I received a free advance review copy from the publisher, via Netgalley.
It is June, 1944. Richard Oppenheimer, once a successful homicide detective inspector with the Berlin Kriminalpolizei, was forced off because he is Jewish. He has not been deported “to the east,” though, because he is married to a so-called Aryan, Lisa. Along with others in mixed marriages, they live a hand-to-mouth life in a Jewish House apartment building.
Out of the blue, Oppenheimer is told to join an SS officer, Vogler, to investigate a series of brutal murders of women. It’s a shock to his system, being able to be out and about in Berlin and working with the powerful. He sees the rapacious acquisitiveness of the Nazi elite, the foreign workers doing much of the labor and, most of all, the transformation wreaked on the city in these waning months of the war. The city is bombarded daily, turning it into a landscape of ruins, smoke and death. There are rumors of the D-Day invasion, and Germans seem to know that the Third Reich will fall far short of its promised thousand years.
In this bizarre time and place, a serial killer must be stopped, to protect public morale. Oppenheimer’s methods are classic police procedural stuff. As in many serial killer novels, we have some passages from the point of view of the killer. They’re not nearly as interesting as Oppenheimer’s story, but fortunately they take up only a small proportion of the book.
Harald Gilbert is a German writer of WW2 history, and this is a translation of his (first?) novel. The translation is good, though not always entirely smooth.
There is one thing that puzzled me about this book. A couple of times while he’s out on his new official duties, Oppenheimer runs into people who know him and know that he’s Jewish. When they ask how he can be working as a detective (or anything, for that matter) in Nazi Berlin, he tells them he converted. This doesn’t make sense, since Nazis considered Jewishness to be an immutable racial category, not merely a religious faith. And Harald Gilbert, as a historian of the period, must surely know that.
I can’t help assessing any novel about homicide in the Nazi era to the Bernie Gunther series by the late Philipp Kerr. Does this book meet that standard? No, it’s not quite as good at painting an entire world, rich with historic context, and Oppenheimer is, unsurprisingly, not the wisecracking gumshoe that Bernie Gunther is. Still, this is a vivid story, well told, and if Harald Gilbert has more crime fiction to offer, I will happily read it.