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sydneyedens's review against another edition
informative
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.5
“that is to say, i like things that have been and will always be there.” me too
this book plopped me down and made me think about a completely different reality that i had never thought of before, so ofc i really liked it. i love a good story and this one had me hooked
minus half a star bc i wish marie had been giving more in general
this book plopped me down and made me think about a completely different reality that i had never thought of before, so ofc i really liked it. i love a good story and this one had me hooked
minus half a star bc i wish marie had been giving more in general
sbbarnes's review against another edition
3.0
interpretationsansatz aus dem Nachwort: erzähler hat keine eigene Identität im Laufe des Romans, er nimmt immer nur die Namen anderer an; seine Entscheidung zu bleiben am Ende zeigt seinen Entschluss als er selbst zu leben
anyas_books's review against another edition
challenging
hopeful
informative
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
4.0
crownsofviolets1's review against another edition
emotional
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
4.0
mmmadelyn's review against another edition
5.0
"For instance, from their sensible point of view, people went on strike so that next week they could buy a better cut of meat. The Binnets even thought that if you earned three more francs a day, then your family would not only feel less hungry but also stronger and happier. And Yvonne's good sense made her believe that love existed for our pleasure, hers and mine. But I knew deep down in my bones—of course I didn't tell her this—that love sometimes goes along with suffering, that there's also death, separation, and hardship, and that happiness can overtake you for no reason at all, as can the sadness into which it often imperceptibly turns." (301)
raulbime's review against another edition
5.0
"But I knew deep down in my bones—of course I didn’t tell her this—that love sometimes goes along with suffering, that there’s also death, separation, and hardship, and that happiness can overtake you for no reason at all, as can the sadness into which it often imperceptibly turns."
These past two weeks have been terrible for me. A personal crisis that came at the most inopportune of times–as they often do, threatened and disrupted a lot. My reading of course stagnated, and while I still reel from it, the worst seems to have passed. Reading pace in a way has always been an unconscious gauge to how I'm doing, and that I've finally finished this book and gone back to consistently reading others, is a positive sign of the crisis abating.
I learnt of Anna Seghers a while ago through an essay by Christa Wolf. Wolf had highly praised her work, written of the influence it had on her and shared how Seghers had been of help to her as a personal friend. Seghers had quite a life, her books were among those burned by the Nazis during that infamous book burning, she had been jailed by the Gestapo and fled to France where she lived in exile until she left for further exile in Mexico.
This book is set in France during the early period of German occupation. The protagonist, like Seghers, is a German who flees to France. Having escaped a concentration camp, he goes to Paris but soon leaves when the city falls to the Germans, and then heads to Marseille. However while still in Paris he discovers the documents of a dead writer named Weidel, among them a manuscript, and begins to adopt the dead man's identity as his own. One dramatic turn after another ensues as the protagonist encounters people that Weidel knew and the dead man's past enjoins his present and moulds his future.
One of the similarities between Wolf and Seghers is the antithesis of the unreliable narrator. A protagonist who is self-aware of their faults, and attempts to be as honest as they can be to the reader even if they're not always honest to themselves or the other characters. A reassuring voice that a reader can almost completely trust, and I enjoy stories with such narrators.
Among the reasons this book will become an unforgettable experience for me, other than the great storytelling, is how eerily familiar it was. Since I was two I've lived in exile and in a place, just like France during the second world war, meant to be transitory. A transitory country is one that has no solid structures for refugee integration. It's a place that harbours refugees with plans for either resettlement or repatriation. The precarity of this situation, the despair and restlessness and listlessness of those caught in this limbo while still unhealed from the violence they've fled, the harassment and police raids and arrests and deportations, the bureaucracy of documentation, the grief of separation among those who leave and those who stay, the physical and spiritual deaths, and the survival of all this were all uncannily familiar to me and so brilliantly captured. The figures in this story could have easily been people I've known since I was a child. All this familiarity meant that a mixture of wonderment and aversion accompanied me as I read this.
These past two weeks have been terrible for me. A personal crisis that came at the most inopportune of times–as they often do, threatened and disrupted a lot. My reading of course stagnated, and while I still reel from it, the worst seems to have passed. Reading pace in a way has always been an unconscious gauge to how I'm doing, and that I've finally finished this book and gone back to consistently reading others, is a positive sign of the crisis abating.
I learnt of Anna Seghers a while ago through an essay by Christa Wolf. Wolf had highly praised her work, written of the influence it had on her and shared how Seghers had been of help to her as a personal friend. Seghers had quite a life, her books were among those burned by the Nazis during that infamous book burning, she had been jailed by the Gestapo and fled to France where she lived in exile until she left for further exile in Mexico.
This book is set in France during the early period of German occupation. The protagonist, like Seghers, is a German who flees to France. Having escaped a concentration camp, he goes to Paris but soon leaves when the city falls to the Germans, and then heads to Marseille. However while still in Paris he discovers the documents of a dead writer named Weidel, among them a manuscript, and begins to adopt the dead man's identity as his own. One dramatic turn after another ensues as the protagonist encounters people that Weidel knew and the dead man's past enjoins his present and moulds his future.
One of the similarities between Wolf and Seghers is the antithesis of the unreliable narrator. A protagonist who is self-aware of their faults, and attempts to be as honest as they can be to the reader even if they're not always honest to themselves or the other characters. A reassuring voice that a reader can almost completely trust, and I enjoy stories with such narrators.
Among the reasons this book will become an unforgettable experience for me, other than the great storytelling, is how eerily familiar it was. Since I was two I've lived in exile and in a place, just like France during the second world war, meant to be transitory. A transitory country is one that has no solid structures for refugee integration. It's a place that harbours refugees with plans for either resettlement or repatriation. The precarity of this situation, the despair and restlessness and listlessness of those caught in this limbo while still unhealed from the violence they've fled, the harassment and police raids and arrests and deportations, the bureaucracy of documentation, the grief of separation among those who leave and those who stay, the physical and spiritual deaths, and the survival of all this were all uncannily familiar to me and so brilliantly captured. The figures in this story could have easily been people I've known since I was a child. All this familiarity meant that a mixture of wonderment and aversion accompanied me as I read this.
vespertineonly's review against another edition
Seidler/Weidel treibt dahin in den Wirren der Flüchtlinge, die vom Ende der Alten Welt in die neue emigrieren wollen. Weniger durch seine eigene Entscheidung, als durch Fügung wird er zu dem toten Schriftsteller Weidel und findet in dessen vermeintlicher Witwe eine Frau, für die er sich einsetzt, für sie gegen ihren derzeitigen Freund und ihren toten Ehemann kämpft, nur um sie am Ende sang und klanglos ziehen zu lassen.
Der Roman wie auch die Figur Seidler scheinen verloren, stetig auf der Suche ohne ein Ziel vor Augen zu haben und erst nach unzähligen Märschen auf Ämter, Unterredungen mit Konsulatsbeamten, flüchtigen Bekanntschaften mit anderen Flüchtlingen muss er erkennen, dass er am Ende seines Weges angekommen ist. Unfähig ein eigene Leben zu leben, stürzt er sich in die Angelegenheiten anderer und wird schließlich zu Weidel. Seidler/Weidel bleibt in Marseilles und wird einer jener, die immer bestehen werden, egal was in der Welt geschieht; Seine Reise ist zu Ende, was um ihn herum geschieht, ist für ihn irrelevant.
Hoffnungslosigkeit, ziellose Suche, aberwitzige bürokratische Verwicklungen und flüchtige Bekanntschaften, die einen Querschnitt der Gesellschaft zeigen, zeichnen diesen Roman aus, der trotz fehlender Erzählungen über Schrecken, Lager, Tod und Hunger wie in unzähligen anderen Romanen über den Zweiten Weltkrieg in Europa, den inneren Tod der Menschen klar und schonungslos beschreibt-
Der Roman wie auch die Figur Seidler scheinen verloren, stetig auf der Suche ohne ein Ziel vor Augen zu haben und erst nach unzähligen Märschen auf Ämter, Unterredungen mit Konsulatsbeamten, flüchtigen Bekanntschaften mit anderen Flüchtlingen muss er erkennen, dass er am Ende seines Weges angekommen ist. Unfähig ein eigene Leben zu leben, stürzt er sich in die Angelegenheiten anderer und wird schließlich zu Weidel. Seidler/Weidel bleibt in Marseilles und wird einer jener, die immer bestehen werden, egal was in der Welt geschieht; Seine Reise ist zu Ende, was um ihn herum geschieht, ist für ihn irrelevant.
Hoffnungslosigkeit, ziellose Suche, aberwitzige bürokratische Verwicklungen und flüchtige Bekanntschaften, die einen Querschnitt der Gesellschaft zeigen, zeichnen diesen Roman aus, der trotz fehlender Erzählungen über Schrecken, Lager, Tod und Hunger wie in unzähligen anderen Romanen über den Zweiten Weltkrieg in Europa, den inneren Tod der Menschen klar und schonungslos beschreibt-