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"The last novel by one of Germany's most important postwar writers, All for Nothing was published in Germany in 2006, just before Walter Kempowski's death. It describes with matter-of-fact clarity and acuity, and a roving point of view, the atmosphere in East Prussia during the winter of 1944-1945 as the German forces are in retreat and the Red Army approaches. The von Globig family's manor house, the Georgenhof, is falling into a state of disrepair. Auntie runs the estate as best she can since Eberhard von Globig, a special officer in the German army, went to war, leaving behind his beautiful but vague wife, Katharina, and her bookish twelve-yearold son, Peter. As the road beside the house fills with Germans fleeing the occupied territories, the Georgenhof receives strange visitors--a Nazi violinist, a dissident painter, a Baltic baron, even a Jewish refugee--but life continues in the main as banal, wondrous, and complicit as ever for the main characters, until their caution, their hedged bets and provisions, their wondering, and their denial are answered by the wholly expected events they haven't allowed themselves to imagine"--… (more)
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A once proud family, or what is left of it, is hunker down in what is left of their estate, surviving on hoarded supplies and "awaiting events." The father is serving in the German army in Italy. The Nazi authorities attempt to maintain control over the populace even as the front is collapsing only 100 kilometers off. The road is full of refugees already, and the family--mother, adolescent son, spinster aunt and three servants, puts people up, one night at a time. The boy's tutor still arrives every day for lessons. And the family's level of denial of their actual circumstances is acute. What will become of them?
As mentioned above, the tone of the narrative is muted. In fact, there is a somewhat surreal quality to the book's dreamlike atmosphere, the characters just a touch absurd. Certain phrases and anecdotes are repeated to create a feeling of stasis and ennui. In my New York Review Classics edition, novelist Jenny Erpenback's Introduction makes an apt comparison to Chekhov.
Despite the somewhat "warped looking glass" quality of the storytelling, we do come to care about the fate of these characters. I highly recommend the book. I never would have heard of it had not my wife read a recent review of it in The New Yorker occasioned by All for Nothing's recent new edition in English as part of the New York Review of Books' Classics series. She thought I would like it and bought for me as a gift, then deciding to read it herself first.
The story involves several sets of refugees who house themselves in the big house. One a one-armed pianist, another young woman who plays the violin, a man who was a Baltic baron and his wife and a Jewish man. Life, however, for the family goes along as if what is happening around them does not affect them. Things change when Katharina is convinced by the local pastor to hide a Jewish man for one night. Days later, however, she is found out and is taken away. Peter, his aunt, and two servants pack their belongings and head west as well.
Things go from bad to worse as Auntie is killed and Peter does his best to survive. The ending of the book brings Drygalski appears briefly. Good historical read.
The drama of the evacuation itself is all packed into the last few chapters, and most of the book is devoted to building up a context for it, showing us how cracks are starting to appear in German self-confidence as rumours of a Russian advance over the frontier start to get stronger, and exploring how difficult it seems to be for any of us to accept that the stable world we are living in is about to be blasted away completely. The homes, businesses and families we've built up, the wars we've fought: surely that can't have been all for nothing? Even as the artillery starts to rumble in the background and a caravan of farm carts from further east is rattling past the front door, everyone is still making excuses for postponing departure, and Peter is busy playing with his train set and his microscope.
Kempowski spent much of his life collecting ordinary people's memories, and this comes out in the wealth of everyday detail that he uses to illuminate the distorted world on the edge of the abyss: BDM-girls sent out to assist German Mothers-to-be, HJ-lads sweeping snow, forced labourers from the occupied countries doing most of the real work, the self-important block-warden using denunciation to get even with all the people he resents, bureaucrats constantly trying to invent order for the chaos around them by issuing it with papers and permits, the enforcing of rules that have long lost their purpose. Even in the midst of the panic, this is still a world where saying "Good morning" would be seen as an act of reckless subversion: Kempowski uses the insane way that people still hammer on the official "Heil Hitler!" greeting as an ironic Leitmotif throughout the book.
A hugely impressive book, but a surprisingly fine and delicate one too.
house lets in a Jew,and is caught, A young boy escapes
The author was a teen in Germany at the end of World War II, and his book tells a fictional story based on his experiences and research. It is told in a distant manner. It highlights the way people try to ignore what is happening right in front of them. I managed to stay engaged in the first half, but the second is pretty dismal. Do not miss the introduction, written by Jenny Erpenbeck, which provides additional background and context. I read the English translation by Anthea Bell.