I happened across Uwe Timm’s SNAKE TREE at Half Price Books—in the clearance section, no less—and was struck by both its title and its somewhat minimalist cover. The brief synopsis said it was about a man who runs over a snake in South America and is cursed because of it, which sounded interesting enough. What really encouraged me to plunge into buying it was seeing that there were only 87 ratings and 9 reviews for the book on Goodreads. Could it be possible I has stumbled upon an undiscovered gem? What if it turned out that this book was excellent? It seemed worth the $3 to see.
SNAKE TREE centers on a German structural engineer, last name Wagner, who accepts a position overseeing the construction of a pair of anonymous factories in an ambiguous South American country despite knowing in advance that the previous two managers were (a) kidnapped by either left-wing guerrillas or the right-wing military police and (b) had a nervous breakdown, respectively. Wagner takes the job immediately and without second thoughts, in part because it offers him a way out of his dull marriage for a year; he believes both he and his wife Suzann have been feeling the inevitability of their relationship‘s demise for some time, though he can’t really explain why. Something just feels… unexciting between them. Her quick acceptance of his plan to leave the country—to move to a new hemisphere twice over (trading the northern for the southern and eastern for western)—read to Wagner as proof of his assumptions.
Almost immediately after beginning the job, he runs over the emerald Acaray snake as prophesied, and the locals murmur that he’s now destined to die by drowning. The remainder of the book is coated in suspense because of this occurrence, less for awaiting the foretold drowning itself than the calamitous sequence of events which will necessarily precipitate (no pun intended) his eventual fate. Partly the sense of gloom that overhangs the narrative comes from the oppressive world Wagner inhabits. It’s a jungle country so decimated by logging and paper mills that its landscape is red dirt resembling the moon. At one point Wagner defends this desecration by commenting that he always wanted to go to the moon. 😐 He’s building the factory out of “sand” (so to speak—really, just poor quality concrete) on a sinking foundation. Wagner does not speak the language, does not understand the culture, and - one imagines - is unthinkingly inviting danger through his boorish insistence on the supremacy of his own perspective. For example, he goes to the government of a corrupt and violent country (there are regular “disappearances” of dissidents) thinking he’s entitled to information about a missing person. Even as he’s cutting to the front of a line of desperate and maimed people (one man’s arm is a stump infected with white worms), he doesn’t stop to reconsider his course of action.
This brings me to a third point: the tension is created in large part because of Wagner’s selfish behavior. The fate of the missing person is a good example: it’s his 19-year old Spanish teacher, Luisa, who he took for a 16-year old at first and who he naturally began making goo-goo eyes at and eventually slept with. His co-workers warn him about the danger of this relationship, but Wagner dismisses them—he doesn’t care what people say! But that’s because he’s only thinking about himself, and not about the effect it’s liable to have on Luisa. Likewise, he considers writing his wife to tell her it’s over and to inform her about an affair he had with a married neighbor. Again, in my head I’m screaming because he wants to unburden himself with no regard for what this will mean for Renate, the woman he would be implicating. The air of menace is undercut somewhat by the sense that Wagner deserves whatever occurs to him; that is, he’s not the “hero” of the story—it’s almost desirable for him to get some kind of comeuppance.
There are times that Wagner’s self-centered nature leads to humor. Take, as an example, a scene where he and Luisa laugh while out at dinner, leading to annoyed glances from other diners; Wagner dismisses them as spoilsports and thinks the waiter is a jerk for interrupting them. Shortly afterward Col. Kramer, part of the military leadership, arrives and laughs with his group. Wagner now complains that he’s “disturbing the silence” and starts wondering where the Colonel got all those medals, suggesting that Wagner thinks they’re unearned or fake. Another standout moment comes when he witnesses several of the South American workers at the factory getting up in the morning; they “turned toward the rising sun as if worshipping the blood red light” and he “wondered what ritual lay concealed behind this gathering”, thinking it some sort of primitive religious event. Then he notices a jerking movement from the men and, as they turn back toward him, sees some pulling up their trousers. The book is blunt about the reality of the situation: “They had been pissing.”
I feel like I’ve been giving the impression that my view of the book is entirely positive. I *did* like it, but I don’t think that Timm is as condemnatory of Wagner as I am. There’s more than one scene where Timm, through Wagner, comments on the robustness or shape of women’s breasts—I got the feeling this was just a blind spot for Timm, that he’s writing about women through the male gaze genuinely, not using it as a method of showing Wagner’s skeevy behavior. The book was published in 1986 and so I’m sure this sort of self-reflection about biases wasn’t as in vogue. Also, in general there’s not a lot that happens here. A lot of the first act is not particularly affecting and though I get the idea that the work of building a factory is meant to be monotonous, that aspect of the story nevertheless is less than compelling. I’m also not sure how to read what the book is saying about Wagner’s doomsaying housekeeper Sophie. On the one hand he belittles her insane religious rambling—rightly so, in my view—but on the other she seems to be foretelling something real on the horizon, possibly? Is she a loon or a righteous one? Also, the book is so clearly awash with symbolism (there’s even an allusion to Conrad’s HEART OF DARKNESS) to the point is kind of irritated me… it felt too in-your-face, reminding me of a book to be read as an assignment in high school. That feeling that it was *trying* to be clever rubbed me the wrong way.
In all, I think it’s a decent book. There’s parts that made me laugh—I liked Wagner’s memory of accidentally being suckered into letting Jehovah’s Witnesses into his apartment, until before he knew it “they were sitting on the sofa comparing the building of a power plant to a sparrow’s nest.” And I think the air of uncertain peril that shrouds the whole affair is often effective. It didn’t fully mesh for me, though, and as mentioned there was a long stretch at the beginning where it wasn’t working at all. It does get stronger as it goes on, but ultimately I think worthwhile, yes, but more good than great. I’m saying 3.5 stars.