjamin Lebert was born in Freiburg in 1982 and has lived in Munich since he was eight. He writes articles for the young-adult supplement of the Süddeutsche Zeitung , Munich's leading newspaper. Klappentext A smart, funny, poignant, very modern autobiographical coming-of-age novel, written when the author was sixteen years old. Like Catcher in the Rye, Crazy appeals to the teenager in us all. Benni himself is partially paralyzed and a serial failure (he's been kicked out of four boarding schools in his short life and has just entered his fifth). So he's a little odd, but he's cool and he finds other strange boys to hang with. Together they set out to experience what they can: girls, booze, sex, philosophy, drugs, sex, books, music, sex-pretty much everything whatever. And Benni lets us in on "the crazy life" he figures is the only way to deal with the crazy world.Concerning my son, Benjamin Lebert's, partial paralysis, it says on it. How many times have I pushed this envelope into a teacher's hand? A dozen at least. Now I get to do it again. Jörg Richter reaches hastily for the envelope. His eyes glint with curiosity. He opens the letter. To my horror he reads it out loud. His voice is clear and full of understanding:Dear Mr. Richter, My son Benjamin has had a partial paralysis of the left side of the body since birth. This means that the functioning of the left side of his body, particularly the arm and the leg, is limited. In practical terms, this means that he either cannot perform or has difficulty performing such fine motor tasks as tying his shoes, using a knife and fork, drawing geometrical figures, using a pair of scissors. In addition, he has problems with sports, cannot ride a bicycle, and has difficulty with any movement that involves a sense of balance. I hope you will give him your support by taking note of these things. Many thanks. Warm regards, Jutta LebertAs the last word is read out, I shut my eyes. I want to be somewhere else, where explanations are superfluous. I slowly go back to my parents. They are standing by the wall, holding hands. You can see they're glad to have explained things. Jörg Richter looks up. He nods. "We will pay attention to Benjamin's handicap," he says. No questions. We go up to my room. It's on the second floor, not far away. You go down a long wooden corridor that opens onto a long wooden staircase. The walls are snow white. We follow the headmaster upstairs. I hold my father's hand. Soon we reach another corridor. "From now on you're at home here," says Jörg Richter. The walls are no longer white but yellow. It's meant to be an appealing yellow, but it misses. The floor is covered in gray linoleum. It doesn't go with the yellow walls. The corridor is empty. The other kids aren't back yet from winter vacation. Beside one of the windows is a plaque: THE TEACHER IN CHARGE OF THIS CORRIDOR IS LUKAS LANDORF, it says. ALL REQUESTS FOR MONEY FOR SHOPPING IN THE VILLAGE, ALL ISSUING OF POCKET MONEY, ALL REGULATION OF BEDTIMES AND AUTHORIZATIONS OF ANY KIND ARE HANDLED BY HIM. LUKAS LANDORF IS IN ROOM 219. Mr. Richter points at the plaque. He twinkles. "Lukas Landorf will be your teacher, too. You'll like him. He's new here himself. Unfortunately, he won't be back from vacation for another couple of hours, but I know you'll have plenty of time to get to know him." I look around for my father. He's standing behind me. He cuts a large figure. All strength. I don't want to see him go. My mother is already inside. I follow her. It's a small room; it looked quite different in the brochure. The pale parquet floor is cracked and you can see holes in it. There's a bed squashed against each long wall. Both beds are old farmhouse style. In the middle there's a big flat desk with two chairs. One of them has a cushion with the eagle on it. Two cupboards for clothes against the wall. One...

#8220;Anything he writes is, by definition, pitch-perfect.”–The New York Times Book Review

Autorentext
Benjamin Lebert was born in Freiburg in 1982 and has lived in Munich since he was eight. He writes articles for the young-adult supplement of the Süddeutsche Zeitung, Munich's leading newspaper.

Klappentext

A smart, funny, poignant, very modern autobiographical coming-of-age novel, written when the author was sixteen years old. Like Catcher in the Rye, Crazy appeals to the teenager in us all.

Benni himself is partially paralyzed and a serial failure (he's been kicked out of four boarding schools in his short life and has just entered his fifth). So he's a little odd, but he's cool and he finds other strange boys to hang with. Together they set out to experience what they can: girls, booze, sex, philosophy, drugs, sex, books, music, sex-pretty much everything whatever. And Benni lets us in on "the crazy life" he figures is the only way to deal with the crazy world.

Leseprobe
Concerning my son, Benjamin Lebert's, partial paralysis, it says on it. How many times have I pushed this envelope into a teacher's hand? A dozen at least. Now I get to do it again. Jörg Richter reaches hastily for the envelope. His eyes glint with curiosity. He opens the letter. To my horror he reads it out loud. His voice is clear and full of understanding:Dear Mr. Richter,

My son Benjamin has had a partial paralysis of the left side of the body since birth. This means that the functioning of the left side of his body, particularly the arm and the leg, is limited. In practical terms, this means that he either cannot perform or has difficulty performing such fine motor tasks as tying his shoes, using a knife and fork, drawing geometrical figures, using a pair of scissors. In addition, he has problems with sports, cannot ride a bicycle, and has difficulty with any movement that involves a sense of balance. I hope you will give him your support by taking note of these things. Many thanks. Warm regards,

Jutta LebertAs the last word is read out, I shut my eyes. I want to be somewhere else, where explanations are superfluous. I slowly go back to my parents. They are standing by the wall, holding hands. You can see they're glad to have explained things. Jörg Richter looks up. He nods. "We will pay attention to Benjamin's handicap," he says. No questions.

We go up to my room. It's on the second floor, not far away. You go down a long wooden corridor that opens onto a long wooden staircase. The walls are snow white. We follow the headmaster upstairs. I hold my father's hand. Soon we reach another corridor.

"From now on you're at home here," says Jörg Richter. The walls are no longer white but yellow. It's meant to be an appealing yellow, but it misses. The floor is covered in gray linoleum. It doesn't go with the yellow walls. The corridor is empty. The other kids aren't back yet from winter vacation. Beside one of the windows is a plaque: THE TEACHER IN CHARGE OF THIS CORRIDOR IS LUKAS LANDORF, it says. ALL REQUESTS FOR MONEY FOR SHOPPING IN THE VILLAGE, ALL ISSUING OF POCKET MONEY, ALL REGULATION OF BEDTIMES AND AUTHORIZATIONS OF ANY KIND ARE HANDLED BY HIM. LUKAS LANDORF IS IN ROOM 219.

Mr. Richter points at the plaque. He twinkles. "Lukas Landorf will be your teacher, too. You'll like him. He's new here himself. Unfortunately, he won't be back from vacation for another couple of hours, but I know you'll have plenty of time to get to know him."

I look around for my father. He's standing behind me. He cuts a large figure. All strength. I don't want to see him go.

My mother is already inside. I follow her. It's a small room; it looked quite different in the brochure. The pale parquet floor is cracked and you can see holes in it. There's a bed squashed against each long wall. Both beds are old farmhouse style. In the middle there's a big flat desk with two chairs. One of them has a cushion with the eagle on it. Two cupboards for clothe…