»Weltbühne« | 100 pages of Thomas Bernhard for 48 cents

You should always look at exactly what you're getting for your money. That's an old Swabian saying. If you order a "Negroni" for twelve or thirteen euros in an average Berlin bar, 90 percent of the time you'll get a large glass containing three gigantic ice cubes in a small puddle of watery, bright red liquid that gives off a problematic odor. What the bartender has hastily thrown together usually has little to do with a "Negroni": an orange peel, a thimbleful of cheap gin, a dash of disgusting vermouth from a discount store, and a bit of that oily, foul-smelling red stuff that tastes like it was produced in underground laboratories by mixing liquefied ammonia pastilles with "Rosenthaler Kadarka" – and you're done.

If, on the other hand, you buy the necessary ingredients for the drink yourself from a liquor store—a Carpano Antica Formula, a decent gin, and a liter bottle of Campari—and have your children mix it at home (the preparation is incredibly simple, and the little ones will be busy and even learn something for life in the process), you'll have spent about 80 euros, but your Negroni supply is assured for the time being: You'll be able to make 20 to 23 generously mixed and impeccable cocktails from it, provided your child takes sufficient care in preparing the drink and doesn't work hectically or sloppily. You'll then only pay the equivalent of 3.70 or 3.80 euros per glass, rather than four times that for an undrinkable concoction that, apart from its color, bears no resemblance to a Negroni.

The same should apply to the reading you enjoy on your terrace, balcony, or garden while sipping your "Homemade Negroni": sophisticated reading pleasure at a reasonable price. A collection of neatly and meticulously arranged letters, available for comparatively little money.

Let's assume you decide to purchase the first issue of the magazine "Weltbühne," newly published by Holger Friedrich's Berlin publishing house, which has been the subject of much media coverage recently. Der Spiegel magazine wrote: "If this 'Weltbühne' is supposed to be a stage for the world, then it can only refer to the very small and stuffy world of the makers of this magazine." The articles contained therein are "silly" and "of irritating insignificance." (All of this applies word for word to Der Spiegel itself, of course, but we don't want to be nitpicky, haha.)

The small-format print edition has 32 pages and costs eleven euros. That's 34.375 cents per printed page. The money-saving inspector in me is already calculating: eleven pages from the new "Weltbühne" would be roughly equivalent to the value of a "Homemade Negroni." Indeed, a quick, furtive glance at the table of contents of the new "Weltbühne" is enough for me to decide, within a split second, to buy three "Negronis" instead of the magazine.

A long-established mail-order company offers another reading selection that—in terms of what the customer receives for the purchase price—cannot compete with Holger Friedrich's "Weltbühne": the complete works of Austrian author Thomas Bernhard , who addressed numerous topics in his books that are still relevant today, such as home ("Provincial Hell"), working life ("Money-Making Hell"), or the effects of school and university education ("Intellectual Murder," "Extermination Centers"). The complete works consist of 22 beautifully designed paperbacks, has 10,300 pages, and currently costs €49.95. That's 0.48 cents per printed page. Less than half a cent for a page of world literature! For that, you get a mere 20 paltry letters and a few irritatingly irrelevant spaces from Holger Friedrich! Converted into "Negronis," this means: For the amount of money that a "Negroni" prepared by yourself (or your children) costs you, you get a whopping 787 pages (!) of Thomas Bernhard text, or one and a half to two novels.

All 22 volumes are roughly equivalent to the value of 13 homemade Negronis. In other words: If you drop a measly 100 bucks, you can drink a rather generous half a Negroni for every book in your complete works that you read. After you're finished, all the glasses may be empty, but you'll still have the books!

Best of all, the volumes are housed in a "foldable slipcase with a carrying handle," so you won't have to go without your complete works wherever you go—be it the gym, the Munich Oktoberfest, or the summit of the Grossglockner. Let's be honest. Quality-conscious pen-punchers don't have to think twice: Do I buy one (in numbers: one) printed page of silly text of irritating insignificance, produced by questionable bargain-basement authors, for 34 cents? Or do I buy 70 (!) pages of quality text from an internationally acclaimed poet, vetted by literary scholars (me)? Well, the decision should be easy.

I'm not sure whether, in a better future, "Enjoyment" shouldn't be introduced as a school subject: Your children could learn not only essential cocktail recipes, but also the ability to distinguish musty and silly texts from modern and indispensable ones. One thing is certain: Always look at exactly what you're getting for your money.