Marcel Möring: 'Only in my study do I feel at home'

Writer Marcel Möring got off to a flying start in literature, with his award-winning novels Mendel's legacy (1990), The great desire (1992) and In Babylon (1997). But upon the publication in 2006 of Dis, the first part of a trilogy, literary critics made mincemeat of him. The second part Louver Mountain was mostly poorly received. The final volume appears today: Eden.

The divine comedy

The idea for Dis, the first part of Marcel Mörings trilogy, originated back in the early 1980s, when he accompanied a photographer friend in capturing the night before the TT motorbike race in his hometown Assen - a violent affair at the time. That gave him the idea of modelling a novel after The divine comedy By Dante. His Hell, Louver Mountain and Paradise were at Möring Dis, Louver Mountain and Eden. The final section is about a boy born in an ancient forest. Neither he nor the village he grows up in has a name. When he has to flee from an act he did not commit, he has to look for a new home.

While the three parts of the trilogy contain the same themes - such as identity, exile and the search for a home - they do not all have the same protagonist and consist of independent storylines. The form is also unusual; Möring uses different literary genres, remarkable typography and interweaves other art forms such as drawings, paintings and the comic strip into the novels. Moreover, they are packed with references to great works of world literature, of which the Divina Commedia of Dante and Ulysses by James Joyce are the most striking. In short, the three books together form a grand, bold and fascinating literary experiment of the kind you don't often come across in Dutch literature, and reading them is an experience.

Grand and compelling

You worked on this trilogy for 18 years. Once you said it seemed particularly tedious to you to write a cycle: 'Nothing for me'.

'Originally, I also wanted to write one big, compelling, all-encompassing book, but what I wanted to tell just didn't fit into one book; it became too complex - literary artistry. A book should always remain accessible and readable, even if the form is different from usual. A reader should be able to lose themselves in it. This is not a classic trilogy, with a beginning, middle and end. I myself call it a mental trilogy. The parts are thematically related, set in the northeast, and some characters play a role in all parts. For me, everything I have written exists in the same world in my head. Therefore, it feels very natural for me that characters pop up in different books, like now, for example, Mendel Adenauer from my debut Mendel's legacy returns in Eden.'

An immersive, all-encompassing book - you had lofty ideas about it beforehand.

'Yes. Not only because of the experimentation with form and storylines, but also because the books are a commentary on the art of novels, literature, and developments in society. Eden responds, for example, to the fact that we would rather prescribe pills to people when they are unhappy than try to improve society.

The novel is about memory, past and history, and the story you make of it, consciously or mostly unconsciously. The story we communicate to each other - who you are, where you came from, what you did - is all fiction. Life is not causal; it is fragmentary chaos, from which we forge our own story.

Eden feels to me like a great final chord. It turned out the way I wanted it to. I am satisfied with how the two different stories intertwine, how they interact without any direct link, creating a kind of harmonic resonance between the two storylines. I am satisfied with the design of the novel - I took care of it myself - and with the imagery in the book.'

'Serious nag'

So how fraught is its appearance? Dis has been slammed by a large proportion of reviewers, and also Louver Mountain got some bad reviews.

'I don't lie awake about it. In England and Germany, though, they have been well received and think I have a good sense of humour, while in the Netherlands people think I am a humourless, serious nag. What should I do with it? Critics often focus on what is hip and fun, but I don't care about that. I write for the reader who is not concerned with what is fashionable now.'

The novels were called a 'pseudo-puzzle for fake intellectuals' and 'humourless kitsch'. You were accused of 'posturing', 'fiddling' and 'megalomania'. You were called 'one of the worst writers in the Netherlands'.

[Laughs] 'No, the worst writer in the Netherlands. And what's more: a bad person.'

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Literary legacy

That doesn't go easy on you, does it?

'God, what am I to make of that, of someone saying I am a bad person? I am not used to anything else. Before I wrote novels, all sorts of things were said about me too. I grew up in Assen, and half the town thought I was gay and the other half that I had fucked almost all the women in Assen. And neither was true. So whatever, I don't care what people say about me anymore. When I wrote my first novel, I didn't think it was a great business model and that it would make me loved and recognised. I did it because I thought it was important.

At Dis I knew it would make people pissed-off. I had hoped they would think about why that was the case afterwards, but they didn't. What is still being done with our literary legacy? We've had Multatuli, Gerrit Krol, Bert Schierbeek, James Joyce, you name it. And what does literature consist of today? Mainly little books with a beginning, a middle and an end, close to reality. Little pussy stories. Is that what the world is about? Fiction is a cúnst form, not simple entertainment for people who have nothing else to do for a while. Critics, writers, publishers have all invested in the novel as it is today. And that is a business.'

Beginning, middle and end

Too easy, too boring?

'I am not interested in reality - that is the domain of journalism. Nor in a story with a beginning, middle and end, because in this world there is no beginning, middle and end at all. Fortunately, there are books appearing internationally that make use of what literary history has produced and dare to experiment. In England, for instance, Paul Kingsnorth was longlisted for the Man Booker Prize with The Wake, a novel written in a kind of pseudo-Anglo-Saxon. Almost no dog can read that, not even English; it still works best when read aloud. His second book, on the contrary, has a kind of beckettian, introspective, bonkers language. And there are more writers like that, like Jeanette Winterson and Ali Smith. The novel is like compost: things need to be turned upside down from time to time so that they can breathe.'

'It ends so badly!'

In this trilogy, you make plenty of references to world literature, playing with the genre, structure and form of a novel. So that experiment was anything but appreciated here.

'That's interesting, isn't it? Why is that so? In England and Germany, there are Dis and Louver Mountain very well received. Why have we in the Netherlands moved so much towards the easy-going middle? And why is it mainly about the big money? When I In Babylon I performed a lot at festivals abroad. After a while, I thought: I keep running into the same people, like literary flotsam going around in a maelstrom. When my American publisher said he hoped I would write another book like In Babylon would write, I was shocked. I have a radical attitude, am not good at shades of grey. So when you say something like this to me, almost without exception I do the opposite. I want to find new ways. Not just tell a story, because form and structure are also important. I want to take the reader to another world. At In Babylon there were many readers who said, "It ends so badly!" That's strange, isn't it, that we have produced a whole generation that is disappointed when a story ends badly? Since when do things end well in life?'

Stories and identity

The formation of stories is one of the major themes of the novel.

'It's about past and history, about memory and the story you make of it, consciously or - mostly - unconsciously. That story is what we communicate to each other: who you are, where you came from, where your parents came from, what you did. But that's all fiction.'

Did the protagonist of Eden therefore no name, and comes from a village with no name?

'Yes, he ís a story, brought about by his wandering through Europe, not only through a territory, but also through the time in which he lives. Alongside this man's story is the storyline of psychiatrist Mendel Adenauer, who can only cure people if he hears their story. This characterises psychoanalysis more than other forms of therapy: it revolves around a person's life story. That consists not so much of facts, but of the things one tells about oneself. Life is not put together in an analogous, causal way; it is a fragmentary chaos, out of which we forge a story.'

The walking Jew

What fascinates you so much about that theme?

'When you talk about who we are, about identity, we very quickly end up with the easiest things. So: you are black, or you are Jewish, you have red hair or only one leg. However, that is only part of your identity. Identity is your story, your history, but also the story of people around you, and that of generations before you. How we look at the world is determined by our story.'

To what extent do your themes - identity, exile and being at home - relate to your Jewishness?

'Of course it plays a role in my life, if only because the current affairs of the world constantly confront you with the fact that things do often go just a little bit when it comes to Jews. I am the walking Jew in the flesh; I never feel at home anywhere. I have moved very often and come from a family that moved constantly. I don't feel any connection or rooting to any place. I thought that as I got older, at some point I would feel at home somewhere. But still I am not at home anywhere, verging on phobic. There is only one place that is "home" for me, and that is my study. Travelling - even going shopping at the Albert Heijn supermarket - I really hate it. Sometimes I think: if I just bought a house outside, in Twente or Drenthe, maybe I'd be happy then. But unfortunately it doesn't work like that.'

Is writing a way for you to feel at home somewhere though?

'I think so. Only in my study do I feel comfortable. When I go in there, I enter another world. Curtains closed, light on, the walls full of material I've collected: maps, photos, books. As a child, I used to sit in my room and write. That was my way of withdrawing from reality. I don't like reality and the world, nor do I have much with people. To feel at home somewhere, you have to feel wanted. But others can tell me that I am wanted, but deep down I don't believe it.

However, that also offers independence, making it easy for me to do things that I suspect will bring me a lot of criticism and trouble. My next novel will be science fiction. Not with spaceships, but a story set in the distant future. I can already imagine the hassle that will result. But I just do what I feel like and what I think is important. Because I think that's the essence of life, that you strive to do what you think is most important. Because you can just kind of sit on that train and wait for the end station to come into view. But realise: you only go on the train once.'

 Eden is published by De Bezige Bij, €19.99