DK     Mr. Bayer, “Hauch” is an epistolary novel – a genre with deep traditional roots. Why did you choose this form at a time when human communication is so heavily digitised and immediate?

XB     To once more pay tribute to the beauty of handwritten letters in this age of complete digitalisation and screens that surround us everywhere. Writing letters by hand seems so old-fashioned that it has now become avant-garde. I love writing against the spirit of the times.

DK     Letters require time to write and time to reach its recipient. How does this slower form of communication change the way the characters express intimacy and share their hidden fears?

XB     Writing by hand shapes the mind. Hidden within the slowness of handwriting lies an experience that can reveal something about yourself. Something you cannot sense when you’re typing messages on your smartphone.

DK     Dora stays in the city and feels the pressure of everyday life, whilst Veit retreats to the countryside. Does this separation reflect your own view of the modern world – that the city fills us with restlessness, whilst nature gives us a sense of stability?

XB     This is a paradoxical phenomenon. Cities were actually created for people to be able to live together and protect themselves from threats behind walls. Nature was not simply benevolent towards them, but rather hostile. Today, now that cities have become a Moloch, people believe it would be good to return to nature. Yet nature itself is so ravaged that the result is this: there is no such thing as a completely safe place – neither in the city nor in nature.

DK     Veit’s observations of the birds and the wind seem almost meditative. To what extent is nature a remedy for existential anxiety in the novel, and to what extent is it merely a blank canvas onto which loneliness is projected?

XB      When you observe nature or simply look at it – the plants, the animals, the weather, the wind – you can learn how life works or at least get an idea of it. At least, that’s what I believe. Nature teaches you how to live in harmony with it. Unfortunately, people are usually unwilling to learn the lessons it teaches us.

DK      The reader never learns the true reason for the one-year separation between Dora and Veit. They refer to it as a “game” and an “experiment”. Why was it important to you to leave this gap in the narrative?

XB      Books in which everything is explained bore me. Why shouldn’t we leave a few mysteries unresolved, so that the reader has enough space for their own imagination?

DK     Veit’s profession (writer) and Dora’s (translator) are closely linked to language. Isn’t it ironic that two people whose lives revolve around language decide to stop speaking to each other face to face? How does the aspect of translation affect their experiment?

XB      I suppose that some things are better expressed face to face, whilst others are better conveyed through the written word. And as a writer, you have to be alone when you’re working on a book. Perhaps that is precisely why much of contemporary literature is mediocre. It appears most authors cannot be alone and concentrate on their writing. Simultaneous interpreting is something quite different – it also requires concentration but is directly linked to another speaking person or to a text which, in its own way, also “speaks” to you.

DK      Your work is often described as imbued with a particular atmosphere and melancholy. How do you strike the balance between the sense of absurdity of everyday life and the poetic beauty your characters discover in the small details?

XB      Perhaps one strategy for countering the madness and sadness of the world is to take a look at the little things in everyday life, to look at the “other side”. Not visiting the tourist attractions but turning our attention to “uninteresting” places. If, for example, you sit by the riverbank for an hour and watch the flowing water, your soul feels cleansed and refreshed afterwards. That’s better – and cheaper – than sitting in a psychoanalyst’s consulting room.