Review by Sheila
Written in 1990 in a magical realism style, not biography nor autobiography, but seemingly factual, it reminded me of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Samuel Beckett. Difficult to distinguish fact from fiction, asking huge amounts of concentration from its readers, this book is an illustration of how memory can be illusory, unreliable, ultimately unproductive as well as a source of madness.
In the first of four sections, Beryle, relates his memories of serving as a soldier in Napoleon’s army, crossing the Great St. Bernard pass from France into Italy and his subsequent journeys through northern Italy. One could be forgiven for imagining this is biographical. According to Beryle he wrote his great works between 1829 and 1842. He died of syphilis in rue Danielle-Casanova after he “slowly inscribed the initials of his former lovers in the dust, like the enigmatic runes of his life”. Is this real? Is this true? Is this illusion? His ‘view of the past consists of nothing but grey patches’.
The third section deals with Dr. K on his travels from Prague to Desenzano where he is due to attend a congress as Deputy Secretary from Prague Workers’ Insurance Company. Dr. K. is fretful and dejected; “it is impossible……to lead the only possible life, to live together with a woman, each one free and independent”. The journey Dr. K. undertakes includes Trieste, Venice, Verona, Desenzano and Riva. Dr. K. wants some peace and quiet but is conflicted about his relationship with Felice and the woes they have each endured. Dr. K. falls in love with a young Italian girl, “In accordance with the expressed hopes of Dr. K., they agreed that neither would divulge the other’s name, ……exchange no pictures, not a shred of paper, nor even a single written word, and that once the few days that remained to them were over, they must simply let each other go.”
In both these sections love “was a chimaera which we desire the more, the further removed we are from Nature……..for love….is a passion that pays its debts in a coin of its own minting, and thus a purely notional transaction….” from Beryle and for Dr.K. “But what love could have been sufficient to spare the child the terror of love, which for Dr.K. stood foremost among all the terrors of the earth?”
Sections two and four would seem to be autobiographical in that the author becomes the narrator. The confusion and depression experienced by both Beryle and Dr. K. are replicated in these sections. Section 2 relates the journey from Vienna through to Lake Garda when the narrator is trying to write. The unfolding narrative describes a hectic ‘tour’ of northern Italy via train journeys and childhood memories and encounters, resulting in a belief that the narrator is being following by 2 men and an ‘escape’ from Italy via the opera Aida.
The 4th section describes the narrator retracing his childhood memories literally from the village in which he was born through Germany and then onto England and Liverpool Street
Station.
The consensus seems to be that Max Sebald is writing about selective memory, and just how easy it is to make a mistake, particularly if a memory is vivid. Imagination can be so strong that it induces people and events we can envisage as reality. And this can quickly lead to paranoia. The trauma the author experienced as an adolescent when he discovered what the concentration camps were all about and his attempt to understand how people remained silent about it, is probably the overwhelming reason why he writes as he does, not prosaically but in a magical realistic way.
Written in 1990 in a magical realism style, not biography nor autobiography, but seemingly factual, it reminded me of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Samuel Beckett. Difficult to distinguish fact from fiction, asking huge amounts of concentration from its readers, this book is an illustration of how memory can be illusory, unreliable, ultimately unproductive as well as a source of madness.
In the first of four sections, Beryle, relates his memories of serving as a soldier in Napoleon’s army, crossing the Great St. Bernard pass from France into Italy and his subsequent journeys through northern Italy. One could be forgiven for imagining this is biographical. According to Beryle he wrote his great works between 1829 and 1842. He died of syphilis in rue Danielle-Casanova after he “slowly inscribed the initials of his former lovers in the dust, like the enigmatic runes of his life”. Is this real? Is this true? Is this illusion? His ‘view of the past consists of nothing but grey patches’.
The third section deals with Dr. K on his travels from Prague to Desenzano where he is due to attend a congress as Deputy Secretary from Prague Workers’ Insurance Company. Dr. K. is fretful and dejected; “it is impossible……to lead the only possible life, to live together with a woman, each one free and independent”. The journey Dr. K. undertakes includes Trieste, Venice, Verona, Desenzano and Riva. Dr. K. wants some peace and quiet but is conflicted about his relationship with Felice and the woes they have each endured. Dr. K. falls in love with a young Italian girl, “In accordance with the expressed hopes of Dr. K., they agreed that neither would divulge the other’s name, ……exchange no pictures, not a shred of paper, nor even a single written word, and that once the few days that remained to them were over, they must simply let each other go.”
In both these sections love “was a chimaera which we desire the more, the further removed we are from Nature……..for love….is a passion that pays its debts in a coin of its own minting, and thus a purely notional transaction….” from Beryle and for Dr.K. “But what love could have been sufficient to spare the child the terror of love, which for Dr.K. stood foremost among all the terrors of the earth?”
Sections two and four would seem to be autobiographical in that the author becomes the narrator. The confusion and depression experienced by both Beryle and Dr. K. are replicated in these sections. Section 2 relates the journey from Vienna through to Lake Garda when the narrator is trying to write. The unfolding narrative describes a hectic ‘tour’ of northern Italy via train journeys and childhood memories and encounters, resulting in a belief that the narrator is being following by 2 men and an ‘escape’ from Italy via the opera Aida.
The 4th section describes the narrator retracing his childhood memories literally from the village in which he was born through Germany and then onto England and Liverpool Street
Station.
The consensus seems to be that Max Sebald is writing about selective memory, and just how easy it is to make a mistake, particularly if a memory is vivid. Imagination can be so strong that it induces people and events we can envisage as reality. And this can quickly lead to paranoia. The trauma the author experienced as an adolescent when he discovered what the concentration camps were all about and his attempt to understand how people remained silent about it, is probably the overwhelming reason why he writes as he does, not prosaically but in a magical realistic way.