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Set in the early 1900s, Imperium is reminiscent of the classic, seafaring adventure novels, but with a heavy dose of outlandishness and the bizarre.
Author Christian Kracht, a Swiss writer and journalist, centers the story around his fictitious character, August Engelhardt, an eccentric German who abandons his home country to build a nudist colony on an island in German New Guinea. He strives to be a full-blown “cocovore,” a term used to describe someone sustained only by coconuts. It’s an obsession that triggers Engelhardt’s swift descent into madness.
Coupled with Kracht’s beautifully poetic descriptions, the plot’s absurdity gives Imperium humorous elements, although it is far from a laugh-out-loud read (for me at least). Instead, I personally found it to be a satirical examination of human nature and society, focusing primarily on dramatic dualities and contradictions.
For instance, both World War I and II span the story’s timeline, so Germany in this era can easily represent one of the most extreme examples of how horrifying “civilized” society can become. Engelhardt seeks to escape this reality by creating his very own radical society, but on the opposite end of the spectrum: relying entirely on the simple yet utilitarian coconut, secluded in near-total isolation.
Ultimately, neither of these societies can succeed in the long term, but there are lessons to be learned nonetheless. I’m reminded of the well-known saying, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Kracht takes the concept one step further beyond remembrance to action, “…of what use to anyone is escape if one does not return to apply what has been learned and experienced?”
Adventure and escapism are welcome, but how can we expect to better society and ourselves if we remain in seclusion, unable to share what we’ve learned? Even Thoreau, who is praised by Engelhardt, returned to society and wrote of his self-reliance and minimalist lifestyle in nature—even his isolation was temporary.
A pure utopia and a total escape from mankind is therefore unattainable, at least in this story, no matter how idealistic and well-intentioned one’s fantasies are. Perhaps there is a common thread—a collective unconscious—holding all of us together, for better or worse. Yet, from a much larger perspective, humanity is but a miniscule blip within the infinite history of space and time:
“He understands why he as an individual may be a part of everything, but is still, in the totality of things, more negligible than a little chunk of coral that over millions of years is ground into ephemeral sand on the upmost periphery of cosmic perception.”
TL;DR: Imperium is a relatively short novel, but packed with powerful language and metaphor. While I enjoyed several elements of this novel, it didn't blow me away overall, so I gave it a rating of 3.5 stars out of 5. However, if you’re seeking a poolside book with some literary depth this summer, Imperium is an intriguing read.
Author Christian Kracht, a Swiss writer and journalist, centers the story around his fictitious character, August Engelhardt, an eccentric German who abandons his home country to build a nudist colony on an island in German New Guinea. He strives to be a full-blown “cocovore,” a term used to describe someone sustained only by coconuts. It’s an obsession that triggers Engelhardt’s swift descent into madness.
Coupled with Kracht’s beautifully poetic descriptions, the plot’s absurdity gives Imperium humorous elements, although it is far from a laugh-out-loud read (for me at least). Instead, I personally found it to be a satirical examination of human nature and society, focusing primarily on dramatic dualities and contradictions.
For instance, both World War I and II span the story’s timeline, so Germany in this era can easily represent one of the most extreme examples of how horrifying “civilized” society can become. Engelhardt seeks to escape this reality by creating his very own radical society, but on the opposite end of the spectrum: relying entirely on the simple yet utilitarian coconut, secluded in near-total isolation.
Ultimately, neither of these societies can succeed in the long term, but there are lessons to be learned nonetheless. I’m reminded of the well-known saying, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Kracht takes the concept one step further beyond remembrance to action, “…of what use to anyone is escape if one does not return to apply what has been learned and experienced?”
Adventure and escapism are welcome, but how can we expect to better society and ourselves if we remain in seclusion, unable to share what we’ve learned? Even Thoreau, who is praised by Engelhardt, returned to society and wrote of his self-reliance and minimalist lifestyle in nature—even his isolation was temporary.
A pure utopia and a total escape from mankind is therefore unattainable, at least in this story, no matter how idealistic and well-intentioned one’s fantasies are. Perhaps there is a common thread—a collective unconscious—holding all of us together, for better or worse. Yet, from a much larger perspective, humanity is but a miniscule blip within the infinite history of space and time:
“He understands why he as an individual may be a part of everything, but is still, in the totality of things, more negligible than a little chunk of coral that over millions of years is ground into ephemeral sand on the upmost periphery of cosmic perception.”
TL;DR: Imperium is a relatively short novel, but packed with powerful language and metaphor. While I enjoyed several elements of this novel, it didn't blow me away overall, so I gave it a rating of 3.5 stars out of 5. However, if you’re seeking a poolside book with some literary depth this summer, Imperium is an intriguing read.