“Es ist vollbracht.” (It is accomplished!) I have finally finished reading this book that I have been gnawing on for four months. Why did I read all 511 pages of annoying fine print that my 75-year-old astigmatic eyes had severe trouble to cope with? Why did I chew and re-chew all these complicated constructed tapeworm sentences containing words I had never heard or seen before? Why did I take the trouble to look up these words, only to find many of these words not only missing in my modest ESL vocabulary but also in renowned dictionaries? Why did I bother to read every paragraph twice and some up to five times? Patience is not one of my virtues. So why did I stick it out?
The answer to the above questions: I found this book a treasure trove of knowledge about 20th century history. I had known so very little of this history.
I blame Germany’s chosen amnesia for this lack of education. Our history teachers in “Gymnasium” (= high school and college combined) had started three times with the old Greeks, had enlightened us with the “Goetterwelt” (pantheon) of the Greeks and the Romans, had hammered into us dates, names, and places of wars and battles, including names of “Feldherren” (military leaders), had fed us with dates and names of crusades, had carefully avoided the Spanish Inquisition (one does not wish to embarrass the Catholic Church), had bored us almost to death with the Stauffen Kaiser dynasty, had told us about Napoleon, Karl the Great, and a bit of Bismarck (yet by this time I might have already stopped listening because history classes, containing hardly anything but names and dates, were so terribly boring), and then stopped abruptly when approaching the year 1900, hurrying to return to the old Greeks. In other words: Our history teachers (assumedly following instructions of the “Kultusministerium” [ministry of education]) had shied away from the infamous German history of the early and middle 20th century like from the plague.—One does not wish to embarrass former German nationalists and even less former (?) Nazis. Wildly guessing that one half of the German population had been Nazi, not only would every second teacher have been a Nazi or a descendant of Nazis (not to even speak of the civil servants in the “Kultusministerium), at least every other student would have been a descendant of Nazis. (One does not wish to embarrass colleagues and even less superiors. And you just simply cannot give students information that indicates to about half of them that their parents and/or grandparents had been supporters of a criminal regime, if not worse.) So self-chosen amnesia was the way to go. Was it really? You decide.
You’ll probably say that there were books. Well, I am sure there were, at least about the history of the very early 20th century (i.e. the time of and around WWI), yet books about the Third Reich and the mass murder of Jews (then not yet called the Holocaust) were only written in later years. Regardless of when any related books were written, I never saw any displayed in bookstores or libraries; they must have been hidden on upper or lower shelves. So how about German literature classes in “Gymnasium”? Wouldn’t there, at least, have been some mandatory reading of books related to 20th century history? The answer is a clear “no”. We read Goethe and Schiller and Kleist and Lessing, and the Nibelungs in “Mittelhochdeutsch”, and “Pole Poppenspaeler” in “Plattdeutsch (“Mittelhochdeutsch” and “Plattdeutsch”, more or less, being foreign languages), anything—ANYTHING!—to avoid contemporary historic or time-critical literature. Only one German teacher recommended casually, on the side, to read “The Diary of Anne Frank”, which I (and some of my classmates) did, yet neither was this book mandatory reading, nor was it discussed in class.
And now you might say that I could have asked for related books in bookstores and libraries. And I could have, but I didn’t because not knowing that any such books existed, it never entered my mind to ask for any such books. Well, maybe I wasn’t very inquisitive in this respect. And this might have been because I didn’t grow up with books. During my childhood (= during WWII and the deprived years following the war), there were hardly any books available, and when they became available, they were expensive. Besides, my parents weren’t readers, and my hometown didn’t have a library to speak of. Let’s not forget: There was no internet, no Goodreads, and no Amazon. Knowledge wasn’t as easily to come by as it is today.
The above book taught me more about the 20th century than all my years of school and college combined.
Fritz Stern is a Jewish historian, who has escaped the Holocaust because his family made it out of Germany in time. “Five Germanys I Have Known” is just as much an insightful chronicle of the 20th century as it is a captivating personal memoir. It also tells a lot about the academic life of a historian, which might not be appealing to everyone. (It wouldn’t be my idea of a dream profession.) I feel unable to give a summary of this book as it is so very comprehensive.
I would highly recommend this book to anyone interested in European history of the 20th century, provided that he or she doesn’t mind complicated tapeworm sentences, has a more extensive vocabulary than the average ESL reader (namely, I), and last but not least, has better eyes than I have. (Yet there might be an edition with larger print.) If none of these requirements are met, the reader should, at least, be very determined. I was very determined, and I am glad I read this book, even though it took me four months to gnaw through it and, at times, felt more like doing homework than enjoying a leisurely read.
P.S. This review will already give you a little training in reading tapeworm sentences. :-)