Simon Strauß explores Germany's fractured soul in Close to Home
Simon Strauß's latest book, Close to Home: On the Political Value of a German Longing, turns its focus to Prenzlau, a small town in Brandenburg. Through conversations with locals—from ordinary residents to a politico with surprisingly layered views—the author examines how community forms in an era of deepening divisions. His work probes the tensions between belonging, ideology, and the lingering scars of Germany's past.
Strauß's writing blends lyrical reflection with sharp observation. He questions how people can disagree without fracturing bonds, all while navigating the town's political sensitivities, shaped by decades of state dictatorship and economic upheaval since reunification.
The book begins by exploring Prenzlau's social fabric, where even the construction of a refugee shelter sparks conflict. The debate splits factions within the Left Party, revealing how contentious local issues have become. Strauß listens to residents as they grapple with identity, asking how citizenship and shared purpose endure when self-righteousness and online schadenfreude pull people apart.
His prose carries a quiet intensity, often described as a melodic minor key. He rejects grand utopias, instead urging readers to find meaning in small details—a child's question, a neighbour's hesitation—as a way to rebuild curiosity and dialogue. This approach contrasts with what he calls the 'know-it-all questions of the ideology-naïve latecomer,' a critique of those who dismiss Germany's experiences as mere relics rather than a 'treasure of difference.'
Strauß also confronts the town's political landscape, where the AfD has gained ground amid broader German discontent. In nearby Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, the party became the second-largest in the 2021 state election, a shift from the CDU and SPD dominance of the 1990s. He traces how decades of economic disparity and distrust of Berlin's political elite fuel resentment, yet he avoids simplistic judgments. Instead, he invokes the 'antique disposition,' a call to engage with opposing views without wielding them as weapons.
At its core, the book dreams of a society where disagreement leads to conversation, not separation. Strauß imagines a world where retribution fantasies against distant elites give way to shared tables, where pathos and compromise coexist. It's a vision that feels both untimely and urgently necessary.
Strauß's work leaves readers with a portrait of Prenzlau that is neither romanticised nor condemned. The town's struggles—over refugees, democracy, and memory—mirror broader German tensions, where the past lingers in political choices and personal grievances. His call to embrace complexity, not ideology, offers no easy answers but insists on the value of listening.
The book arrives as the AfD's influence grows in regions still marked by post-reunification upheaval. Whether Strauß's plea for nuance can cut through the noise remains an open question.
