A powerful and lyrical meditation on war and the pity of war.
The Time of Light begins as Markus, a former German soldier, seeks atonement from an Armenian priest for his part in the Nazi invasion of Russia. Captured at the Battle of Stalingrad, Markus never returned to Germany but tried instead to work out his destiny in the country and among the people he feels he desecrated. Overcome by grief and shame, Markus turns his back on everything, including his wife and son.
Framed by the 9-day Nagorno-Karabakh conflict of 1994, The Time of Light is skillfully created from a series of tales that arise from Markus's conversations with the priest. It is a novel of striking contrasts, where devastating scenes are etched with an incisive lyricism that leaves the reader reeling. Clear-eyed about the savagery of war, harrowing in its evocation of emotion, powerfully imaginative in its grasp of something ineluctable in the human condition, The Time of Light is a mesmerizing novel by a prodigiously gifted new author.
On returning to the UK for a brief visit, and realising nothing to read was bought with me, I stumbled into Oxfam for a quick browse, and came across this 1998 novel from Norwegian Gunnar Kopperud. The title just spoke to me, "The Time of Light", and having never heard of it before, I didn't know what to think, another heavy going book on the horrors of war? It's safe to say this surpassed my expectations by some considerable distance.
"I woke this morning to the song of war and the smell of tears" The very first line of this complex novel sets the scene for what is a powerful and absorbing story of war and redemption. Set during the nine-day Nagorno-Karabakh conflict of 1994, "The Time of Light" skilfully weaves historical narration from the viewpoint of a German soldier, Markus, who fought in the Battle of Stalingrad, became a prisoner of war, but never returned to Germany, and his wife and Son. Overcome with shame from the atrocities he committed against innocent civilians, he seeks atonement from an Armenia Priest after many years carrying the guilt. The story starts with Markus telling of the frontline assault against the Russian Army that had shocking moments of terrible deaths, the raping of women and the struggle for Stalingrad where the temperature plummeted during the coldest of Winters. After being released from capture, Markus and friends Dieter and Manfred would all choose different paths to re-start their lives, Dieter returns home, while Manfred changes his name, boards a ship, and sets off with a woman to an unknown land.
This was never a conventional war story, but something much deeper and richer, with the second half going in more of a religious direction, bringing into question the links between both war and faith. It is most definitely a scathing attack on war, from all fronts, and never goes for the thrilling approach, even during the tense moments of battle, it also brings other issues into account, with Palestine, the middle east and The Balkan troubles woven into the story as well. The whole novel works at a visceral level so brilliantly, and the reader's imagination is provided with an antidote to the simplistic and antiquated anti-Germanic sentiment still often felt after all these years.
Kopperud's characters understand the inherent capriciousness of humankind. Societies will continue to find cause to argue, and will continue to kill for the sake of God and politics.When Markus as an old man asks a combatant how he will explain his actions to his God, you can insert your own answer, Because it was right, this is war, this is how it always is. The last third turns almost biblical, with centuries old stories of Jerusalem being told, I am still trying to figure out Kopperud's stance on religion, Christianity and it's symbolic meaning, is he taking sides? could he just be weaving a novel into his own feelings on this subject. Honestly, I couldn't care less, as a devoted pacifist the pointless nature of conflict has only been strengthened.
There is an issue of jumping around in time that takes some getting use to, this can change in the middle of a certain moment, and does have you wondering, so where are we in time now?. I would never normally give a work of fiction based on war such praise, as non-fiction in all it's realistic nature turns out more harrowing. This is less, however Kopperud has written a story that works on so many levels, yes it's about war, but that's only half the equation. The prose is clear and simple, hypnotic, and evocative of times and places, really drawing you in, I couldn't put it down, and don't get to say that often.
The final message if there is one. War is meaningless, there are no winners. 5/5
Where did this writer come from, and where did he write after this achingly moving work about long-lasting war guilt? This is a wonderful book about one of the defeated German soldiers who fought at Stalingrad. He is so overcome by grief and guilt that he is quite unable to return home to Germany after the war ends. It is now 1994 and he lives in Armenia but war has broken out with Azerbaijan, history is repeating itself. Kopperud’s first novel seemed to mark him out as a special talent. Yet outside Norway he is not well known. That needs to be rectified.
A brilliant, exceptionally strong book, but also a tough read - not difficult to read (it will likely keep up long in the night), but it is hard to digest - it really stirs your imagination. No other book left such an impression on me in the long run. Highly recommended as additional reading to de Waals' Black Garden (e.g.). I have no problem with 5 stars here.
This book stays with me. In particular a lyrical metaphor of the Armenian genocide comes back to me time and again. There are many brutal scenes and I don't know if I would recommend it to a friend, but I cannot deny that this book has had a powerful effect on me. Isn't that what literature should do?
What would you do if the society you grew up in suddenly turned 90 degrees about face and then held you culpable for what you did in it's service? Have you any idea, in simple emotional and human terms, what that must be like or how you would cope?
This thoughtfull, thought provoking and intelligent book explores these questions with real literary skill. It is storytelling at it's best, as it carries you deep into the minds, hearts and personal experiences of it's characters, adopting different styles, constructs and formats to do so, each adding appropriately to the imagery and tone of each scene. Whether that be the internal monologue of a man in the clostrophobic intensity of hand to hand battle, or the heartbreak of personal loyalty that has to hurt itself in order to protect it's own. We read dialogue, monologue, descriptive prose, historical observation, magic realism and even the occasional pseudo mythical parable.
It provides no answers but, as it tells the story of how four young Germans attempt to come to terms with the above dilemma, the author generates empathy with each character and in doing so illustrates the human consequences of the situation and existential pressure of addressing the question.
The book starts and ends in a conversation between one of the friends and a priest. Set sometime in the latter half of the 20th Century in the disputed territory of Nogorno-Karabahk on The Armenian/Azerbaijani border. This conversation, conducted in "the now" so to speak, forms the backbone of the book. The subject under discussion is forgiveness, guilt and absolution. From this point we are taken back into various biographies and timelines, episodically, as we follow the four young friends on their joint and then individual journeys through various geographical, socio political and physchological landscapes; From school, into the rise of National Socialism, through invasion, conquest, war and their aftermath; From youthfull idealism and nationalistic zeal into experience and self discovery through painfull disillusionment and varying degrees of ill metal health and personal tragedy. The four friends are all united in their idealism, although they all, ultimately, believe passionately in different things. Other than this they are really quite different; a well read, gifted luinguist with a deep ethical, spiritual leaning. An intelligent, emminently practical engineer with a vital political passion, belief and strength. A superlative musician, an artistic dreamer who, whilst never quite at home in this world, is capable of transporting others into his, through his music and finally, a young German Jewess trying to reconcile the contradictions, that society at large is trying to seperate, but that she in herself embodies.
If you like WWII literature then you will like this. But, here is the true value of this book; I have now read it three times and although I now know the story, it's beginning and end, I really don't understand the journey that each of the four has to take. I am still thinking about it months after finishing it and I know that in time, it will be worth reading again!
Harrowing. Visceral. A flinching (the horror) portrayal of war and the lies we tell about the victors, the losers and the victims. The ravages of the German Eastern Front, the terror of Stalingrad, on to the Armenian genocide and the war in Nagorno-Karabakh (ironically, too appropriate). What we choose to look at and what we choose to ignore.
One docked star for the objectification of women. Only present to be raped and abused and to teach lessons. No agency, no character (Rachel is defined by her relationship to Markus, she doesn't exist outside it).
The novel's description was irresistible to me: a philosophical and surreal meditation on war that overlays German soldiers' guilt-ridden memories of World War II with the 1994 conflict in Nagorno-Karabakh. The book itself offers delirious extremes: deeds of stomach-churning brutality, oneiric memoryscapes of luminous devastation, coarsely humorous folk tales, and cumbrous metaphysical dialogues. It distinguishes itself from other "war is hell" novels by its dreamlike structure and fantastically subjective passages, as well as its theo-historical obsessions, expressed in unapologetically erudite and expositional conversations between the main German protagonist, Manfred, and an Armenian priest. It's all a bit too on-the-nose, a bit too intoxicated with its own weighty themes, a bit too thoroughly convinced of the tragedy of the human condition. But it undeniably packs a punch.