Small investors lament everything they have lost, and the nameless, faceless figures of the financial sector conspire against them, ordinary citizens who have fallen, through their own fault, into the clutches of the powerful. Money has to disappear, flee or go on holiday to a paradise island so it can rest peacefully, because life is a rush, an exhausting struggle. This race, whose finish line no one can see, is not against time, nor in anyone’s favour. This race, which is life on the edge, taking place in a minefield of speculation and deception, is a hurricane into which everything is sucked and where nothing can be discerned anymore.
Elfriede Jelinek has constructed a text that clouds our vision, rejects transparency, dismantles the illusions of banal discourse and exposes what we tend not to want to see: the structural violence hidden in everyday language. The author, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2004, delves into the vocabulary of the market and high finance — purchase, value, bankruptcy, competition, risk, guarantee, profit — to reveal how these terms have become principles for organising contemporary life. It is not a dramatic text in the traditional sense; there are no stable characters, classic conflicts or linear narrative. What the auéééu propose to present is a primarily discursive show that moves like a flow: ironic, fierce, sometimes catastrophic, sometimes hilarious, always aware that thinking about a market society implies distrusting the very structure of thought.
