„Erzähl mir was, Großvater!“¹ Geschichten über das Schicksal der Siebenbürger Sachsen nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg anhand des Romans von Karin Gündisch <i>Weit, hinter den Wäldern</i>.

Abstract It is with the words „Denkst du, das Leben besteht aus Geschichten?“ 2 that Peterʼs grandfather answers to Peterʼs request to be told yet another story. They say that a collective memory is only imaginable and perceivable in its manifestations of individuals. This is the ace up Karin Gündischs sleeve that she uses in her novel Weit, hinter den Wäldern. A relatively unknown, yet valuable author, she manages to envision the post World War II world in a Saxonian village in a very authentic way. Filtered through the gaze of young Peter, 12, the author tells the stories of the deprivations and humiliations that Saxonians had to endure after World War II in Russian imprisonment. The novel also talks about guilt on both ends. At first, the stories are entertaining for the children, but they soon discover they are listening to stories about survival in dire times. Many storytellers get to tell their stories throughout the novel, as the book abounds in Scheherezade-like stories that soften the blow of the hard day to day life in Transylvania. This article aims at answering the question as to what roles storytelling plays in a context of atrocity. Roger Willemsen warns about the tough process of dealing with a difficult past, which Karin Gündisch, in her book for children and teenagers, but also for adults excels at: “There is no easy way to talk about the horrendous.“