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danielarotaru's review against another edition
4.0
Há muitos livros sobre as atrocidades cometidas durante a segunda guerra mundial, esta história é talvez mais subtil mas que não deixa de ser complexa e trágica. Para além de discutir os vários traumas da guerra, o contexto socioeconómico pós-guerra nos Países Baixos é muito bem retratado.
Adorei a escrita, a caracterização das personagens e a forma como os dilemas morais foram abordados. Depois da desilusão do último livro, estou feliz por ter decidido ler este :)
Adorei a escrita, a caracterização das personagens e a forma como os dilemas morais foram abordados. Depois da desilusão do último livro, estou feliz por ter decidido ler este :)
hollywickstrom's review against another edition
3.0
This was alright. It definitely gave high school English reading assignment vibes. It was super heavy on descriptions which made it hard to stay engaged at times. I found the moments between characters to be much more compelling.
blackoxford's review against another edition
5.0
Unconditional Love Doesn’t Cut It
The Winter of 1944-45 was a national tragedy for The Netherlands. As the allied armies advanced through France and Belgium, the country, particularly the Northern provinces of Holland, were isolated behind the German lines. More as a matter of spite rather than strategy or even revenge, the Germans starved the Dutch population while they carried out massive oppression and retaliatory executions of civilians in response to the growing Resistance.
Anton, Mulisch’s young teenage protagonist, is a victim of this deprivation and violence. His parents and brother are assassinated, and his house in Haarlem burned to ashes because a collaborator is murdered on the street in front of it. Although he does not witness the killings and is reasonably kindly treated by the Dutch police and German Army officers, he is, of course, traumatised by his experience.
Mulisch wrote his book just at the time that the American medical profession was formulating its condition of PTSD for soldiers who had been involved in the American War in VietNam. Two of the key criteria for diagnosis of the condition are the intensely pointed avoidance of thought about the traumatic “stressor” events; and the equally intense reactions to even the most subtle reminders of these events in everyday life. Mulisch compares the condition to that of divorce, an extreme and sudden break in one’s life that cannot be confronted rationally.
In Mulisch’s account, it is not just Anton but also a very large part of the Dutch population that is simply unable to reveal much less discuss their agonising experiences in the final months of the war (W.G. Sebald’s analysis of the allied carpet bombing of Germany has a similar theme: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2895936078). Anton can’t bear to hear about the war, return to Haarlem, or acknowledge his own feelings of fear for years into adulthood. There is simply no one to talk with. Everything will pass, he believes, if he only forgets. The discontinuity in his existence is too extreme to cope with.
As with similar personal tragedies like rape, physical abuse, and intra-familial isolation, the victim cannot bear to report or even recognise the relevant events. The existential threat represented by this discontinuity - the obvious fragility of life, the arbitrary circumstances of survival, the superficiality of ‘civilisation’ and its justice - overwhelms any attempt to deal with it except by hiding it somewhere buried in the most inaccessible part of the mind. From which it emerges in any number of apparently self-destructive ways.
There are, of course, millions of Antons, with untold thousands being created every day through civilian as well as military violence, by domineering parents, law-makers, and corporate executives. These people have little awareness of the profound and lasting effects their actions have on those other than their immediate victims, or on themselves. Perhaps because they too have been subject to the same arbitrary violence and injustice such actions are taken as normal, perhaps even heroic.
Even more remarkable is that perpetrators are so often defended by those closest to them. One of the most grim comments by Anton after listening to the defence of the murdered collaborator during a chance meeting with his son is chilling in its implications: “How could anyone embroil himself in such a web of lies? Love was what caused it all—love, through thick and thin.” Yet it is at this moment that Anton starts his slow recovery. Obviously, despite its emotional depth, this is not a novel of sentiment and easy salvation.
Postscript: At the end of the book, in the centre of Amsterdam Anton is caught up in an enormous demonstration against nuclear arms. This was 1981 when I lived on the Herengracht. Although I wasn’t part of the demonstration, I did get caught up in its dispersal by the police in the evening. Having been let out of a restaurant behind whose shuttered entrance I had passed a couple of hours unaware of external events, I made a dash for home. Only to encounter a phalanx of riot police followed by a motorised water cannon moving toward me on the Speigelstraat. I was the only one on the street, but that mattered not at all to the green horde with its baton-banging clatter. They were doing a job and they clearly were going to finish it. I had the presence of mind to jump into a recessed house-entrance just as they reached me. They neither hesitated nor even looked my way as they trundled past in perfect formation. I must be having one of Anton’s post-traumatic moments.
The Winter of 1944-45 was a national tragedy for The Netherlands. As the allied armies advanced through France and Belgium, the country, particularly the Northern provinces of Holland, were isolated behind the German lines. More as a matter of spite rather than strategy or even revenge, the Germans starved the Dutch population while they carried out massive oppression and retaliatory executions of civilians in response to the growing Resistance.
Anton, Mulisch’s young teenage protagonist, is a victim of this deprivation and violence. His parents and brother are assassinated, and his house in Haarlem burned to ashes because a collaborator is murdered on the street in front of it. Although he does not witness the killings and is reasonably kindly treated by the Dutch police and German Army officers, he is, of course, traumatised by his experience.
Mulisch wrote his book just at the time that the American medical profession was formulating its condition of PTSD for soldiers who had been involved in the American War in VietNam. Two of the key criteria for diagnosis of the condition are the intensely pointed avoidance of thought about the traumatic “stressor” events; and the equally intense reactions to even the most subtle reminders of these events in everyday life. Mulisch compares the condition to that of divorce, an extreme and sudden break in one’s life that cannot be confronted rationally.
In Mulisch’s account, it is not just Anton but also a very large part of the Dutch population that is simply unable to reveal much less discuss their agonising experiences in the final months of the war (W.G. Sebald’s analysis of the allied carpet bombing of Germany has a similar theme: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2895936078). Anton can’t bear to hear about the war, return to Haarlem, or acknowledge his own feelings of fear for years into adulthood. There is simply no one to talk with. Everything will pass, he believes, if he only forgets. The discontinuity in his existence is too extreme to cope with.
As with similar personal tragedies like rape, physical abuse, and intra-familial isolation, the victim cannot bear to report or even recognise the relevant events. The existential threat represented by this discontinuity - the obvious fragility of life, the arbitrary circumstances of survival, the superficiality of ‘civilisation’ and its justice - overwhelms any attempt to deal with it except by hiding it somewhere buried in the most inaccessible part of the mind. From which it emerges in any number of apparently self-destructive ways.
There are, of course, millions of Antons, with untold thousands being created every day through civilian as well as military violence, by domineering parents, law-makers, and corporate executives. These people have little awareness of the profound and lasting effects their actions have on those other than their immediate victims, or on themselves. Perhaps because they too have been subject to the same arbitrary violence and injustice such actions are taken as normal, perhaps even heroic.
Even more remarkable is that perpetrators are so often defended by those closest to them. One of the most grim comments by Anton after listening to the defence of the murdered collaborator during a chance meeting with his son is chilling in its implications: “How could anyone embroil himself in such a web of lies? Love was what caused it all—love, through thick and thin.” Yet it is at this moment that Anton starts his slow recovery. Obviously, despite its emotional depth, this is not a novel of sentiment and easy salvation.
Postscript: At the end of the book, in the centre of Amsterdam Anton is caught up in an enormous demonstration against nuclear arms. This was 1981 when I lived on the Herengracht. Although I wasn’t part of the demonstration, I did get caught up in its dispersal by the police in the evening. Having been let out of a restaurant behind whose shuttered entrance I had passed a couple of hours unaware of external events, I made a dash for home. Only to encounter a phalanx of riot police followed by a motorised water cannon moving toward me on the Speigelstraat. I was the only one on the street, but that mattered not at all to the green horde with its baton-banging clatter. They were doing a job and they clearly were going to finish it. I had the presence of mind to jump into a recessed house-entrance just as they reached me. They neither hesitated nor even looked my way as they trundled past in perfect formation. I must be having one of Anton’s post-traumatic moments.
kidclamp's review against another edition
3.0
The main character's parents are murdered by German forces after a man is shot down on their street. Trying to put this incident into his past and go on with his life, the main characters stumbles across others who were involved in the incident over the course of his life, learning new facts until he finally discovers the force behind the whole event
The author does a good job of portraying the detachment of the main characters, his avoidance of this memory, only showing interest in discovering the truth when he stumbles across those who have information, and they force him to discuss it. The detachment of the character, however, makes it hard to become too invested in his life, or to feel much for him either way. The narrator's voice I did particularly like, mostly neutral, but offering a few slight insights which I enjoyed.
Other reviewers have noted that this book sticks with you and improves the more you think about it, and I can see that, and I definitely would recommend this book. It's good solid post-war fiction, and I almost want to read it again, but I probably won't
The author does a good job of portraying the detachment of the main characters, his avoidance of this memory, only showing interest in discovering the truth when he stumbles across those who have information, and they force him to discuss it. The detachment of the character, however, makes it hard to become too invested in his life, or to feel much for him either way. The narrator's voice I did particularly like, mostly neutral, but offering a few slight insights which I enjoyed.
Other reviewers have noted that this book sticks with you and improves the more you think about it, and I can see that, and I definitely would recommend this book. It's good solid post-war fiction, and I almost want to read it again, but I probably won't
krpollard's review against another edition
4.0
I really liked the psychology of repression that was evident in Anton, and for a short read, this was rather enjoyable. I learned a lot about an area in World War II that I haven't previously paid much attention to. The prose was lyrical in some parts, but had too much telling in others. And while the ending makes perfect sense, I felt a bit let down. Perhaps I've been reading too much fiction where sometimes life happens without reason, because that's what I wanted in this case. Still, I would recommend this book and the message that it offers to all of us that no one can ever stay innocent in conflict.
drew281's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
emotional
inspiring
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
anjamsl's review against another edition
dark
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
lilly71490's review against another edition
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75