Dialog International

Review: Uwe Wittstock's Februar 33: Der Winter der Literatur

This is a terrific book that should be read along with Anatol Regnier's Jeder shreibt für sich allein (see my review).  Whereas Regnier's book covers the fate of German writers who remained in Germany during the NS-period (1933-1945), Wittstock writes about how writers reacted to the Nazi seizure of power, covering the the first six weeks of Hitler's chancellery - from January to early March 1933. Wittstock describes the dilemma of many of the greatest 20th century writers during those short weeks - day by day, sometimes hour by hour.  It is an amazing feat of research drawing on memoirs, diaries, letters, interviews with surviving relatives - every source available.  During that short 6-week period Germany was transformed from a liberal democracy to a barbaric dictatorship, and any writer who opposed the new regime faced an existential crisis: to go, to stay, to wait and see.  Few could have imagined in January 1933 that as respected public figures, whose books and plays were enjoyed by millions of Germans, they could within weeks be detained and, in many cases, tortured and sent to concentration camps.  Even a Nobel Prize - as in the case of Thomas Mann - was no guarantee of safety, for Mann was a vocal supporter of the Republic and therefore persona non grata to the Nazis.

Yet there were some who could see exactly what was happening and going to happen.  Joseph Roth, whose Radetzkymarsch is on my list of the Ten Greatest German Novels, got on the next train to Paris as soon as he heard the news that Hitler was the new Reichskanzler.  As he wrote to his his friend Stefan Zweig:

"...unsere literarische und materielle Existenz ist ja vernichtet... Es ist gelungen, die Barbarei regieren zu lassen. Machen Sie sich keine Illusionen. Die Hõlle regiert."

As a Jew, Roth knew he was especially vulnerable. Yet some Jewish writers hesitated to leave.  The novelist Herman Kesten, a Jew, was fully aware of the danger, but his family was sick with the flu and he couldn't leave them. Still, he ran to the French Embassy in Berlin to obtain a visa as preparation to flee Germany.  The Jewish poet Elsa Lasker-Schüler was about to have her drama Arthur Aronymus staged in Darmstadt by the respected director Gustav Hartung - a triumph that would have revived her career and provided some deserved financial security. But the Nazis intervened, and ordered Hartung to fire all Jews associated with his theater. Elsa Lasker-Schüler eventually did make it out of Germany and ended up in Israel. 

Bertolt Brecht also had several plays in various stages of production but he knew he was close to the top of the list of writers to be arrested.  He checked himself into a hospital for a hernia operation that he needed anyway.  Hospitals at that time were not required to divulge the names of their patients. Brecht was able to make his way to Denmark and eventually to the United States.

Some writers and artists were fortunate enough to be outside of Germany during the Nazi seizure of power. Eric Maria Remarque, whose anti-war novel Im Westen nichts Neues was hated by the Nazis, had already moved to Switzerland. Best-selling author Vicki Baum was in the US.  Nazi thugs raided the Berlin studio of the painter Georg Grosz, but he was already working as an art teacher in New York. Thomas Mann and his wife were enjoying a restful stay in the Swiss Alps following a lecture tour.  Mann wanted to return to Munich to retrieve his manuscript for Joseph und seine Brüder, but his children Klaus and Erika warned him to stay out of Germany. The Nazis did raid his house but the manuscript was fortunately rescued.

Wittstock writes about the sad fate of the Prussian Academy of Arts.  Thomas Mann's brother Heinrich Mann was president of the Dichtung (Poetry)  division of the academy, which included many of the best known writers of the Weimar Republic.  After Heinrich Mann and artist Käthe Kollwitz signed a declaration calling the new regime "barbaric" the members conspired to expel Mann from the academy without having the courtesy to inform him in person - an act of pure cowardice.  Only one member - Ricarda Huch - acted honorably and immediately resigned in protest.  The poet Gottfried Benn was one of the members who did not resign. Wittstock provide a plausible explanation for Benn's initial enthusiasm for the Nazis: resentment.  Wittstock compares the careers of Benn with Alfred Döblin.  Both were medical doctors.  But the prolific Döblin achieved fame with the publication of the novel Berlin Alexanderplatz (also on my Top Ten list) which was made into a successful feature movie.  Döblin was able to shut down his medical practice and devote his time to writing.  Benn's medical practice was primarily treating prostitutes and down-and-out patients in the working class district where he lived.  That practice paid poorly.  Yes, his lyric poetry was admired by many - but poetry also paid poorly. So his position on the Prussian Academy of Arts was a vindication of sorts:

"Nun endlich bekam er did offizielle Anerkennung, die ihm so fehlte, endlich gestand man ihm seinen Platz in der literarischen Elite des Landes zu. Jetzt war er kein ärmlicher Prostituiertenartz mehr, der fürseine Gedicthe kaum mehr als ein paar gute Kritiken bekam, sondern nahm er seinen Sitz ein in der Tafelrunde der berühmtesten deutschsprachign Schriftsteller der Zeit." 

Besides famous writers like Gottfried Benn and Alfred Döblin, Wittstock writes about the fates of many lesser-known writers.  One of my favorites - the Berlin poet Mascha Kaléko - makes a cameo appearance as she encounters the satirical writer Walter Mehring on the street and warns him that some SA-men are on the next block looking to arrest him.  Mehring immediately rushes to station to get on the next train to Prague.

Not everyone made it out of Germany.  Some, like Erich Kästner remained by choice.  The publisher of Die Weltbühne, Carl von Ossietzky was urged to leave by his friends but stubbornly refused.  He was arrested and sent to a concentration camp where he died, despite being honored with the Nobel Peace Prize in 1936.  The anarchist poet and essayist Erich Mühsam was arrested immediately after the Reichstag fire and was tortured to death at the Oranienburg concentration camp. Looking back, it is hard to imagine how these writers coped with the life and death decisions that confronted them in those terrible few weeks in 1933.   Many of those who fled the Nazi terror thought it would be only for a few months.  Surely the German people would not tolerate living under a Nazi dictatorship for long.  Many would never set foot in their homeland again for the rest of their lives.

Review: Brigitte Reimann's novel Die Geschwister

I became interested in the East German writer Brigitte Reimann (1933-1973) after reading this recent piece by Kate Connelly in The Guardian. I have read most of the famous DDR writers - from Anna Seghers to Christa Wolf - as well as a few not so famous, but knew virtually nothing about Brigitte Reimann, who evidently was something of a cult figure in the DDR.  Connelly writes:

Reimann, who has been compared to the writers Carson McCullers and Edna O’Brien and who counted Anna Seghers and Ernest Hemingway among her literary heroes, became a cult figure with a reputation similar to that of a beatnik poet.

Die Geschwister ("Siblings") is about to be published in English translation, so I started with that short novel (the DTV version I have called it an Erzählung (story).  The first person narrator - Elisabeth Arendt - a 24-year-old painter and art instructor at a coal mining plant (Braunkohlenkombinat) somewhere in the eastern DDR.  Elisabeth (or "Betsy") has two brothers: a much older brother Konrad - who left the DDR for the West ("das andere Deutschland") and Ulrich - just slightly older that then narrator.  Most of the story is about her relationship with "Uli" - the novel begins and ends with a heated argument between Besty and Uli , but the reader doesn't learn why they are fighting until the last part of the novel.  What struck me most about the novel is the almost incestuous relationship between bother and sister: the two can't keep their hands off each other. Uli admits he has difficulty maintaining relationships with other girls because none seems to measure up to Betsy.

Between the bookends of the sibling's argument, Reimann writes beautifully about the sibling's childhood during the war and the hardships just after the war, as her father returned as a diminished man from years in a POW camp.  Towards the middle of novel Betsy and her mother have a reunion of sorts with Konrad - now a "Wessie" - in West Berlin.  It does not go well.  Betsy despises her older brother for "abandoning" the country that trained him as an engineer. 

"Du haβt die Republik so blind und dumm, wie man einen Gläubiger haβt.  Du wirst es ihr nie verzeihen, daβ du ihr deine Ausbildung und deinen Beruf verdanken.  Das ist es. Deinen Beruf", fügte ich hinzu, " mit dem du Westmark verdienst."

Later she nearly accuses Konrad of being a Nazi and storms off, wandering the streets of Berlin, totally lost until she sees a welcoming sign that she is leaving the "west sector". 

Towards the end of Die Geschwister we learn the reason behind the heated argument between Besty and Uli: her beloved Uli has also made plans to flee to the "other Germany."  For Betsy, this is an existential crisis, and she betrays her brother's plan to her fiance Joachim - the manager of a VEB steel plant and party stalwart.  Here is where the novel breaks down, for the efforts of Betsy and Joachim to convince Uli to stay - the back and forth to stay or leave - becomes tiresome. Also, Betsy admits that - although she remains committed to the socialist ideals of her beloved DDR and could never consider leaving, she could also never be a true Party member: her family background is "bourgeois" (bürgerlich).  And because of this innate orientation she can never be a true proletariat:

"Was wir gelernt haben haben und was unser Kopf begriffen hat, das it bloβ die Oberfläche, die Haut ... Aber innen, im Herzen, wenn du es so nennen willst, in einem letzten Gehirnwinkel, denken und fühlen wir noch als Bürgerliche."

This and other nods to Leninist orthodoxy - perhaps necessary to get published in the DDR - put me off somewhat. So, on balance, I wasn't a huge fan of Die Geshwister, despite Brigitte Reimann's obvious writing talent.  So I'm not sure I'm ready to tackle her unfinished novel Franziska Linkerhand (600+ pages!).

For anyone interested in reading a lesser-known but brilliant DDR novel I strongly recommend Rummelplatz by Werner Bräunig.

Review: Lion Feuchtwanger's DIe Geschwister Oppermann

Many years ago I read Lion Feuchtwanger's two-part novel Erfolg (1930), a roman à clef that dealt with the rise of Hitler and the Nazi movement in Bavaria.  Hitler is represented in the comical figure Rupert Kutzner, and various other luminaries of the late Weimar Republic  appear as recognizable characters. Feuchtwanger wrote himself into the novel as the writer Tüverlin. The novel - one of the great Weimar  Zeitromane - is even today a highly entertaining read but was also a serious warning at the time about Hitler and fascism.  For some reason I never read Feuchtwanger's follow-on novel Die Geschwister Oppermann (1933) even though I had a copy in my personal library.  A recent review in the New York Times of a new translation of the novel compelled me to finally read it. 

The tone of Geschwister is much different than Erfolg.  It is no longer just a warning about a fanatical nationalist, who seems more clown-like than threatening. In Geschwister the red lights are flashing and sirens blaring: the story moves from Bavaria to Berlin - the seat of the government - and Hitler is chancellor.  The Oppermanns of the books title are a prominent, - well to do -  Jewish family in Berlin.  The three Oppermann brothers are all respected professionals; they each served honorably in the Great War for Germany, and, if asked, considered themselves to be loyal Germans.  The idea that they could somehow be persecuted in a modern, civilized society seemed preposterous. Yes, they see the new chancellor and the regime as a threat, but only a temporary one.  They have faith that the German people will come to reject the violence and excesses of the Nazis (called "Landesknechte") and a sane, liberal government will be restored.  Only one child - Ruth, the Zionist daughter of Edgar Oppermann - sees the writing on the wall and makes preparations to emigrate to Palestine.

The central figure in Die Geschwister Oppermann is the writer and intellectual Gustav Oppermann.  Gustav is a bachelor and bon vivant who enjoys fine wine, cigars and dining at his club. He considers himself an intellectual and scholar and works intermittently on a biography of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing - the 18th century proponent of German Aufklärung ('enlightenment').  Gustav embodies the "free-floating intelligentsia" ("freischwebende Intelligenz') described by the sociologist Karl Mannheim in his study Ideologie und Utopie (1929). The intellectual, Mannheim posited, operates outside the social classes and above the political fray. Gustav is more interested in his girlfriends and the arts rather than politics, but he has nothing but contempt for the crude language and actions of the Nazis. So he unthinkingly signs a petition attacking the new regime in Berlin.  This act puts Gustav in danger of arrest and torture at the hands of the Landesknechte and he is forced to leave leave Germany once the Reichstag burns.  Gustav, with his financial means, could lead a comfortable exile existence in Switzerland and the South of France, but he is haunted by reports of repression and barbaric torture in his homeland.  When he receives news that his friend, the Jewish professor Johannes Cohen, died "unexpectedly" in a Nazi concentration camp, Gustav decides he must return to German incognito to see with his own eyes what is happening. Eventually he falls into the hands of the Gestapo and is detained at the Moosbach concentration camp. This is the most difficult section of the novel to read, for Gustav's treatment - as well as the that of the other inmates - is barbaric.  He does survive - barely- and is released from the camp.  But his health so badly compromised by the harsh beatings and labor that his body fails.  On his deathbed he dictates what he saw and experienced at Mossbach to his friend Dr. Frischlins.  He realizes that his Lessing biography was useless against Hitler; he can use what remains of his talents to bear witness to the crimes against humanity he experienced at the hands of the Nazi.  Dr. Frischlin describes his last moments:

Oppermann bat mich, ihm eine Frage zu beantworten, die ihn beunruhigte: ob ich nämlich ihn und sein Leben für unnützlich hielte. Ich erwiderte ihm, er habe under sehr gefährlichen Umständen seine Bereitschaft gezeigt, für das Richtige und Nützliche einzutreten. Er habe indes nuch gesehen, was ist, und keinen nützllichen Rat gewußt, was zu tun sei.  Er habe einen Marathonlauf gemacht, un eine Meldekapsel zu überbringen: leider nur sei kene Botschaft in der Kapsel gewesen.

Feucthwanger wrote Die Geschwister Oppermann as a warning to the German people: there can be no appeasing the forces of Nazism.  Unfortunately, the book was published outside of Germany, so very few Germans could actually read it at the time.  But Feuchtwanger's warning is relevant for us today in the United States as a growing sector here embrace fascist conspiracies and ideas.  What is astonishing is that Feuchtwanger had clear knowledge of the Nazis network of concentration camps, just months after the 1933 seizure of power.  Of course, he could not imagine - nor could anyone in 1933 - the horror of the "Final Solution."