3.5. I have always been most interested in Albert Speer, the well-read, handsome and charming member of Hitler's inner circle who somehow avoided hanging at the Nuremberg Trials and instead spent his time in prison (20 years) writing his memoirs on toilet paper, only to come out the other side a reinvented man, appearing on the BBC and even becoming 'friends' with famous Nazi-hunter Simon Wiesenthal. How does this happen? The seemingly tongue-in-cheek postmodern title of this novel is, supposedly, a true quote, from Karl Maria Hettlage. He said it to Speer's face: 'You are the Fuhrer's Unrequited Love.' Jean-Noël Orengo is careful not to read too much into the quote; he touches, ever so briefly, at the idea of Hitler's closeted homosexuality and his 'love' of Albert Speer, but is quick to dismiss it.
My girlfriend and I, on a trip in and around Germany a few years ago, visited the Nuremberg Courthouse. We sat in the very room (courtroom 600) where the Nazi leaders were tried. This is something I've recounted elsewhere, but to say it again: a screen began to lower, the lights went to black as in a cinema and the curtains along the right-hand wall shut out the pale daylight. The sound of footfalls filled the room and on the screen bloomed a 3D rendering of the courtroom I was sitting in. Then, black and white footage from the trials was superimposed over the rendering, giving the chilling impression that Goering was entering. The 3D rendering panned with him, the footfalls growing louder. The judges then appeared to the right, shuffling their papers and looking stern. At the back, the interpreters sat behind glass windows. Where I was sitting, the press once sat. Later, upstairs in the exhibition and listening to the footage from the trial, I heard Jackson asking Rudolf Hess, “Did that include women and children?” They were talking about the command from Hitler to 'liquidate' the Jews in concentration camps. Hess’s voice replied loudly in my ears, through the headphones, “Yes.”
And Speer's avoiding of the death penalty was due to his slyness. He had everyone convinced, even for years afterwards, that he did not know what was happening to the Jews in the camps. Speer, who was ultimately appointed as the Minister of Armaments and War Production, managed to convince the judges and later the world, that he was ignorant of the Holocaust. According to Orengo, in 1977, Speer contacted a historian (he later befriended her), about an article she had written for the Sunday Times. Her article was attacking a denialist, who was arguing that Hitler himself knew nothing about the extermination of the Jews. So, Speer contacted her, and in his letter he congratulated, said 'it was absurd to claim such a thing, nothing of any importance in the Reich would have taken place without a decision from Hitler. He described these attempts at denialism as 'grotesque'. He said that he was 'appalled'.'
Orengo's novel, at first, reminded me of Binet's HHhH. He, or at least the narrator, was present in establishing the tone of the book. I thought I was in for some interruptions; but they faded, and instead, it took on a sort of Benjamín Labatut quality of writing (though I much prefer Labatut's work). There are few scenes, instead, the novel is 'told'. This happened, then this. It is mostly without emotion. At times, you feel as if you are reading a history book, or perhaps even a Wikipedia entry. I felt like Orengo was holding the book at arm's length; he wasn't quite bold enough to go all in with the style. For that reason, particularly the wartime period, dragged somewhat. My own fasciation with Speer was a double-edged sword: my default setting is interest, but much of what Orengo has written, I already knew. He did not tell it in a way that was particularly engaging or different. I learnt a lot more from the post-war sections of the book, and besides, in a way, it is Speer's reinvention of himself that is the most unbelievable and compelling aspect of his life.
But it is at the end that the book takes off its mask, so to speak, and shows its true face. Minor 'spoilers' ahead, for I am going to discuss the final chapter's stylistic choice. Orengo finally steps in again, or at least his narrator does, and reflects on the novel itself. It is just another book about Nazis. Who wants to read another book about Nazis, he asks. He talks about autofiction, and claims that Albert Speer's books are the greatest and most political autofiction books ever written. So at last it becomes meta, it becomes more than just another novel claiming (or not) to reveal some other otherwise hidden facet of the Nazi party. I finished the book annoyed. If only Orengo had been brave enough to shot the whole novel through with that. Because it is just another novel about the Nazis, about Speer, about Hitler, until he decides to at last buck up the courage to 'enter'. In my opinion, a wasted opportunity. HHhH is so compelling because it is different. This might have been similar, if Orengo had been brave enough. However, for anyone interested in the Second World War, I still recommend it all the same.
Thank you to Penguin for the advance copy for review.