October 2018 book review

PALE FIRE, by Vladimir Nabokov
An American academic is working on a 1000 line epic poem on life, liberty and loss when he is tragically shot dead, with just one line to go. A colleague takes it upon himself to provide a detailed commentary on the poem by way of explication. But his interpretation differs widely from others, for Professor Kinbote is of the view that Dr Shade’s poem is in fact a coded life of Charles the Beloved, deposed king of “Zemlya”, a land to the “far north”. Who to believe? When one reads the poem, which is printed in its entirety at the beginning of the book, one finds no obvious relation between its substance and Kinbote’s explanation. Is Kinbote, then, that ‘unreliable narrator’, who should not be trusted, or are we simply not being subtle enough to see what he continually alludes to?

Pale Fire is a very strange, beautiful book. As we read Shade’s poem, we are entranced by its technical skill as well as its grand themes. Likewise, as we read ‘Kinbote’s meticulous ‘commentary’ we are transported into another world, namely the court intrigues of a small kingdom, which lead to the king escaping from captivity and making an heroic escape to America, pursued meanwhile by a relentless assassin. Without spelling it out, Kinbote is suggesting that in fact he is the deposed king - I think. I’m not sure, and I’m not sure Nabokov wants me to be sure - about anything in this unique novel, described by some as his greatest achievement.

CONFESSIONS OF FELIX KRULL, CONFIDENCE MAN, by Thomas Mann
In the Bavaria of late 19th century Germany, a young man of limited means convinces himself, not without reason, that he is a very special person. He realises is bound for greatness, but, how to achieve that? As so many before him, he realises his destiny lies in the big city, and his godfather is able to secure a lowly position for him in one of the leading hotels in Paris. There, his natural charm and charisma works its magic on all around him, the guests, the management, his colleagues and, especially, the ladies. But now he has entered the adult world, we discover that his supreme communication skills are balanced by a complete lack of moral sense. This boy will do anything to get ahead.
           He is befriended by a German count, who notices a remarkable similarity in their physical appearances, and a plan is hatched which exploits this serendipitous coincidence. More about this, the meat of this marvelous novel would spoil the plot; indeed I may already have said too much. So let me leave it like this: Felix Krull is an absolute delight. Superbly written, funny, moving, if you look at Mann’s other books such as The Magic Mountain or Buddenbrooks, and think they look a bit long and complicated for you (which you shouldn’t; they’re both wonderful too) then try this eminently readable novel first. I guarantee it: you won’t regret it.

BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ, by Alfred Döblin
Franz Biberkopf, a pretty ordinary guy really, is released from jail and does his beast to survive on the outside. But as so often happens, he finds it hard to leave his criminal past behind him, and soon falls in with a number of more or less ne’er-do-wells. The authorities make little attempt to help him: early on he receives a letter from them indicating that he, as a convicted felon, is not allowed to live in Berlin, so simply by staying there he is breaking the law.
          “There is a mower, death yclept.”
           What is the meaning of this strange phrase, which recurs throughout the book? Turns out the word yclept is from Middle English, and may be understood as “goes by the name of”. Hence the phrase means: “There is a reaper, whose name is death.” I mention this to convey the strange atmosphere the book creates, and to illiustrate just how extraordinary this book is.
            Described by some as an ‘expressionist novel’ it mixes stream-of-consciousness, documentary style and other quirky idioms to create a grim, claustrophobic atmosphere, enabling us to walk alongside our ‘hero’ as he trudges the mean streets of Berlin in his search for meaning, or at least earn his daily bread. Franz is not particularly loveable. He survives by pimping out women, hurting some of them badly in the process, but despite everything we still find ourselves identifying with our unfortunate protagonist. We want him to be OK in the end, even if that looks increasingly unlikely as the book proceeds.
A very special read...