The human being, and one must perhaps remind oneself of this in these socially easily upset times, is contradictory. He scolds capitalism and bets on its growth with ETF savings plans. He curses the concepts of football and Germany and is happy about Niclas Füllkrug’s goal. He glues himself to asphalt to demonstrate against the high CO₂ emissions and a few days later gets on a plane to fly 12,000 kilometers on vacation. Or he is quite generally convinced that the world is going to the dogs from imminent wars for water, periods of drought and streams of refugees from uninhabitable regions, and yet he throws the most beloved, most valuable, most precious thing in his own universe into this turbo descent called the future into – children. We would be a single misanthropic globe if there were no art that knew how to lovingly devote itself to these outrageous contradictions, art like the novel “Eva” by the writer Verena Kessler. Because it transforms the intolerable simultaneity of apocalypse and offspring into wonderful literature.