After watching the excellent PBS series, Vienna Blood, I vowed to read some of the source material. To my delight, I discovered that there were additional novels which had not yet been televised and purchased the novel which would follow from the last episode I viewed. That novel is Vienna Secrets. To be sure, that title could have applied to any of the previous novels because these Max (as in Maxim) Liebermann novels by Frank Tallis are not afraid to delve into conspiracy, betrayal, secret societies, underground vices, and, in this case, Kabbalah. But don’t worry, even though you will find references to Prague’s Rabbi Loew and the golem, gematria (symbolic meaning of numbers), metoscopy (reading Hebrew words or characters in the lines on an individual’s face), lamed vavniks (the 36 righteous men who in Jewish lore keep the world from ending), dybbiks (powerful demons), and Jewish mystical writings, you don’t need to know anything about them in advance to enjoy this riveting mystery. I’ve visited Loew’s Old-New Synagogue in Prague and, as a result, I caught references to the golem mystery before Tallis overtly revealed it, but I wouldn’t have been frustrated if I had only found out when Liebermann (ironically) finds out.
For those who don’t know the series, Max Liebermann is a junior doctor in Vienna, specializing in the diseases of the mind. He is an admirer of Freud and has received a certain amount of resistance to his adoption of Freud’s theories on dreams and treatment by psychoanalysis. He becomes a de facto (ie. “unpaid” and “unofficial”) consultant to the police. By this book, he no longer needs to prove himself to Detective Oskar Rheinhardt but he is questioned and his career politicized within the hospital itself.
The series does a fabulous job of describing turn of the 20th century Vienna and such strange snake-oil treatments as magnetized water, along with bizarre curiosities such as Narrenturm, the cylindrical-almost cake designed psychiatric hospital in Vienna where the general public was allowed to circumnavigate the halls and observe the inmates. Tallis makes excellent use of primary sources to summarize speeches and magazine/newspaper articles to illuminate the temper of the early 20th century Austrian society. And just in case you think some things are too bizarre to have happened, there is an extensive afterward (with both detailed acknowledgements and a delightful historical appendix).
Vienna Secrets features a series of grotesque decapitations which seem to be inexorably tied to religion (both Judaism and Catholicism). I can’t resist sharing a couple of scenes I particularly enjoyed. Considering the supernatural aspects surrounding the beliefs described in the book, I thought Oskar’s description in this scene particularly apropos: “RHEINHARDT HAD BEEN SMOKING cigars all the way from Josefstadt to Hietzing. As a result, when he opened the carriage door, he emerged from the confined space like Mephistopheles, surrounded by a roiling yellow cloud. He placed a foot on the step and jumped to the ground, his coat catching the air and rising up like a black wing. The young constable who greeted Rheinhardt was somewhat overawed by the inspector’s theatrical débouché.” (p. 103)
Tallis also drew nice comparisons between the baroque architecture of Vienna and the gothic architecture of Prague. For instance: “Liebermann observed an imposing Gothic structure, which he knew to be the Church of Our Lady Before Týn. Its two towers, of unequal height, were festooned with sharp pinnacles. It looked nothing like the baroque churches of Vienna, with their ebullient ornate façades, which always reminded Liebermann of confectionery. The Church of Our Lady Before Týn was a much darker piece of architecture—brooding, even sinister. The black, bristling spires were menacing, the home of some horrifying storybook evil.” (p. 205)
Some of my favorite lines were robust conversational ripostes. Early in the book, Liebermann’s father, Mendel, is accused of being too pessimistic, but Mendel insists: “A pessimist is just a well-informed optimist.” (p. 16) When Liebermann believes himself overthinking an issue, he admits, “Sometimes things are exactly what they seem to be, and nothing else.” But immediately comes the rejoinder: “A difficult concept for a psychiatrist to grasp, admittedly,” … (p. 72). Tallis recycles a classic Jewish comment that I’ve heard before, but rather enjoy because it applies to a lot a people I know who are not Jewish: “There’s an old saying: two rabbis, three arguments. And you know, it’s not far wrong.” (p. 98)
At another point, Max confronts a villain who is monologuing. I don’t think this interlocution will spoil the mystery. Max observed that the villain’s behavior would be, according to Freud, psychopathological. The villain responds: “That may be so, but Professor Freud’s objectives are somewhat different from mine.” To which Max responds in sermonic form: “True. Where he seeks to heal divisions in the psyche, you seek to open them up in society.” (p. 349).
Vienna Secrets is extremely well-written, erudite without being pedantic and off-putting, and mesmerizing. I think this is the best historical-fiction as mystery that I’ve read since my stand-by author, Anne Perry’s two Victorian mysteries. Yet, I like this series even better because the early 20th century European setting with Austrian, Teutonic, Jewish, and Slavic backgrounds is even more fascinating to me.