This is a terrifically entertaining German Baroque novel. I had no idea that Grimmelshausen had written not only one, but a cycle of 5 Simplicissimus novels. This one has some extremely modern gestures, although the meta-narrative is similar in spirit to Don Quixote and Sterne, but the female first person narrator, I thought, was kind of wonderful. Although not believable (not the point of these comic texts which date back to the Middle Ages often referred to as realistic simply because comedic, low in both topic and style, dealing often with the lower or merchant class, and not allegorical) I feel that the exercise of writing outside of one's gender, race, nationality, etc. can only ultimately lead to an exercise in empathy. If you use an other's I you begin to step outside yourself and that's always worthwhile, even if politically risky in the era of identity politics.
The inclusion of this as a kind of follow-up, a riposte to some of what went on in Simplicissimus makes the original novel better and more interesting--just as Don Quixote Pt. II enlarges and carries that novel into something much greater than the original. That, along with the strong narrator and the odd gender transgressions of an unashamedly promiscuous female soldier rogue character make it potentially revolutionary. It's at least a bit realistic insomuch as I guess she's not wholly unapologetic--that is unable to at least partially condemn herself and her own actions along the lines of conventional morality, still, as has been noted, actions speak louder than words, thus I read her as less apologetic than she seemed.
This edition has a solid, very informative but perhaps a bit too long-winded. Still. I'll add here a review of the second text, The False Messiah as soon as I've read it.
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Well, The False Messiah is a tad disappointing. First of all, It's only an excerpt, the last third or so of the fifth and final Simplicissimus novel, The Enchanted Bird's-Nest, in which (so the long introduction tells me) two different characters have various adventures via the title object which grants them invisibility. That's immediately disappointing to me as I prefer reading all or nothing of a text. Also, the long-winded intro. goes on even longer about this excerpt than it did about the full novel Courage, making me wonder why the editor(s?) didn't shorten the intro and translate this novel in its entirety, or make this a two-volume project? I dunno, the intro was exhaustive but not, as is usually the case with criticism, as interesting as reading the novel itself would have been.
That said, the excerpt does work more or less as a stand-alone novella and was, so it tells me, published as such at least one other time. The story is an age-old narrative motif in which a man passes himself off as a god or deity of some sort in order to seduce a woman. I recognized the motif from Boccaccio's Decameron in which Friar Alberto seduces Madama Lisetta in the form of the angel Gabriel. Boccaccio, in my opinion, is poking fun at his contemporary religious art, which was then depicting the annunciation as a courtly love plea between a handsome young man and a noble woman.
Here, however, the text harps on the credulity of the Jews and their ridiculous belief in the coming of a messiah, which the narrator exploits, along with the help of invisibility and a Mandrake root which opens and closes locks magically, in order to have his way with a beautiful young Jewess. Although Grimmelshausen is always paying lip service to Christianity, I couldn't help think which is more deluded, believing in a future messiah or believing that the messiah has already come when the world is not a whole lot better off than it was before he came, at least not morally or in terms of justice. So I rejected the lambasting of the Jewish beliefs as no more absurd than the Christians' beliefs, and kind of turned on the narrator for his not seeing that.
So, a modern reader needs to both ignore the casual, assumed Antisemitism and put up with a bigoted and not very perspicacious or self-aware narrator. But even then the tale isn't really funny (as in Boccaccio and others) as the narrator is so much more involved in his own moral self-castigation and excoriation of those silly Jewish beliefs to let us laugh for very long at the situation. Oddly, in the end, it's a tale of desire, how achieving desire doesn't quell desire, and then how tiring of the desired object and abandoning it only leads one back to the desire. It's not wrong, but it's not a super entertaining story to tell and might have been better told in another way.