Ingeborg Bachmann’s Ungargasseland is much more claustrophobic than I imagined when reading Malina. It must have been possible to park a car in front of Ivan’s house, and there had to be enough space around the car for the narrator and Ivan to speak and for the children to play. The street is not wide, the buildings are tall, the scene takes place in the shade, even at midday.
Ivan’s and the narrator’s houses face each other in their greyness; they should be able to see each other from their windows. Both are neglected à la Budapest. The façade at Ungargasse 6 is adorned with decorative sculptures. From the window of the Ungargasse 3 building, a nun in a white robe can be seen ladling food for the needy.
The otherwise straight street makes a bold curve here, before ending in traffic noise at the Raiffeisen high-rise. The intersection of Ungargasse and Beatrixgasse looks sunken, covered by a grid of power and tram lines.
The Beatrixgasse 26 building, where Ingeborg Bachmann lived between 1946 and 1949, is a bit further away, in a less busy part of the city. Cars are parked in front of its entire façade, and the opposite building is being demolished. The Stadtpark is nearby.
September 2016