Category Archives: Wasserman Jakob

German Stories and Tales: Robert Pick Ed. (part II)

Following on from the first post about German Stories and Tales ed. by Robert Pick, I’m going to cover a few more of my favourite selections from this stellar collection. The three stories described here (I’m not counting Krambambuli by Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach) explore various scenarios regarding tragic love.

An Episode in the Life of the Marshall de Bassompierre by Hugo von Hofmannsthal is a story told in retrospect by a man who’s attracted to a beautiful French shopkeeper. She has formed the habit of standing outside of her shop and greeting the narrator as he passes by on his horse. The woman’s interest is so noticeable, that the Marshall de Bassompierre sends a servant to secure an assignation with this beauty.

The assignation is a bit tawdry with the meeting taking place at a procuress’s grubby establishment. Since there’s plague in the city, the Marshall takes along (by his servant’s advice) his own mattress and sheets. Bassompierre’s new mistress, it turns out is married, and the assignation, while enjoyed by Bassompierre, clearly means a great deal more to the woman who has given herself freely but may suffer consequences. The couple make another assignation. …

There’s a gothic feel along with an accompanying sense of dread to An Episode in the Life of the Marshall de Bassompierre. What means so much to the young woman is clearly less meaningful to Bassompierre, yet the incident haunts him for years to come. (Translated by Mary Hottinger)

Lukardis by Jakob Wasserman has a similar theme of a woman who sacrifices a great deal for a man. This story is set in Russia and concerns a young dragoon named Evgen who, when he hears that his sister has been deported to Siberia for subversive activity, revolts when he’s ordered to suppress a protest in the streets. In the skirmish that follows, Evgen joins the protestors and is shot by his fellow dragoons. Subsequently, Evgen is smuggled into a network of sympathetic people, but with the police on the hunt for Evgen, hiding this badly wounded man is a liability that most households won’t risk. Enter Anastasia Karlovna, an influential woman who agrees to hide Evgen, but finds that she soon runs out of options until she comes up with a brilliant plan. But she needs a respectable young woman who is willing to make a sacrifice.  … (Translated by Lewis Galantière)

For animal lovers, I’d recommend passing on Krambambuli by Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach. It’s a short story that shows that we humans mostly don’t deserve, or understand, the animals in our lives, and it has scenes of  animal cruelty.

Cardiac Suture from Ernst Weiss is an unusual story for its depiction of an operation. The story begins in an auditorium where students attend lectures, but the auditorium converts into an operating room when, mid-lecture, a young woman who stabbed herself through the heart, is rushed into the room. The lecture turns into demo, and as fate would have it, one of the students is the love interest of the dying girl.  It’s a strange story which leaves the reasons for the suicide attempt vague, but instead focuses on the doctor who lectures and then operates on the girl in front of his students. While the doctor (he’s known as the General) who operates dehumanises his patient, he’s nonetheless efficient–all business while the girl’s lover, who assists, is patently disturbed.

Upon reflection, the story is terrifying as the silent, anguished emotional drama between the student and the girl is subsumed by the efficient process of the operation. We know that the operation, in full view of a class full of students, will conclude, but what will happen afterwards? (Translated by E.B. Ashton)

Operating time: seven minutes and a half. A hundred years ago Napoleon’s personal physician could amputate a leg in that time, including everything, blood-stilling, et cetera. But those were other masters than we are. Well, pick the patient up carefully and lift her into the bed-or rather, let me do it. That’s it-that’s the way. Hot-water bottles ready? Cover her. Cover her! Everything all right. Everything else we’ll leave to luck. Good morning, gentleman, good morning. 

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Filed under Fiction, Hofmannsthal Hugo von, Wasserman Jakob, Weiss Ernst

German Stories and Tales: Ed. by Robert Pick (Part I)

As part of my 2017 TBR project, I committed to read 48 books that I’d bought any time prior to January 1st. One of the books that made the cut is German Stories and Tales edited by Robert Pick. This paperback was given to me in 1987, but it was published more than 20 years prior to that: 1966. I mention the date of the publication as a couple of the authors whose stories appear in the collection were still alive in 1966. It was eerie reading about Alexander Lernet-Holenia in the present tense, living in “Vienna and Sankt Wolfgang, Upper Austria,” and Hermann Kesten living in NYC.

German stories and tales

So here I am thirty years after being given this book, finally reading it. This is such a modest looking little paperback but what treasures it contains:

Youth, Beautiful Youth by Hermann Hesse
Kannitverstan by Johann Peter Hebel
An Episode in the Life of the Marshal de Bassompierre by Hugo von Hofmannsthal
Lukardis by Jakob Wassermann
Krambambuli by Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach
Cardiac Suture by Ernst Weiss
The Message that Failed by Moritz Heimann
Rock Crystal by Adalbert Stifter
The Bachelor’s Death by Arthur Schnitzler
Unexpected Reunion by Johann Peter Hebel
Mona Lisa by Alexander Lernet-Holenia
The Picnic of Mores the Cat by Clemens Brentano
Zerline, the Old Servant Girl by Hermann Broch
The Friend in the Closet by Hermann Kesten
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
A Little Legend of the Dance by Gottfried Keller
Death in Venice by Thomas Mann
The Hussar by Johann Peter Hebel

I’ve never read Herman Hesse although I’ve looked at, and passed on, his books many times. Youth, Beautiful Youth is a wonderful bitter-sweet short story that captures the feeling of lost youth. The story is told in retrospect, by Hermann, a man who recalls his visit home. He’s been away for a few years and has employment lined up for the autumn. This then is his last summer before settling down, possibly permanently, so this is an auspicious visit home:

With creeping caution the train descended the hill in great winding curves, and with each turn the houses, streets, river, and gardens of the town below came closer and grew more distinct. Soon I could distinguish the roofs and pick out the familiar ones; soon, too, I could count the windows and recognize the stork nests. And while childhood and boyhood and a thousand precious memories of home were wafted toward me out of the valley, my sense of arrogant triumph at the homecoming slowly melted away. My desire to make a big impression upon all the people down there yielded to a feeling of grateful astonishment. Homesickness, which in the course of the years had ceased to trouble me, assailed me powerfully in this last quarter-hour. Every clump of broom near the station platform and every familiar garden fence became strangely precious to me, and I asked each to forgive me  for having to be able to forget it and get along without it for so long. 

It’s a wonderful carefree summer with the narrator taking long walks, reading, setting off fireworks with his brother Fritz, and falling in love. The summer stretches out far ahead, and yet it ends all too soon.

And as all loveliness and sweetness is mortal and has its destined end, day after day of this summer, too, slipped through my fingers-this summer which in memory seems to have brought my youth to a close.

This summer is a moment in time–a moment that will never be repeated. Hermann presses memories and scenes into his mind where they remain even though the world Hermann knew passed away. There’s the sense that something happened after the narrator left–was it WWI? And here is how the story ends.

As the train approached our garden, I caught sight of a powerful blood-red flare. There stood my brother, Fritz, holding a Bengal light in each hand. At the very moment that I waved to him and rode by, he sent a skyrocket shooting straight up into the air. Leaning out, I saw it mount and pause, describe a gentle arc, and vanish in a rain of red sparks.

Translated by Richard and Clara Winston.

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My Marriage: Jakob Wassermann

“It was the age of paste diamonds and shallow minds.”

I don’t think you can beat California when it comes to divorce laws. This is a no-fault, community property state, and that boils down to the two basic elements: if one party wants a divorce and the other doesn’t, tough, it’s sayonara. And no one really cares whose fault it is; it’s 50/50 baby.

Now why do I preface a review of a German novel in translation, published in 1934, from the fabulous NYRB with a comment about California’s divorce laws? Well I’ll get back to that later.

My Marriage from Jakob Wasserman is a novel about a writer, Alexander Hertzog, who, in his late 20s, marries Ganna, a young heiress. Fast forward to three children, the dowry spent, countless affairs, and Hertzog, now further in his career, falls in love with another woman, wants a divorce, and guess what … Ganna doesn’t roll over and give him what he wants.

My Marriage

Hertzog, our narrator, is a penniless young writer, one meal away from starvation when he’s introduced to Ganna–one of six daughters, “the ugly duckling among five swans,” and the one who’s also “hard to manage.” Now in hindsight, Hertzog draws the warning signs in the sand of a determined young woman who may not be the most stable female on the planet. Ganna is obsessive, willful and, apparently, worships Hertzog. Determined to get him for a husband, she pursues him and talks him into it. There’s a bit of waffling here, but it’s easy to see that Hertzog is swayed by the money and persuades himself that Ganna, who is starstruck by Hertzog’s talent, will make a good wife.

Should I have shut myself away, should I have remained aloof and said: begone, there is no room for you in my life? There was room. Of course, the fact that I saw and sensed her the way I did in my self-sacrificial compassion, this single pregnant moment that bore the seed of thirty years-that was also in part Ganna’s doing, her over-powerful will, her dazzling sorcery. But I wasn’t to know that back then.

Hertzog does a lot of bitching about Ganna. There’s never really a honeymoon period that palls and segues into disillusionment; he’s always at the “mercy of her drives.” One of his complaints is that Ganna has the bad manners to discuss his extramarital affairs in public.

My senses too were aflame. Ravenous appetite alternated with satiety. No woman was enough for me; none gave me what I was dimly seeking: a sense of who I was, some final easement of the blood. I went from one to another, and it was often as though I had to break them open like a husk of shell with unknown contents, peeling them like a fruit which I then discarded.

Hertzog has basic problems with Ganna right from the start; she’s emotionally needy, manipulative and prone to hysteria, and surprise surprise, some of the problems are over money. It’s been drilled into Ganna to live off the interest of her 80,000 crowns, and not touch the capital, but Hertzog finds that idea rather grubby.

What was it all for, I would ask myself periodically, to be living like an outlaw? A bank account, I thought is obviously intended to be a type of conserve, like foie gras; not something anyone eat fresh.

As I read My Marriage, I kept thinking about von Sacher-Masoch’s book Venus in Furs; it’s an account of one man’s search for the ideal harsh mistress (and his fantasy was to have a woman treat him like crap until he decided it was time for the game to stop. Logical fallacy…who’s really in charge?) If you read it, you also have to read his wife’s version of events, The Confessions of Wanda von Sacher-Masoch –contrasting the two is hilarious. My Marriage is a diatribe from the fictional Hertzog about his wife, but the events in the book mirror Wasserman’s life. As noted in the afterword, “as anyone reading it then or now can tell instantly, Ganna (or now) My Marriage is the true account of Jakob Wassermann’s marriage to Julie Speyer of Vienna.” Ganna (aka Julie Speyer) had her say in Psyche Bleeds (Julie Speyer’s novel was The Living Heart: Novel of a Marriage,) and according to Hertzog, aka Wassermann, it’s wasn’t pretty.

It’s impossible to determine the dynamics of another’s marriage, and that brings me back to the ‘no fault’ divorce. With a divorce in which one party must prove ‘wrong,’ who can really tell (unless, let’s say for example, in a case of abuse) where the first misstep took place? And a no-fault divorce doesn’t allow one party to hang on the other spouse just out of spite or revenge.

Poor Hertzog seemed to forget that marriage is a legally binding contract, so we see him complaining how Ganna wants him to provide dowries for his two daughters while also providing for her in perpetuity.

The Kraal’s imperative was: provide for your brood, man; first and foremost your brood, we don’t give a hoot about what happens to you; let the deserter work himself to the bone; let him fail and come to his senses; let him and his mistress fail ever to free themselves from the shackles.

In the aftermath of the separation, Ganna, now with her dowry gone, tries to create an income stream for herself, but fails, only generating a mountain of bills which she expects Hertzog to pay. Hertzog seems to see this as another attempt to drain him dry, and it’s likely that just how reasonable and unreasonable these two parties are, will cause some division of opinion amongst readers. While it’s easy to have a lot of sympathy for a man who wishes to sever ties with a woman he can’t stand, it’s not so easy to have sympathy for a man who wishes to step away from his obligations and start with a clean slate.

This is a very emotionally involving book, and I found myself, at several points, wanting to slap the pair of them. There’s a dynamic between Hertzog and Ganna which becomes increasingly pathological as the distance between the pair grows. Neither one knows when to stop, and as Ganna grows increasingly desperate, Hertzog inadvertently feeds her desire to be involved in his life. Hertzog is so passive, he creates his own fate, and Ganna, who “had something of a sorceress about her,” won’t release Hertzog from her possession.

It’s all very sad. Is Ganna as unbalanced as Hertzog claims? If so, is he responsible for this? After all this was a young woman raised in privilege, trained for marriage, who suddenly found herself, in middle age, penniless and cast adrift. Is Wasserman motivated by guilt when he responds to Ganna’s repeated annoying requests? By the end of the book, the sympathy see-saw wobbles back and forth.

I first heard of this book through Tom’s blog, so thanks for the recommendation. This book would be great material for book clubs, for it’s certain to generate some lively conversations.

Translated by Michael Hofmann

Review copy/own a copy

 

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