Book World
Latest Trends in Contemporary German Literature

Contemporary literature in Germany is a leaden tanker with a checkered reputation. In the preface to the 2023 German edition of the literary magazine Granta, editor-in-chief Thomas Meany claimed that young writers in Germany have been forced into a system that keeps them "provincial." Three years later, German writer Alexander Schnickmann took it a notch higher in the online magazine The Diasporist, arguing that an “elaborate psyop” had allowed the literary establishment to convince everybody—including itself—that “unconventional narrative styles, confusion, and disruption, basically anything that deviates from linear, realistic novels," was horrific and repugnant to the average German reader.

A look at recent trends lends weight to this criticism, even if the intensity of the rhetoric is not entirely justified. In Germany, book sales are driven primarily by name recognition and subject matter. Authors succeed either by virtue of their status, for ex. Daniel Kehlmann, Christian Kracht, or Caroline Wahl, or by tackling a popular topic trending in the public sphere, whether in op-eds, on Instagram, or within the current political landscape.

Jewish life, Diasporic Literature, and the GDR

This explains the sudden influx of new works exploring the complex landscape of Jewish life in Germany and the aftermath of October 7. The most prominent example is perhaps Dana Vowinckel's second novel, Anton and Alma, a literary panorama of Jewish life in Berlin—before and after October 7, 2023. The story behind Sandra Gugić's novel Niemand weiß, dass wir hier sind (Nobody Knows We Are Here) underscores the intense controversy and urgency surrounding these debates. Originally scheduled to be published by dtv in autumn 2026, the publisher and author parted ways due to "differences related to content." The book will now be published in the spring by the Austrian publishing house Jung und Jung. In the novel, Gugić recounts the story of a woman who personally witnessed the shifts in Israeli society following October 7, 2023.

That said, the majority of writing on Jewish life also falls under another major theme—one that seems to obsess German-language fiction writers as such: Herkunft (origin/heritage). Ever since the breakthrough of post-migrant literature, narratives revolving around family origins have been en vogue. Authors like Anna Schapiro or Esther Dischereit focus on characters grappling with their Jewish heritage. Bachmann Prize winner Lena Schätte’s Das Schwarz an den Händen meines Vaters (The Black on My Father's Hands) or Ruth-Maria Thomas’ The Second Greatest Love (Die zweitgrößte Liebe) define origin largely through the lens of social class, illustrating how this socioeconomic background shapes their protagonists' lives.

With a view to the state elections in autumn 2026, and the alarming wins of the far-right AfD, the East has also come into sharp focus. Here too, it features as a place of origin, as seen in Hendrik Bolz's bestselling sequel Aus Ruinen (From Ruins), a book that seamlessly incorporates the theme of social class. Other authors choose a different approach, such as Peggy Mädler’s Die Selbstregulierung des Herzens (The Self-Regulation of the Heart) or Lukas Rietzschel’s Sanditz. Both authors seek to parse the realities and mentality of the GDR, tracing continuities to the present day that help explain the East's dramatic shift toward the right. Of course, one cannot overlook the many authors who lived through the GDR and continue to draw on that experience for their work, such as Ingo Schulze, Jenny Erpenbeck, or Christoph Hein.

Unconventional Subjects and Forms

Predictable as this may be, the sudden emergence of religion and mysticism as a key theme proves genuinely surprising: the poet Kinga Toth, for instance, explores prayer as a lyrical form in her recent volume Mariamachina. In her debut novel Das Buch Mechthild (The Book of Mechthild), Julia Koll traces the life of a medieval mystic. Meanwhile, in HundesohnSon of a Dog), Ozan Zakariya Keskinkılıç, features a character whose Muslim faith in no way is at odds with their queer identity.

Koll's novel, in particular, highlights an emerging stylistic shift toward essayistic forms. Inspired by Anglo-American authors such as Kate Zambreno, this hybrid form is steadily gaining momentum in in today's German literature. Clara Heinrich's Pusztagold or Lara Rüther's Affenliebe (Monkey Love) are two outstanding examples. The boundaries between these works and memoir, along with Kaleb Erdmann's autofictional novel Die Ausweichschule (The Alternative School)—are fluid. Finally, a research-based novel like Helene Bukowski's Wer möchte nicht im Leben bleiben (Who Does Not Want to Stay in Life) can also be seen as a representative of this movement in its broadest sense. Like Julia Koll, Bukowski complements her historical research with fictional episodes to fill in the gaps of a young woman rigorously trained as a competitive pianist in the GDR.

Literary Magazines as Trendsetters

Far from being provincial, contemporary German literature continually surprises through radical experimentation in form (such as Karosh Taha's Gulistan) or draws inspiration from movements in France (social realism) or the Anglo-American world (essays). Local literary magazines, which play an indispensable role in driving contemporary literature forward, offer an excellent overview of the topics currently preoccupying writers. Edit and Bella Triste deserve special mention here. Both grew out of a hotbed of creative writing programs in Leipzig and Hildesheim. Delfi, an outstandingly hip, post-migrant magazine that offers insights into contemporary fiction in productive dialogue with international literature. Ultimately, an overview of current trends and topics testifies less to provincialism than to the fact that contemporary German-language literature follows standard market logic: what sells well is produced in greater quantities. This naturally clashes with the artistic aspirations of authors and critics, but it also ensures that those unconventional narrative styles, confusion, and disruption that Alexander Schnickmann misses so much can at least be explored in the shadow of these major trends.

About the Author

Kais Harrabi was born in Tunisia in 1989, grew up in Bavaria, and lives in Leipzig. As a literary critic, he works primarily for the radio stations of the ARD and Deutschlandfunk. He is also part of the critic team for the 3sat program Buchzeit. Since 2025, he has been a jury member for the Leipzig Book Fair Prize.

Translated by Zaia Alexander

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