Das Muschelessen

by Birgit Vanderbeke

Angespannt wartet die Familie am gedeckten Tisch auf den Vater. Mutter, Tochter und Sohn sitzen vor einem Berg Muscheln, die allein das Oberhaupt der Familie gerne isst. Um die zähe Wartezeit zu überbrücken, beginnen sie miteinander zu reden. Je mehr sich der Vater verspätet, desto offener wird das Gespräch, desto umbarmherziger der Blick auf den autoritären Patriarchen und desto tiefer der Riss, der die scheinbare Familienidylle schließlich zu zerstören droht.

Genres: Fiction, German Literature, Germany, Literary Fiction, Classics, Novella, Novels

127 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1990

About the author

Birgit Vanderbeke was a German writer. Vanderbeke grew up in Frankfurt am Main after her family moved to West Germany in 1961. She studied Law, Germanic and Romance languages. The English translation of her debut novel, Das Muschelessen, by Jamie Bulloch was published in 2013 by Peirene Press as The Mussel Feast. Since 1993 she has been living in southern France.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[♑︎♑︎♑︎ ♑︎♑︎♑︎ · Rating 5 out of 5]

This novella is about a man who is unexpectedly late for a dinner that is made in his honor, and to tell you the truth I know this guy. In fact, I was once married to this guy. And you might also know this guy, as a matter of fact, if you have ever been with someone for whom everything is perfect; but it's perfect only because you are working so damn hard to make sure nothing ever upsets him, because if he gets upset it's going to be your fault, obviously, and bad things will happen, and they will also be your fault. And as you read The Mussel Feast you will marvel at how completely Birgit Vanderbeke has captured this guy we both know, and you might, like me, be happily surprised by what happens next.

[Sana · Rating 4 out of 5]

کتاب خوراک صدف قطعا یکی از بهترین نوولای این مجموعه هست.کتابی تکان دهنده و پرکشش بود. داستان با پختن صدف برای شام شروع می‌شود.بنظر میاد فضای داستان آرام و معمولیه اما هرچه جلوتر برید بیشتر شگفت زده میشوید.
خوراک صدف به زندگی یک خانواده می‌پردازد که مادر غذای محبوب پدر صدف پخته و در این بین منتظر پدرشون هستن،اما هرچقدر زمان می‌گذرد،پدر سروقت نمی‌آید و مثل اینکه هیچکس نگرانش نیست.
روایت از زبان دختر خانواده،بالحنی آرام و خونسرد تصویری دقیق و تکان دهنده از فضای متشنج وقدرت طلبانه ارائه می‌دهد.
در داستان پدر شخصیت برجسته ای دارد ؛نمادی از پدر سالاری و کنترل گری است و بااینکه حضور فیزیکی ندارد ولی همچنان سایه اش روی خانواده سنگین است.
کتاب بسیار خوبی و قابل تامل و البته کم حجم بود،پس توصیه میکنم بخونید.

[Jan-Maat]

A fine continuous narrative that slowly reveals details and the nature of a family's life under a repressive patriarch. This is in the form of a stream of consciousness monologue by the daughter of the family while she sits with her mother and younger brother waiting for the father to come home.
It is nicely done but I did not love it, I think for three reasons off the top of my head, firstly I had just read Fleur Jaeggy's S. S. Proleterka which is a far more densely interwoven and compelling narrative that reveals and conceals the inner life of a family, secondly repressive patriarch stories just remind me of the Four Yorkshiremen sketch, thirdly the author's comment that she wanted to explore the nature of revolutions. I think she succeeded in showing the psychology of the repressed family and by analogy of the repressed country, but this is more about why revolutions do not occur to my mind, and as one observes, despite many horrendous situations round the world; revolutions mostly do not occur.

Still this is a neat bit of work that carefully and slowly reveals itself to the reader, I found it on the bookshelves at home, it was one of my father's old books, he was not so secretly a fan of misery in the Arts which he felt to be veracity - a sure sign of the affect of having worked in child protection.

[Alexandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ein großartiger Plot und ein wundervolles Szenario, das dieser kleine, kurze Roman entwickelt. Der Patriarch kommt verspätet von der Dienstreise nach Hause, das eigens für ihn vorbereitete Muschelessen gammelt stundenlang vor sich hin. Schrittweise entpuppt sich auch die brutale Autorität des Tyrannen, die plötzlich schwankt, weil die restliche Familie die eingefahrenen erstarrten Verhaltensmuster genau an diesem Tag nicht abrufen kann und damit Zeit und auch Raum bleibt, sich einmal ohne den psychischen und physichen Missbrauch des Vaters mit neuen subversiven Gedanken zu beschäftigen.

Das ganze Setting wird sehr authentisch aus der Sicht der Tochter erzählt, wodurch der Schreibstil anfangs ein bisschen mühsam und nervig ist mit den sprachlichen Redundanzen, diese sind aber nicht im Plot sondern kommen in den Sätzen vor. Das junge Mädchen wiederholt und bekräftigt ständig ihre eigenen Aussagen, um sich selbst auch zu versichern. Irgendwann hatte ich mich aber daran gewöhnt, und die plappernde und teilweise panische Erzählweise des geschundenen Kindes entwickelte einen Sog, dem auch ich mich nicht entziehen konnte.

Der Schluss ist grandios. Der Patriarch wird in Abwesenheit ohne ein einziges böses Wort abmontiert und sehr subtil gestürzt.

Fazit: Stilistisch ungewöhnlich, aber authentisch erzählt und lesenswert. Eine sehr gute, tiefgehende und hintergründig gestaltete Geschichte, wie sich ein Familiensystem gemeinsam und jeder einzeln nach langer Qual gegen einen Tyrannen auflehnen kann.

[Jenny (Reading Envy) · Rating 5 out of 5]

From the publisher blurb:
A mother and her two teenage children sit at the dinner table. In the middle stands a large pot of cooked mussels. Why has the father not returned home? As the evening wears on, we glimpse the issues that are tearing this family apart.

'I wrote this book in August 1989, just before the Fall of the Berlin Wall. I wanted to understand how revolutions start. It seemed logical to use the figure of a tyrannical father and turn the story into a German family saga.' Birgit Vanderbeke

Peirene intentionally publishes shorter, read in one sitting, translated works - it would have been hard to take much more of this one in the sense that you really get a sense of the dictator father and how his behavior has controlled the family. It is told from the perspective of the oldest daughter, and at least in the ebook there are no chapter or paragraph breaks. It's like being in the family yourself, oppressed with no end in sight.

I know it's supposed to be a metaphor for East Berlin and the wall coming down or something like this but it's also an uncomfortably accurate depiction of how one tyrannical person can limit the lives of the people he controls (okay, I see it now, this is also what happens in oppressive regimes, got it.)

The novel starts with the mother cleaning mussels for her husband's homecoming - he expects meals to be a certain way and she complies, even though as she has said on multiple occasions, she does not herself care for mussels. Everything must be done his way.

Another point in the novel, it says "...Music, my father said, was pure excess and would never get any engine started. He said this because ever since their escape to the West my mother’s violin had lain in their bedroom wardrobe, and only occasionally." He also refuses to go to the mountains for vacation, criticizes her appearance and wardrobe, and won't let the narrator play the piano.

I loved the ending, and will look for more from this press. I was happy to read this from the books I already had for Women in Translation month; this is translated from the German.

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was neither a sign nor a coincidence that we were going to have mussels that evening …..what we’d had in mind when we were planning the mussel feast was pretty insignificant, certainly less important than the immensity and gravity of what actually happened

This book was published by the UK small press, Peirene Press “a boutique publishing house with a traditional commitment to first class European literature in high-quality translation” and whose style is described by the TLS as “Two-hour books to be devoured in a single sitting; literary cinema for those fatigued by film”

This book is a perfect example of the genre: A 1990 publication which in Germany has become a school set text and which has been translated across Europe (but until this 2013 publication not in English); A 100 page monologue set in a single evening and thus ideally designed to be consumed over an evening.

The teenage female narrator, her teenage brother and their mother, sit at a dining table where thy have prepared a large pot of mussels, waiting for the father of the family (some form of logician and lecturer) to return home from a business trip where he should have all but clinched an important promotion. The family live in the West having escaped from the East. The father figure is clearly tyrannical, strongly opinionated particularly on the notion of a proper family, how it should behave and how its members should be and act (Everything in our lives revolved around us having to behave as if we were a proper family) – and simultaneously disappointed (for example in the area of education) with the lies of the East and the degeneracy of the West. The other family members individually and collectively adapt to their father’s moods and wishes, suffering individual abuse when they fall short of them and also being pressured by him to blab (inform) on each other and unwilling to dissent in private due to the risk of other family members blagging.

By now, as it was already seven o’clock and he still hadn’t arrived, my father was undermining his own notions

As the evening progresses, and it becomes increasingly clear that the father is firstly late and then that he may not return at all, the mood of the family changes, they dare to openly share their own harsh views of their father and collectively and individually begin to break free of his tyranny.

The book was written just before the fall of the Berlin Wall as the grip of the East Germany state on its citizens started to collapse and serves on many levels as an allegory for that revolution - both in the views and actions of the father and the family (just as one example the father's frustration and anger at his family's failure to behave as a proper family could be taken as an analogy for the failure of any Communist state to live even close to Marxist ideals) and even in the ever present and frequently referenced pot of mussels.

An excellent read.

[Paula Mota · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sentia-me melhor quando o meu pai andava em viagem de serviço, pois as mudanças de papéis, não só a dela mas também as nossas, eram-me desagradáveis e penosas, uma vez que todos tínhamos de mudar de papel quando o meu pai chegava a casa, para que em conjunto formássemos uma família às direita, na acepção do meu pai, que não tendo família alguma, forjara as ideias mais precisas acerca do que constitui uma família às direitas e demonstrava uma enorme vulnerabilidade quando alguém atentava contra estes princípios.

A pretexto de um prato de mexilhões para comemorar a promoção de um pai que demora a chegar, o resto da família começa a desabafar e a fazer um retrato pouco abonatório dele. Aquele que de início parecia apenas um pai controlador, com uma ideia muito fixa do que é “uma família às direitas” e que dividia para reinar, acaba por se revelar um verdadeiro tirano.
Gostei muito do ritmo frenético do discurso, com frases extensas em que as vírgulas imperam, mas o final foi um pouco anticlimático, depois de toda esta catarse.

[Mrs.Martos · Rating 4 out of 5]

La tirania y el despotismo en el ámbito familiar.

"Eso es una tiranía, para esto es mejor no ser una verdadera familia."

[Noe herbookss · Rating 4 out of 5]

Por aquí un gran ejemplo de que las apariencias engañan. Reconozco que cuando vi el título de este libro no me llamó nada la atención. Los mejillones no me interesaban demasiado 😅
Pero los Pequeños Placeres suelen gustarme mucho siempre, y además vi muy buenas críticas, así que empecé a leerlo con curiosidad. ¿Por qué lo titularía la autora de esta forma tan peculiar?

Nuestra narradora es una niña que, junto a su madre y su hermano, están esperando al padre de familia. Él está a punto de llegar de un viaje importante de trabajo y le han preparado su cena favorita: mejillones. Pero pasa el rato y el padre se retrasa, algo muy raro en él, y en la extraña espera, empiezan a recordar momentos y situaciones que la familia ha vivido. Y mientras transcurren las horas y hablan, casi sin querer, van saliendo a la luz escenas con una violencia velada, de la que casi no se nota, pero que el padre ejercía sobre todos ellos y de las que apenas han sido conscientes. Y esa revelación crece y crece, y empieza a desmontar todo su mundo. Y entonces los mejillones cobran todo el sentido, porque todo tiene que ver con ellos.

Me ha encantado el tono de la narración, tan espontáneo, y cómo va evolucionando a lo largo del relato. La atmósfera de incomodidad e incertidumbre que consigue es perfecta y el desarrollo de los personajes en poco más de 100 páginas es brutal. Por no hablar de la mordaz crítica social que hace, que es impecable.

Muy muy recomendable, lo leí en unas horas sin poder soltarlo y diría que es uno de mis favoritos de la colección.

[Cheryl · Rating 5 out of 5]

That was the longest and most exhilarating paragraph I've ever read.
The teenage daughter unveils the architecture of her family, warped by her despotic father. She packs in all of the excuses, the hardships, the twisted explanations that decorate the miseries of his rule. It is psychologically astute, uncannily so. It stands on its own for that portrait of the family.
But then when one considers the author's intention -- "I wrote this book in August 1989, just before the Fall of the Berlin Wall. I wanted to understand how revolutions start. It seemed logical to use the figure of a tyrannical father and turn the story into a German family saga." -- it becomes a fascinating account of the rise and fall of tyrannical regimes. Terrific.
Loved the ending.

[Entre Libros (Rocío) · Rating 4 out of 5]

En Mejillones para cenar, la espera de un padre se transforma en juicio íntimo y colectivo: sobre el miedo, la obediencia, el deseo callado. Con una voz sarcástica y punzante, la narradora desenmascara la fachada de una familia perfecta, revelando las grietas donde florece la resistencia callada. Cada recuerdo es un plato frío servido con precisión quirúrgica, y cada silencio pesa más que el sonido de los cubiertos. Breve, pero brutalmente lúcido, este relato tensa los hilos invisibles del control doméstico hasta hacerlos estallar.
📚 Análisis completo en @__entre.libros__

[Antonomasia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Many of the UK book blogs I read love certain boutique presses, though until now I'd viewed these publishers as a bit too precious. (The blogs are nice to read because they're usually more good-natured than, er, Goodreads, it's just that I have a misanthopic side too and am hardly ever bothered about fancy editions.) On actually looking at Peirene Press' website for the first time - in the run up to the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize I wanted to find out more about their recent titles - I saw how very well their books suit my taste: they specialise in newly translated European fiction, with plenty from Northern and Eastern Europe, serious but not so heavyweight as, say, Krasznahorkai; all books are under 200 pages (yay); they print paperbacks which don't have excessively twee designs or separate dustjackets, and the company even supports a cause I particularly like (a charity providing counselling for people on low incomes). And as Peirene only releases three new titles a year - organised around a theme - it's not a tall order to read them all.

The 2013 theme was "turning points"; The Mussel Feast (only 105 pages) was written in Germany just before the fall of the Berlin Wall. For the now-shaky Communist state it uses the allegory of a nuclear family with a tyrannical father who is unexpectedly late home one evening; the titular meal, his favourite, has been prepared; his wife, son and daughter don't much like it. In its transparency the allegory reminded me of the Czechoslovak New Wave film A Report on the Party and the Guests, or The Garden Party and other plays by Vaclav Havel, a collection I read a couple of years ago - however The Mussel Feast works better than these as its own story, not only as symbolism, and because of this I found it more involving.

Narrated by the eldest child, the 18-year-old daughter, it conveys terribly well, yet simply, the constricting atmosphere of a family with rigid rules in which you're usually frightened, and the obvious similarity of this with a political dictatorship. The thought pattern of difficult parent being late home, glad about it, freedom to breathe for a few more minutes but tension as they could be there any minute, have they had a car crash, hope they won't be coming back, but is that them now, was terribly familiar from numerous childhood days. (German Wikipedia implies the book is semi-autobiographical, which I can well believe. The absence of 1980s cultural references must relate to this - the writer is about 15 years older than the narrator - but this does give a sense of claustrophobia and being cut off that suits the subject.) The nameless girl's account of their family life is easy to read yet characterised by repetition, action related with little emotion, nasty things elided with phrases at once ominous and innocuous - "then my Sunday was over" after father was displeased about something - these and a style simpler than her implied intelligence all give the sense of a life during which branches of thought and feeling had to be cauterised as part of larger adaptation and survival. In some ways the expression is quite ordered: most of it is straightforward to understand, reflecting the predictability of the tyranny the narrator grew up in; yet trauma, secretly unmanaged terror and suppressed life force bubble underneath, the narrative's events and ideas sometimes blur into one another, and paragraphs are very long. In a speaker with more freedom of expression, the tone would be breathless, but here that headlong rush is disguised by someone who has mathematical and logical rather than artistic strengths, and who has had to learn over many years how to make things sound presentable to a person with particularly unrelenting standards.

The author later commented about writing the book, "I wanted to understand how revolutions start". I haven't actually studied the history of any modern revolutions in depth beyond school level, though what she shows rings true with the fall of Eastern Bloc Communism as seen on the news: the father's absence, signifying "gradual reform" or the earlier toleration of Solidarity, makes it possible for people who hadn't previously spoken up to share their thoughts more and to begin to act.

A number of positive reviews mention finding the book funny; for me it was literally too close to home and too well-realised for that but if you have the detachment to laugh at the absurdity of dictatorial people and their expectations, you may be amused. It's a shame The Mussel Feast wasn't translated earlier as it would have been of great interest in the early 90s when the political events were still fresh in everyone's minds.

[verbava · Rating 5 out of 5]

я давно так пристрасно не бажала смерті книжковому персонажеві.

хронотоп – західний берлін, 1989, стіна от-от упаде, але герої про це ще не знають, та й у них точно є інші проблеми. вони готують мідій і чекають на батька, якому подобаються мідії й не подобається відчуття піску на зубах (тому, каже мати дочці й синові, краще я їх сама почищу – принаймні у разі піску провина буде тільки на мені). клац, клац, клац – окремі уламки речень із монологу доньки, старшої дитини, складаються в історію, від якої шлунок наповнюється каменюками.

анотація каже дві важливі речі: вони чекають, а батько все не приходить; авторка розповідала про цю книжку, що їй цікаво було подумати, як починаються революції, – але обидва ці пункти варто уточнити.

по-перше, хронометраж книжки лише на якість дві години перевищує час, потрібний, щоб її прочитати, тобто текст справді про вечерю з мідіями, про один вечір чекання. але це кілька годин, у які вкладається ціле життя і ще трошечки.

по-друге, книжку можна сприймати як розлогу метафору диктатури (і її розпаду), проте насамперед у тому сенсі, що будь-яка ситуація домашнього насильства може стати метафорою суспільної диктатури й навпаки. сто сторінок – не такий уже й великий простір, та біргіт вандербеке вдається вмістити в них щось значно живіше за алегорію.

[Arman Heidaryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

• پدر قراره حدودِ ساعت ۶ عصر، از سفر کاری برگرده و خانواده به مناسبت بازگشت و ترفیع شغلی پدر، غذای موردِ علاقه‌ش رو درست کردند: خوراک صدف!
حالا ساعت از ۶ عبور کرده. خانواده با یک چشم به دستگیرهٔ در خیره شدند و با چشم دیگه به خوراک صدفِ سرد شده‌ی روی میز.
پدر کجاست؟
چرا برنگشته؟
نکنه اتفاقی براش افتاده؟
حالا وقتشه که همینطور که کنار میز شام منتظرند، یکم هم به پدرشون فکر کنند و وقایع رو مرور کنند.



• خوراک صدف داستانِ افرادی از دلِ یک خانواده‌ست که تمام علایق خودشون رو فراموش کردند. یه خانواده‌ی تحت سلطهٔ استبداد که تمامِ عمر، بایدها و نبایدها بهشون تحمیل شده و برای اینکه یه «خانوادهٔ درست‌وحسابی» باشند، محکوم به یه زندگی رباتی شدند.
سر سفرهٔ شام، پدر حاضر نیست؛ ولی به بهترین شکل ممکن، زیرمتن باهاش آشنا می‌شیم و شخصیتش پرداخته می‌شه. و جالب اینجاست که سه شخصیتی که سر سفره هستند –اعم از مادر، دختر و پسرِ خانواده– با اینکه از اول تا آخر کتاب حضور دارند، هیچ شخصیتی ازشون ساخته نمی‌شه و در انتها هم نمی‌شناسیمشون. حتی [اگر درست یادم باشه] اسمشون رو هم نمی‌فهمیم. چون در تمامِ زندگی‌شون سعی کردند نقش بازی کنند؛ احتمالا خودشون هم دقیقا خودشون رو نشناسند! بخاطر تمام مشکلاتشون همدیگه رو مقصر می‌دونند و همدیگه رو جاسوس تلقی می‌کنند. یک خانواده‌ند، ولی از همدیگه می‌ترسند.

خوراک صدف، داستانی روان‌شناختی-سیاسی از دل ادبیات آلمانه که یه پیرنگ ساده رو به یه پایان عجیب غریب و غیرقابل انتظار می‌رسونه.
ارزش خوندن داره؟ بله!

[Laia Puig Fontrodona · Rating 5 out of 5]

Una família alemanya espera al patriarca per sopar. La mare ha preparat el seu plat preferit: musclos. Tanmateix, l'home no arriba a l'hora esperada i comença una revolta a través del repàs de la vida familiar, una vida lligada sempre a complir amb un model de familia tradicional que el pare vol imposar a tothom. La història està narrada per la filla de la família, en un monòleg captivador i molt proper. M'ha encantat que la mare comenci la seva insubmissió admetent la seva admiració per Medea 💕

Dels millors petits plaers que he llegit, potser el millor.

[Ruben · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5 - Such a pleasure to read a brilliant novella in one day.

This is a 100-page monologue, no chapters, by a teenage girl whose father doesn't show up for dinner.

While the mother, brother and girl sit waiting around a big pot of mussels, ready to celebrate their father's imminent promotion, it slowly becomes clear that perhaps the family is not as happy as it seems.

The family is a metaphor for Eastern Germany, but even if it weren't, I rarely read such a precise family portrait.

[Maral · Rating 3 out of 5]

Me ha gustado la historia que cuenta y me ha gustado el tono irónico en que lo hace con esas pinceladas de humor sueltas que quitan hierro a la dureza de la historia, que no de la narración, porque todo cuanto lo cuenta, lo hace de modo que lo intuyas, en esa discreción de quien quiere que entiendas lo que te está contado pero sin llamar a las cosas por su nombre.
Ese padre que no viene a cenar con esa familia aparentemente unida. Esa noticia especial que se supone que trae el padre y que es motivo de celebración, hace que madre e hijos preparen esa cena y se sienten a esperar y esa espera se convierta en un volcado de verdades, de emociones reprimidas, de situaciones escondidas.
Me ha cansado la narrativa repetitiva por momentos y el final.... me hubiera gustado que fuese tan diferente....
No es un libro que me atreva a recomendar por como está escrito pero si por lo que cuenta.

[El Convincente · Rating 4 out of 5]

Diría que es una especie de Manolito Gafotas escrito en tono siniestro, a lo Thomas Bernhard.

Y esto lo digo con admiración por Manolito Gafotas.

[fatma · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 stars

right off the bat, what drew me to vanderbeke's writing was her ability to write sly, cutting observations about the state of her story's family unit. by the end of the book, you have a pretty clear sense of the network of dysfunction that's both this family unit's makeup and dissolution. vanderbeke's narrative is also one wherein small moments take on monumental implications, unravel entrenched ways of living. and i think that's why the the mussel feast is ultimately so effective as the central motif that the narrative hinges on.

where this book lost my interest, unfortunately, is in the looseness of its narrative; its plot meandered and so, consequently, did my attention. i know it's technically a novella rather than a novel, but i still wanted the mussel feast to have some kind of structure undergirding its story.

this is not to say that this story is one without merit, though. it maybe requires a particular kind of reader, but there is a reader out there who will enjoy it, i think.

[Friederike Knabe · Rating 4 out of 5]

The family – mother, daughter and son – sit at the dinner table waiting for the father to join them in sharing a mussel feast. While they are waiting – the father is expected any minute with good news on his promotion – their chatting moves from a casual exchange on the day to something more sensitive, personal to the daughter of the house. Is it a coincidence that that particular evening the atmosphere is different, the the narrator wonders, is it an omen of things to come? "Yes, it was slightly unusual, and afterwards we sometimes spoke of the mussels as a sign, but they definitely weren't; [… ]After the event, of course, we tried to interpret our decision…"

From the novella's first sentences, Birgit Vanderbeke draws the reader into a kind of mystery, into a strange atmosphere at the dinner table that turns into something increasingly ominous... Told from the perspective of the daughter, the narrative changes in tone as the evening progresses and Mum in particular grows more and more concerned about her husband's absence. The children appear to be enjoying the short period of freedom, the time without the father's strict control over the evening's event. They don't really like eating mussels, neither does the mother...

Vanderbeke takes the concept of monologue in this story to a different level of complexity as she blends the daughter's feelings and her memories of less than enjoyable encounters with the father with recounting what takes place at the dinner table and the comments and dialog taking place. Initially, the three keep up polite appearances and are careful with the way they express their thoughts, in case Father comes in and overhears their conversation and [...] "Mum is still in her wifey mode." But, as time passes, each of them relaxes into a new level of confidence sharing about their life and in particular their father's behaviour towards the young people and the mother.

Slowly but surely, the author - through the daughter's voice - unravels not only the parents' background and the children's life so far. In doing so, she fundamentally challenges the father's dogmatic concept of "the normal family", his constant critique of the children and his wife. Like a piece of knitting, held together by uneven stitches, it can unravel from the seams once you start. Vanderbeke does so with sensitivity and great skill in terms of pacing the back stories with the revelations about the interrelationships within the family. At times, especially in the earlier parts, lighthearted, yet astute observations and a sense of irony enliven the daughter's musings. Still, the underlying concerns are never lost. In contrast to his behaviour at home, where the father constantly criticizes the children and his wife for not being "up to his level", stands his professional life or at least what the daughter can glean about it: : success, generosity and joviality. The reader is constantly compelled to ask: Where can mother and children go from this moment in time? What will they say to the father? How to approach the future in a different way?

A thought provoking read at numerous levels. There are aspects that hint at a specific period in time in Germany: 1989 – the time of the spontaneous demonstrations, often started by small groups of people, spreading across East Germany, eventually contributing in a major way to the Fall of the Berlin Wall. Families were still confined within the established authority structures yet these were breaking down. In this sense one can see in Vanderbeke's novella of one family a representation of impending dramatic change. Personally I can also shift the story back in time by several decades to my own youth when scenarios similar to the one depicted here were not uncommon: the uneasy relationships within and between generations as well as the loss of trust of traditional role models and authority patterns in the post-war period. At the broader level, of course, the story can be taken as reflecting universal questions on family values, role models and generational change.

Das Mussel Fest was Vanderbeke's debut fiction work, which immediately won her the prestigious Ingeborg Bachmann Prize in 1990. Despite having published numerous books to some acclaim and awards, this is the first that has been translated into English. In translation The Mussel Feast was shortlisted for the International Foreign Fiction Prize 2014.

[Jodi · Rating 4 out of 5]

UPDATED:

Hmm... not exactly the "brilliant ending" that the publisher promised, but...

This was my third read from Peirene Press, which I hope will be my new favourite small publishing house. I say "hope" because I'm now the proud owner of 10 Peirene books. Of the three I've read, only one has been a real stand-out (Snow, Dog, Foot). My first—The Blue Room—was a 2-star read and I've decided to give The Mussel Feast 4-stars. So, at this point, it's not looking too bad, but I'm hoping the remaining seven books are worthy of at least 3- or 4-stars each.

But back to The Mussel Feast... as other reviews have noted, this book is about a mother and her two teen children, sitting at the dinner table, waiting for the father's return from a business trip. The narration is handled by the daughter, and as their wait gets longer and longer, it becomes clear that none of them is particularly fond of the father who—according to their descriptions—is terribly controlling and physically abusive (I'm sure he'd be labelled a narcissist these days). And just as my GR friend, Lark, wrote in her review, I too "was once married to this guy".🤦‍♀️ In fact, just reading about this deplorable man brought back painful memories such that I found myself getting more and more anxious as I read on. And wouldn't you know it, I realized I was doing this very thing as I was reading this excerpt:

With the telephone refusing to stop ringing I looked down at my hands and noticed that I’d chewed my nails over the fingertips to the raw skin; my chewed fingernails had red, bloody edges; when I couldn’t look at the red edges any more I balled my chewed fingernails inside my fist and gazed over at my mother.

But, not only was I chewing my nails to bloody stumps, I was incredibly antsy and my heart was pounding. Luckily, this is quite a short book, so I didn't have to endure the nauseating flashbacks for too long and, in the end, my sanity was preserved. I found the book quite entertaining at first, and I'm certain I would have enjoyed it a whole lot more if it hadn't been for that revolting connection to the absent father.😣 (Who—despite never once making an appearance—was most definitely the star of the book!)🤷‍♀️ Regardless, the book IS very good, so despite the unfortunate pain it elicited, I'm increasing my rating to make it more in line with actuality.

So... 4 stars!—⭐⭐⭐⭐

[Jorge Morcillo · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Aquel día había mejillones para cenar, pero eso no era ni una señal ni una coincidencia. Cierto que era algo inusual, pero está claro que no era ni una señal, aunque más tarde alguna vez hemos dicho, aquello fue un mal agüero, lo hemos dicho alguna vez, pero seguro que no lo era, como tampoco era una coincidencia. Por qué precisamente aquel día íbamos a comer mejillones, precisamente aquella noche, nos lo hemos preguntado alguna vez, pero tampoco era eso exactamente, de ninguna manera puede decirse que fuera una coincidencia, solo es que a posteriori hemos tratado de interpretar el hecho de que hubiera mejillones para cenar como una señal o una coincidencia, porque lo que pasó después de esa cena fallida fue tan terrible que ninguno de nosotros se ha recuperado aún”.

Así comienza esta novela corta de la escritora Birgit Vanderberke. Ganadora en 1990 del Premio Igeborg Bachmann. Ediciones Invisibles la ha editado en castellano, en su colección Pequeños Placeres, pues se encontraba descatalogada.


Nos topamos con una familia alemana en las últimas décadas del siglo XX. El muro no ha caído todavía, pero ya le queda poco. Madre, hijo e hija esperan la llegada del padre, volverá de un viaje de negocios donde previsiblemente se le ascenderá, “el punto culminante de su carrera”, y la familia ha decidido hacerle de cenar mejillones y papas fritas, pues es su comida preferida.

Todo parece marchar bien hasta que poco a poco el retraso del padre desencadena la agitación de todos los miembros de la familia, cuyas vidas están subordinadas y coartadas por la voluntad del padre. “Es sorprendente lo que hace la gente cuando algo se sale de lo corriente, se produce una pequeña desviación de la normalidad y de pronto todo es distinto”.

La que nos habla es la hija, cuyo verbo tiene altas resonancias berhandianas, pues las repeticiones y los escasos párrafos se encadenan unos contra otros en un flujo de conciencia apegado a los recuerdos que atesoran como familia. Una voz juvenil creíble y bien lograda.

Esa inquietud por la espera es la que desencadena la rebelión familiar. “Si mi padre hubiera llegado a las seis no nos habríamos dado cuenta de lo inútil y ridículo que resulta amoldarse a él”.

En apenas ciento treinta páginas asistimos a todo un estudio de caracteres en los que se nos delata que la hija, la narradora, es rebelde e inconformista; el hijo es algo débil y sensible; la madre es espiritual y práctica; y todos ellos (no reciben en ningún momento nombres) viven laminados por el padre, que es científico y rígido, moralista, salvo cuando gasta el dinero, que entonces es desprendido.

A leer el libro no solo me llegaban las referencias a Bernhard por el estilo, sino que al mismo tiempo ha sido como si asistiera a una representación teatral de Ibsen, con la salvedad que aquí no asistimos en ningún momento a una tragedia completa, el tono pese al maltrato psicológico y patriarcal es amable e irónico, desde los cuatro kilos de mejillones que se han comprado para preparar la cena a los recuerdos velludos del nacimiento de la hija.

En definitiva, un buen libro que se lee con enorme celeridad, pues aparte de cortito tiene una prosa fluida y musical. Casi tuve que parar la lectura para que durase al menos una tarde. Un gran descubrimiento de una autora de la que solo tenía hasta hora buenas referencias: Birgit Vanderberke.

Recomendable.

Hasta otra.

[Ulla Scharfenberg · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow, das war intensiv! "Das Muschelessen" hat 1990 den Ingeborg-Bachmann-Preis gewonnen und ist mir kürzlich zufällig in die Hände gefallen. Die kurze Erzählung handelt von patriarchaler Gewalt in der Familie.

Mutter, Tochter und Sohn sitzen am Abendbrottisch und warten auf den Vater, der jeden Moment von einer Dienstreise zurückkehren soll. Es gibt vier Kilo Miesmuscheln, Vaters Leibspeise, aber das Familienoberhaupt verspätet sich und nach und nach beginnen die Familienmitglieder miteinander zu reden. Über die psychische und physische Gewalt des Vaters, seine Unerbittlichkeit, seine Pedanterie, seine Geltungssucht. Die Solidarität zwischen Mutter und Kindern, die der Vater längst gebrochen zu haben schien, kehrt zögernd zurück.

Die Geschichte wird aus der Sicht der Tochter erzählt und der atemlose Stil, die seitenlangen Sätze und Redundanzen schaffen eine sprachliche Verzweiflung, die nach kürzester Zeit einen absoluten Sog entwickelt. Ich habe bisher keinen Text gelesen, der die Grausamkeit häuslicher Gewalt und die verheerenden Auswirkungen auf die Betroffenen eindringlicher beschreibt.

[Marta Porta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Filla que relata com la seva família es rebel.la contra el maltracte psicològic que el patriarca exerceix sobre ella, sobre el seu germà i sobre la seva mare. M’ha encantat descobrir com es van adonant d’aquesta violència poc a poc, fins que arriben al punt de no retorn.

[Simona · Rating 4 out of 5]

Da mir "Alberta empfängt einen Liebhaber" von Birigit Vanderbeke gut gefallen hatte, habe ich mir dieses mal ihr Erstlingswerk "Das Muschelessen", für das die Autorin mit dem Ingeborg-Bachmann-Preis geehrt wurde, vorgenommen.
Die Rückkehr des Vaters von einer Dienstreise und die vermeintliche Beförderung sollen um Punkt 18 Uhr mit einem gemeinsamen Muschelessen, die eigentlich keiner mag, außer der Vater der Familie, gefeiert werden. Aber an diesem Abends verspätet sich der sonst so pedantisch pünktliche Vater, Mutter, Sohn und Tochter werden unruhig und kritisch. Eine Abrechnung mit dem Bild der "Familie" nimmt, so später der Abend und je mehr Wein fließt, ihren Lauf.
All dies Erfahren wir aus Perspektive der etwa 18-jährigen Tochter, allerdings erfahren wir keine Namen, Orte oder den genauen Beruf des Vaters. Sie erzählt was ihr gerade durch den Kopf geht, im Grunde einen Gedanken nach dem anderen, es gibt dabei aber keine klare Reihenfolge. Zudem kommt der Text ohne Absätze oder Kapiteleinleitungen und sehr wenigen Punkten daher. dies ist vielleicht nicht jedermanns Sache. Dieses "Chaos" wird mehr und mehr zu einem Psychogramm eines Mannes, der seine persönlichen Komplexe durch seiner Herkunft durch eine perfekte Familienidylle zu kompensieren versucht, dabei macht er die eigenen Vorstellung der "perfekten" Familie zum alleinigen Maßstab, den die anderen Folge zu leisten haben. Dies scheint zu funktionieren, denn es gibt lediglich kleine rebellische Züge seitens der Mutter, die einem zum Schmunzeln bringen: Der Vater hört beispielsweise jeden Sonntagvormittag eine Platte Verdi, wobei die Kinder gezwungen sind, dabei zu sitzen und zuzuhören, während sich die Mutter in der Küche verkriecht. Und "wenn dieser Verdi im Vorzimmer alle war", ist die Mutter wieder aus der Küche gekommen und hat "gleich gelüftet, um den Troubadour", die sogenannte "akustische Wohnzimmerpest" rauszulassen. Glücklicherweise gibt es aber auch Szenen, die das damals gängige patriarchalische Rollenklischee als Unterdrückung, ohne erhobenen Zeigefinger, bloßstellt. So bleibt diese Geschichte ein vergnügliches Lesevergnügen über eine Abrechnung mit der Familienidylle, die keine war. Oder aber eine Abrechnung mit dem Leben in der ehemaligen DDR, aus der die Autorin mit ihrer Familie geflohen ist. Der Vater hat die Rolle der Stasi, als Überwachungsmacht und Unterdrücker, übernommen und die Familienmitglieder stellen die Bürger der DDR dar, die am Ende gegen das Regime rebelliert haben. Es bleibt also offen, ob es eine übertriebene Schilderung oder doch eine Realerzählung war. Ist der Vater eine abstoßende und widerwärtige Kunstfigur oder gab es wirklich diesen Familientyrannen.

[Veronika · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es hat mir wirklich sehr gut gefallen, auch wenn der Schreibstil sehr ungewöhnlich und maximal verschachtelt ist. Aber auch das gewinnt irgendwann einen gewissen Charme und in manchen Momenten hatte ich das Gefühl, dass genau DAS die Denkweise wiederspiegelt von Menschen, die sich nicht eingestehen wollen, dass sie missbraucht werden und die sich immer wieder im Kreis drehen, in Zirkelschlüssen verlieren, mit sich selbst argumentieren und den Vater gleichermaßen rechtfertigen und anklagen.
Es fängt ganz langsam an mit Mutter, Tochter und Sohn die das Abendessen vorbereiten und auf den Vater warten (alles wie immer) und es gewinnt dann immer mehr an Fahrt und wird immer emotionaler, je länger sie miteinander reden und je deutlicher wird was für ein gewalttätiges, manipulatives Arschloch der Vater ist.
Am Ende hofft man wirklich, dass er unter einen Zug gekommen ist und deswegen nicht mehr auftaucht, weil ... wow. Was sich da für Abgründe hinter der Fassade auftun ist alles andere als harmlos...
Ein wahnsinnig spannendes, faszinierendes Buch.

[Lena · Rating 4 out of 5]

Strange... 4 el 5 måste fundera.
Fast det blir 4:a tillslut iaf...Jag brukar bara
ge femmor till böcker som jag av någon anledning
helt enkelt bara älskar (vilken alltså inte behöver vara
litterärt bättre än fyran...i min lilla värld...).
Men jäkligt bra var den!

[H.A. Leuschel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Eine dunkle und tragische, aber auch sehr packende Novelle, die die Macht eines Manipulators auf seine Familie in beeindruckender Weise widerspiegelt.

[abril torrelles · Rating 5 out of 5]

ha estat fantàstic. el relat és molt cohesiu, les paraules et porten i les frases es solapen i avances i no te n'adones. i de cop ets al final! m'ha estat molt fàcil submergir-m'hi i m'ha agradat molt la depicció de l'home procariota (ens posava suc de llimona a les cremades i mai no vam poder decidir si les cremades picaven més amb suc de llimona o sense suc de llimona.), que jo he imaginat amb ulls de mico i mal a la cama, i la música com a refugi de la dona eucariota per sobreviure l'home procariota. s'han retratat molt bé els detalls d'un i altre en la quotidianitat i esperança de canvi. en aquest sentit, una mica com a la peli de c'è ancora domani. i molt subtil, crec que necessàriament subtil per il.lustrar la testosterona desmesurada i maleducada que més endins cala, i l'afectació d'aquesta no només a una dona sinó també a un fill i una filla.

xin xin per un món amb menys ulls de mico i més música. per aconseguir-lo, voteu bé el diumenge.

[recontraluchita · Rating 3 out of 5]

auch