“They’re not being unfriendly to you because of your German, it’s very good, this is Berlin, they’re unfriendly to everyone.” This advice, astute and sardonic in equal measure, was given to me by my boss, poet, author, and founder of literary non-profit Berliner Literarische Aktion, Martin Jankowski. It was my first day working in Germany and this was one of many wise witticisms he imparted to me. Over our weekly work lunches, he spoke of the vibrant ever-shifting literary scene of the city, of its fractured political history, and inability to be confined to a singular narrative.

Martin describes himself first and foremost as a freelance writer and lyricist, and expresses his lifelong love of literature. “When I was a child, I was what you would call a Leseratte" (a reading rat when translated literally) "or a bookworm as you would say in English. I didn’t just read books – I devoured them.” he chuckles, explaining how he used to run away and hide in a tree outside so that he could enjoy reading in peace.

Having grown up accustomed to the censorship of the East German regime, Martin was limited in terms of the types of literature that he could consume as a child and was unable to continue his studies to a higher level although he was “an excellent student.” However, raised devoutly Christian, which was very uncommon in the GDR, Martin explains that his religion facilitated access to Western literature which he would otherwise have been unable to read, clarifying “because of my religion I was actually able to read things which were banned in the GDR. So, I was reading books about, well, parishes and religious figures everywhere that other people could not read.”

“I didn’t just read books – I devoured them”

Despite widespread censorship of literature in East Germany (Martin’s own works would later be banned by the Stasi) it retained a key role in not just East Germany, but the whole Eastern bloc. East Germany, he explains, was dubbed “das Leserland” or a “land of literature” back then. This was because, not only in the GDR but throughout the rest of Eastern Europe, literature “offered the mind a window into a forbidden world.” The position of the author in this society, Martin explains, was inherently different to in Western countries, because their ability to control and potentially weaponize language, rendered them “moral authorities”. 

“The readers in Eastern Europe became” he pauses thoughtfully, “masters at reading between the lines. So, a metaphor or story might, on the surface, be about one thing, or, for example, take place in the past, but readers were able to decipher that the work really represented a social commentary on contemporary society.” This was the key difference between literature in East and West Germany – literary works in the West were not subject to the same scrutiny, and so, reading could emerge as a form of entertainment or relaxation, whereas in East Germany it was most commonly used as coded social commentary.

Indeed, it was because of Martin’s non-conformist political views in East German society that he encountered problems with the publication of his own works. Speaking of his time living in the GDR, he notes “I was always under surveillance, always at risk of being imprisoned. They deemed my works forbidden and prohibited me from partaking in any literary readings or performing. So, I decided to do this regardless, in secret, to perform underground in cellars, churches, or wherever I could without being discovered.” He would go on to participate in the famous Monday Demonstrations, which contributed to the fall of the Berlin Wall and released him from the shackles of totalitarian censorship.

“For the conservatives currently in power, everything is about money”

It was some years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and his move to Berlin, that Martin founded Berliner Literarische Aktion, a literary non-profit which organises readings and literary salons for authors, poets, and other creatives in the city. When asked about his aim in founding the organisation in 2005, he explains “Really, I just wanted to continue what I had already been doing for years – organising literary readings in different venues. But I wanted it to be bigger, and more official, so that we could make use of appropriate public funds to finance this endeavour.”

However this year in Berlin, the cultural sector, and with it Berliner Literarische Aktion, has been subject to enormous budget cuts. “I am really worried, because lots of our major projects will no longer receive funding. I do not really know where I am supposed to get the money from, to be honest. For the conservatives currently in power in the Berlin government, everything is about money, and they have a dangerous, mercantile approach to culture.”

I ask him how we, in the UK, might help support the literary scene in Berlin. “Well, the best thing would obviously be to come to Berlin, to learn German,” he laughs, “but I would say translation is really important, translating works from German. Read our magazine stadtsprachen magazin, because there you can find works written in all different languages by authors who are currently living in Berlin.” As we finish the interview, I think back to my favourite German word that I learnt in Berlin, and the word, perhaps, most frequently used by Martin: “basteln”, which means “to tinker around with”. This, perhaps, best reflects the essence of literature itself, “basteling” around with words.

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