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Orkus #4
Der Strom.
Der Wiener Thomas Mach ist kein gewöhnlicher Tourist, sondern ein Reisender. Auf diese Unterscheidung legt der junge Spross einer Familie von Papier- und Kartonagefabrikanten größten Wert, als er im Auftrag des Wiener Reisebüros Auge Gottes nach Kairo fliegt. "Ein Tourist war für ihn jemand, der ein Land wie die Kulisse eines Theaterstücks betrachtete, ihm einen 'Besuch' abstattete", heißt es in dem großartigen Roman Der Strom des österreichischen Schriftstellers Gerhard Roth, "während ein Reisender auf Erfahrungen aus war, mochten sie auch noch so unangenehm sein". Unangenehme Erfahrungen erwarten Mach in Ägypten reichlich. Immerhin ist er beauftragt, die Nachfolge der Reiseleiterin Eva Blum anzutreten, die aus ihrem Hotelzimmer im 16. Stock des Kairoer Sheraton-Hotels zu Tode stürzte. Mach findet das Tagebuch der Frau und stößt in ihren Aufzeichnungen auf das unterstrichene arabische Wort für "Mörder": War der vermeintliche Selbstmord also eine Bluttat, vielleicht sogar Bestandteil einer Intrige zur Vertuschung weiterer Verbrechen? In den labyrinthischen Gassen der Metropole macht sich Mach auf die Suche nach der Wahrheit, die ihn unter anderem nach Memphis und zur Bibliothek von Alexandria geleitet und ihn immer mehr verstrickt in ein undurchdringliches Gewebe, das souverän Elemente der Kriminal-, Reise- und Entwicklungsliteratur miteinander verflechtet und -- wie die von Mach beobachteten Teppichknüpfer -- Realität und Illusion in irritierenden Bildern ein ums andere Mal unentwirrbar verbindet. Wie bei Gerhard Roth üblich (und im Zyklus Die Archive des Schweigens in immer neuen faszinierenden Varianten vorexerziert), so weitet sich auch die Reise Machs durch ein bedrohlich verzaubertes Ägypten zur beizeiten mythischen Fahrt in die "verbotenen" Totenreiche der Erinnerung aus. "Geblendet vom Sonnenlicht, das durch das Kabinenenfenster fiel, öffnete er die Augen", lautet der erste grandiose Satz des Buches. "Geblendet vom Sonnenlicht, das vom Wasser reflektiert wurde, schloß er die Augen", der letzte. Dazwischen liegt eine taghelle narrative Bestandsaufnahme der Schattensphären der menschlichen Seele und unserer rätselhaften Wirklichkeit. Wieder einmal ein großer Roth'scher Wurf. --Thomas Köster
Hardcover
First published January 1, 2002
9 people want to read
About the author
Gerhard Roth
93 books17 followersGerhard^Roth (this Austrian author)
Gerhard^^Roth (German Neurobiologist)
Gerhard^^^Roth (German travel guide books)
Gerhard Roth is perhaps the most important writer to emerge from that “hot-bed of geniuses,” the Forum Stadtpark, which has radically influenced German letters in the last two decades. His broad range of works, from experimental novels to plays and a children’s book, has earned him a number of major prizes, and several of his books have been filmed. An uncomfortable writer whose work revolves around extreme mental states and behaviour.
Gerhard^^Roth (German Neurobiologist)
Gerhard^^^Roth (German travel guide books)
Gerhard Roth is perhaps the most important writer to emerge from that “hot-bed of geniuses,” the Forum Stadtpark, which has radically influenced German letters in the last two decades. His broad range of works, from experimental novels to plays and a children’s book, has earned him a number of major prizes, and several of his books have been filmed. An uncomfortable writer whose work revolves around extreme mental states and behaviour.
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March 30, 2015Like the preceding volumes in the Orkus series – of which this is the fourth – Der Strom follows the pattern of a crime novel, although this time I found myself unable to identify a specific subgenre it would belong to. On the other hand, I think none of the previous installments made it quite as clear why Gerhard Roth is so attracted to the structures of crime fiction – it is the aspect of attempting to make sense of the world, to decipher the signals it sends us and to read their hidden messages. And like his protagonists, Roth appears convinced that there is a meaning to unravel, but unlike them he is well aware that its significance is ultimately undecipherable. This is where Roth and conventional crime fiction part ways, for the latter tends to move towards a solution, a final revelation of mysteries, while Roth’s novels usually end in confusion, the mysteries unsolved, the codes unbroken, any meaning opaque.
No other character in the Orkus series so far has been aware as the protagonist of Der Strom, Thomas Mach (who, as far as I can tell, is always referred to with both first and last name together) – but he also is the one who is most obviously not quite sane, as he lets himself be guided by an “Inner Voice” which only he can hear. Unsurprisingly, that voice is more often than not at odds with that is happening around Mach, leading to some very comical results, and making this the funniest novel in the series since the satire on the medical profession in Der See. Gerhard Roth does not even shy away from slapstick humour here, and it can be considered programmatic when he mentions that his protagonist (who coloured his hair red on the advice of his inner voice) looks like Stan Laurel.
Thomas Mach is another of the Austrians abroad that populate this series, younger son of a family that grew rich with the manufacture of paper and was somewhat involved with the Third Reich – while the family has distanced itself from its unsavoury beginnings, the columns of smoke that appear as recurring motif throughout the novel keep it present in the mind of the reader. (There is a lost of smoke in this novel, as well as dust, smell, and other things that fill the air and tine perception in various ways.) Mach travels to Egypt to take over a job for an uncle of his who owns a travel agency – his predecessor had committed suicide, and our protagonist comes into possession of her notebooks which, among fragments from guides and history books with her comments also contain some mysterious writing, done in red and with foreign characters. It does not take Mach long to find out that she was involved in some very shady business dealings, and from there it is just a small step to wondering whether her death really was a suicide…
… and off we go into another mock-crime-fiction plot where the protagonist, led by the voice in his head, shambles through events he does not comprehend, among people whose language he does not understand, surrounded by writing he can not read. Indeed, it is very noticeable in Der Strom how writing pops up literally everywhere Thomas Mach goes and looks. This might not be any different in his native Austria, but by virtue of its very incomprehensibility it is considerably more eye-catching, promising a meaning which it at the same time holds back, and thus making for a striking image of one of the novel’s central concerns. That is underlined by the strange fact that most of the writing appears in red, thus marking it part of a very tightly organised colour scheme which adds another layer of significance to the novel.
Colour in turn evokes seeing and perception which plays an important role in Der Strom right from its brilliant first sentence, “Geblendet vom Sonnenlicht, das durch das Kabinenfenster fiel, öffnete er die Augen.” (“Blinded by the sunlight falling through the window of the cabin, he opened his eyes.”) Note the rather clever inversion here that has the as-yet unnamed protagonist open his eyes to the blinding light thus already indicating that not everything he sees might actually be there (and that motif will recur several times throughout the novel), but also designates a certain openness for new experiences – he does not close his eyes to what happens around him, and if he cannot see it’s from a surfeit of light and impressions, not from a lack of it. This is taken up again almost literally in the novel’s final sentence, “Geblendet vom Sonnenlicht, das vom Wasser reflektiert wurde, schloß er die Augen.” (“Blinded by the sunlight reflected by the water, he closed his eyes.”) – things return to normal again, the protagonist complacently shuts out what blinds him, a light that now is no longer direct but only reflected. Between those two sentences, the whole of Thomas Mach’s journey (and of the novel’s plot) unfolds.
While Mach disdains viewing himself as a tourist, feeling himself somewhat above them by trying to immerse himself in the country he visits and thus to become a traveller, he not only is working (even if only temporarily) for a tourist agency, but the reader also cannot help but noticed that everyone he meets seems to be giving him guided tours which often lead to either tourist attractions or him visiting various colourful natives, in other words his itinerary seems markedly touristic. (And his repeatedly pushing money into the hand of pretty much every native he encounters is one of the running gags of the novel.) But even as its protagonist misses most of what is happening around him, Der Strom manages to paint a very vivid and intense picture of contemporary Egypt, in Gerhard Roth’s familiar sparse and matter-of-fact prose which here again is more frequently spaced through with bursts of lyrical beauty, much more than Der Berg was in which they were mostly absent, yet retaining that novel’s extremely dense interweaving of motifs and images. And in the end I think it is this ability of charging his laconic and deadpan but always very precise prose with beauty and the promise of significance is what makes Gerhard Roth’s novels so consistently fascinating.
No other character in the Orkus series so far has been aware as the protagonist of Der Strom, Thomas Mach (who, as far as I can tell, is always referred to with both first and last name together) – but he also is the one who is most obviously not quite sane, as he lets himself be guided by an “Inner Voice” which only he can hear. Unsurprisingly, that voice is more often than not at odds with that is happening around Mach, leading to some very comical results, and making this the funniest novel in the series since the satire on the medical profession in Der See. Gerhard Roth does not even shy away from slapstick humour here, and it can be considered programmatic when he mentions that his protagonist (who coloured his hair red on the advice of his inner voice) looks like Stan Laurel.
Thomas Mach is another of the Austrians abroad that populate this series, younger son of a family that grew rich with the manufacture of paper and was somewhat involved with the Third Reich – while the family has distanced itself from its unsavoury beginnings, the columns of smoke that appear as recurring motif throughout the novel keep it present in the mind of the reader. (There is a lost of smoke in this novel, as well as dust, smell, and other things that fill the air and tine perception in various ways.) Mach travels to Egypt to take over a job for an uncle of his who owns a travel agency – his predecessor had committed suicide, and our protagonist comes into possession of her notebooks which, among fragments from guides and history books with her comments also contain some mysterious writing, done in red and with foreign characters. It does not take Mach long to find out that she was involved in some very shady business dealings, and from there it is just a small step to wondering whether her death really was a suicide…
… and off we go into another mock-crime-fiction plot where the protagonist, led by the voice in his head, shambles through events he does not comprehend, among people whose language he does not understand, surrounded by writing he can not read. Indeed, it is very noticeable in Der Strom how writing pops up literally everywhere Thomas Mach goes and looks. This might not be any different in his native Austria, but by virtue of its very incomprehensibility it is considerably more eye-catching, promising a meaning which it at the same time holds back, and thus making for a striking image of one of the novel’s central concerns. That is underlined by the strange fact that most of the writing appears in red, thus marking it part of a very tightly organised colour scheme which adds another layer of significance to the novel.
Colour in turn evokes seeing and perception which plays an important role in Der Strom right from its brilliant first sentence, “Geblendet vom Sonnenlicht, das durch das Kabinenfenster fiel, öffnete er die Augen.” (“Blinded by the sunlight falling through the window of the cabin, he opened his eyes.”) Note the rather clever inversion here that has the as-yet unnamed protagonist open his eyes to the blinding light thus already indicating that not everything he sees might actually be there (and that motif will recur several times throughout the novel), but also designates a certain openness for new experiences – he does not close his eyes to what happens around him, and if he cannot see it’s from a surfeit of light and impressions, not from a lack of it. This is taken up again almost literally in the novel’s final sentence, “Geblendet vom Sonnenlicht, das vom Wasser reflektiert wurde, schloß er die Augen.” (“Blinded by the sunlight reflected by the water, he closed his eyes.”) – things return to normal again, the protagonist complacently shuts out what blinds him, a light that now is no longer direct but only reflected. Between those two sentences, the whole of Thomas Mach’s journey (and of the novel’s plot) unfolds.
While Mach disdains viewing himself as a tourist, feeling himself somewhat above them by trying to immerse himself in the country he visits and thus to become a traveller, he not only is working (even if only temporarily) for a tourist agency, but the reader also cannot help but noticed that everyone he meets seems to be giving him guided tours which often lead to either tourist attractions or him visiting various colourful natives, in other words his itinerary seems markedly touristic. (And his repeatedly pushing money into the hand of pretty much every native he encounters is one of the running gags of the novel.) But even as its protagonist misses most of what is happening around him, Der Strom manages to paint a very vivid and intense picture of contemporary Egypt, in Gerhard Roth’s familiar sparse and matter-of-fact prose which here again is more frequently spaced through with bursts of lyrical beauty, much more than Der Berg was in which they were mostly absent, yet retaining that novel’s extremely dense interweaving of motifs and images. And in the end I think it is this ability of charging his laconic and deadpan but always very precise prose with beauty and the promise of significance is what makes Gerhard Roth’s novels so consistently fascinating.
May 4, 2024
Gefiel mir nicht so gut wie "Der Berg" und "Der Plan", daher 3 Sterne. Streckenweise ist hier die permanente Addition von Detailbeobachtungen und komplexen Wahrnehmungen, womit Roth eine surreale Wirkung erzielt, doch ermüdend, da kaum Handlung.
Ein weißbärtiger Mann, der sich ununterbrochen Notizen macht, möglicherweise Gerhard Roth selbst, macht den Protagonisten Thomas Mach in Alexandria auf einen Gedichtband von Konstantinos Kavafis (1863 - 1933) aufmerksam. Ein Gedicht von ihm spielt eine gewisse Rolle in der Geschichte, wie sich dann herausstellt. Bei Roth hängt immer alles mit allem zusammen.
Von Kavafis habe ich daraufhin ein anderes Gedicht gefunden, ich weiß nicht ob Coetzee es kannte, es heißt "Warten auf die Barbaren" und hat mich daran erinnert, dass ich Coetzees gleichnamigen Roman nach Jahrzehnten noch einmal lesen wollte.
Ein weißbärtiger Mann, der sich ununterbrochen Notizen macht, möglicherweise Gerhard Roth selbst, macht den Protagonisten Thomas Mach in Alexandria auf einen Gedichtband von Konstantinos Kavafis (1863 - 1933) aufmerksam. Ein Gedicht von ihm spielt eine gewisse Rolle in der Geschichte, wie sich dann herausstellt. Bei Roth hängt immer alles mit allem zusammen.
Von Kavafis habe ich daraufhin ein anderes Gedicht gefunden, ich weiß nicht ob Coetzee es kannte, es heißt "Warten auf die Barbaren" und hat mich daran erinnert, dass ich Coetzees gleichnamigen Roman nach Jahrzehnten noch einmal lesen wollte.
September 3, 2013
Thomas Mach reist nach Ägypten, um die Nachfolge der Reiseleiterin Eva Blum anzutreten. In ihrem Reisetagebuch stößt er auf das Wort "Mörder" - und begibt sich, seiner inneren Stimme folgend, auf Evas Spuren. Schnell entstehen Zweifel an der Suizidgeschichte...
Neben "Der Plan" ist "Der Strom" bisher mein Favorit in Gerhard Roths Orkus-Zyklus. Wie gewohnt beschreibt er Gedanken, Gefühle, Orte und Situationen bis ins Kleinste und auf eine Art und Weise, die Leser wie mich (die in die Bücher einzutauchen neigen) zeitweilig am eigenen Verstand zweifeln lässt. Er begibt sich in die Seelenwelt und die Abgründe seines Protagonisten und nimmt den Leser mit. Und natürlich treffen wir auch diesmal alte Bekannte aus den beiden Roth'schen Romanzyklen wieder. Den Tod inklusive.
Neben "Der Plan" ist "Der Strom" bisher mein Favorit in Gerhard Roths Orkus-Zyklus. Wie gewohnt beschreibt er Gedanken, Gefühle, Orte und Situationen bis ins Kleinste und auf eine Art und Weise, die Leser wie mich (die in die Bücher einzutauchen neigen) zeitweilig am eigenen Verstand zweifeln lässt. Er begibt sich in die Seelenwelt und die Abgründe seines Protagonisten und nimmt den Leser mit. Und natürlich treffen wir auch diesmal alte Bekannte aus den beiden Roth'schen Romanzyklen wieder. Den Tod inklusive.
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