Some books captivate you as much for the story of their creation as the content between their covers. Hans Herbert Grimm’s Schlump is one of those books. Published anonymously in Germany in 1928, Grimm’s anti-war novel was overshadowed by another of the anti-war genre, Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front, published around the same time. Schlump never got the attention it deserved. That didn’t keep the Nazis from noticing it, however, and in 1933, copies of the book were burned throughout Germany, along with other texts by “un-German authors.”
Grimm’s personal history is complicated and tragic. Despite Schlump and other evidence that suggests he was anything but an impassioned Nazi, He joined the Nazi party in the ‘30s. Volker Weidermann, who wrote the afterword to New York Review Books’ republished version of the book, believes Grimm did this so that he could “stay in his beloved Altenburg and keep teaching for as long as possible … in safety.” As copies of the book few knew he had written were burned across Germany, Grimm, now a member of the Nazi party burning his book, hid copies in the walls of his home. After the war, though Grimm revealed his authorship of the novel and others vehemently defended him and argued that he “cannot be regarded as a Nazi,” Grimm was not allowed to teach again because of his membership in the party. That blow seems to have hit him hard. After a meeting with the SED (Socialist Unity Party) in 1950, a meeting the contents of which no one knows, Grimm seems to have regarded himself as condemned. He killed himself two days later in his beloved home in Altenburg.
The novel itself is quirky, filled with whimsical tales of the life Schlump lives during the war years, events which make the brief scenes of trench warfare all the more jarring. Schlump is, at one point, a kind and companionable administrator of three picturesque French villages; at another, he works in a postal censor’s office in Bohain with a Corporal Jolles, a period in Schlump’s life filled, due to Jolles’s connections, with leisure and all the best food—“The arrangement was perfect; the war could go on for as long as it liked.” Throughout the text are tales of the women Schlump meets, surprisingly tender relationships that feel more intimate than the tales of wartime liaisons often told.
The echoes of the war are always there, however. During Schlump’s time in Bohain, as Schlump and Jolles lead their “easy and comfortable existence,” the war will not leave them alone. “In fine weather they could hear the rumble of cannon from the Front in the west, a reminder that every day thousands of young men were losing their lives in the most grisly ways. You had to train yourself to banish such thoughts.” By this time in the novel, Schlump has already had his experience of the trenches. The reader is not privy to the psychological damage that has been inflicted upon him, however; that’s not what Grimm is up to.
Instead, Grimm’s work moves through the greatly varied experiences of its protagonist almost emotionlessly. Schlump becomes a canvas upon which the story of the war can be painted, in all its strange and tragic happenings. It is to him that a number of German soldiers tell their stories. Each of these stories last several pages in length, and taken together, provide their own fascinating look into what it was to be a German soldier in the First World War. Schlump almost never comments on these stories or responds when he hears them; he is merely the recipient, the eyes and ears that Grimm uses to tell the story of a foolish and gruesome war. It is a book worth reading, a story that tells, in its own way, of the disordering and the sorrow of war, in any time and place.