H. Adler - The Wall

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The Wall: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY
Compared by critics to Kafka, Joyce, and Musil, H. G. Adler is becoming recognized as one of the towering figures of twentieth-century fiction. Nobel Prize winner Elias Canetti wrote that “Adler has restored hope to modern literature,” and the first two novels rediscovered after his death,
and
were acclaimed as “modernist masterpieces” by
. Now his magnum opus,
the final installment of Adler’s Shoah trilogy and his crowning achievement as a novelist, is available for the first time in English.
Drawing upon Adler’s own experiences in the Holocaust and his postwar life,
, like the other works in the trilogy, nonetheless avoids detailed historical specifics. The novel tells the story of Arthur Landau, survivor of a wartime atrocity, a man struggling with his nightmares and his memories of the past as he strives to forge a new life for himself. Haunted by the death of his wife, Franziska, he returns to the city of his youth and receives confirmation of his parents’ fates, then crosses the border and leaves his homeland for good.
Embarking on a life of exile, he continues searching for his place within the world. He attempts to publish his study of the victims of the war, yet he is treated with curiosity, competitiveness, and contempt by fellow intellectuals who escaped the conflict unscathed. Afflicted with survivor’s guilt, Arthur tries to leave behind the horrors of the past and find a foothold in the present. Ultimately, it is the love of his second wife, Johanna, and his two children that allows him to reaffirm his humanity while remembering all he’s left behind.
The Wall

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The time during which I waited went too quickly, for already Oswald was leading his companions toward me. There was Inge, stolid and much fatter than I recalled. A corner of her mouth was turned down inadvertently or mockingly, something that I had never seen in her before. And then came So-and-So, with his swinging arms and fidgety legs, much more nervous than before the war. My friend seemed older, dour or unhappy, his hair now thin, his skin slack and with deep wrinkles that were more pronounced around the mouth than around the temples and forehead. He had not brought along Karin, while there was a third person I recognized, whom I had long forgotten — namely, Otto Schallinger, a classmate of mine in middle school, with whom I had lost almost total contact before the war. Hadn’t he become a pharmacist? I thought I recalled that he had moved from this profession to work as a chemist. I had never been close to Otto; in his character there was something of the lasting loyalty of old tailors, an always pleasant, though to me somewhat boring, companion whom I never quite knew what to make of. That he had been asked to welcome me here in the metropolis, where I never expected him, was a complete surprise that I obviously couldn’t take the time to mull over amid everything that was coming at me and making me feel yet more defenseless. My friends also had another strange man in their midst who blithely accompanied them and looked at me keenly. Was this perhaps one of the important connections that So-and-So wanted to bestow upon me? Already, from afar I could see how all of them devoured me with their gazes, sucking me up, myself complying almost unconsciously, which seemed the best thing to do.

I jumped up from the suitcase and took heart in order to greet the group in a manner as dignified and unforced as possible. All of them walked along at almost the same pace, a strange sad march, their gazes never shifting from me and seizing hold of me such that I had to make an effort to endure such an onslaught and not look at the ground as if being punished. No doubt it had to be a surprise to see someone whom you thought was dead suddenly appear, not trusting your own eyes or knowing if perhaps you were wrong. I would have been glad to take a step toward the group in order show them: It’s me, come closer, and don’t be afraid. But I let things be. I also felt that it wasn’t up to me to say the first word, and so I only felt compelled to laugh at the little band, whose strange hurry was remarkably slow and approached me like a moving wall. Then Otto the pharmacist jumped out from the group, a camera around his neck that bounced along pleasantly in its leather case on his stomach. “There you are, you old fellow!” he called out with sincere joy, stretching his right hand out to me, whereby our thumbs quickly folded over each other’s. But he held my hand for only a few seconds and then drew back. I didn’t know what was going on, as Otto waved to the others not to come any closer to me, at which, like a street photographer who suddenly snaps your picture and offers you a card that says, “You’ve had your picture taken!” he readied his camera, lifted it high, pointed it at me, and snapped.

“We have a picture!” he yelled. “It’s a triumph! A real event!”

“Hopefully, you’re not a press photographer,” I replied timidly.

“No, no, what do you think I am!” Otto reassured me, and then he snapped another photo.

Then, for the first time, the others could approach. One after another shook my hand, also the stranger, who introduced himself as Dr. Jolan Haarburger from Budapest, even Oswald shaking my hand as well, since he had failed to do so earlier. The last was Fräulein Bergmann, who, if I’m not mistaken, had to be prodded by her brother. Only a few words were exchanged, more abrupt calls of sharp surprise than anything specific. I didn’t have anything to say in return and kept quiet until the others had nothing more to say but instead stood around me in a half circle and stared at me. I lit another of Oswald’s cigarettes. Then I wanted to give him back the pack, but he wouldn’t take it. As I held it out to him, he took hold of my hand and the pack and guided them into my coat pocket, and I had to just go along. Then I turned back and forth inside the half circle; I was curious what would happen next, but no matter what I did, nothing happened, only this half-astounded, half-shameless gazing at me kept going on, to which I responded by blowing smoke into their eyes, not even sparing Dr. Haarburger. At last he was the one to say how pleased he was to have met me. He thought it wonderful that I was now here, for I would no doubt be pleased. “The city of cities!” he whispered almost secretively, and winked as he said it. Then he pulled out his card and hoped that I would soon make use of his telephone number, for he and his wife would be especially pleased if sometime in the next few days I would contact them and pay them the honor of arranging a visit to them. I thanked him with a deep bow and promised that I would call soon. Then Dr. Haarburger explained that he didn’t want to take me away from my friends any longer — he had bothered me enough already and had to be going.

“It was truly a pleasure. It’s a wonder that you made it here, looking as good as ever after all that you’ve been through, and not even worn out by the journey. We are all here to help you. Think of me as a brother.”

I was embarrassed and shrugged. So-and-So turned away, Oswald stroked his forehead, Otto grinned as Inge cleared her throat. None of it seemed to affect Dr. Haarburger.

“I literally stole away a bit of time from my day because I simply had to see you. I’m especially indebted to Dr. Kauders for having told me so much about you and letting me know what time you were arriving. So let me, in the name of all of my friends, say how happy we are to have you here among us. We need you. It’s a difficult country, but, for you, certainly promising, very promising.”

Dr. Haarburger underscored the last phrase emphatically, Oswald agreed with him approvingly, So-and-So smiled enigmatically, and I bowed once again. The friendly man was in a hurry to get away, but he hadn’t reckoned with Otto.

“Just a moment, Herr Doctor. We need to get a photo of this! The whole group, please!”

As Haarburger hesitated and the others remained standing where they were, Otto said resolutely that we needed to draw closer. Otto took at least eight shots. Inge didn’t like it, becoming ever more nervous and longing for it to end.

“That’s enough now, Herr Schallinger!”

Inge gave the photographer a nasty look, such that he lowered his weapon dejectedly.

Sadly he played with his camera, but didn’t put it away in its case, and when Dr. Haarburger was finally gone Otto turned mercilessly toward me and shoved me a bit to the side of the group.

“I need some more of you! I was stupid and only took two shots of you at the beginning!”

Then he took a number of shots until he had used up the roll. Only then did he seem satisfied, but not entirely, for he then took out the roll and put in a new one. I’d had enough of this, and the others came to my rescue.

“Now, let the beast give poor Landau a bit of rest!” said Inge. “Otherwise he will get a big head. Isn’t that true, Landau — aren’t you as conceited as ever? It’s no wonder, given what you’ve survived!”

I couldn’t believe my ears, but it was just as embarrassing for the others, especially Oswald, who didn’t want to see either me or Otto upset.

“Inge is so high-spirited. Inge, you shouldn’t talk so! Inge loves to joke, and, of course, she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Otto only found it all a bit odd and wasn’t upset, nor was I. He seemed satisfied with his yield of photos, while to me it was all the same. I only wanted to leave the cloakroom and the station, but, unfortunately, my friends did nothing to get me out of there. Had they come to no decision? They stood there as morose as before, awkwardly moving their arms and hands and looking at me almost ravenously. What did they expect of me? It was up to them to do something; they couldn’t turn over to me what was supposed to happen in the next minutes and hours. They murmured something, but didn’t seem to agree on anything, as I had hoped, because they went quiet again and kept shifting their weight back and forth on their legs as if they had worked out a pantomime with which to welcome me. I tried to encourage them by smiling, but they couldn’t free themselves from their torpid demeanor. Perhaps my attempt failed because I had not smiled enough in a natural way. They had become more serious and confused, only Inge seeming somewhat less timid and looking on more derisively, but it was also possible that this was only because of her own uncertainty. Therefore I resigned myself to break up their torpor with more smiles and looked sideways over at my luggage, which sat pitifully on the floor. Perhaps it would be better for them to grab hold of it and at least help me with that. But all of these attempts came to nothing.

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