Ach diese Lücke, diese entsetzliche Lücke

Joachim Meyerhoff’s third volume feels like a confident deepening rather than a repetition of what came before. Ach diese Lücke, diese entsetzliche Lücke is less about the spectacle of youth and more about the slow, often uncomfortable process of shaping oneself into something resembling an artist. Set largely in Munich during his time at drama school, the book circles obsessively around questions of performance. Not performance as glamour, but as discipline, exposure, and risk. Meyerhoff writes about acting as something learned through embarrassment, imitation, intoxication, and sudden moments of precision. Alcohol is present throughout, not as a decorative excess, but as part of a fragile ecosystem of fear, bravado, and longing that defines these years. What makes this book so compelling is its tonal balance. It is very funny, often laugh out loud funny, yet never careless. The humor is observational rather than performative, emerging from timing, self irony, and a refusal to smooth over awkwardness. At the same time, there is an undercurrent of seriousness that gives the episodes weight. The question of how one becomes capable of standing on a stage mirrors the deeper question of how one learns to endure oneself. This is not a classical page turner. The pleasure lies less in narrative momentum than in the quality of attention. Meyerhoff’s prose is supple, precise, and rhythmically assured. He allows scenes to unfold without forcing them toward a lesson, trusting that meaning accumulates through proximity rather than conclusion. As a third part, the book confirms the strength of the project as a whole. Meyerhoff shows that autobiography can be both generous and exacting, funny and instructive, without ever becoming self indulgent. Verdict: five stars. A rich, emotionally intelligent continuation of an exceptional autobiographical cycle. Best suited for readers interested in artistic formation, self observation, and books that reward attentiveness more than speed.