The impressive first novel of young writer Jowi Schmitz is guaranteed non-autobiographical. It tells the story of a retired, a little peculiar, but a very inventive older gentleman, Leopold. After a long, busy life in Holland, he now lives in Marbella/Spain. Of course, he wanted to share his last years there with his wife, but unfortunately, she passed away just before the move. His daughter, distrustful as usual, has second thoughts about that, and, worse than that, is announcing her visit…

Don’t get sombre, old chap, he says to himself, you have to do something, something less stressful than all this family business – families don’t appreciate your love and devotion. They have demands and nothing but them. Is that the meaning of life? One day, as Leopold sits on his terrace, he suddenly knows what to do. Chickens! Raising chickens, sweet little animals that don’t complain and quarrel but are thankful and charming! So Leopold walks down the street to the grocery and buys eggs, impregnated ones off course, and he wants to brood them himself – which turns out to be a difficult job that confronts him with some quite hilarious situations. His daughter thinks he is crazy and making a fool of her. She wonders what his plans are. .

Schmitz’ novel is surprising from the first to the last page, and it mirrors wonderfully funny and earnest the fact, that we have an urgent need to share our feelings with someone. Be it a chicken. But in any case at our conditions.