It doesn’t matter whether he is writing fiction, political diatribes, or theological reflection (admittedly rare, but it’s there), the late William F. Buckley, Jr. taught me things I didn’t know. I didn’t always agree with him, but I was always stimulated by his writing. When he was alive, I asked my friends in the New York literary scene to try to arrange it so I could meet him. He was one of those larger than life figures that would always make my list of famous people (even from history) that I would love to informally dine with. Except for our fascination with language and tendency to go against the grain of popular consensus, we’re really not alike—very different academic experiences, social class, and political activism (with a few exceptions of which I have mixed feelings).
So, finding Nuremberg: The Reckoning in what is the 80th anniversary year of the start of the trials was a major discovery for me. I don’t remember the book when it came out in 2002 as I was trying to get a new business off the ground and my reading and research was very focused. Interestingly, I started reading this novel on November 20th, the very anniversary of the start of the trials. Because of my schedule, it took me five days to finish it. I enjoyed the book and learned a lot as Buckley weaves together the intriguing coincidences of his protagonist’s background and his post-war task with actual historical details. I particularly enjoyed a snide remark about John Maynard Keynes’ prophetic remarks on the Versailles Conference (p. 16).
Sebastian Reinhard is the German-born son of an architect named Axel Reinhard and his American wife. When his father and mother see the handwriting on the wall, they decide to cruise to the U.S. and allow mother and son to claim citizenship. The father is betrayed (and the inadvertent betrayer is revealed late in the book) and is unable to join his family. Compromised, the father is forced to build a P.O.W. camp known as Camp Joni which eventually becomes quite something else. There is a mystery about the father’s death and Buckley reveals it at just the right time. There is also a mystery about Sebastian’s background which is revealed from a most unlikely informant.
As one might expect, Sebastian ends up attached to the Nuremberg trials. He assists in translating sensitive documents and testimony, as well as assisting in the interrogation of a certain prisoner, General Kurt Amadeus (the fictional commander of an extermination camp). I couldn’t help but think that Buckley had his own inside pun in naming this character because there was a composer named Karl Amadeus Hartmann who wrote a piece called “Miserae” in either 1933 or 1934 to protest construction of the first Nazi concentration camp. General Amadeus couldn’t have been “loved by God” as the name’s Latin origin would suggest since gassing hundreds of thousands of Jews was nothing to him.
The interrogation of Amadeus before (and interestingly, after) the actual trial testimony provides an interesting counterpoint to Sebastian’s assumptions regarding law, justice, and morals. I do not mean to imply that Buckley was excusing Amadeus’ genocide. To the contrary, the conversations simply demonstrate that the trial served a moral purpose, even though the actual law was not very clear. Amadeus proves a nice composite of the Hitler-inspired fanatic.
Nuremberg: The Reckoning gives glimpses of the politics surrounding the trials and some of the mundane considerations (Ever wonder where all of those people were housed? How simultaneous translation was accomplished? What security arrangements were in place for prisoners and the trial itself?) surrounding the trials. Interesting, Buckley’s fictional account of how Amadeus cheated the hangman’s rope rather nicely matches the way a former guard later admitted to smuggling a glass ampule of cyanide to Hermann Goering. We cannot verify that account, but it makes more sense than Goering’s alleged note that he had smuggled the ampule in with his hair cream.
Although Nuremberg: The Reckoning is solid reading and has its stimulating moments, I didn’t feel like the fiction itself was as compelling as the Blackford Oakes novels. They also provided a wonderful mix of history and fiction, but it seemed like they were better paced. A Blackford Oakes novel is comparable to a film while Nuremberg: The Reckoning is paced more like a season of Downton Abbey, though a bombed out Nuremberg is certainly not a match for the posh venue of the UK soap opera set between WWI and WWII.