About the Author

Felix Meran was born in Vienna in the 1970s, somewhere between a subscription to the Philharmonic concerts and a creaking parquet floor in an old spacious Vienna apartment. The only son of a family devoted for generations to dignified retreat and discreet influence, he grew up in surroundings where silence had texture and conversation came with footnotes.

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He began his education at one of Vienna’s most renowned and oldest private schools, where he quickly drew attention for his fondness for classical languages, polite contradiction and subversive marginalia. He graduated with distinction despite refusing, for aesthetic reasons, to ever acknowledge Ohm’s law in physics class.

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He briefly studied law before abandoning it in favor of literature. Or, as he puts it, “because legal paragraphs don’t allow for punchlines.” He turned instead to philosophy and comparative religion. In between, he spent two years in Trieste as writer in residence at the Fondazione delle Idee Perdute, working on a never-published novel consisting solely of 324 footnotes. The rest, he claims, got lost and may one day reappear.

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He held a short-lived post as dramaturg at the Sprechbühne am Schlossberg, but was asked to leave after debating Kierkegaard too intensely during an opening night celebration. What followed were years of drifting: Marseille, Tbilisi, a summer in an abandoned spa hotel in Karlovy Vary. Of this period, Meran remains persistently silent. Rumor has it he wrote essays under various pseudonyms for magazines that no longer exist.

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Since 2022, he has resettled in Vienna, where he prefers cafés without Wi-Fi and books without back covers. His work is published exclusively by independent houses known for brass bindings and forewords longer than the main text.

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He does not describe himself as a writer but rather as a "redactor of world fragments."