?? Ludwig Tieck,
Tales from the Phantasus
I continue to read lesser-known 19th century German authors because I have found that I enjoy writers from this place and time, though I usually prefer realist writers to romantic writers. Tieck falls clearly in the latter category and so I was surprised to enjoy some of his stories as much as I did. They are, I think, a bit melodramatic and “overdone,” but he is a wonderful storyteller. His stories reminded me of nothing so much as Grimms’ fairy tales turned into short stories. And it turns out that Tieck (1773-1853) and the Grimms were pretty much contemporaries. One of the stories, “The Fair-Haired Eckbert,” is often considered to be the start of German romanticism and all of the stories I read clearly fall into that mode: valuing emotion instead of intellect; emphasizing the beauties of nature and imagination and spiritual truth; and focusing on the hero, his passions and his inner struggles. To achieve this, Tieck relies on folk culture, the story of national/ethnic origins (often illustrated with medieval situations and circumstances) and a lot of the exotic, the mysterious, and the occult. For these reasons, I think, that the Grimms are a good comparison. Because Tieck is largely ignored today (at least in the USA), the only translation I could find was by the Scottish historian Thomas Carlyle (done in 1827!); fortunately, Carlyle’s translation is mostly quite good and reads surprisingly easily. It is dated, certainly, but less so than one might imagine. Recommended, but largely for those tempted by this kind of thing.
?? Julien Gracq,
The Opposing Shore [unfinished] [unfair to rate at this point]
I have only read one-third of this so far and have put it aside for a bit. I cannot recall reading a work that is so extraordinarily dense. I can usually only read several pages before I have to put the book down to digest what I’ve read. Nearly every sentence is weighed down with multiple levels of meaning and paragraphs can often be nearly incomprehensible and take much time to sort out. The story reminds me largely of Buzzati’s
Tartar Steppe and Coetzee’s
Waiting for the Barbarians. I think that the translation I am reading (the only one I am aware of in English), by the late poet Richard Howard, is excellent. Still, there are more than a few words that I need to check in the dictionary and I have a feeling—without being able to substantiate it—that the translation is largely true to Gracq’s French. I just wish it were easier going. I offer these three sentences as a sample:
“They were rotting away at attention, the defenders of Orsenna [a city]. Just as I might have seen, emerging from its swamp, the patiently buttressed forest of pilings which propped up the city, here lay before my eyes, in isometric perspective, three centuries of the fatherland’s foundations. The bodies devoured by sand, one on top of the next in strict perpendicularity, drove into the earth, with repeated blows, their grove of vertical pillars. The city’s sinister genius, even in these extreme outposts, showed in the patient mutilation which, out of so many new and naively surrendered lives, by a merciless pruning, had formed this careful frame, this funereal housing.”
The whole paragraph (which is more of the same for another three or four sentences) contains one sustained, elaborate metaphor expressed in complex syntax. It works and is, in its way, a brilliant rendering, but it is also an enormous amount of work (for me, anyway) to go through it and unpack it. Taken all together, the book is a constant challenge, demanding culture. I expect to pick it back up again and finish it (some day), but as I hope I’ve successfully explained, it is a highly demanding work.
?? Stefan Zweig,
Journey Into the Past +
According to the translator (Anthea Bell), this is a particularly Chekhovian novella. I can’t say, not having read enough Chekhov. As is true of much of his work (both short stories and novels), Zweig is fascinated by and brilliant at depicting psychological issues. The story is simple: Ludwig falls in love with his boss’s wife; she reciprocates his feelings. He is then unexpectedly sent by his boss to Mexico on a multi-year business project requiring enormous responsibility. Although they promise each other to consummate their relationship when he returns, WWI breaks out and by the time he returns home on a visit years later, he is now married and she is now a widow. Their mutual attraction remains as strong as ever but circumstances have changed enormouslty. What will happen? The summary sounds melodramatic, but I didn’t find the book to be so. Zweig is a gifted writer whose portrayal of the people and the situation is nuanced, insightful, and rings completely true.
?? Andrzej Szczypiorski,
A Mass for Arras
Szczypiorski (1928-2000) was, among other things, a partisan in WWII who also took part in the Warsaw Uprising. He was arrested and imprisoned at the Sachsenhausen concentration camp, where he survived until 1945. I mention that background by way of explaining my reaction to this book. The story is an allegory, a parable that explains how totalitarianism can arise. Three years after the plague kills a substantial number of local citizens in 1458, the town of Arras descends into a frenzy when a valuable horse dies after its owner is supposedly cursed by his Jewish neighbor. The Jews kills himself before a trial can take place but the townspeople proceed to rob, exile, and kill not only the local Jews but anyone who expresses sympathy for them, criticizes the new orthodoxy, or, finally, shows any “aberrant” behavior. I could not read this book without immediately thinking of Germany (and Italy) in the 1930s. Szczypiorski narrates this tale through the eyes of Jan, a Christian intellectual who participates in the mass hysteria only to find himself suspected of heresy. He recoils from his mentor, Father Albert, a proto-fascist demagogue, but when his other role model, David, Bishop of Utrecht, absolves all the citizens of their sins, Jan recognizes the horrifying consequences of unquestioning acceptance of authority. Beautifully told, terrifying in its reality, highly recommended.
?? Ngugi wa Thiong'o,
A Grain of Wheat
I am happy to say that I have finally found the first book by Ngugi that I liked and that impressed me as a literary work. It is either the third or fourth book of his that I have read and I have always found his novels problematic, not only because the narratives seem strained or simplistic and his characters under- (or even un-) developed. He has always had an important message to convey but this is really the first novel of his that I have read that succeeds
as a novel instead of a vehicle for his thoughts. The story concerns a group of villagers caught up in the Mau Mau rebellion and the British Emergency of 1952-60 in Kenya. Though he criticizes the British, Ngugi’s focus is Mugo, alone and alienated after returning to the village following his imprisonment and maltreatment by the British for his role in the uprising. Considered by nearly everyone to be a role model, he has a secret which is at the heart of the book. As Ngugi relates his story, other narratives about other villagers—none of whom is blameless—are unfolding. The story centers around a proverb: “That which bites you is in your own clothing.” No one is a hero, no one can escape his (or her) past or his acts—both on a personal level and on the larger political stage. Mugo is beautifully drawn, as are most of the other major characters and, for the first time in my experience of Ngugi’s book, I found myself believing that these were real people.