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Bildnis der Mutter als junge Frau
Rom, an einem strahlend sonnigen Tag im Januar 1943: Eine junge Deutsche, die kurz vor der Geburt ihres ersten Kindes steht, begibt sich auf einen Spaziergang in der ihr fremden Stadt. Ihr geliebter Mann, Pfarrer in der kleinen evangelischen Gemeinde, ist an die afrikanische Front versetzt worden, der Zeitpunkt seiner Rückkehr ungewiss. Trotz der verwirrend schönen Eindrücke und all der rätselhaften Dinge, die ihr auf ihrem Weg begegnen, ist sie mit jedem Gedanken bei ihm, der doch versprochen hatte, die "römischen Freuden" mit ihr zu teilen. Doch sie beginnt zu ahnen, dass der Krieg verloren gehen könnte. In dieser opulent sinnlichen Erzählung greift Friedrich Christian Delius seine eigene Familiengeschichte auf. Die junge Frau, die mit offenen Augen, bangem Herzen und nicht nachlassender Hoffnung durch die Ewige Stadt geht, ist seine Mutter. Ob es nun dieser autobiographische Bezug ist oder der Zauber Roms, die Ängste des Krieges oder die einfühlsam geschilderte Liebesgeschichte - dieses Buch entwickelt eine Sogkraft, der man sich kaum entziehen kann.
127 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2006
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501 people want to read
About the author
Friedrich Christian Delius
63 books22 followersFriedrich Christian Delius (born 1943) is an acclaimed German writer.
He was born in Rome and grew up in Wehrda and Korbach in the state of Hesse. He studied German literature at the Free University and the Technical University in Berlin. He graduated in 1970 and went to work in publishing. Between 1970 and 1978, he worked at the publishing firms Klaus Wagenbach and Rotbuch.
He has published more than a dozen novels and a number of poetry collections. His work has been translated into seventeen languages. He has won numerous German literary prizes including the Joseph Breitbach Prize, the Georg Büchner Prize, and the Critics Prize. He is a member of the Freien Akademie Hamburg, the Deutsche Akademie für Sprache und Dichtung and the Akademie der Künste Berlin.
Since the late 1970s, he has divided his time between Berlin and Rome.
He was born in Rome and grew up in Wehrda and Korbach in the state of Hesse. He studied German literature at the Free University and the Technical University in Berlin. He graduated in 1970 and went to work in publishing. Between 1970 and 1978, he worked at the publishing firms Klaus Wagenbach and Rotbuch.
He has published more than a dozen novels and a number of poetry collections. His work has been translated into seventeen languages. He has won numerous German literary prizes including the Joseph Breitbach Prize, the Georg Büchner Prize, and the Critics Prize. He is a member of the Freien Akademie Hamburg, the Deutsche Akademie für Sprache und Dichtung and the Akademie der Künste Berlin.
Since the late 1970s, he has divided his time between Berlin and Rome.
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January 29, 2019
Persönliche Befangenheitserklärung
Ich habe das erste Drittel bereits zwei mal live gehört, das zweite mal vor drei Wochen an der letzten Wirkungsstätte von Delius Vater, der auf der Kanzel der Korbacher Nikolaikirche einen tödlichen Zusammenbruch erlitt und eine 39 Jahre junge Witwe mit drei Kindern zurück ließ, die erst mal Selbständigkeit in allen Lebensbereichen lernen musste, um für ihre Kinder sorgen zu können. Und als der Erstgeborene, ein typischer Vertreter seiner Generation, auch wenn Delius das 68er-Attribut stets abgelehnt hat, endlich so weit ist, um mit seiner Mutter über vieles nie Besprochenes reden zu können und bereits einen Ortstermin zum 70. Geburtstag in Rom gebucht hat, da bekommt die alte Dame einen Schlaganfall, von dem sie sich nicht mehr richtig erholt und so vieles muss ungesagt bleiben.
Ich habe das Buch von vorn herein vor diesem tragischen Hintergrund gelesen und mit einer gewissen Neugier, wie war sie denn? Die Mutter des berühmten Autors, die bis Mitte der Achtziger als Gemeindeschwester und im Kirchenvorstand gearbeitet hat.
Neben dem literarischen Voyeurismus kommt auch die eigene Verwandtschaft ins Spiel: meine Lieblingsoma, für die ich, dank einer gewissen Ähnlichkeit mit ihrem Lieblingsvetter, auch der Lieblingsenkel gewesen bin, entsprach in vielem diesem Typus: Gottesfürchtig und von einer gewissen Grundskepsis gegenüber allen weltlichen Mächten und sehr auf ihren älteren Mann als Entscheidungsträger fixiert, meine Oma war 31 als der Kriegsheimkehrer an einem Hirnschlag starb und sie mit drei Kindern zurück ließ, der Älteste konnte immerhin gleich mit Bäckerlehre beginnen, um später das Geschäft übernehmen zu können und musste dafür das Gymnasium und alle damit verbundenen Hoffnungen sausen lassen. Insofern kann Delius seiner Mutter dankbar dafür sein, dass sie ihn nicht gleich in irgendeine Lehre gesteckt hat.
Wie dem auch sei, diese Einstellung Gott und seine Ansprüche über alles zu stellen und sich möglichst in nichts reinziehen zu lassen, die im Buch eine wesentliche Konstante darstellt, hat mich sehr an meine Oma erinnert, deren Stimme immer noch ein wenig leiser wurde, während sie in geduckterer Haltung wenigstens ein paar Andeutungen über jene Zeit machte, in der man doch nichts sagen durfte... Einmal erzählte sie mir mit einer gewissen Begeisterung von einer Großkundgebung von Hitler, wie der mit Flugzeug gelandet sei, wollte sich aber nicht mehr daran erinnern können, was sie damals gewählt hatte.
Immer auf der Hut und sich auch nachträglich in nichts mehr verwickeln lassen, aber es es gab sie, diese Moment der Wahrheit beim abendlichen Schachspiel und einem Viertele Trollinger. Vermutlich wäre ich auch ohne einen doppelten Delius und die Kenntnis seines persönlichen Hintergrunds heiß auf dieses Buch gewesen, das ganz ohne die üblichen Zutaten Sex and Crime einen unheimlich hohen Spannungsfaktor aufweist.
Das Buch - ein unwiderstehlicher Erzählsog
Der Inhalt steht im Prinzip im Klappentext, das eigentliche Geheimnis ist die Komposition, die als Stream of Consciousness ein wenig an das Finale des Ulysses erinnert, auch wenn eben jene Inhalte komplett fehlen, die Molly Bloom in früheren Zeiten so verführerisch für gewisse Leser aus den unterschiedlichsten Altersgruppen gemacht hat. Als Spätgeborener ist Delius vom Ringen um und mit der Form befreit und auch thematisch hat er (siehe oben) bei mir einen klaren Heimvorteil, das sich in politischem Selbstmitleid und Suff suhlende Irland der Jahrhundertwende mit seinem allgegenwärtigen Katholizismus liegt für mich eher in der überübernächsten Galaxis; die Religiosität dieser anständigen Deutschen ist mir dagegen sehr vertraut auch ein gewisser Bachkult, dem ich so um die Zwanzig auch mal verfallen war, sogar das Bedürfnis seine Welt oder sein Weltbild gegen gefährliche Einflüsse von draußen abzuschirmen halte ich für typisch für diese Form von Frömmigkeit. Ein Reaktionsmuster, das durch die Faktoren Krieg, Fremde und Faschismus/Nationalsozialismus noch verstärkt wird.
Darüber hinaus ist dieser Gang durch Rom ein einziges Ichvermissedichso!, das Fehlen des Gegenübers, mit dem man die Eindrücke teilen will. Die junge Mutter spart sich den Genuss der schönen Seiten Roms beinahe für den Mann auf, bzw. braucht ihn auch als Vermittler zum Unbekannten, lediglich auf Vertrautem musikalischem Terrain, kann sie sich auf die Musik einlassen, in der Kirche, wo er eigentlich am Altar mit dem Adler stehen sollte. Delius hat seinen Roman aus den Kriegsbriefen seiner Eltern komponiert und die harten Fakten jener Zeit in den Archiven vor Ort recherchiert, der Brief mit dem Konzert ist sozusagen das Herzstück.
Zeitlicher Krebsgang als zweiter Handlungsfaden
Der Weg von einer protestantischen Insel zur nächsten ist die äußere Handlungsebene, der Weg zurück in die eigene Vorgeschichte geht in entgegengesetzter Richtung, erst die Liebesgeschichte, dann der familiäre Hintergrund mit den zahlreichen alltäglichen Tragödien: 1.) Sturz des Großvaters vom Pferd, 2.) Verlust des Gutes, alle drei Söhne müssen zum Militär, 3.) zwei fallen im Weltkrieg, nur der Vater überlebt, 4.) erweist sich aber außerhalb der Marine als lebensuntüchtig, 5.) erleidet darüber wohl eine psychosomatische Lähmung, ehe er seine Bestimmung als Missionar unter den Ungläubigen und politisch Verblendeten findet und 7.) unter Druck der neuen Machthaber wieder verliert. Die zeitweilige BDM-Begeisterung des Mädchens kann da fast als staatlich geförderte jugendliche Opposition gegen den Kapitänsleutnant-Vater erscheinen, die konsequente Entscheidung sich in Nichts reinziehen zu lassen ist sicher eine Reaktion auf den Druck, den ihr Vater erfahren musste.
Diese von immer wieder aufgerufenen Motiven gegliederte Erzählstruktur mit dem äußeren Weg zum Konzert und dem innerlichen Weg in die Vorgeschichte/Biographie erzeugt eine Sogwirkung, der man sich nur schwer entziehen kann, ich ohnehin nicht, dafür gibt es in der Vorgeschichte zu viele Parallelen zu den Tragödien im eigenen Stammbaum, auch einen ausgemusterten Weltkriegshelden, der die folgenden zwölf Jahre mehr als einmal geschäftlich Schiffbruch erlitt, sonst aber lähmungsfrei blieb.
Schlussbemerkung (beinahe off topic und von der Berichterstattung dieser Tage provoziert)
Ich denke schon, dass Delius in Sachen Einfühlungsvermögen und wie subtiler Kritik an gewissen menschlichen Verhaltensformen ein Meisterstück abgeliefert hat, obwohl er sich dabei auf eine Stunde und den Rückblick auf die Jahre zuvor konzentriert.
Sich möglichst auf die eigenen Angelegenheiten konzentrieren, dabei das Schöne genießen, um die Härten des eigenen Alltags aushalten zu können, wer tut das nicht? Die Inhalte und die weltpolitische Lage haben sich zwar geändert, das menschliche Verhalten aber doch nicht so sehr, auch wenn uns die Frömmigkeit jener Zeit und die anderen Formen der Inneren Emigration wie der massive Goethe- oder Antikekult inzwischen fremd geworden sind, wegen dem sich die jeweils Gläubigen als die besseren Menschen vorgekommen sind und sich dabei der Barbarei der Nazi-Machthaber turmhoch überlegen fühlten, der sie im Alltag permanent ausgesetzt waren.
Spätere Generationen werden sich vermutlich wundern, mit welchem Dreck die Mehrzahl unserer Zeitgenossen ihre Zeit verplempert hat, während wieder eine Welt unterging. Ich bemühe mich heute z.B. mich auch nicht zu sehr über die zum Jubiläum angesagte Befreiungsrhetorik aufzuregen, die auf andere Art und Weise genauso weit von der kaum greifbaren Wahrheit abweicht, wie die Kollektivschuld oder einseitige Schuldzuweisungen in der selbstgerechten Altachtundsechziger-Manier oder die mit finanziellen Motiven betriebene Vollstreckerdebatte.
Dieses Regime hatte so viele Möglichkeiten auf allen Ebenen in seine Bürger in seine Machenschaften zu verstricken, Gruppendruck und ein gewisser Untertanengeist taten ein Übriges. Zudem hat schon zu allen Zeiten das Motto gegolten: Gib einem Menschen einen guten Grund anderen Menschen weh zu tun und er wird ihn mit Freuden annehmen. Letzteres hat die ziemlich schizophren wirkende ZDF-Dokumentation vom Dienstag (Die Verbrechen der Befreier) immerhin gut herausgearbeitet.
Eine Frau wie die junge Mutter, die sich aus allem heraus halten wollte, musste wohl wirklich befreit werden. Jetzt bin ich um so gespannter darauf, wie sich das Paar im kleinen hessischen Dorf im Nachkriegsdeutschland eingerichtet hat und wie ihr Erstgeborener darunter leiden musste.
Und wenn jemand meint, als „Befreiter“ weniger unter der den Untaten oder Unterlassungen seiner Vorfahren leiden zu müssen, so sei ihm oder ihr das von mir aus gegönnt, die eigene Verantwortung bei zukünftigen Entscheidungskonflikten bleibt davon unberührt.
Ich habe das erste Drittel bereits zwei mal live gehört, das zweite mal vor drei Wochen an der letzten Wirkungsstätte von Delius Vater, der auf der Kanzel der Korbacher Nikolaikirche einen tödlichen Zusammenbruch erlitt und eine 39 Jahre junge Witwe mit drei Kindern zurück ließ, die erst mal Selbständigkeit in allen Lebensbereichen lernen musste, um für ihre Kinder sorgen zu können. Und als der Erstgeborene, ein typischer Vertreter seiner Generation, auch wenn Delius das 68er-Attribut stets abgelehnt hat, endlich so weit ist, um mit seiner Mutter über vieles nie Besprochenes reden zu können und bereits einen Ortstermin zum 70. Geburtstag in Rom gebucht hat, da bekommt die alte Dame einen Schlaganfall, von dem sie sich nicht mehr richtig erholt und so vieles muss ungesagt bleiben.
Ich habe das Buch von vorn herein vor diesem tragischen Hintergrund gelesen und mit einer gewissen Neugier, wie war sie denn? Die Mutter des berühmten Autors, die bis Mitte der Achtziger als Gemeindeschwester und im Kirchenvorstand gearbeitet hat.
Neben dem literarischen Voyeurismus kommt auch die eigene Verwandtschaft ins Spiel: meine Lieblingsoma, für die ich, dank einer gewissen Ähnlichkeit mit ihrem Lieblingsvetter, auch der Lieblingsenkel gewesen bin, entsprach in vielem diesem Typus: Gottesfürchtig und von einer gewissen Grundskepsis gegenüber allen weltlichen Mächten und sehr auf ihren älteren Mann als Entscheidungsträger fixiert, meine Oma war 31 als der Kriegsheimkehrer an einem Hirnschlag starb und sie mit drei Kindern zurück ließ, der Älteste konnte immerhin gleich mit Bäckerlehre beginnen, um später das Geschäft übernehmen zu können und musste dafür das Gymnasium und alle damit verbundenen Hoffnungen sausen lassen. Insofern kann Delius seiner Mutter dankbar dafür sein, dass sie ihn nicht gleich in irgendeine Lehre gesteckt hat.
Wie dem auch sei, diese Einstellung Gott und seine Ansprüche über alles zu stellen und sich möglichst in nichts reinziehen zu lassen, die im Buch eine wesentliche Konstante darstellt, hat mich sehr an meine Oma erinnert, deren Stimme immer noch ein wenig leiser wurde, während sie in geduckterer Haltung wenigstens ein paar Andeutungen über jene Zeit machte, in der man doch nichts sagen durfte... Einmal erzählte sie mir mit einer gewissen Begeisterung von einer Großkundgebung von Hitler, wie der mit Flugzeug gelandet sei, wollte sich aber nicht mehr daran erinnern können, was sie damals gewählt hatte.
Immer auf der Hut und sich auch nachträglich in nichts mehr verwickeln lassen, aber es es gab sie, diese Moment der Wahrheit beim abendlichen Schachspiel und einem Viertele Trollinger. Vermutlich wäre ich auch ohne einen doppelten Delius und die Kenntnis seines persönlichen Hintergrunds heiß auf dieses Buch gewesen, das ganz ohne die üblichen Zutaten Sex and Crime einen unheimlich hohen Spannungsfaktor aufweist.
Das Buch - ein unwiderstehlicher Erzählsog
Der Inhalt steht im Prinzip im Klappentext, das eigentliche Geheimnis ist die Komposition, die als Stream of Consciousness ein wenig an das Finale des Ulysses erinnert, auch wenn eben jene Inhalte komplett fehlen, die Molly Bloom in früheren Zeiten so verführerisch für gewisse Leser aus den unterschiedlichsten Altersgruppen gemacht hat. Als Spätgeborener ist Delius vom Ringen um und mit der Form befreit und auch thematisch hat er (siehe oben) bei mir einen klaren Heimvorteil, das sich in politischem Selbstmitleid und Suff suhlende Irland der Jahrhundertwende mit seinem allgegenwärtigen Katholizismus liegt für mich eher in der überübernächsten Galaxis; die Religiosität dieser anständigen Deutschen ist mir dagegen sehr vertraut auch ein gewisser Bachkult, dem ich so um die Zwanzig auch mal verfallen war, sogar das Bedürfnis seine Welt oder sein Weltbild gegen gefährliche Einflüsse von draußen abzuschirmen halte ich für typisch für diese Form von Frömmigkeit. Ein Reaktionsmuster, das durch die Faktoren Krieg, Fremde und Faschismus/Nationalsozialismus noch verstärkt wird.
Darüber hinaus ist dieser Gang durch Rom ein einziges Ichvermissedichso!, das Fehlen des Gegenübers, mit dem man die Eindrücke teilen will. Die junge Mutter spart sich den Genuss der schönen Seiten Roms beinahe für den Mann auf, bzw. braucht ihn auch als Vermittler zum Unbekannten, lediglich auf Vertrautem musikalischem Terrain, kann sie sich auf die Musik einlassen, in der Kirche, wo er eigentlich am Altar mit dem Adler stehen sollte. Delius hat seinen Roman aus den Kriegsbriefen seiner Eltern komponiert und die harten Fakten jener Zeit in den Archiven vor Ort recherchiert, der Brief mit dem Konzert ist sozusagen das Herzstück.
Zeitlicher Krebsgang als zweiter Handlungsfaden
Der Weg von einer protestantischen Insel zur nächsten ist die äußere Handlungsebene, der Weg zurück in die eigene Vorgeschichte geht in entgegengesetzter Richtung, erst die Liebesgeschichte, dann der familiäre Hintergrund mit den zahlreichen alltäglichen Tragödien: 1.) Sturz des Großvaters vom Pferd, 2.) Verlust des Gutes, alle drei Söhne müssen zum Militär, 3.) zwei fallen im Weltkrieg, nur der Vater überlebt, 4.) erweist sich aber außerhalb der Marine als lebensuntüchtig, 5.) erleidet darüber wohl eine psychosomatische Lähmung, ehe er seine Bestimmung als Missionar unter den Ungläubigen und politisch Verblendeten findet und 7.) unter Druck der neuen Machthaber wieder verliert. Die zeitweilige BDM-Begeisterung des Mädchens kann da fast als staatlich geförderte jugendliche Opposition gegen den Kapitänsleutnant-Vater erscheinen, die konsequente Entscheidung sich in Nichts reinziehen zu lassen ist sicher eine Reaktion auf den Druck, den ihr Vater erfahren musste.
Diese von immer wieder aufgerufenen Motiven gegliederte Erzählstruktur mit dem äußeren Weg zum Konzert und dem innerlichen Weg in die Vorgeschichte/Biographie erzeugt eine Sogwirkung, der man sich nur schwer entziehen kann, ich ohnehin nicht, dafür gibt es in der Vorgeschichte zu viele Parallelen zu den Tragödien im eigenen Stammbaum, auch einen ausgemusterten Weltkriegshelden, der die folgenden zwölf Jahre mehr als einmal geschäftlich Schiffbruch erlitt, sonst aber lähmungsfrei blieb.
Schlussbemerkung (beinahe off topic und von der Berichterstattung dieser Tage provoziert)
Ich denke schon, dass Delius in Sachen Einfühlungsvermögen und wie subtiler Kritik an gewissen menschlichen Verhaltensformen ein Meisterstück abgeliefert hat, obwohl er sich dabei auf eine Stunde und den Rückblick auf die Jahre zuvor konzentriert.
Sich möglichst auf die eigenen Angelegenheiten konzentrieren, dabei das Schöne genießen, um die Härten des eigenen Alltags aushalten zu können, wer tut das nicht? Die Inhalte und die weltpolitische Lage haben sich zwar geändert, das menschliche Verhalten aber doch nicht so sehr, auch wenn uns die Frömmigkeit jener Zeit und die anderen Formen der Inneren Emigration wie der massive Goethe- oder Antikekult inzwischen fremd geworden sind, wegen dem sich die jeweils Gläubigen als die besseren Menschen vorgekommen sind und sich dabei der Barbarei der Nazi-Machthaber turmhoch überlegen fühlten, der sie im Alltag permanent ausgesetzt waren.
Spätere Generationen werden sich vermutlich wundern, mit welchem Dreck die Mehrzahl unserer Zeitgenossen ihre Zeit verplempert hat, während wieder eine Welt unterging. Ich bemühe mich heute z.B. mich auch nicht zu sehr über die zum Jubiläum angesagte Befreiungsrhetorik aufzuregen, die auf andere Art und Weise genauso weit von der kaum greifbaren Wahrheit abweicht, wie die Kollektivschuld oder einseitige Schuldzuweisungen in der selbstgerechten Altachtundsechziger-Manier oder die mit finanziellen Motiven betriebene Vollstreckerdebatte.
Dieses Regime hatte so viele Möglichkeiten auf allen Ebenen in seine Bürger in seine Machenschaften zu verstricken, Gruppendruck und ein gewisser Untertanengeist taten ein Übriges. Zudem hat schon zu allen Zeiten das Motto gegolten: Gib einem Menschen einen guten Grund anderen Menschen weh zu tun und er wird ihn mit Freuden annehmen. Letzteres hat die ziemlich schizophren wirkende ZDF-Dokumentation vom Dienstag (Die Verbrechen der Befreier) immerhin gut herausgearbeitet.
Eine Frau wie die junge Mutter, die sich aus allem heraus halten wollte, musste wohl wirklich befreit werden. Jetzt bin ich um so gespannter darauf, wie sich das Paar im kleinen hessischen Dorf im Nachkriegsdeutschland eingerichtet hat und wie ihr Erstgeborener darunter leiden musste.
Und wenn jemand meint, als „Befreiter“ weniger unter der den Untaten oder Unterlassungen seiner Vorfahren leiden zu müssen, so sei ihm oder ihr das von mir aus gegönnt, die eigene Verantwortung bei zukünftigen Entscheidungskonflikten bleibt davon unberührt.
February 28, 2013
This brief, evocative novella takes place during a late afternoon stroll in 1943. A very young, pregnant German woman is separated from her husband, who is stationed in North Africa during World War II. She is staying in Rome, in a guest room in a hospital for the elderly, run by German nuns in what seems to be the Prati neighborhood, between Vatican City and the historic center. Her obstetrician instructs her to "walk, young lady, walk" for the health of the child, soon to be born.
Margaret looks forward to these daily constitutions to the Lutheran Gospel on Via Sicilia, and today she is on her way to hear a Bach concert. She considers her beginning and end points as two German islands "in a sea of Rome," a bewildering city, for the most part, to an innocent, devout Protestant. Margaret is terrified to admit thoughts of her own that are not consecrated by the Bible and the Reich.
Does Margaret's naiveté shield her from the uncertainty of war? Or does she wrap herself in the flag and confine her catechism to the Bible as a camouflage from doubt? As she walks through the ancient streets of Rome, memories of her past and questions about her future surface and trouble her. There are also divides between what she learned about Brotherly Love from her preacher father, and the message from Hitler's Germany.
New ideas threaten to shift her current perspective--or at least question it, such as the German position on war, the attitude toward Jews and Italians, and whether her station and circumstances are propitious or unfortunate. Moreover, she worries whether she should explore other views or scrutinize the authority of the principles/morals/values she's been taught. Some ideas circle around, generating more powerful internal conflicts as they materialize, and threaten to shake her resolve. And throughout is her concern about her husband, Gert, whose letters she holds sacred.
And Margaret walks, and crosses the Tiber via the Ponte Margherita, smiling at the name of the bridge. The obelisks on Piazza del Popolo and the sculptures with the lion fountains provoke more memories, as well as thoughts about the strength of the city--the Eternal City that has survived many wars--and is older than Christ himself. The Christian cross at the tip of the obelisks comforts her, in that "the Christian symbol triumphed over the heathen one." The circumlocution of her thoughts has its own logic, which includes her benevolence toward the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, because Martin Luther, the great Protestant, had once stayed there. And why were there so many eagles in Rome? They looked softer here, less stern than the German eagles.
This is a story of contemplation, all told in one sentence. However, despite the Joycean title, this is written in a gentle, poetic, accessible style. The frequent paragraphs prevent weariness and provide white space, and the natural pauses are inherent and organic. Jamie Bulloch's translation from the German is superb. (I don't speak German, but can sense a clunky or awkward translation.) This is a seamless narrative of a stroll through the streets of Rome, as well as a sensitive, soulful sojourn of a mother as a young woman.
Margaret looks forward to these daily constitutions to the Lutheran Gospel on Via Sicilia, and today she is on her way to hear a Bach concert. She considers her beginning and end points as two German islands "in a sea of Rome," a bewildering city, for the most part, to an innocent, devout Protestant. Margaret is terrified to admit thoughts of her own that are not consecrated by the Bible and the Reich.
Does Margaret's naiveté shield her from the uncertainty of war? Or does she wrap herself in the flag and confine her catechism to the Bible as a camouflage from doubt? As she walks through the ancient streets of Rome, memories of her past and questions about her future surface and trouble her. There are also divides between what she learned about Brotherly Love from her preacher father, and the message from Hitler's Germany.
New ideas threaten to shift her current perspective--or at least question it, such as the German position on war, the attitude toward Jews and Italians, and whether her station and circumstances are propitious or unfortunate. Moreover, she worries whether she should explore other views or scrutinize the authority of the principles/morals/values she's been taught. Some ideas circle around, generating more powerful internal conflicts as they materialize, and threaten to shake her resolve. And throughout is her concern about her husband, Gert, whose letters she holds sacred.
And Margaret walks, and crosses the Tiber via the Ponte Margherita, smiling at the name of the bridge. The obelisks on Piazza del Popolo and the sculptures with the lion fountains provoke more memories, as well as thoughts about the strength of the city--the Eternal City that has survived many wars--and is older than Christ himself. The Christian cross at the tip of the obelisks comforts her, in that "the Christian symbol triumphed over the heathen one." The circumlocution of her thoughts has its own logic, which includes her benevolence toward the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, because Martin Luther, the great Protestant, had once stayed there. And why were there so many eagles in Rome? They looked softer here, less stern than the German eagles.
This is a story of contemplation, all told in one sentence. However, despite the Joycean title, this is written in a gentle, poetic, accessible style. The frequent paragraphs prevent weariness and provide white space, and the natural pauses are inherent and organic. Jamie Bulloch's translation from the German is superb. (I don't speak German, but can sense a clunky or awkward translation.) This is a seamless narrative of a stroll through the streets of Rome, as well as a sensitive, soulful sojourn of a mother as a young woman.
August 2, 2017
A Walk Through Rome
Friedrich Christian Delius is the winner of Germany's highly prestigious Georg-Büchner Prize, but this, I believe, is the first of his books to be translated into English. And a very fluid translation too, by Jamie Bulloch—important in that the whole novella, though divided into paragraphs, is a single run-on sentence, a third-person stream of consciousness that is virtually impossible to stop reading.
"Walk, young lady, walk if you want to walk, the child will like it if you walk," so speaks the Italian doctor to the title character, a young German woman in Rome, eight months pregnant. And walk she does, by a route that is easy to follow today, from the Waldensian hostel in the Trastevere, over the Ponte Margherita (the Italian version of her own name, Margaret), through the Piazza del Popolo, ascending the Pincio to take in its view towards St. Peter's, then along towards Santa Trinità dei Monti via the Spanish Steps, ending at the Lutheran Church on the Via Sicilia, where she attends a concert of Bach and Haydn. It is a practical walk, threading the arch-Catholic city from one outpost of German Protestantism to another.
It is also a very beautiful one, but the mother-to-be notices very little. She is not well educated, speaks no Italian, and feels isolated in a culture that she barely trusts. Besides, she is waiting for her husband to return to show her around properly. For the year is 1943, and he, though wounded on the Russian front, has unexpectedly been recalled to service following the German defeat at El Alamein, only one day after his pregnant wife had traveled to Rome to be with him.
The use of Rome as a mirror to reflect the mid-century German psyche reminds me of Wolfgang Koeppen's powerful Death In Rome, set in the immediately postwar years. But Delius writes at the turning-point of the war itself. He is also the more understated writer, confining himself to the thoughts of this modest young woman during her hour-long walk. At first she seems simple and unquestioning, content to leave difficult decisions to her betters. But as time passes, and she worries if she will ever see her husband again, she begins to question the discrepancies between the attitudes indoctrinated in her by the League of German Girls and the Christian beliefs of her husband and father. The concert in the church provides a magnificent climax, as her prayers interleave with the text of Bach's great Cantata 56 ("Ach, wie flüchtig"), about the brevity of human life.
Without ever spelling anything out, Delius gives an excellent sense of how the German people could have fallen under the spell of the Führer, but also have found the spiritual strength to recover their moral center afterwards. I have never seen the two phases summarized so compactly in such a short span, and with barely a mention of the horrors that have become so familiar. Instead he conveys volumes indirectly; even the mere mention of buildings in Germany such as the Wartburg Castle or the Minster in Bad Doberan (see below) implies moral values that will outlast mere regimes.
And Delius himself? One fact: he was born in 1943… in Rome.
======
You can, of course, enjoy the book for its words alone, or follow the mother's walk with an illustrated guide to Rome. But here is a small gallery of buildings referred to in the text. They share a sense of monumental austerity, and the Wartburg in particular has always been associated with German knightly values (it is also the setting of Wagner's Tannhäuser):
The Lutheran Christuskirche in Rome
The Wartburg, Germany
The Wartburg in an 1814 engraving
The Minster at Bad Doberan
Friedrich Christian Delius is the winner of Germany's highly prestigious Georg-Büchner Prize, but this, I believe, is the first of his books to be translated into English. And a very fluid translation too, by Jamie Bulloch—important in that the whole novella, though divided into paragraphs, is a single run-on sentence, a third-person stream of consciousness that is virtually impossible to stop reading.
"Walk, young lady, walk if you want to walk, the child will like it if you walk," so speaks the Italian doctor to the title character, a young German woman in Rome, eight months pregnant. And walk she does, by a route that is easy to follow today, from the Waldensian hostel in the Trastevere, over the Ponte Margherita (the Italian version of her own name, Margaret), through the Piazza del Popolo, ascending the Pincio to take in its view towards St. Peter's, then along towards Santa Trinità dei Monti via the Spanish Steps, ending at the Lutheran Church on the Via Sicilia, where she attends a concert of Bach and Haydn. It is a practical walk, threading the arch-Catholic city from one outpost of German Protestantism to another.
It is also a very beautiful one, but the mother-to-be notices very little. She is not well educated, speaks no Italian, and feels isolated in a culture that she barely trusts. Besides, she is waiting for her husband to return to show her around properly. For the year is 1943, and he, though wounded on the Russian front, has unexpectedly been recalled to service following the German defeat at El Alamein, only one day after his pregnant wife had traveled to Rome to be with him.
The use of Rome as a mirror to reflect the mid-century German psyche reminds me of Wolfgang Koeppen's powerful Death In Rome, set in the immediately postwar years. But Delius writes at the turning-point of the war itself. He is also the more understated writer, confining himself to the thoughts of this modest young woman during her hour-long walk. At first she seems simple and unquestioning, content to leave difficult decisions to her betters. But as time passes, and she worries if she will ever see her husband again, she begins to question the discrepancies between the attitudes indoctrinated in her by the League of German Girls and the Christian beliefs of her husband and father. The concert in the church provides a magnificent climax, as her prayers interleave with the text of Bach's great Cantata 56 ("Ach, wie flüchtig"), about the brevity of human life.
Without ever spelling anything out, Delius gives an excellent sense of how the German people could have fallen under the spell of the Führer, but also have found the spiritual strength to recover their moral center afterwards. I have never seen the two phases summarized so compactly in such a short span, and with barely a mention of the horrors that have become so familiar. Instead he conveys volumes indirectly; even the mere mention of buildings in Germany such as the Wartburg Castle or the Minster in Bad Doberan (see below) implies moral values that will outlast mere regimes.
And Delius himself? One fact: he was born in 1943… in Rome.
======
You can, of course, enjoy the book for its words alone, or follow the mother's walk with an illustrated guide to Rome. But here is a small gallery of buildings referred to in the text. They share a sense of monumental austerity, and the Wartburg in particular has always been associated with German knightly values (it is also the setting of Wagner's Tannhäuser):
The Lutheran Christuskirche in Rome
The Wartburg, Germany
The Wartburg in an 1814 engraving
The Minster at Bad Doberan
January 2, 2012
The doctor's sound advice to the heavily pregnant young woman, "walk if you like, the child will enjoy it too...", provides Friedrich Christian Delius, renowned German author and 2011 recipient of the most prestigious German language literary award, the Georg-Büchner-Preis, with a unique opening and an overall frame for his novella, "Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman". The book is unusual in several ways, both in content and in structure. I felt immediately drawn into the story, for personal as well as literary reasons. Seen as a whole, the Portrait is an imagined, affectionately written self-portrait of the mother, using the literary device of inner monologue to enable the reader to follow the young woman's observations, emotions and intimate reflections as she takes an hour's walk on a sunny winter afternoon in a foreign city. The city is Rome, the time is January 1943...
Delius creates a delicate portrait of one specific young woman, describing her sense of happiness for being in a "beautiful refuge", mixed in with her worries about being left alone after her husband is suddenly called to North African front. While we are easily captivated by this one person's musings, wonderment and self-questioning, we become soon aware that the author uses her story to bring out emotions and reflections that may well have been common or even typical for young German women during those war years, wherever they happened to be. He casts a focused light on an facet of German society at the time that has rarely, if at all, been treated in literary form. Many young women of our mother's generation -Delius is my senior by only a couple of years - , unless they were victims or actively involved in political or war actions, made every effort to maintain that naïve innocence and isolation from concrete events in Germany and in the wider theatre of war at the Eastern front. They preferred to concentrate on their young children, their family and their husbands away, yet emotionally close. As much as possible, they tended to overlook what was easy to see: arrests, deportations, brutality and violence. They referred to their fathers, husbands, brothers, expected them to protect them and filter out any unpleasant news item. "It was better not to know too much" is the young woman's concern and it was that of many of her generation. She shrugs away any bad news that she cannot avoid noticing and consoles herself that "the good news were found anyway only in personal letters..."
Written in elegant and subtle rhythmic prose, the novella is unusually structured into very short paragraphs, each ending with a comma and with no full stop until the end of the book, that is the complete text is in fact one sentence. This text arrangement emulates the young woman's slow and careful walk from her residence to a Protestant church where an afternoon choral concert is scheduled, it also suggests the linked moments of walk and pause, moments to take in the view around her or of reflection about family and events far away. Finally, Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman is also a beautiful and touching multi-dimensional love story: that of the young woman and her husband; that of the author for his own mother who in whatever creative and fictionalized way was certainly the model, and, last but not least, the love for the city of Rome, its rich and beautiful architecture, its place in history and its special atmosphere and surroundings.
Delius creates a delicate portrait of one specific young woman, describing her sense of happiness for being in a "beautiful refuge", mixed in with her worries about being left alone after her husband is suddenly called to North African front. While we are easily captivated by this one person's musings, wonderment and self-questioning, we become soon aware that the author uses her story to bring out emotions and reflections that may well have been common or even typical for young German women during those war years, wherever they happened to be. He casts a focused light on an facet of German society at the time that has rarely, if at all, been treated in literary form. Many young women of our mother's generation -Delius is my senior by only a couple of years - , unless they were victims or actively involved in political or war actions, made every effort to maintain that naïve innocence and isolation from concrete events in Germany and in the wider theatre of war at the Eastern front. They preferred to concentrate on their young children, their family and their husbands away, yet emotionally close. As much as possible, they tended to overlook what was easy to see: arrests, deportations, brutality and violence. They referred to their fathers, husbands, brothers, expected them to protect them and filter out any unpleasant news item. "It was better not to know too much" is the young woman's concern and it was that of many of her generation. She shrugs away any bad news that she cannot avoid noticing and consoles herself that "the good news were found anyway only in personal letters..."
Written in elegant and subtle rhythmic prose, the novella is unusually structured into very short paragraphs, each ending with a comma and with no full stop until the end of the book, that is the complete text is in fact one sentence. This text arrangement emulates the young woman's slow and careful walk from her residence to a Protestant church where an afternoon choral concert is scheduled, it also suggests the linked moments of walk and pause, moments to take in the view around her or of reflection about family and events far away. Finally, Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman is also a beautiful and touching multi-dimensional love story: that of the young woman and her husband; that of the author for his own mother who in whatever creative and fictionalized way was certainly the model, and, last but not least, the love for the city of Rome, its rich and beautiful architecture, its place in history and its special atmosphere and surroundings.
June 23, 2015
In Bildnis der Mutter als junge Frau wandert eine 21-jährige Schwangere durch das Rom des Jahres 1943 ... und dann passiert einfach Null!
Oh mein Gott ist diese Tussi borniert, stohdumm, ignorant und gähnend laaangweilig. Ich weiss, dass es solche Menschen zu Hauf gibt, aber als Romanfiguren taugen sie überhaupt nicht, da kein Funke von irgendwas aus der gähnenden Leere ihres Hirnes und Temperaments auf mich überspringt.
Die Todsünde Nr. 1 in der Literatur ist, mich zu langweilen und das tut der Autor massiv, ich hoffte das ganze Buch über, der jungen Frau passiert noch etwas ganz furchtbares, ansonsten ist mir schleierhaft, warum man über eine solche flache Person überhaupt einen Roman schreiben sollte.
Die ersten substantiellen Zeilen gabs erst nach fast 50 Seiten als der Autor die Lebens- und Genussmittel-Rationierung und den Umgang der Italiener damit beschrieb und die Reflexionen zum Krieg (warum muss man die Feinde hassen, warum muss man immer siegen...). Jeder einzelne innovative Gedanke der jungen Frau entstammt aber auch nicht ihrem Hirn, sondern wurde ihr von ihrer Freundin Ilse eingepflanzt - und gleich wischt sie ihn wieder weg bzw. übertüncht ihn mit gebetsmühlenartigen protestantischen bornierten religiösen oder Nazi-Propagandasätzen. Gähhhn! Zu allem Überfluss zieht der Autor dann auch noch eine 2. Wiederholungs-Gedankenschleife ein. Das ist irgendwie sehr kurios, da existiern im Hirn dieser Tussi eh nur ca. 3 Gedankenfetzen zum Krieg und diese werden wie in einem Kuhmagen hochgewürgt und wiedergekäut. Da hättte ich doch lieber einen Roman über diese Ilse gelesen :-)
Da der Inhalt für mich so langweilig ist, finde ich es doppelt so verwerflich, wenn Autoren mit neuartigen bzw. ungewöhnlichen Satz-, Rezeptions- und Schrift-Stilmitteln arbeiten, um die häßliche fade Braut zu schmücken. Zwar kein Inhalt (für mich das wichtigste an epischer Literatur) aber ein besonders intellektueller Anstrich. Das macht mich gleich doppelt böse. Ja auch ich habe stilistisch das kokette liebäugeln von Delius mit James Joyce durchaus bemerkt, frage mich aber gerade deshalb immer wieder, warum in Romanen von Literaturkritikern immer Form vor Inhalt favorisiert und hochgejubelt wird. Ich als Leserin muss mich wirklich fragen: Warum zur Hölle schreibt man einen Roman, wenn man nichts zu erzählen hat, für Sprachspielereien gibt es die LYRIK.
Oh mein Gott ist diese Tussi borniert, stohdumm, ignorant und gähnend laaangweilig. Ich weiss, dass es solche Menschen zu Hauf gibt, aber als Romanfiguren taugen sie überhaupt nicht, da kein Funke von irgendwas aus der gähnenden Leere ihres Hirnes und Temperaments auf mich überspringt.
Die Todsünde Nr. 1 in der Literatur ist, mich zu langweilen und das tut der Autor massiv, ich hoffte das ganze Buch über, der jungen Frau passiert noch etwas ganz furchtbares, ansonsten ist mir schleierhaft, warum man über eine solche flache Person überhaupt einen Roman schreiben sollte.
Die ersten substantiellen Zeilen gabs erst nach fast 50 Seiten als der Autor die Lebens- und Genussmittel-Rationierung und den Umgang der Italiener damit beschrieb und die Reflexionen zum Krieg (warum muss man die Feinde hassen, warum muss man immer siegen...). Jeder einzelne innovative Gedanke der jungen Frau entstammt aber auch nicht ihrem Hirn, sondern wurde ihr von ihrer Freundin Ilse eingepflanzt - und gleich wischt sie ihn wieder weg bzw. übertüncht ihn mit gebetsmühlenartigen protestantischen bornierten religiösen oder Nazi-Propagandasätzen. Gähhhn! Zu allem Überfluss zieht der Autor dann auch noch eine 2. Wiederholungs-Gedankenschleife ein. Das ist irgendwie sehr kurios, da existiern im Hirn dieser Tussi eh nur ca. 3 Gedankenfetzen zum Krieg und diese werden wie in einem Kuhmagen hochgewürgt und wiedergekäut. Da hättte ich doch lieber einen Roman über diese Ilse gelesen :-)
Da der Inhalt für mich so langweilig ist, finde ich es doppelt so verwerflich, wenn Autoren mit neuartigen bzw. ungewöhnlichen Satz-, Rezeptions- und Schrift-Stilmitteln arbeiten, um die häßliche fade Braut zu schmücken. Zwar kein Inhalt (für mich das wichtigste an epischer Literatur) aber ein besonders intellektueller Anstrich. Das macht mich gleich doppelt böse. Ja auch ich habe stilistisch das kokette liebäugeln von Delius mit James Joyce durchaus bemerkt, frage mich aber gerade deshalb immer wieder, warum in Romanen von Literaturkritikern immer Form vor Inhalt favorisiert und hochgejubelt wird. Ich als Leserin muss mich wirklich fragen: Warum zur Hölle schreibt man einen Roman, wenn man nichts zu erzählen hat, für Sprachspielereien gibt es die LYRIK.
May 8, 2015
1943: Die 21-jährige Mutter von F.C. Delius ist nach Rom gekommen, um mit ihrem Mann zusammen zu sein, der nach einer Kriegsverletzung vermeintlich nicht mehr an die Front muss. Doch kaum ist die Mutter drei Tage in Rom, wird ihr Mann überraschend nach Afrika beordert. Die junge, hochschwangere Frau bleibt alleine in Rom zurück, fern der norddeutschen Heimat, alleine, wartend auf die Rückkehr des Mannes und die Geburt des Kindes.
Das BILDNIS DER MUTTER ALS JUNGE FRAU begleitet die Mutter auf ihrem Fußweg durch Rom, von ihrer evangelisch geführten Unterkunft zu einem Kirchenkonzert; ein unablässiger, ununterbrochener Gedankenstrom der jungen Frau, der am Ende des Textes mit dem einzigen Punkt zum Abschluß kommt.
Das Bild, das Delius in diesem Prosatext von seiner Mutter zeichnet, basiert auf seinen Nachforschungen und ist in diesem Sinne "autobiographischer" Natur, auch wenn der Autor noch nicht geboren war. Mich hat überrascht, dass die Mutter als so grundnaive wie gottesfürchtige Frau dargestellt wird, für die Kriegsmüdigkeit eine Sünde ist und das Gebot der Stunde "nur nicht zuviel nachdenken" lautet. So begegnet sie uns als Passantin, die zwar einiges sehen könnte vom Leid und Elend der Bewohner Roms, aber vorsätzlich davon Abstand nimmt, ihr protestantisch-vaterländisches Weltbild mit der Kriegswirklichkeit ernstlich zu konfrontieren und stattdessen immer wieder Zuflucht auf den Inseln "deutscher Ordentlichkeit" und "frommer Ordnung" in Rom sucht.
Obschon der Text sprachlich und formell stark gestaltet ist, bleibt das BILDNIS über lange Strecken doch für meinen Geschmack recht blutleer und voller Wiederholungen.
Natürlich, im Reflex auf das Gelesene, auf eben alles das, was aus dem Gedankenstrom der Mutter weitestgehend ausgeklammert wird, entsteht beim Leser dann doch ein Zeitmosaik, allerdings eines, das er selbst schaffen muss und mit den lyrischen Details des Textmaterials abschmecken mag, mit dem Delius ihn versorgt. Aber auf die Dauer hat mich der stereotype Charakter der Mutter nicht weniger ermüdet als das Fehlen von Punkten.
Das ist insbesondere deswegen ärgerlich, weil Delius durch Titel, Form und Referenzen scheinbar Bezüge zu Joye herstellen möchte, was ihm aber nach meinem Dafürhalten nicht gelingt.
Das BILDNIS DER MUTTER ALS JUNGE FRAU begleitet die Mutter auf ihrem Fußweg durch Rom, von ihrer evangelisch geführten Unterkunft zu einem Kirchenkonzert; ein unablässiger, ununterbrochener Gedankenstrom der jungen Frau, der am Ende des Textes mit dem einzigen Punkt zum Abschluß kommt.
Das Bild, das Delius in diesem Prosatext von seiner Mutter zeichnet, basiert auf seinen Nachforschungen und ist in diesem Sinne "autobiographischer" Natur, auch wenn der Autor noch nicht geboren war. Mich hat überrascht, dass die Mutter als so grundnaive wie gottesfürchtige Frau dargestellt wird, für die Kriegsmüdigkeit eine Sünde ist und das Gebot der Stunde "nur nicht zuviel nachdenken" lautet. So begegnet sie uns als Passantin, die zwar einiges sehen könnte vom Leid und Elend der Bewohner Roms, aber vorsätzlich davon Abstand nimmt, ihr protestantisch-vaterländisches Weltbild mit der Kriegswirklichkeit ernstlich zu konfrontieren und stattdessen immer wieder Zuflucht auf den Inseln "deutscher Ordentlichkeit" und "frommer Ordnung" in Rom sucht.
Obschon der Text sprachlich und formell stark gestaltet ist, bleibt das BILDNIS über lange Strecken doch für meinen Geschmack recht blutleer und voller Wiederholungen.
Natürlich, im Reflex auf das Gelesene, auf eben alles das, was aus dem Gedankenstrom der Mutter weitestgehend ausgeklammert wird, entsteht beim Leser dann doch ein Zeitmosaik, allerdings eines, das er selbst schaffen muss und mit den lyrischen Details des Textmaterials abschmecken mag, mit dem Delius ihn versorgt. Aber auf die Dauer hat mich der stereotype Charakter der Mutter nicht weniger ermüdet als das Fehlen von Punkten.
Das ist insbesondere deswegen ärgerlich, weil Delius durch Titel, Form und Referenzen scheinbar Bezüge zu Joye herstellen möchte, was ihm aber nach meinem Dafürhalten nicht gelingt.
November 4, 2010
A novel in a single sentence. That was what intrigued me about this book. To be honest I generally avoid World War Two books - not because I don't think it's important, but just because I feel as if I have already overdosed on books, films, TV programmes etc etc exploring every angle of the war, and I'd need a really good reason to read about that again, rather than any of the infinite number of other places and times. The innovative narrative structure gave me that reason.
It turns out, however, that it's not really a single sentence. I mean, it's true that there are no full-stops, but the sentence doesn't really run on continuously for the whole book. In some places it does, but in many others the sentence basically ends, and the author goes on to a new thought in a new paragraph, just using a comma instead of a full-stop. For example, from a page opened at random:
"...this sort of thing happened more often in Catholic countries, he had written, but she had been right to get off the bus straight away,
since that incident she had kept as far away from crowds as possible...."
The phrase "Since that incident" should really be a new sentence - it's a new thought, and there's a grammatical break between it and what went before. The whole one-sentence thing quite quickly began to feel like a bit of a cheat.
But as I read the book more, the style grew on me. I began to think about why he had written it in this way, and realised it's not just a gimmick - it's a clever reflection of the way we think. The whole book is an interior monologue of a woman walking to church one day in 1943, and her thoughts meander around between present and past with a mesmerising fluidity. And this, really, is how we think when we're just walking along letting our thoughts wander. I went for a long walk on Hampstead Heath recently and did exactly the same thing. There was no break between the thoughts, no division between one thing and the next. Past, present and future all merged in my head, and I went from one thing to the next without a break or logical transition.
By the end of the book I was convinced that writing in a single sentence was an effective way of communicating this fluidity of thought processes. It's true that it's not technically a single sentence, but I suppose the only way to write for 125 pages in a single sentence would be to clutter up the book with a whole lot of ugly conjunctions. Maybe just having a comma and moving on to the next thing was the best way to do it.
The character interested me as well. She is very young, very innocent, very trusting, quite careful to avoid thinking about things she doesn't understand or want to think about, quite happy to trust in God or her husband or some other authority to work things out for her. She is wary of her friend Ilse, who raises uncomfortable questions such as why it was necessary to hate the British and Americans - just the question itself makes her feel "guilty, confused and horrified" and she decides to distance herself from Ilse or "at the very least stop getting into discussions with her". Another revealing passage, after saying she needed to discuss "her Jewish thoughts" with Gert:
"On her own she could not work out what you were allowed and not allowed to say, what you should think and what you ought not to think, and how to cope with her ambivalent feelings, all she could do was to keep these things to herself until his return"
There is a clear link between her religion and subservience - for her, religion is about faith to the point of fatalism, accepting God's will and not questioning anything, the effort "to bring your own will into harmony with the will of God, and thereby find the greatest freedom in obedience".
It's clear to see how this young woman, clearly a good person with a kind heart, would fall perfectly into line with the crimes of the Nazi government. By doing good she would be complicit in evil. It's a very compelling characterisation. This is the third book published by Peirene Press, and all three have been of a very high standard. Personally I'd recommend Beside the Sea as my favourite, but this book is also well worth a read.
It turns out, however, that it's not really a single sentence. I mean, it's true that there are no full-stops, but the sentence doesn't really run on continuously for the whole book. In some places it does, but in many others the sentence basically ends, and the author goes on to a new thought in a new paragraph, just using a comma instead of a full-stop. For example, from a page opened at random:
"...this sort of thing happened more often in Catholic countries, he had written, but she had been right to get off the bus straight away,
since that incident she had kept as far away from crowds as possible...."
The phrase "Since that incident" should really be a new sentence - it's a new thought, and there's a grammatical break between it and what went before. The whole one-sentence thing quite quickly began to feel like a bit of a cheat.
But as I read the book more, the style grew on me. I began to think about why he had written it in this way, and realised it's not just a gimmick - it's a clever reflection of the way we think. The whole book is an interior monologue of a woman walking to church one day in 1943, and her thoughts meander around between present and past with a mesmerising fluidity. And this, really, is how we think when we're just walking along letting our thoughts wander. I went for a long walk on Hampstead Heath recently and did exactly the same thing. There was no break between the thoughts, no division between one thing and the next. Past, present and future all merged in my head, and I went from one thing to the next without a break or logical transition.
By the end of the book I was convinced that writing in a single sentence was an effective way of communicating this fluidity of thought processes. It's true that it's not technically a single sentence, but I suppose the only way to write for 125 pages in a single sentence would be to clutter up the book with a whole lot of ugly conjunctions. Maybe just having a comma and moving on to the next thing was the best way to do it.
The character interested me as well. She is very young, very innocent, very trusting, quite careful to avoid thinking about things she doesn't understand or want to think about, quite happy to trust in God or her husband or some other authority to work things out for her. She is wary of her friend Ilse, who raises uncomfortable questions such as why it was necessary to hate the British and Americans - just the question itself makes her feel "guilty, confused and horrified" and she decides to distance herself from Ilse or "at the very least stop getting into discussions with her". Another revealing passage, after saying she needed to discuss "her Jewish thoughts" with Gert:
"On her own she could not work out what you were allowed and not allowed to say, what you should think and what you ought not to think, and how to cope with her ambivalent feelings, all she could do was to keep these things to herself until his return"
There is a clear link between her religion and subservience - for her, religion is about faith to the point of fatalism, accepting God's will and not questioning anything, the effort "to bring your own will into harmony with the will of God, and thereby find the greatest freedom in obedience".
It's clear to see how this young woman, clearly a good person with a kind heart, would fall perfectly into line with the crimes of the Nazi government. By doing good she would be complicit in evil. It's a very compelling characterisation. This is the third book published by Peirene Press, and all three have been of a very high standard. Personally I'd recommend Beside the Sea as my favourite, but this book is also well worth a read.
February 21, 2011
NO SPOILERS
On completion: This is a very short novel, and it only shows how perhaps one young, pregnant German woman might have viewed the world around her. It takes place during WW2. She is in Rome and she doesn't think there is any value in learning the language. In my opinion she is extremely naive. She criticizes other religions. Religion is very important to her; it gives her solace, it helps her when she has problems. I don't criticize this, but I have difficulty relationg to such a person. The book is written as a stream of consciouness. Due to this, you, the reader, cannot fasten on to another character in the novel, if you feel alienated to her. There are surely people like her, and perhaps it is a good depiction of such a person, but I cannot relate to her. The lack of punctuation isn't really a problem, but neither is it a plus. I see it as a gimmick. I didn't enjoy reading this. I do not know why it has won prizes. Well, we all like different things. I am only giving it one star. I will swap it with someone who does want to read it!
Through page 28: At first I adored this! Now it is harder to keep going. There are no sentences. No periods. The narrative is stream of consciousness - the thoughts being that of a young, naive, pregnant German woman. She is staying at a German "maternity home/hospital" in Rome run be Evangelical nuns. Her husband is off fighting in Tunisia, WW2. The writing takes the form of how a person thinks. This is more of a novella than a novel.
On completion: This is a very short novel, and it only shows how perhaps one young, pregnant German woman might have viewed the world around her. It takes place during WW2. She is in Rome and she doesn't think there is any value in learning the language. In my opinion she is extremely naive. She criticizes other religions. Religion is very important to her; it gives her solace, it helps her when she has problems. I don't criticize this, but I have difficulty relationg to such a person. The book is written as a stream of consciouness. Due to this, you, the reader, cannot fasten on to another character in the novel, if you feel alienated to her. There are surely people like her, and perhaps it is a good depiction of such a person, but I cannot relate to her. The lack of punctuation isn't really a problem, but neither is it a plus. I see it as a gimmick. I didn't enjoy reading this. I do not know why it has won prizes. Well, we all like different things. I am only giving it one star. I will swap it with someone who does want to read it!
Through page 28: At first I adored this! Now it is harder to keep going. There are no sentences. No periods. The narrative is stream of consciousness - the thoughts being that of a young, naive, pregnant German woman. She is staying at a German "maternity home/hospital" in Rome run be Evangelical nuns. Her husband is off fighting in Tunisia, WW2. The writing takes the form of how a person thinks. This is more of a novella than a novel.
April 17, 2019
This book is written in ONE, very, very, long sentence. The whole book. One sentence. 125 pages. One sentence. But it works. It's poetic. Although I feel the need for periods right now. Many periods. Periods everywhere. This stream of consciousness however wasn't particularly absorbing. Period.
January 18, 2015
An eight month pregnant young wife of a German solider waits for him in Rome only for him to be redeployed immediately. She walks to the Lutheran Church to listen to a Bach concert and on her way thinks about her life there, how it has changed, how distant she feels from everything around her and remembers the few moments she has spent with her husband and wonders whether he will return to her or not.
She is not despondent for she has a deep faith and whenever her thoughts selfishly turn towards herself she tells herself that war is God's most difficult trial, lamenting:
A spellbinding portrait of one woman's internal conversation, her method of coping with the strangeness of her environment, talking herself into it being okay and rationalising why they have found themselves in this situation, though it is not enough to prevent her from dreaming of the life she wishes they were living, something that seems like a fantasy, as she realises the probability of his return grow slimmer as each day passes.
My full review here at Word by Word.
She is not despondent for she has a deep faith and whenever her thoughts selfishly turn towards herself she tells herself that war is God's most difficult trial, lamenting:
God, who is love, delivers this all to us, that it may benefit us in the end,
A spellbinding portrait of one woman's internal conversation, her method of coping with the strangeness of her environment, talking herself into it being okay and rationalising why they have found themselves in this situation, though it is not enough to prevent her from dreaming of the life she wishes they were living, something that seems like a fantasy, as she realises the probability of his return grow slimmer as each day passes.
My full review here at Word by Word.
November 12, 2018
Portrait of a Mother as a Young Woman is one long 117-page long sentence, in a third-person stream of consciousness. It took me a few pages to realise! Sounds painful, right? But actually the translation by Jamie Bulloch is fluid and poetic.
The novella follows a young German Nazi supporter Margherita's internal monologue as she walks through occupied Rome one day in 1943 during WWII.
I felt like I understood Margherita and her world, the naivety and contradictions of her thoughts and feelings felt real. She wanted the war to end, but she didn't because that meant Germany would have lost.
This may have been inspired by his German mother, as the author was born in 1943 in Rome
I loved it!
The novella follows a young German Nazi supporter Margherita's internal monologue as she walks through occupied Rome one day in 1943 during WWII.
I felt like I understood Margherita and her world, the naivety and contradictions of her thoughts and feelings felt real. She wanted the war to end, but she didn't because that meant Germany would have lost.
This may have been inspired by his German mother, as the author was born in 1943 in Rome
I loved it!
August 3, 2012
Found this quite compelling - and felt quite breathless by the end! A whole book in one sentence is quite an achievement!
February 7, 2023
Der erste Zugang ist nicht leicht. Es gibt fast keine Satzschlusszeichen, der Text ist ein einziger Fluss, in den man erst einmal hineintauchen muss. Gelingt dies, so wird man bald eingenommen für diesen Bewusstseinsstrom aus Eindrücken Roms, Reflexionen eigener Gefühle und Erinnerungen und poetisch geformter Sprache. Die Belohnung folgt am Ende, wenn der Text sich bei einem Konzert in seiner Ästhetik noch steigert und entführt in stilistisches Schwelgen mit der Protagonistin.
December 27, 2023
Die Zweiten Welt Krieg durch die augen von Eine junge schwangere Deutsche frau. Sie ist die frau Einer soldat er kempft in Afrika. Eine Romane uber Politik und mutter sein.
April 9, 2024
واقعا ترجیح میدم ازش چیزی نگم!!!
December 9, 2025
خیلی برام خسته کننده بود...
همش توصیف...
من اصلا با چنین داستان هایی ارتباط نمیگیرم...
امیدوارم از خوندنش لذت ببرید.
همش توصیف...
من اصلا با چنین داستان هایی ارتباط نمیگیرم...
امیدوارم از خوندنش لذت ببرید.
February 18, 2025
روند کتاب واقعا دوست داشتنی بود:) و واقعا توی یک نشست نمیشد خوندش! اما خب کتاب درباره یه زن جوان بارداره که در اولین روز حضورش در رم شوهرش که یه سرباز آلمانیه برای جنگ به آفریقا اعزام میشه و این زن در مسیر یک کلیساست و هرچیزی که توی راه میبینه براش تداعی کننده یک فکره،یک تصور و حتی یادآوری یک خاطره و ربط داشتن تمامی این افکار چیزیه که کتابو به شدت جذاب میکنه.
November 11, 2022
Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman is written in a single sentence, that flows freely in around 117 pages describing the life of Margaret, a twenty-one years old German woman whose husband—Gert—has just left for the front in Africa in 1943, leaving her alone in Rome to cope up with the situation where she is forced to stay in an unfamiliar environment while being heavily pregnant with her first child,
and Rome is a city where she can roam freely, as she just escaped from her parents’ house in Mecklenburg by the Baltic, yet her theologist wounded husband was soon called to serve the Third Reich again as they just lost more wars on the eastern front and El Alamein on the African front, as bad a situation when even reservists who could not fully serve are called to the front once again,
and even that did not stop the woman to enjoy her life in Rome, meeting other Germans who happened to stay there, forming a community that spends their Sundays in Lutheran church, and she even takes the advice of Dr Roberto, Walks, young lady, walk if you want to walk, the child will like it if you walk, which is being said in a strange German accent,
yet it did not take long before Margaret realises the real nature of the war, as even in Italy she could witness the uneasy fate that would befall every German woman during the war, as they are left behind to tend the houses while their husbands fight for Hitler’s cause, one by one the men fell and the battles were lost in many fronts, just name it: Stalingrad, El Alamein, etc, about which no one can foresee the near future in which the war would be won by the Axis,
the woman contemplates about the letter that she might need to write to her husband who serves on the African front, there are so many things to write about, in the course of the nine weeks they have been separated, yet she feels uneasy as every letter could be the last, as there is the uncertainty of fate in the war, and that is the beauty of this short novella that envelopes the tragedy of Bach’s cantata, the vulnerabilities of women during the war as shown in one sentence that reads like a long last letter to a beloved one.
and Rome is a city where she can roam freely, as she just escaped from her parents’ house in Mecklenburg by the Baltic, yet her theologist wounded husband was soon called to serve the Third Reich again as they just lost more wars on the eastern front and El Alamein on the African front, as bad a situation when even reservists who could not fully serve are called to the front once again,
and even that did not stop the woman to enjoy her life in Rome, meeting other Germans who happened to stay there, forming a community that spends their Sundays in Lutheran church, and she even takes the advice of Dr Roberto, Walks, young lady, walk if you want to walk, the child will like it if you walk, which is being said in a strange German accent,
yet it did not take long before Margaret realises the real nature of the war, as even in Italy she could witness the uneasy fate that would befall every German woman during the war, as they are left behind to tend the houses while their husbands fight for Hitler’s cause, one by one the men fell and the battles were lost in many fronts, just name it: Stalingrad, El Alamein, etc, about which no one can foresee the near future in which the war would be won by the Axis,
the woman contemplates about the letter that she might need to write to her husband who serves on the African front, there are so many things to write about, in the course of the nine weeks they have been separated, yet she feels uneasy as every letter could be the last, as there is the uncertainty of fate in the war, and that is the beauty of this short novella that envelopes the tragedy of Bach’s cantata, the vulnerabilities of women during the war as shown in one sentence that reads like a long last letter to a beloved one.
January 12, 2013
The Joycean title drew me to this book, as Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is one book I actually put down and stopped reading I was so repelled by the sermon style sin talk. It's pretty rare I don't finish so titles that rip it off somehow feel like it's a second chance.
The mother in the story is in her eight month of pregnancy, and we follow her thoughts in an interior monologue with no full stops. It is described as a 117 page long sentence due to this device. The rhythm of it carries you through the prose, the effect works well with the voice of the mother, Margherita. It conveys the sense of a flow of thoughts that are interrupted by memories, tangents, rebellious thoughts that she quickly stifles. The sense of being in a foreign place helped me identify with the woman, and it seemed sad that because she was harassed by a man touching her on a bus she stopped even trying to learn Italian, the repercussions of that act have been to alienate her further. Her isolation means the other character, Ilse, seems especially vivid, her loud anti-war opinions disturb Margherita and often disrupt the peace she draws around herself.
If the books message is to suggest humanity in what we now perceive with horror, a Nazi trained, German League educated mother ready to train the next generation, there is hope conveyed in her religious thoughts that stress community and her associations with her parents, her love for her husband, her tears during the concert. The book preface suggests, 'If we can relate to her we come close to understanding the forces that were shaping an entire generation'. Review bu Hunter: 'through a resolutely empathetic portrait, Delius gently nudges us toward recognizing the humanity of our enemies'. It is easy to read, if in places hard to emphasize it has redeeming moments that keep you going.
Read more: http://wordswithoutborders.org/book-r...
The mother in the story is in her eight month of pregnancy, and we follow her thoughts in an interior monologue with no full stops. It is described as a 117 page long sentence due to this device. The rhythm of it carries you through the prose, the effect works well with the voice of the mother, Margherita. It conveys the sense of a flow of thoughts that are interrupted by memories, tangents, rebellious thoughts that she quickly stifles. The sense of being in a foreign place helped me identify with the woman, and it seemed sad that because she was harassed by a man touching her on a bus she stopped even trying to learn Italian, the repercussions of that act have been to alienate her further. Her isolation means the other character, Ilse, seems especially vivid, her loud anti-war opinions disturb Margherita and often disrupt the peace she draws around herself.
If the books message is to suggest humanity in what we now perceive with horror, a Nazi trained, German League educated mother ready to train the next generation, there is hope conveyed in her religious thoughts that stress community and her associations with her parents, her love for her husband, her tears during the concert. The book preface suggests, 'If we can relate to her we come close to understanding the forces that were shaping an entire generation'. Review bu Hunter: 'through a resolutely empathetic portrait, Delius gently nudges us toward recognizing the humanity of our enemies'. It is easy to read, if in places hard to emphasize it has redeeming moments that keep you going.
Read more: http://wordswithoutborders.org/book-r...
January 12, 2013
A young girl is stranded in Rome by the war. Her Pastor husband has been posted to north Africa - a bare two days after her arrival - and she’s alone and in the last month of her pregnancy. She lives with protestant German nuns, sharing a room with another woman whose fiancé has been interned in Australia. The Italians are unwelcoming, and the war is going badly, but the girl has no desire to return to northern Germany and the frugal, evangelical territory of her childhood. Instead she waits, for her husband to return, for her baby to arrive, and - the reader feels - for some kind of epiphany.
The events of the story occur within a single day, and are narrated in real time while the girl takes her customary daily walk across Rome, on the doctor’s instructions. It took me a while to realise that there are no full stops in this story, just a rhythmic prose that carries you forward on a journey through one of the most beautiful of cities, and through the mind and the life of the young girl.
‘the immense city of Rome, still seemed to her like a sea which she had to cross, checked by the fear of all those things unknown, of the yawning depths of this city, its double and triple floors and layers, of the many thousand similar columns, towers, domes, facades, ruins and street corners . . .’
The ending is very moving and it leaves you wanting to go back to the beginning and read the whole thing again. It’s a beautiful, reflective piece of prose, as lyrical and perfectly structured as a poem. Not surprising perhaps, as the author is also a poet and one of Germany’s finest contemporary authors. It seems criminal that this is the only one of his fourteen novels that I can find in English, not to mention the five poetry collections.
The events of the story occur within a single day, and are narrated in real time while the girl takes her customary daily walk across Rome, on the doctor’s instructions. It took me a while to realise that there are no full stops in this story, just a rhythmic prose that carries you forward on a journey through one of the most beautiful of cities, and through the mind and the life of the young girl.
‘the immense city of Rome, still seemed to her like a sea which she had to cross, checked by the fear of all those things unknown, of the yawning depths of this city, its double and triple floors and layers, of the many thousand similar columns, towers, domes, facades, ruins and street corners . . .’
The ending is very moving and it leaves you wanting to go back to the beginning and read the whole thing again. It’s a beautiful, reflective piece of prose, as lyrical and perfectly structured as a poem. Not surprising perhaps, as the author is also a poet and one of Germany’s finest contemporary authors. It seems criminal that this is the only one of his fourteen novels that I can find in English, not to mention the five poetry collections.
November 2, 2014
What interests me the most in this novella is the sentence structure, since there is only one really long sentence! And yet, it didn't get in the way of my enjoyment of this story of a young, newly-wed, pregnant woman, alone in Rome during World War II, as her husband is in Algeria fighting the Americans. The story is evidently of Delius' mother, who was pregnant in Rome during World War II. I don't often get to see the vision of WWII through the eyes of a German, but I understood her fear of Americans.
http://www.complete-review.com/review...
http://www.complete-review.com/review...
August 22, 2017
I really wanted to like this novella, but I'm afraid I found its so-called technical innovation (written in a single sentence) an affectation. I realise I must be deficient in something, but I much prefer the artistry behind Woolf's stream of consciousness. I also found the protagonist difficult to stay with -- it is the portrait of a stifled consciousness in wartime, trying to grapple with an fascistic ideology that subjects her to imprisonment and subjugation of every kind, while announcing to her that she is on the "winning" side. Her disavowal of truths that keep thrusting themselves towards her consciousness, her attempt to keep order over thoughts that threaten to sweep her away, become in the end the reader's frustration. Her transfiguration of her ambivalence into redemptive music by Bach does not ring true, and the "plot" of the novella seems completely circular, while claiming to be triumphant. If this is the message Delius was trying to send, he succeeded, but only in telling me what I already knew.
January 13, 2020
During WWII, a pregnant young lady takes a stroll through Rome and ruminates on her life – family, country, and God.
Yes, a novel without dialogue – like this one – is a bit niche; and yet, there was something pure and unapologetic about this narration of almost exclusive interiority. I don’t know, I found it compelling.
But I didn’t enjoy the barrage of visual descriptions of Rome. Likewise I found the overuse of its Christian/religious theme, which the author never strays too far from, tiresome.
Which is a shame because the rest (although admittedly there wasn’t that much left over after all that Christianity and all those Roman buildings) was remarkable – especially the depiction of how the misery of WWII permeated to every person and every aspect of their life, even a pregnant civilian far from the frontline.
So, overall a decent alternative novella, just not one to my taste.
—Amos Ruiz, author of SPILT PEPPERCORNS
Yes, a novel without dialogue – like this one – is a bit niche; and yet, there was something pure and unapologetic about this narration of almost exclusive interiority. I don’t know, I found it compelling.
But I didn’t enjoy the barrage of visual descriptions of Rome. Likewise I found the overuse of its Christian/religious theme, which the author never strays too far from, tiresome.
Which is a shame because the rest (although admittedly there wasn’t that much left over after all that Christianity and all those Roman buildings) was remarkable – especially the depiction of how the misery of WWII permeated to every person and every aspect of their life, even a pregnant civilian far from the frontline.
So, overall a decent alternative novella, just not one to my taste.
—Amos Ruiz, author of SPILT PEPPERCORNS
January 1, 2024
Het lyrische in één lange zin geschreven verhaal van de geestelijke crisis van een jonge Duitse vrouw in Rome in 1942. Tijdens een wandeling naar de Pincio, langs winkelstraten, over de Spaanse Trappen. Helemaal alleen, zwanger, en met een man die is overgeplaatst naar Noord-Afrika om te vechten tegen de geallieerden wordt de lezer deelgenoot gemaakt van haar gedachten. De wandeling eindigt met een concert waar de kracht van de woorden en de tonen van de muziek strijden met haar gevoelens van twijfel en haar angst voor het oorlogsgeweld.
Je kunt geboeid zijn door de structuur van dit verhaal, die ene zin van 117 pagina's met toch wel een mooi helder ritme. Maar ook al is dit een meeslepende en geloofwaardige beschrijving van een ‘typische’ jonge Duitse vrouw tijdens het nazi-tijdperk, toch is het moeilijk om je met haar te identificeren. Ze staat nogal ver af van de oorlogsellende en zit veilig in haar beschermde cocon te mijmeren en te speculeren.
Inhoudelijk is de ganse novelle dan ook niet meer dan een rustig voortkabbelende observatie- en gedachtestroom.
Je kunt geboeid zijn door de structuur van dit verhaal, die ene zin van 117 pagina's met toch wel een mooi helder ritme. Maar ook al is dit een meeslepende en geloofwaardige beschrijving van een ‘typische’ jonge Duitse vrouw tijdens het nazi-tijdperk, toch is het moeilijk om je met haar te identificeren. Ze staat nogal ver af van de oorlogsellende en zit veilig in haar beschermde cocon te mijmeren en te speculeren.
Inhoudelijk is de ganse novelle dan ook niet meer dan een rustig voortkabbelende observatie- en gedachtestroom.
April 5, 2025
I felt like if my brain ate some spinach and did push ups then I would appreciate this book even more. There is no plot to be seen in this, plot is not in the room with us ok. It is a pregnant girl walking from point A to point B. But the time period of which she's walking from point A to point B is very interesting.
I have never read a book about the domestic side of Germany during World War II. It humanizes everyone by choosing to talk about this young woman who is on the brink of another chapter, but her husband-the one person she should've been sharing this new life with-is drafted for a war that she doesn't know when it would end. The choice of having her visibly pregnant was also a great way of portraying her as one person, but everyone who perceives her will know that she will soon become a mother and that identity has not taken over her just yet.
I have never read a book about the domestic side of Germany during World War II. It humanizes everyone by choosing to talk about this young woman who is on the brink of another chapter, but her husband-the one person she should've been sharing this new life with-is drafted for a war that she doesn't know when it would end. The choice of having her visibly pregnant was also a great way of portraying her as one person, but everyone who perceives her will know that she will soon become a mother and that identity has not taken over her just yet.
October 3, 2025
Peirene #3: Female Voices Series
There is much to appreciate in this slim volume. At first I found the “herione” to be a self-absorbed nitwit but as her thoughts and recollections unraveled as she strolled through the streets of Rome I became aware that there is much more hidden beneath the surface. Her portrayal of how (some) Germans viewed Hitler and his dictatorship was refreshing and also the state of the war efforts and the general fear of the future of the axis powers. This one day in January 1943 when it was becoming apparent that the Russian front was weakening thus putting the entire war in question. The depiction of Rome is also pretty spot on with the mixture of modern and ancient structures and fixtures.
There is much to appreciate in this slim volume. At first I found the “herione” to be a self-absorbed nitwit but as her thoughts and recollections unraveled as she strolled through the streets of Rome I became aware that there is much more hidden beneath the surface. Her portrayal of how (some) Germans viewed Hitler and his dictatorship was refreshing and also the state of the war efforts and the general fear of the future of the axis powers. This one day in January 1943 when it was becoming apparent that the Russian front was weakening thus putting the entire war in question. The depiction of Rome is also pretty spot on with the mixture of modern and ancient structures and fixtures.
January 1, 2025
Slice of life into a pregnant German wife living in Rome while her husband is off in Africa fighting in WWII. I am lead to assume that the book is writing by her unborn son. I don’t love a man writing from the perspective of a woman, let alone a pregnant woman, but this wasn’t bad. It was interesting to learn about what life was like for her at this time. And the book was told in the time it took her to walk an hour from her doctor’s office to a concert in town, obviously with plenty of flashbacks and internal thoughts. It could have been a little more interesting, but the premise was good. I also didn’t love how close minded the protagonist was and low key discriminatory against Italians.
November 12, 2017
Ein Paradebeispiel für die Technik des Bewusstseinsstroms: eine junge Frau in Rom, hochschwanger, ihr Mann an der afrikanischen Front. Und während sie allein durch die Straßen der ewigen Stadt läuft, scheint sie erstmalig eigene Gedanken zu entwickeln. Unbedarft und etwas naiv schreckt sie davor zurück, ist darauf angewiesen, was Verwandte, Autoritäten oder die Partei vorgedacht haben.
Wie viel davon ist wohl reine Interpretation des Autors, der über seine eigene Mutter schreibt? Wie viel stützt sich auf Erzähltes oder tatsächlich geschriebene Briefe?
Wie viel davon ist wohl reine Interpretation des Autors, der über seine eigene Mutter schreibt? Wie viel stützt sich auf Erzähltes oder tatsächlich geschriebene Briefe?
April 20, 2019
This is a strange little novella. Written as a stream of consciousness in one long run on sentence. It focuses on a young woman, 8 months pregnant and separated from her spouse who is a German soldier during WW2. The woman is spending her day in the protected city of Rome, living with nuns and walking the city as her doctor tells her that walking is good for the baby. Not much actually happens, she inwardly questions the war and purposefully does not to speak out loud against the Fuhrer and the Axis Powers.
I found it a bit boring.
I found it a bit boring.
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