Munich is home to many writers who foster a very special connection to their city. Our author wants to find out what influence Munich has on their work. This time, the spotlight is on Annegret Liepold, who tackles a difficult, but important topic in her debut novel.
On a freezing cold December day, Annegret Liepold and I slip through the front door into the Hildebrandhaus – an imposing villa with a garden that houses the Monacensia. As Munich's literary archive, library and museum, the Monacensia preserves the city's literary memory and attracts book lovers from all around. It's a fitting starting point for our walk, as the author spent a writing retreat here last summer. During this time, she worked on her first novel, curated events and invited people to meet other writers. Mona and Anne – a perfect match, I think as we settle onto a sofa on the first floor. After all, this city archive is a place where things are collected that will become memories in the future. And this is precisely the theme that runs through Liepold's debut novel “Unter Grund” (Under Ground), which will be published in February 2025.
“It's about a young woman who joins the right-wing scene in Franconia in the 2000s,” Liepold begins. “Ten years later, the protagonist returns to come to terms with what happened. I explore the question of how right-wing structures function in the Franconian countryside.” The author, who was born in Nuremberg, has investigated the desecration of Jewish cemeteries in her home region. When asked about the challenges this project posed for her, she replies: “I knew I could only write from the perspective I come from – that of having Nazi grandparents.” A clarity that strikes me instantly. “Once you have been radicalised, you can't recall how it happened, because you’re caught up in the ideology. But in the beginning, there’s just a blurred feeling of anger – a longing to belong.”
As Munich's literary archive, library and museum, the Monacensia preserves the city's literary memory and attracts book lovers from all around.
For this emotional search for clues, the author was awarded the City of Munich's literary scholarship. But like many writers, she was filled with doubt before finding success. After graduating from high school, the author definitely did not want to go to Munich. Her goal was the Leipzig Literature Institute, one of the most prestigious writing schools. She felt she needed someone to tell her that she could actually write. And that she was allowed to write. “Until I finally realised that it was actually I who had to give myself permission to write,“ she reflects today. And I think: Luckily, she did.
Liepold eventually moved south to study comparative literature and political science at the LMU in Munich. Later, she applied to the Bavarian Academy of Writing. When she is not working on her own stories, she spends time at the Munich Literaturhaus, where she mainly organises seminars with authors and leads writing courses – for students, young people and anyone wanting to explore their creativity. “You can attend the courses, even if you're studying physics and just want to try your hand at writing," she says with a grin. “Alongside your job, so to speak.” What was a highlight in the literary world in recent years? “The Münchner Schiene,” is Leipold's prompt response. First introduced at the literature festival in 2022, this event sheds light on Munich’s young literary scene and invites people to get involved. “It felt like the whole scene came together in the building, everything was buzzing,” recalls the author. “The atmosphere was like a swarm of bees, which was really nice.”
Anne Liepold likes to order a gin and tonic in the Favorit Bar and listen to the events or discussions. She believes: “Munich has great literary potential!”
We leave the Hildebrandhaus and stroll through the Maximiliansanlagen (public gardens) towards Bogenhausen cemetery. Liepold chose this spot, because she recently learned how many artists are buried here. “I like visiting cemeteries, because I’m interested in how people mourn – both privately and collectively,” she explains. “There need to be places where people can grieve, but life goes on at the same time.”
Perhaps that's why it's not just the partly overgrown, almost enchanted graves of Oskar Maria Graf, Liesl Karlstadt, Walter Sedlmayr, and Bernd Eichinger that are so captivating, but also the people who come here. They leave small mementos, tend flowers, mourn – and live. The small cemetery with the late Baroque church dates back to the 9th century. Idyllically perched on the high banks of the Isar, it draws visitors who gather around Erich Kästner's grave – even on gloomy winter days like today. We walk past them and suddenly find ourselves in front of Helmut Fischer's final resting place. His role as Monaco Franze still holds cult status today.
On the way to the tram heading towards the old town, I ask Annegret if she can recommend any other historical walks. “From Königsplatz to Drückebergergasse (Shirker's Alley) – it's a fascinating walk through history (see info box for details).” Just a stone's throw further, we warm up at the Literaturhaus, enjoying risotto and orecchiette at Brasserie Oskar Maria.
Speaking of Oskar: Liepold's literary recommendation for Munich is Graf's powerful novel Wir sind Gefangene, in which he describes his experiences during the Soviet Republic system period and the street battles of the time. “Because the Nazis were so dominant from the 1920s onwards, it's easy to forget that there were also strong left-wing movements,” she says. “And that the spirit of upheaval had a deeply artistic core.” We talk about the almost surreal simultaneity of Graf and Hitler both frequenting the Schelling-Salon in the 1920s. And while the bohemians gathered just a short walk away in the Alter Simpl, the first NSDAP office stood 300 metres further on Schellingstrasse 50.
We fall silent for a moment. Then I ask her where she would go today to experience contemporary literature that moves her. For poetry, Liepold regularly attends the LIX reading series at the HochX theatre, the “3 lyrische Ichs” or the Lyrikkabinett. “There are great readings at the Rauch & König bookshop, but also at the Heppel & Ettlich theatre and the habibi kiosk.” She likes to order a gin and tonic in the Favorit Bar and listen to the events or discussions. She believes: “Munich has great literary potential!”
Before we part, I ask her how she feels now that the publication of her novel is just around the corner. “It's beautiful and terrifying at the same time,” she laughs, taking us back to the beginning, when she gave herself permission to write. “Or do you mean permission to publish?” I ask and she ponders: “Yes, it's probably always about the kind of writing with which you present yourself to the outside world.”
In the process, I see an author unafraid of the responsibility her texts carry. And someone who has found her place in the literary heart of her city.
