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袘械褉谢懈薪, 袗谢械泻褋邪薪写械褉锌谢邪褑
"袘械褉谢懈薪 袗谢械泻褋邪薪写褉锌谢邪褑. 袠褋褌芯褉懈褟 芯 肖褉邪薪褑械 袘懈斜械褉泻芯锌褎械" (1929) - 褋邪屑芯械 懈蟹胁械褋褌薪芯械 褋芯褔懈薪械薪懈械 薪械屑械褑泻芯谐芯 锌褉芯蟹邪懈泻邪 懈 褝褋褋械懈褋褌邪 袗谢褜褎褉械写邪 袛械斜谢懈薪邪, 芯写懈薪 懈蟹 泻谢褞褔械胁褘褏 褉芯屑邪薪芯胁 20-谐芯 褋褌芯谢械褌懈褟. 效懈褌邪褌械谢褞 胁锌械褉胁褘械 锌褉械写谢邪谐邪械褌褋褟 锌芯谢薪褘泄 褌械泻褋褌 锌褉芯懈蟹胁械写械薪懈褟 (写谢褟 薪邪褋褌芯褟褖械谐芯 懈蟹写邪薪懈褟 锌械褉械胁械写械薪褘 屑薪芯谐芯褔懈褋谢械薪薪褘械, 泻邪泻 懈写械芯谢芯谐懈褔械褋泻懈械, 褌邪泻 懈 褋谢褍褔邪泄薪褘械, 泻褍锌褞褉褘, 胁芯褋褋褌邪薪芯胁谢械薪 谐褉邪褎懈褔械褋泻懈泄 芯斜谢懈泻 芯褉懈谐懈薪邪谢邪, 褔械屑褍 褋邪屑 邪胁褌芯褉 锌褉懈写邪胁邪谢 芯褋芯斜芯械 褏褍写芯卸械褋褌胁械薪薪芯械 蟹薪邪褔械薪懈械).
袩懈褋邪褌械谢褞 褍写邪谢芯褋褜 薪械 锌褉芯褋褌芯 胁芯褋褋芯蟹写邪褌褜 锌褉械写械谢褜薪芯 褌芯褔薪褘泄 锌芯褉褌褉械褌 褋胁芯械泄 褝锌芯褏懈, 薪芯 褋芯械写懈薪懈褌褜 薪芯胁邪褌芯褉褋泻褍褞 褌械褏薪懈泻褍 锌懈褋褜屑邪 褋 胁械褔薪褘屑懈 锌褉芯斜谢械屑邪屑懈 斜褘褌懈褟. 袠褋褌芯褉懈褟 斜褘胁褕械谐芯 谐褉褍蟹褔懈泻邪, 芯褌褋懈写械胁褕械谐芯 褔械褌褘褉械 谐芯写邪 胁 褌褞褉褜屑械 蟹邪 褍斜懈泄褋褌胁芯 锌芯写褉褍谐懈, 锌械褉械屑械卸邪械褌褋褟 泻邪褉褌懈薪邪屑懈 卸懈蟹薪懈 袘械褉谢懈薪邪 20-褏 谐芯写芯胁 锌褉芯褕谢芯谐芯 胁械泻邪, 锌芯写谢懈薪薪芯泄 褉械泻谢邪屑芯泄 懈 谐邪蟹械褌薪褘屑懈 蟹邪屑械褌泻邪屑懈 褌芯谐芯 胁褉械屑械薪懈. 小褌芯谢褜 薪械芯斜褘褔薪邪褟 屑芯薪褌邪卸薪邪褟 褌械褏薪懈泻邪 锌懈褋褜屑邪 锌芯蟹胁芯谢褟械褌 锌芯谐褉褍蟹懈褌褜褋褟 胁 邪褌屑芯褋褎械褉褍 斜芯谢褜褕芯谐芯 谐芯褉芯写邪, 薪邪写 泻芯褌芯褉褘屑 褍卸械 胁懈褌邪械褌 褌械薪褜 褎邪褕懈蟹屑邪. 袣薪懈谐邪 褋褌邪谢邪 薪邪褋褌芯褟褖械泄 褋械薪褋邪褑懈械泄, 褋褉邪蟹褍 卸械 胁褘蟹胁邪胁 谐褉芯屑泻懈械 褋锌芯褉褘 胁 褋褉械写械 薪械屑械褑泻懈褏 懈薪褌械谢谢械泻褌褍邪谢芯胁 芯 蟹薪邪褔械薪懈懈 懈 褋褍写褜斜械 锌褉芯蟹邪懈褔械褋泻懈褏 卸邪薪褉芯胁 胁 谢懈褌械褉邪褌褍褉械 XX 胁.
协褌邪 锌芯谢械屑懈泻邪 芯褌褉邪卸械薪邪 胁 袛芯锌芯谢薪械薪懈褟褏 泻 芯褋薪芯胁薪芯屑褍 褌械泻褋褌褍 (褉邪薪械械 薪邪 褉褍褋褋泻芯屑 褟蟹褘泻械 薪械 懈蟹写邪胁邪胁褕懈褏褋褟), 谐写械 锌芯屑械褖械薪邪 褉械褑械薪蟹懈褟 褋芯胁褉械屑械薪薪懈泻邪 袛械斜谢懈薪邪, 薪械屑械褑泻芯谐芯 褎懈谢芯褋芯褎邪 袙邪谢褜褌械褉邪 袘械薪褜褟屑懈薪邪, "袣褉懈蟹懈褋 褉芯屑邪薪邪", 懈 芯褌胁械褌 袛械斜谢懈薪邪; 蟹写械褋褜 卸械 锌褉械写褋褌邪胁谢械薪邪 锌芯写斜芯褉泻邪 芯 袘械褉谢懈薪械 胁 卸懈蟹薪懈 锌懈褋邪褌械谢褟, 械谐芯 芯褔械褉泻懈 芯 锌芯褝褌懈泻械 懈 褝褋褌械褌懈泻械, 邪胁褌芯斜懈芯谐褉邪褎懈褔械褋泻懈械 褋芯褔懈薪械薪懈褟.
协泻褋锌械褉懈屑械薪褌邪谢褜薪褘泄, 卸邪薪褉芯胁芯 褋屑械谢褘泄 写谢褟 褋胁芯械谐芯 胁褉械屑械薪懈, 薪芯 邪泻褌褍邪谢褜薪褘泄 写芯 褋懈褏 锌芯褉 懈 懈蟹薪邪褔邪谢褜薪芯 泻懈薪械屑邪褌芯谐褉邪褎懈褔薪褘泄 锌芯 褎芯褉屑械, 褉芯屑邪薪 谢械谐 胁 芯褋薪芯胁褍 泻褍谢褜褌芯胁芯谐芯 褎懈谢褜屑邪 袪邪泄薪械褉邪 袙械褉薪械褉邪 肖邪褋斜懈薪写械褉邪 (1980).
袩懈褋邪褌械谢褞 褍写邪谢芯褋褜 薪械 锌褉芯褋褌芯 胁芯褋褋芯蟹写邪褌褜 锌褉械写械谢褜薪芯 褌芯褔薪褘泄 锌芯褉褌褉械褌 褋胁芯械泄 褝锌芯褏懈, 薪芯 褋芯械写懈薪懈褌褜 薪芯胁邪褌芯褉褋泻褍褞 褌械褏薪懈泻褍 锌懈褋褜屑邪 褋 胁械褔薪褘屑懈 锌褉芯斜谢械屑邪屑懈 斜褘褌懈褟. 袠褋褌芯褉懈褟 斜褘胁褕械谐芯 谐褉褍蟹褔懈泻邪, 芯褌褋懈写械胁褕械谐芯 褔械褌褘褉械 谐芯写邪 胁 褌褞褉褜屑械 蟹邪 褍斜懈泄褋褌胁芯 锌芯写褉褍谐懈, 锌械褉械屑械卸邪械褌褋褟 泻邪褉褌懈薪邪屑懈 卸懈蟹薪懈 袘械褉谢懈薪邪 20-褏 谐芯写芯胁 锌褉芯褕谢芯谐芯 胁械泻邪, 锌芯写谢懈薪薪芯泄 褉械泻谢邪屑芯泄 懈 谐邪蟹械褌薪褘屑懈 蟹邪屑械褌泻邪屑懈 褌芯谐芯 胁褉械屑械薪懈. 小褌芯谢褜 薪械芯斜褘褔薪邪褟 屑芯薪褌邪卸薪邪褟 褌械褏薪懈泻邪 锌懈褋褜屑邪 锌芯蟹胁芯谢褟械褌 锌芯谐褉褍蟹懈褌褜褋褟 胁 邪褌屑芯褋褎械褉褍 斜芯谢褜褕芯谐芯 谐芯褉芯写邪, 薪邪写 泻芯褌芯褉褘屑 褍卸械 胁懈褌邪械褌 褌械薪褜 褎邪褕懈蟹屑邪. 袣薪懈谐邪 褋褌邪谢邪 薪邪褋褌芯褟褖械泄 褋械薪褋邪褑懈械泄, 褋褉邪蟹褍 卸械 胁褘蟹胁邪胁 谐褉芯屑泻懈械 褋锌芯褉褘 胁 褋褉械写械 薪械屑械褑泻懈褏 懈薪褌械谢谢械泻褌褍邪谢芯胁 芯 蟹薪邪褔械薪懈懈 懈 褋褍写褜斜械 锌褉芯蟹邪懈褔械褋泻懈褏 卸邪薪褉芯胁 胁 谢懈褌械褉邪褌褍褉械 XX 胁.
协褌邪 锌芯谢械屑懈泻邪 芯褌褉邪卸械薪邪 胁 袛芯锌芯谢薪械薪懈褟褏 泻 芯褋薪芯胁薪芯屑褍 褌械泻褋褌褍 (褉邪薪械械 薪邪 褉褍褋褋泻芯屑 褟蟹褘泻械 薪械 懈蟹写邪胁邪胁褕懈褏褋褟), 谐写械 锌芯屑械褖械薪邪 褉械褑械薪蟹懈褟 褋芯胁褉械屑械薪薪懈泻邪 袛械斜谢懈薪邪, 薪械屑械褑泻芯谐芯 褎懈谢芯褋芯褎邪 袙邪谢褜褌械褉邪 袘械薪褜褟屑懈薪邪, "袣褉懈蟹懈褋 褉芯屑邪薪邪", 懈 芯褌胁械褌 袛械斜谢懈薪邪; 蟹写械褋褜 卸械 锌褉械写褋褌邪胁谢械薪邪 锌芯写斜芯褉泻邪 芯 袘械褉谢懈薪械 胁 卸懈蟹薪懈 锌懈褋邪褌械谢褟, 械谐芯 芯褔械褉泻懈 芯 锌芯褝褌懈泻械 懈 褝褋褌械褌懈泻械, 邪胁褌芯斜懈芯谐褉邪褎懈褔械褋泻懈械 褋芯褔懈薪械薪懈褟.
协泻褋锌械褉懈屑械薪褌邪谢褜薪褘泄, 卸邪薪褉芯胁芯 褋屑械谢褘泄 写谢褟 褋胁芯械谐芯 胁褉械屑械薪懈, 薪芯 邪泻褌褍邪谢褜薪褘泄 写芯 褋懈褏 锌芯褉 懈 懈蟹薪邪褔邪谢褜薪芯 泻懈薪械屑邪褌芯谐褉邪褎懈褔薪褘泄 锌芯 褎芯褉屑械, 褉芯屑邪薪 谢械谐 胁 芯褋薪芯胁褍 泻褍谢褜褌芯胁芯谐芯 褎懈谢褜屑邪 袪邪泄薪械褉邪 袙械褉薪械褉邪 肖邪褋斜懈薪写械褉邪 (1980).
640 pages, Hardcover
First published October 1, 1929
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About the author
Alfred D枚blin
176听books216听followersBruno Alfred D枚blin (August 10, 1878 鈥� June 26, 1957) was a German novelist, essayist, and doctor, best known for his novel Berlin Alexanderplatz (1929). A prolific writer whose 艙uvre spans more than half a century and a wide variety of literary movements and styles, D枚blin is one of the most important figures of German literary modernism. His complete works comprise over a dozen novels ranging in genre from historical novels to science fiction to novels about the modern metropolis; several dramas, radio plays, and screenplays; a true crime story; a travel account; two book-length philosophical treatises; scores of essays on politics, religion, art, and society; and numerous letters 鈥� his complete works, republished by Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag and Fischer Verlag, span more than thirty volumes. His first published novel, Die drei Spr眉nge des Wang-lung (The Three Leaps of Wang Lun), appeared in 1915 and his final novel, Hamlet oder Die lange Nacht nimmt ein Ende (Tales of a Long Night) was published in 1956, one year before his death.
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January 7, 2024
鈥淚 saw a woman sit upon a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns.
And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:
And upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth.鈥� Revelation 17:3-5
Berlin Alexanderplatz is a doomsday story of human fates in the Babel at the end of times鈥�
The protagonist leaves the prison and returns into the alienated capital city鈥�
Berlin Alexanderplatz is probably the best ever written expressionistic novel 鈥� it is grotesquely revelatory and strictly apocalyptic.
The capital is swarming with people鈥�
The city is a huge boiling cauldron in which human destinies are being cooked鈥μ�
Bright lights, big city鈥� He who lets a current carry him will be eventually caught by an undertow and will go under.
And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:
And upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth.鈥� Revelation 17:3-5
Berlin Alexanderplatz is a doomsday story of human fates in the Babel at the end of times鈥�
The protagonist leaves the prison and returns into the alienated capital city鈥�
Suddenly he took a run up and he was sitting in the tram, with passengers all around him. At first it felt like being at the dentist鈥檚, when the dentist has the offending tooth gripped in his pliers and is pulling, and it feels like your head will explode with the pain.
Berlin Alexanderplatz is probably the best ever written expressionistic novel 鈥� it is grotesquely revelatory and strictly apocalyptic.
The capital is swarming with people鈥�
They are reading newspapers of differing political stripe, keeping their balance by means of the labyrinthine passages in their ears, breathing oxygen, dozing off or looking at each other; they feel pain, feel no pain, make eye-contact, make no eye-contact, are happy, unhappy, are neither unhappy nor happy.
The city is a huge boiling cauldron in which human destinies are being cooked鈥μ�
Because when worms eat soil and make more, they always eat the same stuff. The creatures can鈥檛 stop once they鈥檝e had a healthy breakfast, they need to stuff themselves the next day as well. And it鈥檚 the same way with people, and with fire: it鈥檚 hungry if it鈥檚 burning, and when it can鈥檛 eat, it goes out, that鈥檚 the way of it.
Bright lights, big city鈥� He who lets a current carry him will be eventually caught by an undertow and will go under.
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February 12, 2022
A shocking novel. A disturbing novel. A brutal novel.
And if you click into the novel's ironic/humorous/satiric vibe set in the years when Berlin was Europe's most liberal city featuring avant-garde art, radical politics and sex easily available in any and all varieties, then Berlin Alexanderplaz is, I kid you not, a thrilling, enjoyable romp at breakneck speed.
Oh, the picaresque novel with its epigraphs and episodic adventures of an insatiable scallywag usually from the lower classes. True to form, Alfred D枚blin trots out his main character and hero, a World War I vet by the name of Franz Biberkopf, fresh from Tegel Penitentiary where he served four years for sending his sweetheart to an early grave by way of cracking her skull and inflicting an assortment of other nasty injuries.
Alfred D枚blin's expressionist prose reads like 脡mile Zola's naturalism on crack and speed, as if nearly every man and woman in its five hundred pages has the jazz driven energy and 茅lan and irreverence of a Henry Miller or a Charles Bukowski. And such qualities include the omniscient narrator who inserts jingles and songs, headlines and screamers, slogans and catchphrases as well as an array of other verbal flotsam that invade a reader's five senses as if one actually spent nights back in 1927-1928, the years D枚blin wrote his masterpiece, wandering the Berlin streets and popping into many of the city's decadent, fleshpot theaters.
And, oh, those sardonic chapter openings and epigraphs such as "Franz Biberkopf is on the job market, you need to earn money, a man can't life without money," and "Here decent, well-intentioned Franz Biberkopf suffers a first reverse. He falls victim to a cheat. The shock is profound. Biberkopf has sworn to be decent, and as you've seen, he has been decent for several weeks, but that was really just temporary. In the long run, life finds that too prissy, and it cunningly trips him up."
New York Review Books deserves the highest praise for republishing this German literary classic in Michael Hofmann's stunning translation. Mr. Hofmann also furnishes an extensive Afterward wherein he expatiates on the life and times of Alfred D枚blin, the history of Berlin Alexanderplatz and the challenges of translating the author's vibrant language into English.
Actually, it's Michael Hofmann's observations on language I found most helpful - and for good reason: in all the many novels I've read over the years, I have never been as keenly aware of the role of a translator as when reading Berlin Alexanderplatz. I know, I know, Berlin in the 1920s was a special time and a special place, but I had the sense all the many depictions, portrayals, sketches and most especially the words of Franz Biberkopf and others could have also been from a bustling current day international metropolis, say London, New York or Los Angeles. This to say, D枚blin's novel is as alive today for readers as it was back when Berliners gobbled it up when first published.
And such crisp, colorful language. There have been frequent comparisons to James Joyce's Ulysses (a novel D枚blin greatly admired) and stream of consciousness but if there is one aspect of Berlin Alexanderplatz I would like to stress it is this: I never had the need to go back and reread any passage or bit of dialogue, nor, when listening, did I replay any part of the audio book - the writing is that clear and accessible.
So, what manner of man is Franz Biberkopf now that he鈥檚 out of prison and returns to Berlin? At one point, he鈥檚 described as a slick dude (hey, Franz is as hip as any hip hop artist). Here鈥檚 a passage that comes at a reader as part of one unending gush: 鈥淭his Franz Biberkopf, previously cement worker, then furniture removal man and so forth, currently newspaper seller, weighs nigh on two hundredweight. He has the strength of a cobra snake and has joined an athletics club again. Decked out in green puttees, hobnail boots and a bomber jacket. You won鈥檛 find much money on him, it only comes to him in small amounts, but even so it鈥檚 worth trying to get to know him.鈥�
For added flair, the narrator tosses in references from ancient Greek literature, figures such as Agamemnon, Telemachus, Helen. Also, the Bible 鈥� Adam, Eve, the Serpent, Job. Not to mention, grizzly details of slaughterhouses: 鈥淭he killing bays must be at the back, it鈥檚 from there you hear smacking sounds, crashing, squealing, screaming, gurgling, grunting sounds. There are big cauldrons there, which produce the steam. Men dunk the dead beasts in the boiling water, scald them, pull them out nice and white, a man scrapes off the outer skin with a knife, making the animal still whiter and every part smooth. Very mild and white, deeply contented as after a strenuous bath, a successful operation or massage, the pigs lie out on wooden trestles in rows, they don鈥檛 move in their sated calm, and in their new white tunics. They are all lying on their sides, on some you see the double row of tits, the number of breasts a sow has, they must be fertile animals. But they all of them have a straight red slash across the throat, right in the middle, which looks deeply suspicious.鈥� Of course, this passage brings to mind Germany in the not so distant future, the death camps following Adolf Hitler proclaimed Chancellor in 1933. There are references in the novel to the National Socialist Party and swastikas but swinging, freewheeling Berlin remained liberal, artistic and as free as a randy, decadent bird in the pages of Berlin Alexanderplatz.
Not only will readers follow the fate of Franz but also many other men and women. I purposely went light on the story鈥檚 arc, curves and swerves (by my eye, many reviewers reveal too much) so as to allow readers to make their own discoveries.
Since so much of the beauty and artistry of Alfred D枚blin鈥檚 masterpiece is in the language, I鈥檒l end with Michael Hofmann鈥檚 favorite passage on the song to the outgrowths of Berlin: 鈥淪uffer them to approach. Suffer them to approach. The great, flat plains, the lonely brick houses giving out a reddish light. The towns all in a line, Frankfurt an der Oder, Guben, Sommerfield, Liegnitz, Breslau, the towns appear with their stations, the towns with their great and small streets. Suffer them to approach, the cabs, the sliding, shooting cars.鈥�
What an intense jaunt. I encourage you to hop in one of those sliding, shooting cars and travel to Berlin by way of Alfred D枚blin.
German born (in 1957) poet and translator Michael Hofmann
German author Alfred D枚blin, 1878-1957
鈥淗e swore to all the world and to himself that he would remain decent. And as long as he had money, he remained decent. But then he ran out of money, which was a moment he had been waiting for, to show them all what he was made of.鈥� 鈥� Alfred D枚blin, Berlin Alexanderplatz
July 6, 2020
Digging Ourselves Out
It鈥檚 unlikely that any writer has been more described in terms of other writers - preceding and following - than Alfred D枚blin. Joyce, Dostoevsky, Henry Miller, Bukowski, Martin Amis, Henry Fielding, Upton Sinclair, C茅line, Burgess, Smollett, Isherwood, dos Passos, and Conrad among others have been mentioned frequently as influences or being influenced. It seems impossible to pin D枚blin down to a definite style or technique. I find him an inspiration for William Gaddis鈥檚 JR, for example, in his 鈥榮tream of conversation.鈥�
Yet he is also unique in time and place. Weimar Germany is in social chaos. Work is hard to find, even before the Great Depression, especially for an ex-con. Pornography and the sex-trade in general are thriving, despite the Victorian (or more accurately the Wilheminic) era 鈥榖lue laws.鈥� The historical class structures are being undermined by the same residues of the Great War that are affecting Britain. Politics has yet to work out its disastrous compromises, although the omens of the future are clear. And in a perverse way Berlin, despite its status as a conquered capital city, is the centre of a new global culture.
Perhaps this is why D枚blin is so difficult to categorise or characterise. In this one book is all of not just Western literature but also Western culture, a literary Mahler鈥檚 Ninth. Franz Biberkopf is the new Everyman, even more so than Leopold Bloom. Bloom was up against tedium, boredom, and oppressive religion but at least Dublin was what it always had been. Biberkopf鈥檚 Berlin had no historical continuity. It was the far side of the moon, waiting to be discovered by the rest of mankind.
This new world is non-traditional. It demands the abandonment of habits in order to survive. Because the mores of 鈥榞ood behaviour鈥� have yet to be established, it feels like a prison in which a mis-step can have lethal consequences. Trial and error rather than best practice in everything from sex to career (the anticipation of Viagra is startling). So despite wanting to lead a life of stable conformity, such a thing is no longer possible:
This is the new man - the player, the scammer, the inside trader, the mobster, the exploiter of loopholes, the corporate boss. The entire foundation of social relations had been altered. Sociologists may not see that for decades, and even then not very clearly. But D枚blin captured the whole event in Biberkopf as he caroms around the streets of Berlin. Almost a century later, it has become obvious to the rest of us how perceptive he was. After his release from prison Biberkopf realises that the world had changed in his absence. 鈥淚 know I need to dig deeper,鈥� he says. Indeed, don鈥檛 we all.
It鈥檚 unlikely that any writer has been more described in terms of other writers - preceding and following - than Alfred D枚blin. Joyce, Dostoevsky, Henry Miller, Bukowski, Martin Amis, Henry Fielding, Upton Sinclair, C茅line, Burgess, Smollett, Isherwood, dos Passos, and Conrad among others have been mentioned frequently as influences or being influenced. It seems impossible to pin D枚blin down to a definite style or technique. I find him an inspiration for William Gaddis鈥檚 JR, for example, in his 鈥榮tream of conversation.鈥�
Yet he is also unique in time and place. Weimar Germany is in social chaos. Work is hard to find, even before the Great Depression, especially for an ex-con. Pornography and the sex-trade in general are thriving, despite the Victorian (or more accurately the Wilheminic) era 鈥榖lue laws.鈥� The historical class structures are being undermined by the same residues of the Great War that are affecting Britain. Politics has yet to work out its disastrous compromises, although the omens of the future are clear. And in a perverse way Berlin, despite its status as a conquered capital city, is the centre of a new global culture.
Perhaps this is why D枚blin is so difficult to categorise or characterise. In this one book is all of not just Western literature but also Western culture, a literary Mahler鈥檚 Ninth. Franz Biberkopf is the new Everyman, even more so than Leopold Bloom. Bloom was up against tedium, boredom, and oppressive religion but at least Dublin was what it always had been. Biberkopf鈥檚 Berlin had no historical continuity. It was the far side of the moon, waiting to be discovered by the rest of mankind.
This new world is non-traditional. It demands the abandonment of habits in order to survive. Because the mores of 鈥榞ood behaviour鈥� have yet to be established, it feels like a prison in which a mis-step can have lethal consequences. Trial and error rather than best practice in everything from sex to career (the anticipation of Viagra is startling). So despite wanting to lead a life of stable conformity, such a thing is no longer possible:
鈥淗e swore to all the world and to himself that he would remain decent. And as long as he had money, he remained decent. But then he ran out of money, which was a moment he had been waiting for, to show them all what he was made of.鈥�
This is the new man - the player, the scammer, the inside trader, the mobster, the exploiter of loopholes, the corporate boss. The entire foundation of social relations had been altered. Sociologists may not see that for decades, and even then not very clearly. But D枚blin captured the whole event in Biberkopf as he caroms around the streets of Berlin. Almost a century later, it has become obvious to the rest of us how perceptive he was. After his release from prison Biberkopf realises that the world had changed in his absence. 鈥淚 know I need to dig deeper,鈥� he says. Indeed, don鈥檛 we all.
July 16, 2019
Main character: Berlin!
As a foil, you get to know the criminal Franz Biberkopf, who tries his best to be honest. He really does. But he does not have more talent for life than Keith in , and even less talent at darts. Also, he happens to be born into an era which could have made a better man fail. And what could you possibly expect of Biberkopf then, not being a better man? Not even good? Or passable?
And Martin Amis: I all of a sudden realise that you did not only steal the plot from lovely Muriel Spark's , you stole the main character from Berlin Alexanderplatz, and just dressed it up and made it bigger, and changed some Kneipes into English pubs!
But what else could I expect? Those are the times. And that is how it works. In stories featuring big criminals, the plots have to be stolen and dealt under the table as well. Franz Biberkopf would have done the same. As would Keith Talent! And Sparks' Lise would not have hesitated one single moment to grab hold of London or Berlin if she had needed either one of those cities to find her criminal!
I wish I had thought of Biberkopf when I read . I would have loved it straight away!
And thanks Matt for bringing Berlin Alexanderplatz to my attention again. It brought back memories that helped me like another book that kept poking at me with a dart.
Strange maze of books I am wandering through. Like a big city - full of opportunities, chance meetings and stories.
As a foil, you get to know the criminal Franz Biberkopf, who tries his best to be honest. He really does. But he does not have more talent for life than Keith in , and even less talent at darts. Also, he happens to be born into an era which could have made a better man fail. And what could you possibly expect of Biberkopf then, not being a better man? Not even good? Or passable?
And Martin Amis: I all of a sudden realise that you did not only steal the plot from lovely Muriel Spark's , you stole the main character from Berlin Alexanderplatz, and just dressed it up and made it bigger, and changed some Kneipes into English pubs!
But what else could I expect? Those are the times. And that is how it works. In stories featuring big criminals, the plots have to be stolen and dealt under the table as well. Franz Biberkopf would have done the same. As would Keith Talent! And Sparks' Lise would not have hesitated one single moment to grab hold of London or Berlin if she had needed either one of those cities to find her criminal!
I wish I had thought of Biberkopf when I read . I would have loved it straight away!
And thanks Matt for bringing Berlin Alexanderplatz to my attention again. It brought back memories that helped me like another book that kept poking at me with a dart.
Strange maze of books I am wandering through. Like a big city - full of opportunities, chance meetings and stories.
January 15, 2021
One of the most important novels ever written in German, "Berlin Alexanderplatz" tells the story of an everyman getting chewed up in the gears of the big city - and not without his own fault. D枚blin, a WW I veteran and psychiatrist, gives us an an expressionist portrayal of Berlin during the Weimar Republic and of the infamous Franz Biberkopf, an under-educated opportunist who mostly wants to live comfortably (the novel was first published in 1929, but we all know where this led, starting 1933). A cement worker and mover of furniture traumatized by the war, we meet Franz when he is released from jail where he did time for killing his girlfriend - which then doesn't keep him from raping her sister. Wandering through the city, two Jewish men help the disturbed Franz - which doesn't keep him from selling right-wing papers, because it's well-paid. He tries to find a place for himself in the city, and the more he fails, the more his physical, psychological and moral deterioration progresses.
At the beginning of the novel, the text states that Franz wants to be "good" - but don't be fooled here: What does "good" mean in this case? This is no Bildungsroman, Franz doesn't learn, he seeks no redemption. Rather, he wants to fulfill his urges without getting in trouble, that's his idea of being part of society. While Babylon Berlin is raging around him, he becomes a perpetrator and a victim. His lack of moral character and his fragile mental state offer him no protection from the world around him, and his lack of education and connections rob him of possibilities to establish himself in the shaky labor market.
What makes this text a masterpiece of literary modernity is its composition: The fragmented narrative, reminiscent of , and Eisenstein's approach to montage, is interspersed with newspaper headlines, song lyrics, little vignettes, imitation of sounds, description of street scenes, religious references, parts of dialogue - the whole thing comes together as a major symphony of atmospheric writing, evoking the roaring twenties in all their gruesome glory. Franz' voice is rendered in raw, rambling Berlin dialect, which underlines his limited ability to truly dissect and analyze what he does and why, and what's happening around him.
Such complex novels can easily become exercises that mainly appeal on a theoretical level, but offer no pleasure when reading them. D枚blin's text is different: This is extremely fun to read, not only for the story, but for the whole overwhelming experience. Great, great stuff.
At the beginning of the novel, the text states that Franz wants to be "good" - but don't be fooled here: What does "good" mean in this case? This is no Bildungsroman, Franz doesn't learn, he seeks no redemption. Rather, he wants to fulfill his urges without getting in trouble, that's his idea of being part of society. While Babylon Berlin is raging around him, he becomes a perpetrator and a victim. His lack of moral character and his fragile mental state offer him no protection from the world around him, and his lack of education and connections rob him of possibilities to establish himself in the shaky labor market.
What makes this text a masterpiece of literary modernity is its composition: The fragmented narrative, reminiscent of , and Eisenstein's approach to montage, is interspersed with newspaper headlines, song lyrics, little vignettes, imitation of sounds, description of street scenes, religious references, parts of dialogue - the whole thing comes together as a major symphony of atmospheric writing, evoking the roaring twenties in all their gruesome glory. Franz' voice is rendered in raw, rambling Berlin dialect, which underlines his limited ability to truly dissect and analyze what he does and why, and what's happening around him.
Such complex novels can easily become exercises that mainly appeal on a theoretical level, but offer no pleasure when reading them. D枚blin's text is different: This is extremely fun to read, not only for the story, but for the whole overwhelming experience. Great, great stuff.
October 4, 2019
A hundred years ago there was a craze for giant plotless novels that tried to slice through an entire city or even country and look down at the thousands of humans milling around like badly dressed ants and itemise them all. These huge novels (Ulysses by Jimmy Joyce, U.S.A by Johnny Dos Passos, The Waste Land by Tommy Eliot - not a novel but the same kind of thing) use newspaper clippings, adverts, random dialogue, doggerel, children鈥檚 rhymes, radio announcements, political proclamations, Greek myths [they love those] and anything and everything to collage & mash together ALL OF MODERN LIFE in a frantic attempt to mirror the stressed-out psychological dissociativeness and allround bonkers quality of how we live NOW (multivalent) as opposed to how we lived THEN (linearly). This large and enormously impressive novel Berlin Alexanderplatz is one of those.
If you鈥檙e serious about literature you have to like this one, it鈥檚 an acknowledged masterpiece so get with the program, and I am impressed that many goodreaders proclaim their love for this massive stodge of tiresome detail, dull unattributed conversation and rancid behavior (the guy we are following, Franz Biberkopf, has just done a 4 year stretch for beating his girlfriend to death 鈥� an act described as 鈥渟ome stupid stuff鈥�).
But as a serial abandoner of great literature, you may be assured that I could not finish it, so it got chucked on the pile that already contains The Man who Loved Children, Sentimental Education, The Naked and the Dead, The Adventures of Augie March and of course Miss Macintosh My Darling amongst many other lesser works.
Sometimes you come across stuff and you says to yourself 鈥� that there Mona Lisa is a great painting, I know that, it鈥檚 obvious enough, but she gets on my nerves, I don鈥檛 have to like it. So I do says that Berlin Alexanderplatz is a hell of a novel, probably a great novel, but I didn鈥檛 like it.
Note on Ulysses
This is not Alfred Doblin鈥檚 fault at all, but some of his fans say that this novel is like Ulysses when it really isn鈥檛. It鈥檚 somewhat like the stream of consciousness sections of Ulysses, but they are a small part of Ulysses. But even then, Mr Doblin doesn鈥檛 really do much stream of consciousness either, he does stream of conversation. Perhaps more accurately described as stream of inane blathering.
If you鈥檙e serious about literature you have to like this one, it鈥檚 an acknowledged masterpiece so get with the program, and I am impressed that many goodreaders proclaim their love for this massive stodge of tiresome detail, dull unattributed conversation and rancid behavior (the guy we are following, Franz Biberkopf, has just done a 4 year stretch for beating his girlfriend to death 鈥� an act described as 鈥渟ome stupid stuff鈥�).
But as a serial abandoner of great literature, you may be assured that I could not finish it, so it got chucked on the pile that already contains The Man who Loved Children, Sentimental Education, The Naked and the Dead, The Adventures of Augie March and of course Miss Macintosh My Darling amongst many other lesser works.
Sometimes you come across stuff and you says to yourself 鈥� that there Mona Lisa is a great painting, I know that, it鈥檚 obvious enough, but she gets on my nerves, I don鈥檛 have to like it. So I do says that Berlin Alexanderplatz is a hell of a novel, probably a great novel, but I didn鈥檛 like it.
Note on Ulysses
This is not Alfred Doblin鈥檚 fault at all, but some of his fans say that this novel is like Ulysses when it really isn鈥檛. It鈥檚 somewhat like the stream of consciousness sections of Ulysses, but they are a small part of Ulysses. But even then, Mr Doblin doesn鈥檛 really do much stream of consciousness either, he does stream of conversation. Perhaps more accurately described as stream of inane blathering.
January 6, 2024
Berlin Alexanderplatz is an echo of Hugo's novel Les Miserables. It is about redemption; the big city is always in the background here, Berlin replaces Paris, and the central character, Franz Biberkopf, is a kind of new Jean Valjean, a force of nature, a former prisoner trying to return in a row. But if Hugo sought, above all, to enlighten his reader through an apology for the divine, Alfred D枚blin has fun making his hero ridiculous and pathetic. Franz is a big simpleton ready to swallow all the snakes, especially those of Reinhold, his "greatest friend." To see this poor idiot tricking at page length is a real pain for the reader.
Finally, one cannot mention Berlin Alexanderplatz without mentioning the style of D枚blin. This fiery, virulent, widespread, and cheeky style highlights the noises and sounds of Berlin and the bustle of its crowd.
Finally, one cannot mention Berlin Alexanderplatz without mentioning the style of D枚blin. This fiery, virulent, widespread, and cheeky style highlights the noises and sounds of Berlin and the bustle of its crowd.
May 4, 2019
Una gran novela, un aut茅ntico cl谩sico del siglo pasado y a la altura de los m谩s grandes.
Sirva mi pobre comentario para animar a su lectura y para advertir que su dificultad est谩 muy lejos del Ulises de Joyce, obra con la que se la compara en cualquier rese帽a que puedan leer sobre ella. Aqu铆 el estilo, mezcla de muy diversas formas y modos, est谩 al servicio de la gran historia que la novela encierra y nunca la oscurece ni la entorpece.
Sirva mi pobre comentario para animar a su lectura y para advertir que su dificultad est谩 muy lejos del Ulises de Joyce, obra con la que se la compara en cualquier rese帽a que puedan leer sobre ella. Aqu铆 el estilo, mezcla de muy diversas formas y modos, est谩 al servicio de la gran historia que la novela encierra y nunca la oscurece ni la entorpece.
November 8, 2019
My admiration for Alfred Doblin's Berlin Alexanderplatz is boundless. I feel that I have to let the novel sink in a bit more before I can write a review.
September 30, 2020
2016 Book I was Most Afraid To Hate
I just don't have it in me ! I dipped into this book for two months and only got to 13 % !!
I cannot do it. I immensely dislike this book despite it being a modern classic. I am going to cut my losses and consider it my of 2016.
I just don't have it in me ! I dipped into this book for two months and only got to 13 % !!
I cannot do it. I immensely dislike this book despite it being a modern classic. I am going to cut my losses and consider it my of 2016.
January 9, 2022
Ali djevojka kojoj je u glavi samo zabava, ta nema srca.
Ova knjiga sadr啪i jednu 啪ivotnu avanturu 膷ovjeka po imenu Franc Biberkopf, 膷esto ga je pisac oslovljavao sa Francika. Francika je jedan zanimljiv tip. 沤ivi u 拧i膰ard啪ijskom vremenu i nastoji da mu se odupre. Ali kao obi膷an 膷ovjek gdje ga sale膰u svakakve tupad啪ije polako po膷inje da poprima njihov katakter. Deblin je kroz svog lika utkao jednu mrenu koja nikako da i拧膷ezne i kad god je poku拧ao da postane bolji, Biberkopf je uvijek naletao na ljude koji to nisu i ne poku拧avaju biti. Dobio je svoju priliku ali u ve膰ini vremena on se kockao sa njom.U jednom dijelu pri膷e prodire se kroz pukotinu politi膷kog 啪ivota. Deblin ne 拧tedi ni komuniste, ni socijaliste. Demokratiju ogoljava i 膷ini da njeni mehanizmi upravljanja izgledaju kao oksimoron. U trenutku sam se zamislio kako bi ova knjiga mogla da bude vrlo zabranjena u to vrijeme, kada su Hitler i nacizam polako do啪ivljavali svoj uspon. Naro膷ito kada je iznjeo par stvari oko glasanja. Tako膽e, ne i najmanje va啪no, ako 啪elite da vam se ogadi meso 膷itajte Berlin Aleksanderplac. Iscrpno je opisao klaonicu i taj proces kroz koji npr. svinja prolazi. 沤igosanje, 拧urenje, klanje itd. Opis kada se malo tele udara toljagom po vratu. Ko i malo misli pota膰e ga sve to. Deblin je istinit i to ne mo啪e da 拧kodi.
December 17, 2023
I don't know why, but I thought this might have read something like a German Scott Fitzgerald; coming from the jazz age and all. If anything though, it's more like a Weimar Republic Charles Bukowski with Tarantino-esque violence. Can't quite believe just how shocking certain parts of this were; taking into account just when it was written of course. They say it was the roaring 20s, and this bloody well roars alright. It roars, and rips, and bangs, and batters. The novel had a pulse rate at times like that of someone going crazy at it in the gym. Berlin is a drunken cesspit of thieves, conmen, betrayals, prostitutes, and killers. Should have read it in the gutter with a six-pack. (Just to be clear, that's six cans of beer, not a nice toned abdomen). There's nothing fit and health-conscious about this lot. And in the housebreaker/ pimp/ manslaughterer Franz Biberkopf, who tries to right his life after a stint in prison, we have one of Germany's most memorable anti-heroes. Despite this though, it isn't Biberkopf that actually steals the show here. That accolade goes to Berlin itself. The energy D枚blin's city gave off was enough to light all the Christmas trees in the world. I did find that it dragged on for a bit too long if I'm being picky, but still, what a ride! That last chapter - wow.
Read
April 9, 2020I starting reading at a slow pace and then slowed down further at times wondering what was going on, then the last third I read in about two days. I was going so slow that it seemed embarrassing even to post updates as I read. In short I read as a potato sits in a cookingpot, not by my own volition but as though controlled by the invisible hand turning the gas up or down.
Berlin Alexanderplatz I felt was a curiously old fashioned modernist work, the authorial voice commenting on the fate and future of the main character Franz Biberkopf put me in mind of , the story, such as it is naturally suggested the 鈥� not in its details but in it鈥檚 attitudes and tone, but also Hogarth prints like or the , even that medieval piece of theatre .
So a morality tale (and perhaps this is entirely coincidental but the novel is divided into nine books just as in Dante Hell has nine circles), in a modern setting 鈥� a map story perhaps, imagine a map of the Berlin public transport system in the late 1920s, our main character, Franz Biberkopf is a simple kind of man, he sits on a tram and rides to the end of the line and never knows quite why, as the tram bumbles along we pass the hustle and bustle of a modern great city perceived as the backdrop to an ancient morality fable, man throws himself upon the great Whore of Babylon (to the end of the line remember). The City eats people, it chews them up, it you escape broken, injured and transformed you re in luck, most ride that tram directly into their own grave. Few are those like Marshal Pi艂sudski who manage to get off at the appropriate stop.
We don鈥檛 experience this morality tale in a direct way, so the novel starts with Franz Biberkopf鈥檚 release from prison, but it is about a hundred pages before we find out why he was in prison in the first place 鈥� it does not matter this is a book that we experience as we experience city life travelling on public transport 鈥� as we gaze through the window we see adverts, life, crowds, ambulances, and police cars, so here we shift abruptly from stream of consciousness point of view to different stream of consciousness point of view to the author addressing the reader, from share prices, to boxing matches, from the slaughter house to the story of Job, is Job鈥檚 story the universal one Franz鈥檚 and ours? Arbitrary suffering until one submits to the Will of God? We are the machines that find meaning, the author invents the novel as a device to share images so we feel the dislocation and fluidity of modern city life. Ultimately the author sought refuge in Catholicism 鈥� along with Fascism and Communism one of the three certainties of the age, that was the meaning he needed in his life. For the rest of us 鈥� buy a ticket from the conductor and ride to the end of the line and watch the jazzy spectacle of Big City life, it is much funnier than I have made it sound .
The Slaughterhouse invites comparison with , in which the slaughterhouse seems to me to stand as a metaphor for Chicago society at the beginning of the 20th century - ruthlessly exploiting (and requiring) innocent immigrants who can be fleeced, squeezed and exploited and will put up with anything on account of their naive dreams and hopes of a better life in the USA. D枚blin seems to use the Slaughterhouse to represent not a human system of exploitation, but something even more fatalistic -this is what life on Earth is like - you might be a beast being led to slaughter, or you might be one of those leading beasts to slaughter, there is no choice, you simply are in one of those two groups, the only course of action is to be like Job or Abraham and submit to the Will of God, yet at the same time we see that the main character is unconsciously admittedly without much will power - he gets on the tram and rides to the end of the line, his domestic violence seems to emerge because of a lack of self knowledge or self control rather than conscious volition, he is throughout rather bestial - good natured, but essentially reactive and dependent on others.
As I learnt from Peter Gay's book , Berlin Alexanderplatz was a product of the relatively creamy, comfortable years of the Weimar republic, but I feel it is an anti-Republican novel - fatalistic, the people require a good shepherd, they are not capable of thinking and looking after themselves in a responsible or a social manner, but perhaps that is too pessimistic a response to D枚blin's novel, and the novel is always an authoritatan format.
Berlin Alexanderplatz I felt was a curiously old fashioned modernist work, the authorial voice commenting on the fate and future of the main character Franz Biberkopf put me in mind of , the story, such as it is naturally suggested the 鈥� not in its details but in it鈥檚 attitudes and tone, but also Hogarth prints like or the , even that medieval piece of theatre .
So a morality tale (and perhaps this is entirely coincidental but the novel is divided into nine books just as in Dante Hell has nine circles), in a modern setting 鈥� a map story perhaps, imagine a map of the Berlin public transport system in the late 1920s, our main character, Franz Biberkopf is a simple kind of man, he sits on a tram and rides to the end of the line and never knows quite why, as the tram bumbles along we pass the hustle and bustle of a modern great city perceived as the backdrop to an ancient morality fable, man throws himself upon the great Whore of Babylon (to the end of the line remember). The City eats people, it chews them up, it you escape broken, injured and transformed you re in luck, most ride that tram directly into their own grave. Few are those like Marshal Pi艂sudski who manage to get off at the appropriate stop.
We don鈥檛 experience this morality tale in a direct way, so the novel starts with Franz Biberkopf鈥檚 release from prison, but it is about a hundred pages before we find out why he was in prison in the first place 鈥� it does not matter this is a book that we experience as we experience city life travelling on public transport 鈥� as we gaze through the window we see adverts, life, crowds, ambulances, and police cars, so here we shift abruptly from stream of consciousness point of view to different stream of consciousness point of view to the author addressing the reader, from share prices, to boxing matches, from the slaughter house to the story of Job, is Job鈥檚 story the universal one Franz鈥檚 and ours? Arbitrary suffering until one submits to the Will of God? We are the machines that find meaning, the author invents the novel as a device to share images so we feel the dislocation and fluidity of modern city life. Ultimately the author sought refuge in Catholicism 鈥� along with Fascism and Communism one of the three certainties of the age, that was the meaning he needed in his life. For the rest of us 鈥� buy a ticket from the conductor and ride to the end of the line and watch the jazzy spectacle of Big City life, it is much funnier than I have made it sound .
The Slaughterhouse invites comparison with , in which the slaughterhouse seems to me to stand as a metaphor for Chicago society at the beginning of the 20th century - ruthlessly exploiting (and requiring) innocent immigrants who can be fleeced, squeezed and exploited and will put up with anything on account of their naive dreams and hopes of a better life in the USA. D枚blin seems to use the Slaughterhouse to represent not a human system of exploitation, but something even more fatalistic -this is what life on Earth is like - you might be a beast being led to slaughter, or you might be one of those leading beasts to slaughter, there is no choice, you simply are in one of those two groups, the only course of action is to be like Job or Abraham and submit to the Will of God, yet at the same time we see that the main character is unconsciously admittedly without much will power - he gets on the tram and rides to the end of the line, his domestic violence seems to emerge because of a lack of self knowledge or self control rather than conscious volition, he is throughout rather bestial - good natured, but essentially reactive and dependent on others.
As I learnt from Peter Gay's book , Berlin Alexanderplatz was a product of the relatively creamy, comfortable years of the Weimar republic, but I feel it is an anti-Republican novel - fatalistic, the people require a good shepherd, they are not capable of thinking and looking after themselves in a responsible or a social manner, but perhaps that is too pessimistic a response to D枚blin's novel, and the novel is always an authoritatan format.
December 7, 2020
- The Eclipse of the Sun, George Grosz (1926)
THE STORY :
Berlin, 1929. Franz Biberkopf served his 4-year sentence for the involuntary homicide on his spouse. Out of jail, he swears to be honest, to give up political activism and petty criminal shenanigans. And he relapses.
MY MIND ON THE BOOK :
Since the story is about the life of a common, if crude man, subject matter and form go hand in hand here. A former worker, furniture remover, construction worker and procurer in the interwar period, Franz Biberkopf witnesses many a sight in Golden Twenties Berlin, what with Graf Zeppelin fulfilling a small world tour, the immense worksites in Alexanderplatz, also the visible impacts of the Great Depression in 1929.
Then, Berlin offers a dismal landscape of extreme disparities, rotten with squalor and organized crime, also buzzing with frantic urban reconfiguration. Assuming the form of the patchwork, Alfred D枚blin opts to cling to the spirit of this era, epitomized in the city of Berlin. Doing so, the writer celebrates the heyday of cultural movements later gathered under the dismissing name 'Degenerate Art' (Entartete Kunst), endowing Berlin with cubist, futuristic oufits, shattering it in as many newspapers clips, in the style of Hannag H枚ch.
Characters prove remarkably mundane (except for the young prostitute Mieze perhaps) if not vile. This is deliberate. Nobody is ever innocent, and more often than not, people are in cahoots with crooks and burglars. Sharing their everyday life, you come to understand some of their hardships and the solutions they come up with, but can you approve them wholeheartedly as a lot of them involve foul situations and blatant dicks?
In the end, the novel is both challenging and absorbing. Interwoven with Biberkopf's tale are weather broadcasts, ads, posters, headlines... This book requieres you to train your eye before you can make the most of it. As though you were in Franz Biberkopf's shoes as he is set free out of prison in the beginning. Reader, you have to learn how to read anew, with fresh eyes!
As far as plot goes, the themes of revenge and redemption, increasingly present, work in my opinion, but nothing special here. The gist of the novel is in the maturation of the characters : the poor, the workers, the idle, people more or less damaged, more or less compromised with ruffians. I have devoured it to say the least, yet I don't recommend you to rush it. The meanderings on the road may be worthy of your time and curiosity.
BOOKISH KITH AND KIN :
Berlin Alexanderplatz, tells a sort of grand mediaeval legend, chanson de geste concerning Biberkopf, except all characters are inept and miserable, when they are not outspoken sharks, and their ambitions are of the same dough. It is quite reminiscent of C茅line and his dyed-in-the-wool scoundrels, acting in a thoroughly depicted frame : that of modern life in the black era of indutrial capitalism : mercantile frenzy, permanent arousal and loss of ideals.
(p.401)
Something akin to Celine's 'little music' here, too : a miscellany of different point of views, different language levels and literary models : greek myth, biblical episode, advertisement, decree, menu, slogan, political speech, popular song.... All this progressing in a bizarre manner, sauntering, now making a u-turn, now veering elsewhere....
Also, Bardamu has served as a soldier in WW1, so did Biberkopf.
The 'in the flesh' account of life in the city, the steady flow of reflexions, observations and impressions, the changing voice of the narrator, alternatively using external and internal p.o.v., in the guise of Franz Biberkopf. A lot of excerpts are joined together as a loose association of ideas, as you follow wisps of smoke floating and gliding across aeration grids in a bar to vanish in the night!
All of this evokes
A world undergoing severe fragmentation of language and the meaning it vehicles heralds the collapse of society in as many clans and mutually exclusive parties.
All of this echoes .
Man is seen as a cluster of needs and desires manufactured and satisfied by all manners of suppliers, middlemen, street vendors in the big picture of the ambiant commodification of everything.
This is a time when, publicly accused of murder, your first reaction is to double-check in the newspapers (p.518). This world where reality is molded by the media is also depicted in
... while the asides from the narrator on his unfortunate hero ring a bell : this is all looking like a picaresque novel isn't it.
Exploring the life of poor folks, the ebullition of criminal activities, (p.361) in the fashion of .
The seedy political life of a European metropolis, Socialism, Anarchism, Nihilism in the first half of the 20th century is akin to that in Conrad's 19th century London.
Finally, material life in Berlin, with its impersonal, interchangeable relationships involving tremendous masses of population, hectic economical ups and downs, unbalanced environment are all championed by sentimental, brutal, self-deceiving Franz Biberkopf.
All of these traits and the slaughterhouse chapter especially make Berlin Alexanderplatz a surprising companion to .
EDIT: A PARALLEL
Come to think of it, boasts scenes that are strongly evocative and reminiscent of chapters in Berlin Alexanderplatz!
MATCHING SOUNDTRACK :
Il diluvio universale Act III 'Apritemi il varco a la Morte' - Michel Angelo Falvetti (Namur Chamber Choir led by conductor Leonardo Garc铆a Alarc贸n, 2010)
---------------------------
L'HISTOIRE :
Berlin, 1929. Franz Biberkopf a tir茅 sa peine de 4 ans pour l'homicide de sa pr茅c茅dente compagne. Sorti de prison, il se jure d'锚tre honn锚te, qu'on ne l'y prendra plus. Il renonce 脿 la politique, aux petits arrangements de malfaiteurs. Il replonge.
MON AVIS :
Ici le sujet se marie bien avec la forme, puisqu'il est question de la vie d'un homme du peuple, anciennement d茅m茅nageur, ouvrier du b芒timent et souteneur dans le Berlin de l'entre deux guerres, contemporain des 'Goldene Zwanziger' ('Golden Twenties' dans le monde Anglo-saxon, Ann茅es folles en France), qui voit le Graf Zeppelin accomplir un petit tour du monde, et contemporain aussi de la grande d茅pression 茅conomique de 1929.
Il s'agit d'une ville 茅cartel茅e entre les in茅galit茅s de richesses, pourrie par la mis猫re mat茅rielle et le crime organis茅. En adoptant une forme de collage, Alfred D枚blin choisit d'茅pouser l'esprit de cette 茅poque, qui s'est incarn茅 de fa莽on tout 脿 fait exemplaire 脿 Berlin. Il fraternise avec les courants culturels appel茅s par la suite 'Arts d茅g茅n茅r茅s' (Entartete Kunst), qui donnent une repr茅sentation cubiste, futuriste de la ville, ou bien la fragmentent dans un collage de coupures de presse, 脿 la fa莽on de Hannag H枚ch par exemple.
Les personnages sont tout ce qu'il y a d'ordinaire (脿 l'exception de la jeune prostitu茅e Mieze peut-锚tre), et souvent vils. Personne n'est tout 脿 fait blanc, et beaucoup trouvent leur compte en collaborant avec une bande de malfrats. On partage le quotidien de quelques-uns, on comprend jusqu'脿 un certain point leurs difficult茅s et les solutions qu'ils leur trouvent, mais on ne peut pas approuver. Toi qui me lis, sois pr茅venu, sois pr茅venue, il s'y trouve quantit茅 de situations franchement immondes et de belles pourritures bien abjectes.
C么t茅 forme, le livre est 脿 la fois 茅puisant et entra卯nant. Parfois tour 脿 tour. Au r茅cit se greffent des bulletins m茅t茅o, des extraits de r茅clame, r茅colt茅s sur la premi猫re affiche placard茅e l脿, attrap茅e sur une manchette de journal,... Le livre demande qu'on s'exerce l'艙il, qu'on se fasse un regard avant de pouvoir 茅voluer. Un peu comme Franz Biberkopf lorsqu'il sort de prison au d茅but : lecteur, lectrice, il te faut rapprendre 脿 lire !
Niveau intrigue, maintenant, le motif de la revanche, puis celui de la r茅demption qui s'amplifie 脿 mesure qu'on progresse me para卯t fonctionner, sans plus. Ce n'est pas l脿 que je place l'essentiel du roman. L'essentiel, c'est plut么t l'茅volution dans le livre comme dans le quotidien des pauvres, des travailleurs, des oisifs, des gens plus ou moins ab卯m茅s, plus ou moins compromis. Pour mon compte, c'est peu dire que je l'ai d茅val茅, et pourtant je ne crois pas qu'on doive se ruer sur la fin. Les petits sautillements sur la route valent qu'on s'y arr锚te un peu.
COUSINS LITTERAIRES :
Chez Berlin Alexanderplatz, c'est une sorte de grande l茅gende m茅di茅vale qui s'茅crit autour de Biberkopf (une chanson de geste ?) 脿 ceci pr猫s que les personnages sont de besogneux gagne-petit, quand ce ne sont pas de sales requins, et leurs ambitions 脿 peu pr猫s exclusivement mesquines et sordides. 脟a m'embarque forc茅ment du c么t茅 de Louis-Ferdinand C茅line, avec ses fripouilles de bon aloi, qui 茅voluent dans un cadre d茅peint m茅ticuleusement, celui de la vie moderne dans l'芒ge noir du capitalisme industriel : au programme, f锚te mercantile, gaudriole et perte de valeurs.
(p.401, roulez tambours et formez bataillons)
Avec 茅galement sa 'petite musique'.
On a ce m锚me collage, 脿 peine moins bruitiste et d茅cousu chez C茅line, dans un grand m茅lange de points de vues, de registres et de mod猫les stylistiques : mythologie, texte biblique, texte publicitaire, d茅cret, r猫glement, carte de caf茅, slogan politique, discours, chanson poulaire....
Tout 莽a progresse d'un bien dr么le de mani猫re, par 茅cho, refrains et reprises.
脌 noter aussi : comme Bardamu, Biberkopf revient des tranch茅es de la 1猫re guerre mondiale...
La position insaisissable du narrateur, qui oscille entre point de vue externe et reprise 脿 son compte des pens茅es, des observations, des stimuli de Franz Biberkopf alors qu'il 茅volue dans les quartiers.
On un point de vue organique, des descriptions sensuelles et impressionnistes, des morceaux raccord茅s 脿 la fa莽on d'associations d'id茅es. On suit quand m锚me les pens茅es de volutes de fum茅e qui, d'un bar, flottent et d茅rivent 脿 travers la grille d'a茅ration pour dispara卯tre dans la nuit !
Tout 莽a 茅voque bien
Le fractionnement du monde, de la langue et du sens qu'elle porte, la division de la soci茅t茅 en autant de nouvelles chapelles et partis mutuellement exclusifs rappelle par certains c么t茅s
L'homme pris comme une somme de d茅sirs et de besoins qu'il s'agit de satisfaire en le pourvoyant, interm茅diaires, r茅clames, petits marchands ambulants, marchandisation, fatras empilable et laideur d茅mocratique. Une 茅poque o霉 l'opinion devient labile et l'attention parcellaire, sans cesse sollicit茅e par la r茅clame. L'芒ge m茅diatique, o霉, accus茅 publiquement de meurtre, par le biais de la presse, on cherche d'abord 脿 se renseigner, 脿 v茅rifier pour voir si on ne se serait pas tromp茅, apr猫s tout, si c'est dans les journaux...
(p.518 : 'Faut que je descende, lire sur la colonne Morris (...)')
Ce monde o霉 la r茅alit茅 est manufactur茅e par la presse, c'est aussi celui de
Tandis que les commentaires en appart茅 du narrateur sur son personnage infortun茅 peuvent rappeler le roman picaresque.
L'exploration de la vie du petit peuple berlinois, l'affairement fi茅vreux de la p猫gre et des criminels (p.361) 脿 la mani猫re de
La vie politique trouble d'une m茅tropole europ茅enne ; socialisme, anarchisme et nihilisme au premier 20e si猫cle :
Enfin, la vie mat茅rielle 脿 Berlin, vie citadine impersonnelle, interchangeable, la fi猫vre de l'activit茅 茅conomique, ces grandes masses de population, leur abrutissement et l'abrutissement du personnage principal, le mauvais sujet Franz Biberkopf, sentimental, brute 茅paisse avec les femmes, ma卯tre en accommodements, 脿 qui on doit fid茅lit茅, lui 脿 personne. La sc猫ne insoutenable de l'abattoir...
Se rapprochent tout sp茅cialement de : .
UN AJOUT TARDIF:
A bien y penser, certains chapitres de Berlin Alexanderplatz me rappellent immanquablement le film exp茅rimental de Dziga Vertov
MUSIQUE ASSOCI脡E :
Il diluvio universale Act III 'Apritemi il varco a la Morte' - Michel Angelo Falvetti (ch艙ur de chambre de Namur, sous la direction de Leonardo Garc铆a Alarc贸n, 2010)
May 29, 2012
This book is said to be one of the required readings for high school students in Germany. When it was published in 1929, it became a monstrous hit and the book's popularity has been sustained all these years.
Reason: this is the first German book that used the stream-of-consciousness style of James Joyce. This was also one of the reasons why I tried hard to first read Ulysses (serialized from 1918 to 1920) prior to cracking this one up. I found this easier to read despite the fact that I used a guide book while reading Ulysses. I think the reason was that the English translation of Eugene Jolas is just more readable. Although, just like Ulysses, also not always understandable. Honestly, I think I only understood 3/4 of what the author, Alfred Doblin (1878-1957) was trying to tell. But, still like Ulysses, I guess it does not really matter. The reason is that this modernist work, does not want to be fully understood since it is multi-layered with its internal (rather than external as in most contemporary books) conflicts. Thus, the book can be interpreted into so many ways that you don't know if what you think of it is right or wrong. Just like in some hypothetical questions, there are just no right and wrong answers.
However, the gist is something like this (and please do correct me if I got anything incorrect because as I said, I only understood 3/4 of it): Frank Biberkopf is an ex-convict (case: manslaughter). When he steps out from prison, Nazism is on the rise in Germany. Frank wants to have a decent life as he sees his release as his second life. He tries on several jobs only to experience the harsh realities because Berlin at the time is unforgiving for ex-convicts like him. He loses his arm from a foiled robbery, he becomes a pimp, he is framed for murder by his friend-turned-foe Reinhold but because he is not bad-looking he also falls in love at one time. It's just that the woman was untrue to him so in the end, Frank feels that his life inside the prison is better that what he feels outside. I felt that claustrophobic atmosphere while reading the book. The irony of that feeling when you seem to be inside a prison when in fact you are living free in an outside world is very evident.
I think this book deserves a 5-star rating. The only problem is that it is hard to understand. Maybe it is easy to understand if it is read by a German in German language. However, my advice to those who want to read this in English is to just keep on reading. Doblin just goes on and on and sometimes you don't know who, among the present characters in the scene, is talking since the spoken parts, enclosed in quotes, are without references to their owners. However, there are many beautifully arresting passages that will keep you interested. At some point, extremely interested. Reading this is like listening to conversations where the participants are pouring their thoughts out no-holds barred. It reminded me of the time when I was in still living in our hometown located in a Pacific island. I used to hear the conversations of my father and his buddies while they drank beer until they did not know what they were doing. They sang, the debated, they laughed in total abandon. They discussed a lot of different interesting topics and since they had too much to drink, they had the tendency to say their innermost thoughts - some of them very interesting, some were mundane, some were really nonsense. There were times that they even had our local priest (Catholic) with them and the priest could be an rowdy as my father and his friends. As they say, sometimes you will know the real person, once he or she gets real drunk. The fish is caught by its mouth.
This book is like that. The characters are mouthing their innermost thoughts and since it was Berlin at the time of Hitler's rise, some of what they were saying could cause their lives or reveal what they really think about their religion as told in the Bible. So, some of them contained those in their minds but Doblin let you hear them. This for me, made this book very interesting. Also, if you want to know how was it to live in Alexanderplatz (downtown Berlin) in the 1920s, this book is for you. The place is pictured here as dark and discriminatory and yet we all love European cities no matter in which century they were. Europe was the old world and the center of art, music and yes, classic literature. Since I am interested on that, I kept on reading.
I am happy I did.
Reason: this is the first German book that used the stream-of-consciousness style of James Joyce. This was also one of the reasons why I tried hard to first read Ulysses (serialized from 1918 to 1920) prior to cracking this one up. I found this easier to read despite the fact that I used a guide book while reading Ulysses. I think the reason was that the English translation of Eugene Jolas is just more readable. Although, just like Ulysses, also not always understandable. Honestly, I think I only understood 3/4 of what the author, Alfred Doblin (1878-1957) was trying to tell. But, still like Ulysses, I guess it does not really matter. The reason is that this modernist work, does not want to be fully understood since it is multi-layered with its internal (rather than external as in most contemporary books) conflicts. Thus, the book can be interpreted into so many ways that you don't know if what you think of it is right or wrong. Just like in some hypothetical questions, there are just no right and wrong answers.
However, the gist is something like this (and please do correct me if I got anything incorrect because as I said, I only understood 3/4 of it): Frank Biberkopf is an ex-convict (case: manslaughter). When he steps out from prison, Nazism is on the rise in Germany. Frank wants to have a decent life as he sees his release as his second life. He tries on several jobs only to experience the harsh realities because Berlin at the time is unforgiving for ex-convicts like him. He loses his arm from a foiled robbery, he becomes a pimp, he is framed for murder by his friend-turned-foe Reinhold but because he is not bad-looking he also falls in love at one time. It's just that the woman was untrue to him so in the end, Frank feels that his life inside the prison is better that what he feels outside. I felt that claustrophobic atmosphere while reading the book. The irony of that feeling when you seem to be inside a prison when in fact you are living free in an outside world is very evident.
I think this book deserves a 5-star rating. The only problem is that it is hard to understand. Maybe it is easy to understand if it is read by a German in German language. However, my advice to those who want to read this in English is to just keep on reading. Doblin just goes on and on and sometimes you don't know who, among the present characters in the scene, is talking since the spoken parts, enclosed in quotes, are without references to their owners. However, there are many beautifully arresting passages that will keep you interested. At some point, extremely interested. Reading this is like listening to conversations where the participants are pouring their thoughts out no-holds barred. It reminded me of the time when I was in still living in our hometown located in a Pacific island. I used to hear the conversations of my father and his buddies while they drank beer until they did not know what they were doing. They sang, the debated, they laughed in total abandon. They discussed a lot of different interesting topics and since they had too much to drink, they had the tendency to say their innermost thoughts - some of them very interesting, some were mundane, some were really nonsense. There were times that they even had our local priest (Catholic) with them and the priest could be an rowdy as my father and his friends. As they say, sometimes you will know the real person, once he or she gets real drunk. The fish is caught by its mouth.
This book is like that. The characters are mouthing their innermost thoughts and since it was Berlin at the time of Hitler's rise, some of what they were saying could cause their lives or reveal what they really think about their religion as told in the Bible. So, some of them contained those in their minds but Doblin let you hear them. This for me, made this book very interesting. Also, if you want to know how was it to live in Alexanderplatz (downtown Berlin) in the 1920s, this book is for you. The place is pictured here as dark and discriminatory and yet we all love European cities no matter in which century they were. Europe was the old world and the center of art, music and yes, classic literature. Since I am interested on that, I kept on reading.
I am happy I did.
February 13, 2021
Ich kannte bislang das Werk nur als TV-Mehrteiler von Rainer Werner Fassbinder aus dem Jahr 1980. Ich fand die Geschichte damals als Teenager in Ordnung und hatte innerlich D枚blin und sein bekanntestes Buch damit f眉r mich abgehakt. Jetzt fand ich es aber doch mal an der Zeit, diesen Klassiker auch zu lesen. G眉nter Lamprecht war trotzdem vor meinem inneren Auge der Franz Biberkopf, dessen Geschichte in dem Roman erz盲hlt wird.
Ich hatte mich auf eine gradlinig erz盲hlte Geschichte eingestellt analog anderer sozialkritischer Romane aus dieser Zeit. Aber schon nach den ersten Seiten war ich perplex. Was war denn das f眉r ein wilde Mix an verschiedenen Erz盲hlformen, gerade mal durch die Punktion getrennt, aber keinesfalls immer durch einen Absatz? Franz Biberkopf kommt aus dem Gef盲ngnis, in dem er vier Jahre in Haft sa脽 f眉r den Mord an seiner Freundin Ida. Er kommt nicht mit dem L盲rm der Stadt zu recht, die H盲user scheinen zu kippen, die Elektrische bimmelt, die Leute schreien durcheinander und er leidet, wie eine hochsensible Person unter der 盲u脽eren Eindrucken. Auf einmal wirkt alles verzerrt und scheint auf ihn zu st眉rzen. Sofort hat man expressionistische Bilder im Kopf, mit kubistischen, schiefen Formen, die den Irrsinn einer Gro脽stadt darstellen sollen. Was Maler wie Otto Dix mit dem Pinsel schafften, das konnte D枚blin mit Worten. Und so ist der ganze Roman ein wilder Parforceritt durch Franzens Kopf auf der Welle seines Bewusstseins, um gleich danach in einem mit Vehemenz gef眉hrten Dialog auf Berlinerisch zu m眉nden, gefolgt von Reklamespr眉chen, Lexikoneintr盲gen, Zeitungsberichten, Liedtexten und vielen anderen Versatzst眉cken. Was f眉r eine Wucht.
Kurz nach dem Beginn des Lesens h枚rte ich in eine Leseprobe, gelesen von Hannes Messemer aus dem Jahr 1979. Und darauf las ich parallel zum H枚ren das Buch mit. Messemer konnte viel besser den Berliner Dialekt in mein Ohr bringen, als ich das beim Lesen vermochte. So wurde das Buch zus盲tzlich f眉r mich veredelt.
Biberkopf findet keinen Halt in der Gesellschaft, rutscht immer wieder ins Kriminellenmilieu ab, erlebt Schicksalschl盲ge am eigenen K枚rper und bei den Menschen, die ihm nahe stehen und die er immer wieder entt盲uscht. Die Gro脽stadt verschlingt den Einzelnen. Der Roman ist so einwenig wie f眉r Anf盲nger, viel einfacher zu lesen als Joyce, da D枚blin viel mehr an einer Handlung festh盲lt. Vielleicht sollte ich es jetzt doch nochmal mit Ulysses probieren, nachdem ich vor vielen Jahren daran scheiterte. Bestimmt der beste deutschsprachige Gro脽stadtroman, den ich je gelesen habe.
Ich hatte mich auf eine gradlinig erz盲hlte Geschichte eingestellt analog anderer sozialkritischer Romane aus dieser Zeit. Aber schon nach den ersten Seiten war ich perplex. Was war denn das f眉r ein wilde Mix an verschiedenen Erz盲hlformen, gerade mal durch die Punktion getrennt, aber keinesfalls immer durch einen Absatz? Franz Biberkopf kommt aus dem Gef盲ngnis, in dem er vier Jahre in Haft sa脽 f眉r den Mord an seiner Freundin Ida. Er kommt nicht mit dem L盲rm der Stadt zu recht, die H盲user scheinen zu kippen, die Elektrische bimmelt, die Leute schreien durcheinander und er leidet, wie eine hochsensible Person unter der 盲u脽eren Eindrucken. Auf einmal wirkt alles verzerrt und scheint auf ihn zu st眉rzen. Sofort hat man expressionistische Bilder im Kopf, mit kubistischen, schiefen Formen, die den Irrsinn einer Gro脽stadt darstellen sollen. Was Maler wie Otto Dix mit dem Pinsel schafften, das konnte D枚blin mit Worten. Und so ist der ganze Roman ein wilder Parforceritt durch Franzens Kopf auf der Welle seines Bewusstseins, um gleich danach in einem mit Vehemenz gef眉hrten Dialog auf Berlinerisch zu m眉nden, gefolgt von Reklamespr眉chen, Lexikoneintr盲gen, Zeitungsberichten, Liedtexten und vielen anderen Versatzst眉cken. Was f眉r eine Wucht.
Kurz nach dem Beginn des Lesens h枚rte ich in eine Leseprobe, gelesen von Hannes Messemer aus dem Jahr 1979. Und darauf las ich parallel zum H枚ren das Buch mit. Messemer konnte viel besser den Berliner Dialekt in mein Ohr bringen, als ich das beim Lesen vermochte. So wurde das Buch zus盲tzlich f眉r mich veredelt.
Biberkopf findet keinen Halt in der Gesellschaft, rutscht immer wieder ins Kriminellenmilieu ab, erlebt Schicksalschl盲ge am eigenen K枚rper und bei den Menschen, die ihm nahe stehen und die er immer wieder entt盲uscht. Die Gro脽stadt verschlingt den Einzelnen. Der Roman ist so einwenig wie f眉r Anf盲nger, viel einfacher zu lesen als Joyce, da D枚blin viel mehr an einer Handlung festh盲lt. Vielleicht sollte ich es jetzt doch nochmal mit Ulysses probieren, nachdem ich vor vielen Jahren daran scheiterte. Bestimmt der beste deutschsprachige Gro脽stadtroman, den ich je gelesen habe.
February 28, 2013
Required reading in Germany I'd never heard of until I saw it on a list of recommendations by Roberto Bolano, maybe in . Bought a copy with too small print, too tight margins, didn't read it. Got this more friendly formatted copy and recently saw it recommended by Sesshu Foster, whose I loved. Finally started in on its 635 pages a few weeks ago and now am finally done. It's well worth it. At first I wasn't sure what I was in for. It's not really anything like Joyce, per the book's blurbs, not musical, not based on classical lit, not really seeming to take on Goethe instead of Shakespeare. More like Dostoevsky, maybe, but with lots of modernist techniques -- shifting POVs (often from sentence to sentence), shifting tenses; inclusion of statistics, weather reports, police blotters; no hard returns in long stretches of dialogue so all the quotations/voices run together in really dense oft-confusing paragraphs; no-transition interspersal of biblical stories (Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac; Job's trials) into otherwise realist scenes; excellent dialogues between angels responsible for Franz; appearance of the seven-headed Whore of Babylon and Death; a great section very much like in (which also lacked hard returns in stretches of dialogue) relating a lamb's last moments in a slaughterhouse -- all of which nicely complicates what's otherwise a straight-up realist tale about a sad sack trying to do right and live a decent life. The book starts with Franz's release from prison after seven years for manslaughtering his girl. Berlin is a major character in this, of course -- one of those Bellowy/Franzeny books about permeablility between citizen and civilization. Franz is a representative man for the mid-to-late '20s Germany, wherein things ain't so good and the seeds of things way worse are sown and sprouting little swastikas. Nearly five stars for me, but the translation seemed a little off, or more so, Doblin included mucho 1920s-era German slang, subsequently translated into 1920s-era British slang, so there's this Al Caponesque hard-boiled cockneyed thing going on in the dialogue that wasn't always so accessible for this American ninety years later. Would love a fresh translation by . The portrayal of women, also, is real ripe for a feminist critique bashing o'er the head -- the two major women are supportive whores, and one is sort of hysterical, not that this really concerned me all that much, but the extra overt masculinity of everything, the reduction of women to the oldest fashioned roles, did seem a bit over the top. Anyway, a great book about a burly well-meaning low life trying to live a decent life, bashed not by feminist theorists but life itself, by what he considers his fate which is really the consequences of his choices, his lazy perceptions. Keep your eyes open, Franz. Don't wear no armbands, don't be a joiner. "Keep awake, keep awake, for there is something happening in the world. The world is not made of sugar . . . Fate, Fate! It's no use revering it merely as Fate, we must look at it, grasp it, down it, and not hesitate. Keep awake, eyes front, attention, a thousand belong together, and he who won't watch out, is fit to flay and flout." Now I guess I gotta watch the 14-hour Fassbinder film . . .
February 7, 2017
Franz Biberkopf is an ordinary man, a strong working man, former mover of furniture and whisker of cement; small potatoes really. In a fit of rage he killed his girlfriend and had to serve four years for manslaughter. His release from prison marks the beginning of the story. It鈥檚 the year 1928 and the place is Berlin.
Biberkopf wants to lead a decent life from now on. He鈥檚 fed up with his previous life; honest pay for honest work; that鈥檚 the plan. And it actually worked out somehow, at least for a while. He starts selling newspapers and gets a little money, enough to rent a room and maybe expand his 鈥渂usiness鈥� at some time. One day, however, he 褨s deceived by his partner. It鈥檚 only a trifle, really, but enough to knock him down. Although he recovers from the blow, he is now on a path which is hard to leave, especially for a character like him.
It鈥檚 not easy for the reader of this novel to like the main character. That was obviously the author鈥檚 intention. Biberkopf is a worker, a member of the 鈥渓ower class鈥�, a convicted felon with temper tantrums, and a drinker. And that鈥檚 supposed to be the 鈥減rotagonist鈥� of the novel? A daring proposition on part of the author. Not surprisingly there were some harsh criticism from first-time readers of the Frankfurter Zeitung (the newspaper in which the novel was serialized first between September and October 1929). In my opinion, it still works though. I was rooting for the man. And if you look closely you鈥檒l find that he does indeed has a moral foundation. He is not a bad man as such. And he doesn鈥檛 want to be, at no time. He simply can not win the fight against his adversaries of which there are quite a few. This includes people, real bad people, who are not necessarily wiser than he, but more cunning and unscrupulous.
This also includes the city of Berlin. Biberkopf is shoved around by this 鈥渕onster鈥� and it often feels like he鈥檚 treated by it as an object. The city becomes the whore of Babylon and the eponymous Alexanderplatz (called Alex) represents the center of said whore (let鈥檚 call it the navel to evade another word), and the sound from the battering ram at the construction site there gives the beat for large parts of the book. In the conglomerate of people, streets, bars, beer, and bedlam our anti-hero never finds the time to sit back and think, to reflect. And even if he had the time he would lack the ability to do that. It鈥檚 actually a case that could be called tragic.
Early on in the novel there鈥檚 a description of the Berlin slaughterhouses, one of the strongest scenes in the whole book. Echoes of this intense scene ring out throughout the rest of the text. That鈥檚 also how Biberkopf can be seen. A dump calf that is led on a rope to the bench and left there for a while. Instead of getting the hell out of there this stupid animal is just waiting for things to come. Biberkopf doesn鈥檛 act, he is acted upon.
The style of this novel is probably not for everyone鈥檚 taste. It鈥檚 quite diverse. There is normal narration, interspersed with stream of consciousness. There鈥檚 children鈥檚 songs, fractions from poems, cantastorias, (re-written) stories from the bible, pieces from the local news, scientific facts (true ones, not alternative), weather reports, and many more. Sometimes sentences start one way and then abruptly turn into something entirely different, or just peter out. This all makes it hard sometimes to follow the actual story, but it鈥檚 a lot of fun too. Read, and then re-read those parts; I think that鈥檚 the best and only way to approach these 鈥渙bstacles鈥�. The point of view often switches back and forth between first and third person, sometime within the same sentence. And it鈥檚 not often clear who is talking to us; the narrator, or Biberkopf, or someone else. Dialog tags are mostly missing. The characters talk to each other in the Berlin accent that I learned to like quite a bit after I spent some months in Berlin. The accent seems to become thicker and thicker as the novel progresses and sometimes it overflows the dialog and floods the narrative too. I have no idea if and how this vital and lively detail has survived translation.
I鈥檓 glad I finally got around to reading this famous book. And I will surely read it again some time. This novel deserves a second run-trough.
This work is licensed under a .
January 16, 2025
Honestly, truly (and also not at all meant to be a criticism in any manner), Afred D枚blin's 1929 urban novel Berlin Alexanderplatz is totally, is absolutely (but also by thematic necessity) often so intensely and brutally horrifying that generally and from page one on, Berlin Alexanderplatz as a story tends to read and to both externally and internally feel almost like a very much deliberate and also specifically by the author calculated massive textual assault on anything even remotely pleasurable.
For indeed and in my humble opinion, an all encompassing sense of claustrophobia, urban horror and impending doom dominates and envelopes Berlin Alexanderplatz, painfully depressing and often massively replete with violence of action and of thought for sure, but also rather textually exquisitely rendered by the presented text, with Alfred D枚blin in Berlin Alexanderplatz most definitely, most certainly showing and demonstrating how unrelenting violence, pimping, prostitution, maiming and murder all await main protagonist Franz Biberkopf upon his release from prison in late Weimar Republic Berlin (and that this totally manages to destroy any hope of redemption, of Biberkopf being actually able and capable of turning his life around and to tread new and positive paths, including for example a long and visceral sequence in a slaughterhouse depicting with meticulous and pitiless detail the process by which the cows and pigs are killed and butchered, and with this of course in Berlin Alexanderplatz for me and to me mirroring both late 1920s Berlin, the growing threat posed by National Socialism and Franz Biberkopf himself and his inability to cope after being released from incarceration).
And well, if you have ever kind of wondered whether musicals such as Cabaret and popular detective novels set in 1920s Berlin are seeing and depicting the city and its culture with hugely problematic rose-coloured eyeglasses then you should definitely be able appreciate how Alfred D枚blin鈥檚 Berlin Alxanderplatz totally shows what Berlin (and Weimar Republic Germany in general) were actually and truly like, basically a society totally at odds and in massive free-fall and more than ripe for Adolf Hitler et al to take over and create even more chaos and terror.
Now for me (both when I read Berlin Alexanderplatz in 1996 for my comprehensive exams and now in 2022) text-wise Alfred D枚blin鈥檚 prose is both stylistically and thematically brilliant, as the unstoppable forward momentum of Berlin Alexanderplatz makes Franz Biberkopf's story both riveting and also demonstrates how Biberkopf absolutely and utterly cannot handle the urban momentum of Berlin (and equally the massive crowds of people inhabiting the city) after having been isolated in prison, not at all being able to tolerate changes and also often reacting violently and angrily when overwhelmed and being pushed too far.
But indeed, although Franz Biberkopf's criminality is something I cannot all that easily related to, him in Berlin Alexanderplatz becoming consistently overwhelmed and repeatedly lashing out is understandable for me and also definitely makes Franz Biberkopf rather a kindred spirit, as I also do tend to sometimes react in a similar manner regarding abrupt changes and that I always tend to feel lost in and massively overwhelmed by large cities with huge crowds of people. And with regard to Berlin Alexanderplatz being a novel from and about Weimar Germany, while Franz Biberkopf is of course rather an opportunist primarily concerned with making ends meet and looking out for himself, his self-centered outlook as well as his inability and his reluctance to embrace and understand changes etc., this also masks a deep rooted and also rather problematically dangerous naivet茅 and shows that Alfred D枚blin himself had a pretty good historical and cultural radar and is certainly with Berlin Alexanderplatz rather horribly but truthfully predicting the inglorious fall of the Weimar Republic and the rise of Nazi Germany, with basically every man/woman for himself/herself and that Franz Biberkopf should certainly in many ways be seem as a collective symbol and picture of Germany, of the German people and also of course of Berlin (and with Berlin Alexanderplatz also thus showing a novel where not only Biberkopf is the main protagonist but also the metropolis of Berlin as well).
Five stars for Berlin Alexanderplatz, and while Alfred D枚blin's story of Franz Biberkopf is definitely not pleasure reading or comfort reading, in my opinion, Berlin Alexanderplatz is indeed one of the best German language novels of the 20th century, is a great urban novel and also a chilling and forbidding account of 1920s Berlin and Germany in general falling apart and paving the way for the National Socialists, for Adolf Hitler gaining power.
ABOUT THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE TRANSLATIONS
Now with regard to English language translations of Berlin Alexanderplatz, the novel was first translated into English in 1931 by Eugene Jolas (who was a close personal friend of James Joyce), and indeed, with a brief but sufficiently telling overview of said rendition showing me pretty clearly why Jolas' translation of Alfred D枚blin's story, of his words was not all that well received. For yes, how the everyday working-class Berlin speech (which is such a huge and essential part of Berlin Alexanderplatz) is shown by Eugene Jolas is basically rather textually ridiculous, as it actually kind of turns Jolas' translation inadvertently parodistic at times to read how Berlin workers like dustmen and the like are shown as speaking polished and meticulously correct standard English. And most definitely, the 2018 English translation of Berlin Alexanderplatz by Michael Hofmann is certainly much much better and more authentic feeling than Eugene Jolas' 1931 attempt, since Hoffman 2018 translation of Berlin Alexanderplatz in my opinion gives a true and authentic feeling for and of Alfred D枚blin, Franz Biberkopf, Berlin and also turns the Berlin working class parlance of D枚blin's original German text into an interesting and appropriate Cockney dialect. However and the above having been said, that during my quick skimming through of the 2018 translation I have frustratingly located numerous annoying typos, well, this in my humble opinion is nothing but sloppy work, bad editing and also sadly leaves me a bit insulted on behalf of both myself and also Alfred D枚blin and his legacy (and yes, even though the 2018 English language translation of Berlin Alexanderplatz is definitely vastly superior to the one from 1931, this certainly does not change my frustration and annoyance with the typos and the sloppiness of Michael Hoffman's translation).
For indeed and in my humble opinion, an all encompassing sense of claustrophobia, urban horror and impending doom dominates and envelopes Berlin Alexanderplatz, painfully depressing and often massively replete with violence of action and of thought for sure, but also rather textually exquisitely rendered by the presented text, with Alfred D枚blin in Berlin Alexanderplatz most definitely, most certainly showing and demonstrating how unrelenting violence, pimping, prostitution, maiming and murder all await main protagonist Franz Biberkopf upon his release from prison in late Weimar Republic Berlin (and that this totally manages to destroy any hope of redemption, of Biberkopf being actually able and capable of turning his life around and to tread new and positive paths, including for example a long and visceral sequence in a slaughterhouse depicting with meticulous and pitiless detail the process by which the cows and pigs are killed and butchered, and with this of course in Berlin Alexanderplatz for me and to me mirroring both late 1920s Berlin, the growing threat posed by National Socialism and Franz Biberkopf himself and his inability to cope after being released from incarceration).
And well, if you have ever kind of wondered whether musicals such as Cabaret and popular detective novels set in 1920s Berlin are seeing and depicting the city and its culture with hugely problematic rose-coloured eyeglasses then you should definitely be able appreciate how Alfred D枚blin鈥檚 Berlin Alxanderplatz totally shows what Berlin (and Weimar Republic Germany in general) were actually and truly like, basically a society totally at odds and in massive free-fall and more than ripe for Adolf Hitler et al to take over and create even more chaos and terror.
Now for me (both when I read Berlin Alexanderplatz in 1996 for my comprehensive exams and now in 2022) text-wise Alfred D枚blin鈥檚 prose is both stylistically and thematically brilliant, as the unstoppable forward momentum of Berlin Alexanderplatz makes Franz Biberkopf's story both riveting and also demonstrates how Biberkopf absolutely and utterly cannot handle the urban momentum of Berlin (and equally the massive crowds of people inhabiting the city) after having been isolated in prison, not at all being able to tolerate changes and also often reacting violently and angrily when overwhelmed and being pushed too far.
But indeed, although Franz Biberkopf's criminality is something I cannot all that easily related to, him in Berlin Alexanderplatz becoming consistently overwhelmed and repeatedly lashing out is understandable for me and also definitely makes Franz Biberkopf rather a kindred spirit, as I also do tend to sometimes react in a similar manner regarding abrupt changes and that I always tend to feel lost in and massively overwhelmed by large cities with huge crowds of people. And with regard to Berlin Alexanderplatz being a novel from and about Weimar Germany, while Franz Biberkopf is of course rather an opportunist primarily concerned with making ends meet and looking out for himself, his self-centered outlook as well as his inability and his reluctance to embrace and understand changes etc., this also masks a deep rooted and also rather problematically dangerous naivet茅 and shows that Alfred D枚blin himself had a pretty good historical and cultural radar and is certainly with Berlin Alexanderplatz rather horribly but truthfully predicting the inglorious fall of the Weimar Republic and the rise of Nazi Germany, with basically every man/woman for himself/herself and that Franz Biberkopf should certainly in many ways be seem as a collective symbol and picture of Germany, of the German people and also of course of Berlin (and with Berlin Alexanderplatz also thus showing a novel where not only Biberkopf is the main protagonist but also the metropolis of Berlin as well).
Five stars for Berlin Alexanderplatz, and while Alfred D枚blin's story of Franz Biberkopf is definitely not pleasure reading or comfort reading, in my opinion, Berlin Alexanderplatz is indeed one of the best German language novels of the 20th century, is a great urban novel and also a chilling and forbidding account of 1920s Berlin and Germany in general falling apart and paving the way for the National Socialists, for Adolf Hitler gaining power.
ABOUT THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE TRANSLATIONS
Now with regard to English language translations of Berlin Alexanderplatz, the novel was first translated into English in 1931 by Eugene Jolas (who was a close personal friend of James Joyce), and indeed, with a brief but sufficiently telling overview of said rendition showing me pretty clearly why Jolas' translation of Alfred D枚blin's story, of his words was not all that well received. For yes, how the everyday working-class Berlin speech (which is such a huge and essential part of Berlin Alexanderplatz) is shown by Eugene Jolas is basically rather textually ridiculous, as it actually kind of turns Jolas' translation inadvertently parodistic at times to read how Berlin workers like dustmen and the like are shown as speaking polished and meticulously correct standard English. And most definitely, the 2018 English translation of Berlin Alexanderplatz by Michael Hofmann is certainly much much better and more authentic feeling than Eugene Jolas' 1931 attempt, since Hoffman 2018 translation of Berlin Alexanderplatz in my opinion gives a true and authentic feeling for and of Alfred D枚blin, Franz Biberkopf, Berlin and also turns the Berlin working class parlance of D枚blin's original German text into an interesting and appropriate Cockney dialect. However and the above having been said, that during my quick skimming through of the 2018 translation I have frustratingly located numerous annoying typos, well, this in my humble opinion is nothing but sloppy work, bad editing and also sadly leaves me a bit insulted on behalf of both myself and also Alfred D枚blin and his legacy (and yes, even though the 2018 English language translation of Berlin Alexanderplatz is definitely vastly superior to the one from 1931, this certainly does not change my frustration and annoyance with the typos and the sloppiness of Michael Hoffman's translation).
January 18, 2018
1997 was a rushing tide of hefty novels sweeping under to revel in their wake: most of Pynchon and the Grass Danzig troika are dated here. Doblin's feat is an episodic steamroller, the estranged reader is as tethered as anyone by the mechanized operations of the strange, new Berlin. (Brave New Bono, Beware)
I returned to the novel a few years ago after viewing the Fassbinder film. Doblin's novel remains a formidable feat. A few of my friends have recently made mediocre efforts. Looking aghast, I shook my head with the resignation of Arsene Wenger: even while Nietzsche was taking swings at folks at the asylum, he still valued a mazurka.
I returned to the novel a few years ago after viewing the Fassbinder film. Doblin's novel remains a formidable feat. A few of my friends have recently made mediocre efforts. Looking aghast, I shook my head with the resignation of Arsene Wenger: even while Nietzsche was taking swings at folks at the asylum, he still valued a mazurka.
January 7, 2023
German authors buddy read in the GR Never Too Late to Read Classics Group scheduled for June 2023.
Manybooks and I read this together at the start of January 2023. We have discussed it in the comments below this review!
There are two central characters in this tale. One is Franz Biberkopf. The second is the city Berlin during the Depression of the 1920s. The story plays out in 1927 and 1928. At the start, Franz has been released from prison after serving a four-year sentence for manslaughter. Now, after his release, he is determined to make something of himself, to improve his life. Times are very hard鈥︹€�. Given rampant unemployment, inadequate healthcare, deplorable housing accommodations, Franz is swallowed up by the underworld. No matter how hard he tries, he is punched down again and again. He is no superhuman and no angel, but is it fair to demand this of him? Will he, can he improve his lot?
What is drawn is grim, difficult reading. Despite Franz鈥檚 faults and weaknesses, I felt compassion for him. He has a violent temper, drinks in excess, is loose with women and becomes involved in criminal activities. The author shows readers the inevitability of his downfall. The conditions existing in the Weimar Republic and Berlin are scarcely conductive for either personal or national progress. Due to such circumstance one can feel pity and compassion for Franz. It is amazing the author manages to make us feel sorry for this schmuck, but D枚blin does. How? Through the prose. Through the details woven into the story.
Readers are served a conglomeration of timetables, weather reports, newspaper articles, foods served and swallowed, a clear depiction of the housing, the clothing, the dreary, depressing routines of everyday lives. Peppered throughout are recurring rhymes, songs and poems. The sordidness of life is interwoven with ironic, sarcastic humor.
The question is this. Will Franz be able to make something of himself?
The book shows very clearly how and why Nazism was able to make inroads into society.
The book draws movingly the difficulties many had to deal with. You will not soon forget the scenes playing out in an abattoir and then later in an insane asylum.
The book shows that no man stands alone. We are influenced by both the people around us and the times in which we live.
If you can read the book in the original German, do that. The English translations are highly criticized. The German to Swedish translation by Ulrika Wallenst枚m is in my view excellent. The many rhymes, songs and poems increase the tempo rather than slowing it down. Like a train they chug along. They convey a sense of time and events passing by.
Tore Bengtsson gives an excellent narration of the Swedish language audiobook. He speaks rather quickly, but it is never hard to follow. The more of his narrations I listen to, the more I appreciate his talent. Five stars for the audio narration. He wonderfully intones the potpourri of miscellaneous details as well as the dialogues, songs and poems.
A five star rating from me means the book is amazing. It is amazing that the author manages to make a no-good scoundrel, a ruffian into a person you have sympathy for. This is achieved through a detailed and accurate picture of a time and place. The book shows how one person鈥檚 life is molded by the people around him. Or, in other words, no man is an island.
***
* 5 stars
* TBR
Manybooks and I read this together at the start of January 2023. We have discussed it in the comments below this review!
There are two central characters in this tale. One is Franz Biberkopf. The second is the city Berlin during the Depression of the 1920s. The story plays out in 1927 and 1928. At the start, Franz has been released from prison after serving a four-year sentence for manslaughter. Now, after his release, he is determined to make something of himself, to improve his life. Times are very hard鈥︹€�. Given rampant unemployment, inadequate healthcare, deplorable housing accommodations, Franz is swallowed up by the underworld. No matter how hard he tries, he is punched down again and again. He is no superhuman and no angel, but is it fair to demand this of him? Will he, can he improve his lot?
What is drawn is grim, difficult reading. Despite Franz鈥檚 faults and weaknesses, I felt compassion for him. He has a violent temper, drinks in excess, is loose with women and becomes involved in criminal activities. The author shows readers the inevitability of his downfall. The conditions existing in the Weimar Republic and Berlin are scarcely conductive for either personal or national progress. Due to such circumstance one can feel pity and compassion for Franz. It is amazing the author manages to make us feel sorry for this schmuck, but D枚blin does. How? Through the prose. Through the details woven into the story.
Readers are served a conglomeration of timetables, weather reports, newspaper articles, foods served and swallowed, a clear depiction of the housing, the clothing, the dreary, depressing routines of everyday lives. Peppered throughout are recurring rhymes, songs and poems. The sordidness of life is interwoven with ironic, sarcastic humor.
The question is this. Will Franz be able to make something of himself?
The book shows very clearly how and why Nazism was able to make inroads into society.
The book draws movingly the difficulties many had to deal with. You will not soon forget the scenes playing out in an abattoir and then later in an insane asylum.
The book shows that no man stands alone. We are influenced by both the people around us and the times in which we live.
If you can read the book in the original German, do that. The English translations are highly criticized. The German to Swedish translation by Ulrika Wallenst枚m is in my view excellent. The many rhymes, songs and poems increase the tempo rather than slowing it down. Like a train they chug along. They convey a sense of time and events passing by.
Tore Bengtsson gives an excellent narration of the Swedish language audiobook. He speaks rather quickly, but it is never hard to follow. The more of his narrations I listen to, the more I appreciate his talent. Five stars for the audio narration. He wonderfully intones the potpourri of miscellaneous details as well as the dialogues, songs and poems.
A five star rating from me means the book is amazing. It is amazing that the author manages to make a no-good scoundrel, a ruffian into a person you have sympathy for. This is achieved through a detailed and accurate picture of a time and place. The book shows how one person鈥檚 life is molded by the people around him. Or, in other words, no man is an island.
***
* 5 stars
* TBR
Read
March 25, 2018review three today. keeping it short.
odd that some of us come to d枚blin via schmidt. you get the impression that d枚blin > joyce for schmidt. you sort of see why. d枚blin weren't no one=hit wonder but by the way he seems to have been treated, you'd never know. ba gets itself 5077 gr=readers and the next famous one, die ermorderung usw, 125. and what i thought was his famous one (even gifted it, unknowing, to my mother once), a people betrayed, gets 40 gr=readers (i'm among the guilty). and the trilogy that one is a part of is not even entirely english'd! no, d枚blin is a master. i'm tempted (only tempted yet) to have him displace the other gods of german modernism. he's definitely without question among them. good for me though he seems a little more on the shandy side than the james=proust side. but if you must know, a highlight of my reading year. it's like it was with the aeneid when i read it a few years ago. some book you've heard praised to the highest of high heavens sits on your shelf and mocks you with its intimidation and reputation and possible difficulty and you just sort of feed on this like getting pumped in the lockerroom or something and expectations get higher and higher until there's no possible fookin way they'll ever be met by a mere work of art made my mere human hands and then you pick up the aeneid or berlin alexanderplatz finally and you get sent immediately to the highest of high heavens of readerly bliss in fact a level of highest high heaven you hadn't even estimated upon existing. and all that time you were reading the mediocre. and the greatest is right there under you finger tips as you skip them across the spines of your laden shelves. so read your homer and virgil and your joyce and your d枚blin.
odd that some of us come to d枚blin via schmidt. you get the impression that d枚blin > joyce for schmidt. you sort of see why. d枚blin weren't no one=hit wonder but by the way he seems to have been treated, you'd never know. ba gets itself 5077 gr=readers and the next famous one, die ermorderung usw, 125. and what i thought was his famous one (even gifted it, unknowing, to my mother once), a people betrayed, gets 40 gr=readers (i'm among the guilty). and the trilogy that one is a part of is not even entirely english'd! no, d枚blin is a master. i'm tempted (only tempted yet) to have him displace the other gods of german modernism. he's definitely without question among them. good for me though he seems a little more on the shandy side than the james=proust side. but if you must know, a highlight of my reading year. it's like it was with the aeneid when i read it a few years ago. some book you've heard praised to the highest of high heavens sits on your shelf and mocks you with its intimidation and reputation and possible difficulty and you just sort of feed on this like getting pumped in the lockerroom or something and expectations get higher and higher until there's no possible fookin way they'll ever be met by a mere work of art made my mere human hands and then you pick up the aeneid or berlin alexanderplatz finally and you get sent immediately to the highest of high heavens of readerly bliss in fact a level of highest high heaven you hadn't even estimated upon existing. and all that time you were reading the mediocre. and the greatest is right there under you finger tips as you skip them across the spines of your laden shelves. so read your homer and virgil and your joyce and your d枚blin.
February 22, 2021
A superb novel of the city, in which the clangour and grinding tumult of modernity are mocked as trivialities over which dooming history and imminent catastrophe will prevail, a place where things are so desperately hopeless that even the weather is marshalled against the grotesque futility of human life, where madness, self-harm, depravity and obscene levels of duplicity are amongst countless other routine afflictions, and where our antihero Franz Biberkopf continually invites accelerated self-immolation, perhaps literature's ultimate masochist. Forget any ideas about this being 'difficult', other than regarding its nastiness and confrontational level-headedness. It eventually becomes a supreme and extremely readable study in mendacity, pointlessness, the fleeting nature of love, how violence and narcissism are necessary bedfellows and how cities harvest derangement, amongst about a thousand other things.
PS shout-out to David Brunelle whose concurrent readalong observations hugely aided my appreciation of the book and its themes.
'Some women and girls are walking across Alexanderstrasse and the square, each carrying a fetus in her belly, protected by law. It is hot, and the women and girls are sweating outside, but the fetus within sits quietly in his corner, the temperature is just right for him as he walks across the Alexanderplatz, but many a fetus will fare badly later on: he鈥檇 better not laugh too soon.
Others are running about trying to hook whatever they can; some have their bowels full and others are wondering how to get them filled. Hahn鈥檚 department store is entirely wrecked, all the other houses are full of shops, but they only look like shops, as a matter of fact, there are nothing but calls, just decoy calls, twittering bird-notes, crickle-crackle, a chirping without words.
So I returned and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun; and behold the tears of such as were oppressed and they had no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power; but they had no comforter. Wherefore I praised the dead which are already dead.
The dead I praised. To everything a season; a time to rend, and a time to sew, a time to keep, and a time to cast away. I praised the dead who lie sleeping beneath the trees.'
PS shout-out to David Brunelle whose concurrent readalong observations hugely aided my appreciation of the book and its themes.
'Some women and girls are walking across Alexanderstrasse and the square, each carrying a fetus in her belly, protected by law. It is hot, and the women and girls are sweating outside, but the fetus within sits quietly in his corner, the temperature is just right for him as he walks across the Alexanderplatz, but many a fetus will fare badly later on: he鈥檇 better not laugh too soon.
Others are running about trying to hook whatever they can; some have their bowels full and others are wondering how to get them filled. Hahn鈥檚 department store is entirely wrecked, all the other houses are full of shops, but they only look like shops, as a matter of fact, there are nothing but calls, just decoy calls, twittering bird-notes, crickle-crackle, a chirping without words.
So I returned and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun; and behold the tears of such as were oppressed and they had no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power; but they had no comforter. Wherefore I praised the dead which are already dead.
The dead I praised. To everything a season; a time to rend, and a time to sew, a time to keep, and a time to cast away. I praised the dead who lie sleeping beneath the trees.'
January 22, 2019
Bildungrsroman- a novel dealing with one person's formative years or spiritual education.
That about sums this novel up perfectly. For the majority of the novel, the characters of BA, and particularly our deeply flawed Franz, believe there are forces outside of their will that are controlling their destinies. Call it fate. But by the novel's conclusion, our friends have learned that an individual makes his own luck. A tragic story with a lot of unlikeable characters, but a tragedy was needed for Franz's awakening.
As to Doblin's writing style, yes it's a little unique. Dialogue is not clearly assigned and point of view changes abruptly, but what's wrong with making the reader do a little deducing? I loved this style. Doblin was a little ahead of his time: he wrote like a postmodernist 40-50 years before postmodernism really became a thing. BA requires a little patience from the reader, but I wouldn't say its challenging to the point where its reputation should scare readers away.
Doblin also likes to interject with little vignettes that have little or no connection to Franz's story. This approach brings Berlin to life and provides the novel with a sense of hectic energy. Mythological and religious ties are particularly prevalent. Can't say I always understood why our author decided to include them where he did, but they were fun nonetheless. As the translator says in his afterward; Doblin didn't want to give us just the slice of life containing the story of Franz and his associates, he wanted to give us the whole pie. And what a damn good pie it is.
That about sums this novel up perfectly. For the majority of the novel, the characters of BA, and particularly our deeply flawed Franz, believe there are forces outside of their will that are controlling their destinies. Call it fate. But by the novel's conclusion, our friends have learned that an individual makes his own luck. A tragic story with a lot of unlikeable characters, but a tragedy was needed for Franz's awakening.
As to Doblin's writing style, yes it's a little unique. Dialogue is not clearly assigned and point of view changes abruptly, but what's wrong with making the reader do a little deducing? I loved this style. Doblin was a little ahead of his time: he wrote like a postmodernist 40-50 years before postmodernism really became a thing. BA requires a little patience from the reader, but I wouldn't say its challenging to the point where its reputation should scare readers away.
Doblin also likes to interject with little vignettes that have little or no connection to Franz's story. This approach brings Berlin to life and provides the novel with a sense of hectic energy. Mythological and religious ties are particularly prevalent. Can't say I always understood why our author decided to include them where he did, but they were fun nonetheless. As the translator says in his afterward; Doblin didn't want to give us just the slice of life containing the story of Franz and his associates, he wanted to give us the whole pie. And what a damn good pie it is.
January 21, 2019
Essential reading. Up there with Mann, Grass, Sebald, Wolf, etc
February 24, 2016
螒谓伪魏伪位蠉蟺蟿蠅 蟽喂纬维, 蟽喂纬维 蟿慰 渭蔚纬伪位蔚委慰 蟿畏蟼 纬蔚蟻渭伪谓喂魏萎蟼 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪蟼. 韦慰 芦螣渭伪未喂魏蠈 蟺慰蟻蟿蟻苇蟿慰 渭蔚 渭委伪 魏蠀蟻委伪禄 蟿慰蠀 B枚ll 蟺慰蠀 蟺蟻蠈蟽蠁伪蟿伪 未喂维尾伪蟽伪 渭蔚 未蠀蟽魏蠈位蔚蠄蔚, 蟿慰 蟽蠀纬魏蔚魏蟻喂渭苇谓慰 渭蔚 未蠀蟽魏蠈位蔚蠄蔚 伪魏蠈渭伪 蟺蔚蟻喂蟽蟽蠈蟿蔚蟻慰, 蟿慰蠀位维蠂喂蟽蟿慰谓 蟽蟿慰 蟺蟻蠋蟿慰 蟿苇蟿伪蟻蟿慰, 渭苇蠂蟻喂 蟺慰蠀 魏伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻伪 谓伪 渭蟺蠅 蟽蟿慰 魏位委渭伪. 螘魏 蟺蟻蠋蟿畏蟼 蠈蠄蔚蠅蟼 未蔚谓 蠁伪委谓蔚蟿伪喂 蟺慰蠀胃蔚谓维 伪蠀蟿蠈 蟿慰 渭蔚纬伪位蔚委慰, 蟺伪蟻维 渭蠈谓慰 渭蔚 蠀蟺慰渭慰谓萎 魏伪喂 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏萎 伪谓蟿委位畏蠄畏 蟿畏蟼 苇谓谓慰喂伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻萎渭伪蟿慰蟼. 螚 纬蔚蟻渭伪谓喂魏萎 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪 未蔚 胃蠀渭委味蔚喂 慰蠉蟿蔚 纬伪位位喂魏萎, 慰蠉蟿蔚 蟻蠋蟽喂魏畏, 慰蠉蟿蔚 伪纬纬位喂魏萎.
螤蔚蟻委慰未慰蟼 渭蔚蟽慰蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀, 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰 1928. 螕喂伪 魏维蟺慰喂慰谓 蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 苇蠂蔚喂 蔚蟺喂蟽魏蔚蠁蟿蔚委 , 伪蟺慰位伪渭尾维谓蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 蟺蔚蟻喂纬蟻伪蠁苇蟼 魏伪胃蠋蟼 渭蔚蟿伪蠁苇蟻蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蟿慰蠀蟼 未蟻蠈渭慰蠀蟼 蟿畏蟼 蠀蟺苇蟻慰蠂畏蟼 伪蠀蟿萎蟼 蟺蠈位畏蟼. 螌蟺蠅蟼 魏伪喂 维位位伪 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻萎渭伪蟿伪 螕蔚蟻渭伪谓蠋谓, 蟺蟻喂谓 魏伪喂 渭蔚蟿维 蟿慰谓 螔鈥� 螤伪纬魏蠈蟽渭喂慰 螤蠈位蔚渭慰, 蔚委谓伪喂 苇谓蟿慰谓慰 蟿慰 蟺慰位喂蟿喂魏蠈 蟽蟿委纬渭伪. 危蔚 伪蠀蟿萎 蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻委蟺蟿蠅蟽畏 蔚委谓伪喂, 纬喂伪 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏蠈 位蠈纬慰. 韦畏谓 未蔚魏伪蔚蟿委伪 蟿慰蠀 鈥�20 畏 螕蔚蟻渭伪谓委伪 味蔚喂 蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻委慰未慰 蟿畏蟼 芦伪谓维蟺畏蟻畏蟼禄 未畏渭慰魏蟻伪蟿委伪蟼 蟿畏蟼 螔伪蠆渭维蟻畏蟼, 蟿畏蟼 蟻蔚蠀蟽蟿萎蟼 未畏渭慰魏蟻伪蟿委伪蟼. 螚 蔚渭蟺蔚喂蟻委伪 蟿慰蠀 魏慰喂谓慰尾慰蠀位蔚蠀蟿喂蟽渭慰蠉 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺慰位蠉 蠁蟻苇蟽魏喂伪 魏伪喂 蠈蟽慰 畏 蠂蠋蟻伪 慰未蔚蠉蔚喂 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿畏谓 蟺伪纬魏蠈蟽渭喂伪 慰喂魏慰谓慰渭喂魏萎 魏蟻委蟽畏 蟿慰蠀 1929 魏伪喂 蠁蠀蟽喂魏维 未蠀蟽魏慰位蔚蠉蔚蟿伪喂 谓伪 伪蟺慰蟺位畏蟻蠋蟽蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 伪蟺慰味畏渭喂蠋蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀 螒鈥� 螤伪纬魏慰蟽渭委慰蠀 螤慰位苇渭慰蠀, 畏 魏伪蟿维蟽蟿伪蟽畏 蔚委谓伪喂 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 维蟽蠂畏渭畏, 苇蟿慰喂渭畏 谓伪 蟺伪蟻蔚魏蟿蟻伪蟺蔚委.
螣 萎蟻蠅伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 尾喂尾位委慰蠀, 苇谓伪蟼 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 蟺慰蠀 渭蠈位喂蟼 伪蟺慰蠁蠀位伪魏委味蔚蟿伪喂 蟺蟻慰蟽蟺伪胃蔚委 谓伪 蟽蟿伪胃蔚委 蟽蟿伪 蟺蠈未喂伪 蟿慰蠀. 韦伪 魏伪蟿伪蠁苇蟻谓蔚喂 纬喂伪 位委纬慰 未喂维蟽蟿畏渭伪, 蠂维谓蔚喂 蠈渭蠅蟼 蟿慰谓 苇位蔚纬蠂慰 魏伪喂 蠈位伪 伪位位维味慰蠀谓. 螚 蠁蟿蠋蠂蔚喂伪 魏伪喂 畏 伪谓蔚蟻纬委伪, 蟿慰谓 慰未畏纬慰蠉谓 蟽蟿畏谓 蟺伪蟻伪谓慰渭委伪. 韦慰 未委未伪纬渭伪 蔚委谓伪喂 蟿慰 蔚尉萎蟼: 蠈蟿伪谓 慰 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 未苇蠂蔚蟿伪喂 蟿伪 蠂蟿蠀蟺萎渭伪蟿伪 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼, 蠈蟽慰 未蠀谓伪蟿蠈蟼 魏喂 伪谓 蔚委谓伪喂, 魏维蟺慰喂伪 蟽蟿喂纬渭萎 魏伪蟿伪蟻蟻苇蔚喂 . 螠伪味委 渭鈥� 伪蠀蟿蠈谓 魏伪蟿伪蟻蟻苇蔚喂 魏伪喂 畏 喂未蔚慰位慰纬委伪 蟿慰蠀 萎 渭维位位慰谓 畏 畏胃喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀.
危蟿慰 蟿苇位慰蟼 慰 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪蟼 蟽蔚 苇谓伪 渭喂魏蟻蠈 魏蔚委渭蔚谓慰, 纬蟻维蠁蔚喂 位委纬伪 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 纬喂伪 蟿慰 苇蟻纬慰 蟿慰蠀. 螒谓伪蠁苇蟻蔚喂 蠈蟿喂 蟽蟿畏谓 蟺慰蟻蔚委伪蟼 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 纬谓蠋蟻喂蟽蔚 蟿慰谓 Joyce 魏伪喂 蠈蟿喂 蟺慰位位慰委 蟿慰谓 蟽蠀谓苇魏蟻喂谓伪谓 渭伪味委 蟿慰蠀. 螝维蟿喂 蟺慰蠀 魏蟻维蟿畏蟽伪 蔚纬蠋: 芦螣 蔚胃谓喂魏喂蟽渭蠈蟼 蔚委谓伪喂 畏 胃蟻畏蟽魏蔚委伪 蟿慰蠀 蟽蠉纬蠂蟻慰谓慰蠀 魏蟻维蟿慰蠀蟼禄.
螤蔚蟻委慰未慰蟼 渭蔚蟽慰蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀, 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰 1928. 螕喂伪 魏维蟺慰喂慰谓 蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 苇蠂蔚喂 蔚蟺喂蟽魏蔚蠁蟿蔚委 , 伪蟺慰位伪渭尾维谓蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 蟺蔚蟻喂纬蟻伪蠁苇蟼 魏伪胃蠋蟼 渭蔚蟿伪蠁苇蟻蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蟿慰蠀蟼 未蟻蠈渭慰蠀蟼 蟿畏蟼 蠀蟺苇蟻慰蠂畏蟼 伪蠀蟿萎蟼 蟺蠈位畏蟼. 螌蟺蠅蟼 魏伪喂 维位位伪 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻萎渭伪蟿伪 螕蔚蟻渭伪谓蠋谓, 蟺蟻喂谓 魏伪喂 渭蔚蟿维 蟿慰谓 螔鈥� 螤伪纬魏蠈蟽渭喂慰 螤蠈位蔚渭慰, 蔚委谓伪喂 苇谓蟿慰谓慰 蟿慰 蟺慰位喂蟿喂魏蠈 蟽蟿委纬渭伪. 危蔚 伪蠀蟿萎 蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻委蟺蟿蠅蟽畏 蔚委谓伪喂, 纬喂伪 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏蠈 位蠈纬慰. 韦畏谓 未蔚魏伪蔚蟿委伪 蟿慰蠀 鈥�20 畏 螕蔚蟻渭伪谓委伪 味蔚喂 蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻委慰未慰 蟿畏蟼 芦伪谓维蟺畏蟻畏蟼禄 未畏渭慰魏蟻伪蟿委伪蟼 蟿畏蟼 螔伪蠆渭维蟻畏蟼, 蟿畏蟼 蟻蔚蠀蟽蟿萎蟼 未畏渭慰魏蟻伪蟿委伪蟼. 螚 蔚渭蟺蔚喂蟻委伪 蟿慰蠀 魏慰喂谓慰尾慰蠀位蔚蠀蟿喂蟽渭慰蠉 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺慰位蠉 蠁蟻苇蟽魏喂伪 魏伪喂 蠈蟽慰 畏 蠂蠋蟻伪 慰未蔚蠉蔚喂 蟺蟻慰蟼 蟿畏谓 蟺伪纬魏蠈蟽渭喂伪 慰喂魏慰谓慰渭喂魏萎 魏蟻委蟽畏 蟿慰蠀 1929 魏伪喂 蠁蠀蟽喂魏维 未蠀蟽魏慰位蔚蠉蔚蟿伪喂 谓伪 伪蟺慰蟺位畏蟻蠋蟽蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 伪蟺慰味畏渭喂蠋蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀 螒鈥� 螤伪纬魏慰蟽渭委慰蠀 螤慰位苇渭慰蠀, 畏 魏伪蟿维蟽蟿伪蟽畏 蔚委谓伪喂 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 维蟽蠂畏渭畏, 苇蟿慰喂渭畏 谓伪 蟺伪蟻蔚魏蟿蟻伪蟺蔚委.
螣 萎蟻蠅伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 尾喂尾位委慰蠀, 苇谓伪蟼 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 蟺慰蠀 渭蠈位喂蟼 伪蟺慰蠁蠀位伪魏委味蔚蟿伪喂 蟺蟻慰蟽蟺伪胃蔚委 谓伪 蟽蟿伪胃蔚委 蟽蟿伪 蟺蠈未喂伪 蟿慰蠀. 韦伪 魏伪蟿伪蠁苇蟻谓蔚喂 纬喂伪 位委纬慰 未喂维蟽蟿畏渭伪, 蠂维谓蔚喂 蠈渭蠅蟼 蟿慰谓 苇位蔚纬蠂慰 魏伪喂 蠈位伪 伪位位维味慰蠀谓. 螚 蠁蟿蠋蠂蔚喂伪 魏伪喂 畏 伪谓蔚蟻纬委伪, 蟿慰谓 慰未畏纬慰蠉谓 蟽蟿畏谓 蟺伪蟻伪谓慰渭委伪. 韦慰 未委未伪纬渭伪 蔚委谓伪喂 蟿慰 蔚尉萎蟼: 蠈蟿伪谓 慰 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 未苇蠂蔚蟿伪喂 蟿伪 蠂蟿蠀蟺萎渭伪蟿伪 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼, 蠈蟽慰 未蠀谓伪蟿蠈蟼 魏喂 伪谓 蔚委谓伪喂, 魏维蟺慰喂伪 蟽蟿喂纬渭萎 魏伪蟿伪蟻蟻苇蔚喂 . 螠伪味委 渭鈥� 伪蠀蟿蠈谓 魏伪蟿伪蟻蟻苇蔚喂 魏伪喂 畏 喂未蔚慰位慰纬委伪 蟿慰蠀 萎 渭维位位慰谓 畏 畏胃喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀.
危蟿慰 蟿苇位慰蟼 慰 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪蟼 蟽蔚 苇谓伪 渭喂魏蟻蠈 魏蔚委渭蔚谓慰, 纬蟻维蠁蔚喂 位委纬伪 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 纬喂伪 蟿慰 苇蟻纬慰 蟿慰蠀. 螒谓伪蠁苇蟻蔚喂 蠈蟿喂 蟽蟿畏谓 蟺慰蟻蔚委伪蟼 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 纬谓蠋蟻喂蟽蔚 蟿慰谓 Joyce 魏伪喂 蠈蟿喂 蟺慰位位慰委 蟿慰谓 蟽蠀谓苇魏蟻喂谓伪谓 渭伪味委 蟿慰蠀. 螝维蟿喂 蟺慰蠀 魏蟻维蟿畏蟽伪 蔚纬蠋: 芦螣 蔚胃谓喂魏喂蟽渭蠈蟼 蔚委谓伪喂 畏 胃蟻畏蟽魏蔚委伪 蟿慰蠀 蟽蠉纬蠂蟻慰谓慰蠀 魏蟻维蟿慰蠀蟼禄.
March 27, 2024
La pregunta que nos plantea Doblin y que flota en toda la narraci贸n es la siguiente: 驴El destino es inamovible? 驴Da igual como actuemos? 驴Nuestro futuro est谩 marcado? Hace tiempo le铆 por ah铆 que aunque as铆 fuera, aunque ese determinismo fuera as铆 de crudo, nosotros debemos actuar como si no estuvi茅ramos condicionados y pudi茅ramos dirigir cada cual su destino, sobre todo para no abrumarnos.
听
鈥淗ay que estar despierto, hay que estar alerta, no est谩 uno solo. En el aire puede granizar y llover, con eso no se puede hacer nada, pero contra muchas otras cosas si se puede hacer. Ya no gritar茅 como antes: el Destino, El Destino. No hay que venerarlo como si fuera el Destino, hay que mirarlo a la cara, agarrarlo y destrozarlo鈥�
听
Tremenda la radiograf铆a que hace de la Alemania de entreguerras, la desolaci贸n de la sociedad tras la derrota en la I G.M y la enorme crisis que arrastran. Se percibe de primera mano aquello que ya hab铆amos estudiado en la asignatura de Historia, aquel cierre en falso de la I GM tras la firma del Tratado de Versalles. Ya estaba en ciernes la II G.M. De ese peaje y humillaci贸n hacia los vencidos, as铆 lo consider贸 Alemania, naci贸 un furibundo nacionalismo. El resto es historia. Movimientos extremos, anarquismo, comunismo鈥� y como no, el nacimiento del nacionalsocialismo, ese movimiento nazi radical imparable. Ese es el caldo de cultivo del a帽o 1927 y 1928, cuando se escribi贸 este libro.
听
Se cuenta muy bien el agotamiento existencial del protagonista Franz Biberkofp, un tipo que a mi no me resulta especialmente querido, y que no ve forma de salir de una vida condicionada hacia el precipicio desde el momento de nacer: una guerra en la juventud, un paso por presidio y un abatimiento ante el futuro incierto. Que bien narra esa angustia Doblin.
听
El retrato que hace Doblin m谩s que de ese protagonista un tanto siniestro, es de la Berl铆n de los听 bajos fondos, los barrios orientales. Lenguaje callejero, canciones nacionalistas o anarquistas, consignas y proclamas. Las clases marginales y del hampa, los vecinos del bloque, el panadero, el abogado, la supervisora de la tienda鈥us preocupaciones, sus miserias, inquietudes, la precariedad del momento. Por momento recuerdas grandes obras cl谩sicas que tienen ese formato: La colmena de Cela, La vida instrucciones de uso de Perec. Y narraciones en que la ciudad es la protagonista. En una de los anexos finales se habla de Manhathan Transfer, de acuerdo.
听
Doblin es valiente, escribe con la alegr铆a y la confianza de los grandes: esa capacidad de narrar por momentos cosas absurdas, a veces sin sentido, a veces surrealistas. Eso solo se lo conozco a los grandes novelistas. Lo comparan con el Ulises de Joyce: a mi no me lo pareci贸, salvo por la valent铆a de ambos autores, la innovaci贸n y el protagonismo que cobra la ciudad, aqu铆 Berl铆n, all铆 Dubl铆n.
听
A veces me ocurre que est谩s con un libro que te parece bueno y de repente lees un p谩rrafo y de buenas a primeras se convierte en una obra de arte. Este fue el momento en que cambi贸 mi opini贸n de Berl铆n Alexanderplatz, p谩gina 359:
听
鈥淓va sostiene la cabeza de Franzen en sus brazos. Contempla desde arriba la cabeza: la cl铆nica de Magdeburg, le aplastaron el brazo, mat贸 a la Ida, Dios que pasa con este hombre. Siempre tiene mala suerte. La Mieze estar谩 muerta. 隆Hay algo que lo persigue! A la Mieze le ha pasado algo. Eva se derrumba en una silla. Levanta las manos horrorizada. Franz se asusta. Ella no hace mas que sollozar. Est谩 segura, hay algo que lo persigue, a la Mieze le ha pasado algo鈥�
听
Sin el contexto pudiera tener poco sentido, pero dentro del contexto, este p谩rrafo me llen贸 completamente, me dije 鈥渆sto es realmente bueno鈥�.
听
鈥淗ay que estar despierto, hay que estar alerta, no est谩 uno solo. En el aire puede granizar y llover, con eso no se puede hacer nada, pero contra muchas otras cosas si se puede hacer. Ya no gritar茅 como antes: el Destino, El Destino. No hay que venerarlo como si fuera el Destino, hay que mirarlo a la cara, agarrarlo y destrozarlo鈥�
听
Tremenda la radiograf铆a que hace de la Alemania de entreguerras, la desolaci贸n de la sociedad tras la derrota en la I G.M y la enorme crisis que arrastran. Se percibe de primera mano aquello que ya hab铆amos estudiado en la asignatura de Historia, aquel cierre en falso de la I GM tras la firma del Tratado de Versalles. Ya estaba en ciernes la II G.M. De ese peaje y humillaci贸n hacia los vencidos, as铆 lo consider贸 Alemania, naci贸 un furibundo nacionalismo. El resto es historia. Movimientos extremos, anarquismo, comunismo鈥� y como no, el nacimiento del nacionalsocialismo, ese movimiento nazi radical imparable. Ese es el caldo de cultivo del a帽o 1927 y 1928, cuando se escribi贸 este libro.
听
Se cuenta muy bien el agotamiento existencial del protagonista Franz Biberkofp, un tipo que a mi no me resulta especialmente querido, y que no ve forma de salir de una vida condicionada hacia el precipicio desde el momento de nacer: una guerra en la juventud, un paso por presidio y un abatimiento ante el futuro incierto. Que bien narra esa angustia Doblin.
听
El retrato que hace Doblin m谩s que de ese protagonista un tanto siniestro, es de la Berl铆n de los听 bajos fondos, los barrios orientales. Lenguaje callejero, canciones nacionalistas o anarquistas, consignas y proclamas. Las clases marginales y del hampa, los vecinos del bloque, el panadero, el abogado, la supervisora de la tienda鈥us preocupaciones, sus miserias, inquietudes, la precariedad del momento. Por momento recuerdas grandes obras cl谩sicas que tienen ese formato: La colmena de Cela, La vida instrucciones de uso de Perec. Y narraciones en que la ciudad es la protagonista. En una de los anexos finales se habla de Manhathan Transfer, de acuerdo.
听
Doblin es valiente, escribe con la alegr铆a y la confianza de los grandes: esa capacidad de narrar por momentos cosas absurdas, a veces sin sentido, a veces surrealistas. Eso solo se lo conozco a los grandes novelistas. Lo comparan con el Ulises de Joyce: a mi no me lo pareci贸, salvo por la valent铆a de ambos autores, la innovaci贸n y el protagonismo que cobra la ciudad, aqu铆 Berl铆n, all铆 Dubl铆n.
听
A veces me ocurre que est谩s con un libro que te parece bueno y de repente lees un p谩rrafo y de buenas a primeras se convierte en una obra de arte. Este fue el momento en que cambi贸 mi opini贸n de Berl铆n Alexanderplatz, p谩gina 359:
听
鈥淓va sostiene la cabeza de Franzen en sus brazos. Contempla desde arriba la cabeza: la cl铆nica de Magdeburg, le aplastaron el brazo, mat贸 a la Ida, Dios que pasa con este hombre. Siempre tiene mala suerte. La Mieze estar谩 muerta. 隆Hay algo que lo persigue! A la Mieze le ha pasado algo. Eva se derrumba en una silla. Levanta las manos horrorizada. Franz se asusta. Ella no hace mas que sollozar. Est谩 segura, hay algo que lo persigue, a la Mieze le ha pasado algo鈥�
听
Sin el contexto pudiera tener poco sentido, pero dentro del contexto, este p谩rrafo me llen贸 completamente, me dije 鈥渆sto es realmente bueno鈥�.
August 13, 2019
乇賲丕賳 丿乇噩賴 蹖讴 亘丕 鬲乇噩賲賴 丿乇禺卮丕賳 噩賳丕亘 丨丿丕丿. 亘毓丿 丕夭 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴 鬲蹖亘賵 丕夭 亘賴鬲乇蹖賳 鬲乇噩賲賴 賴丕蹖蹖 賴爻鬲 讴賴 亘賴 蹖丕丿 丿丕乇賲. 亘乇丕蹖 賱匕鬲 亘乇丿賳 丕夭 乇賲丕賳 丿賵亘賱蹖賳 賵 賯賱賲 丌賯丕蹖 丨丿丕丿貙 爻賴 賳賲賵賳賴 乇丕 賲蹖丕賵乇丿賲. 亘賴 丕蹖賳 丕賲蹖丿 讴賴 賱匕鬲 亘亘乇蹖丿
賲蹖鈥屭堐屫� : " 丕蹖 丌丿賲蹖夭丕丿貙 賲蹖鈥屫堌з囒� 賳乇蹖賳賴鈥屫й� 亘丕卮蹖 亘乇 丕蹖賳 夭賲蹖賳貙 倬爻 禺賵亘 賮讴乇 讴賳 倬蹖卮 丕夭 丌賳 亘诏匕丕乇蹖 賯丕亘賱賴鈥屰� 讴丕乇丿丕賳 亘丕夭 讴賳丿 趩卮賲鈥屫ж� 乇丕 亘賴 乇賵卮賳丕蹖蹖 丕蹖賳 夭賲蹖賳. 夭賲蹖賳 毓夭賱鬲讴丿賴鈥屫й� 亘蹖卮 賳蹖爻鬲! 亘丕賵乇 讴賳 爻禺賳 卮丕毓乇 丕蹖賳 丕亘蹖丕鬲 乇丕 讴賴 趩賳丿蹖鈥屫池� 丿賳丿丕賳 禺爻鬲賴 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 亘乇 丕蹖賳 賱賯賲賴鈥屰� 爻賮鬲鈥屬堚€屫池�! 賳賯賱 賯賵賱蹖 丕夭 讴卮 乇賮鬲賴 丕夭 賮丕賵爻鬲賽 诏賵鬲賴 : 丌丿賲蹖 賲毓賲賵賱丕 賮賯胤 丿乇 卮讴賲 賲丕丿乇 乇丕囟蹖 丕爻鬲 丕夭 夭賳丿诏蹖! .... 丕賵賱 丕夭 賴賲賴 賳賵亘鬲 丨讴賵賲鬲 丕爻鬲貙 賳賵亘鬲 丕蹖賳 倬丿乇 賲賴乇亘丕賳 讴賴 氐亘丨 鬲丕 卮亘 卮蹖禺賵賳讴 亘夭賳丿貙 丕賲乇 賵 賳賴蹖 讴賳丿貙 賴乇 趩賴 丿丕乇蹖 亘亘乇丿貙 鬲丕乇丕噩 讴賳丿 亘丕 賯丕賳賵賳貙 亘丕 賲賯乇乇丕鬲. 丕賵賱蹖賳 賮乇賲丕賳 : 丕賽禺 讴賳 亘蹖丕丿! 丿賵賲蹖賳 賮乇賲丕賳 : 賮囟賵賱蹖 賲賵賯賵賮! 趩卮賲鈥屬堚€屭堌� 亘爻鬲賴貙讴賵乇 賵 讴乇 賲蹖鈥屭柏必з嗃� 毓賲乇貙 诏丕賴蹖 讴賴 賴賵爻 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃� 丿乇 賲蹖禺丕賳賴 诏賱賵蹖蹖 鬲乇 讴賳蹖貙 睾賲 丕夭 丿賱 亘卮賵乇蹖貙 亘丕 蹖讴 賱蹖賵丕賳 丌亘噩賵貙 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲 卮乇丕亘貙 禺賲丕乇蹖 賲蹖鈥屫必池� 丕夭 乇丕賴. 讴賲鈥屭┵� 爻賳鈥屬堚€屫池з� 丕毓賱丕賲 賵噩賵丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 禺賵乇賴鈥屬囏� 丿乇 賲賵 賲蹖鈥屫з佖� 賱賯 賲蹖鈥屫操嗀� 丿賳丿丕賳貙 卮賱鈥屬堚€屬堎� 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 丿爻鬲鈥屬堚€屬矩ж� 倬賱丕爻蹖丿賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 毓賯賱 賵 丨賵丕爻. 乇卮鬲賴鈥屰� 毓賲乇 賳丕夭讴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 禺賱丕氐賴鈥屰� 讴賱丕賲 : 賲蹖鈥屫ㄛ屬嗃� 讴賴 倬丕蹖蹖夭 丌賲丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 賯丕卮賯 夭賲蹖賳 賲蹖鈥屭柏ж臂� 賵 賲蹖鈥屬呟屫臂屫� 噩丕賳 亘賴 噩丕賳鈥屫①佖臂屬� 鬲爻賱蹖賲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃�. 亘丕 丕蹖賳 丕賵氐丕賮 丕蹖 乇賮蹖賯貙 丕夭 鬲賵 賲蹖鈥屬矩必迟呚� 亘丕 鬲乇爻鈥屬堚€屬勜必� 賲蹖鈥屬矩必迟呚� 丌丿賲蹖夭丕丿 趩蹖爻鬲責 卮蹖賱乇貙 卮丕毓乇 亘夭乇诏 賲丕 賲蹖鈥屭堐屫� : "丕毓賱丕鬲乇蹖賳 賳蹖爻鬲 丕蹖賳 夭賳丿诏蹖." 賲賳 丕賲丕 賲蹖鈥屭堐屬� 賳乇丿亘丕賲 賱丕賳賴鈥屰� 賲乇睾 丕爻鬲 丕夭 亘丕賱丕 鬲丕 倬丕蹖蹖賳.
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爻賵爻蹖丕賱蹖爻鬲丕 賴賲蹖卮賴 鬲賵 乇丕卮鬲丕诏 亘蹖卮鈥屫臂屬� 乇丕蹖 乇賵 丿丕乇賳貙 丕賲丕 賳賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 亘丕賴丕卮 趩蹖 讴丕乇 讴賳賳. 賵賱蹖 趩乇丕貙 禺賵亘 賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁�. 賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 趩胤賵乇 乇賵 賲亘賱 讴賱賵亘 亘賳卮蹖賳賳貙 爻蹖诏丕乇亘乇诏 丿賵丿 讴賳賳 賵 賵夭蹖乇 亘卮賳. 讴丕乇诏乇 噩賲丕毓鬲賲 亘賴 丕蹖賳丕 乇丕蹖 丿丕丿賴貙 卮亘賽 丿乇蹖丕賮鬲 賲夭丿貙 禺乇丿賴鈥屬举堎勨€屫促� 丕夭 噩蹖亘鈥屫ж� 丿乇鈥屫①堌必� : 倬賳噩丕賴 蹖丕 氐丿 賳賮乇 丿蹖诏賴 賴賲 丿丕乇賳 亘賴 禺乇噩 讴丕乇诏乇丕 趩丕賯鈥屬堚€屭嗁勝� 賲蹖鈥屫促�. 爻賵爻蹖丕賱蹖爻鬲賴丕 賯丿乇鬲 爻蹖丕爻蹖 乇賵 賮鬲丨 賳賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀� 賯丿乇鬲 爻蹖丕爻蹖貙 爻賵爻蹖丕賱蹖爻鬲丕 乇賵 賮鬲丨 讴乇丿賴. 丌丿賲 賲孬賱 诏丕賵 倬蹖乇 賲蹖鈥屫促� 賵 賴乇 乇賵夭 蹖賴 趩蹖夭 鬲丕夭賴 蹖丕丿 賲蹖鈥屭屫辟囏� 丕賲丕 诏丕賵丕蹖蹖 賲孬賱 讴丕乇诏乇丕蹖 丌賱賲丕賳 賴賳賵夭 丿賳蹖丕 賳蹖賵賲丿賳. 讴丕乇诏乇丕蹖 丌賱賲丕賳 賴乇 亘丕乇 賵乇賯賴鈥屰� 乇丕蹖 乇賵 賵乇賲蹖鈥屫ж辟嗀� 賲蹖鈥屫辟� 丨賵夭賴鈥屰� 乇丕蹖鈥屭屫臂� 賵 乇丕蹖 賲蹖鈥屫�. 賮讴乇 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 丕蹖賳 噩賵乇蹖 讴丕乇 鬲賲賵賲賴. 賲蹖鈥屭�: 賲丕 賲蹖鈥屫堌з囒屬� 氐丿丕賲賵賳 鬲賵 乇丕蹖卮鬲丕诏 胤賳蹖賳 亘蹖賳丿丕夭賴. 賵賱蹖 丕诏賴 蹖賴 丕賳噩賲賳 丌賵丕夭 丿乇爻鬲 讴賳賳貙 亘賴鬲乇 賳鬲蹖噩賴 賲蹖鈥屭屫辟�.
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亘乇禺蹖夭蹖丿! 賲丕 亘乇禺賱丕賮 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 亘乇丕蹖 丕夭 賲蹖丕賳 亘乇丿丕卮鬲賳 賴賲賴 噩丕賳亘賴 蹖 賯丿乇鬲 爻蹖丕爻蹖 鬲賱丕卮 賲蹖 讴賳蹖賲 賵 賳賴 賮鬲丨 丌賳. 亘丕 賳賴丕丿賴丕蹖 亘賴 丕氐胤賱丕丨 賯丕賳賵賳诏匕丕乇蹖 賴賲讴丕乇蹖 賳讴賳蹖丿 : 丕蹖賳 賳賴丕丿賴丕 賮賯胤 丕夭 亘乇丿賴 賲蹖 禺賵丕賴賳丿 亘乇 丨讴賲 亘乇丿诏蹖 禺賵丿 賲賴乇 賯丕賳賵賳蹖 亘夭賳丿. 賲丕 亘乇 鬲賲丕賲 賲乇夭賴丕蹖 禺賵丿爻乇丕賳賴 讴卮蹖丿賴 卮丿賴 蹖 爻蹖丕爻蹖 賵 賲賱蹖 賲賴乇 亘胤賱丕賳 賲蹖 夭賳蹖賲. 賲賱蹖 诏乇丕蹖蹖 賲匕賴亘 丨讴賵賲鬲 賲丿乇賳 丕爻鬲. 賲丕 賴乇 诏賵賳賴 賵丨丿鬲 賲賱蹖 乇丕 賲乇丿賵丿 賲蹖 丿丕賳蹖賲: 丿乇 倬爻 丕蹖賳 賵丨丿鬲貙 賮乇賲丕賳乇賵丕蹖蹖 胤亘賯賴 蹖 丿丕乇賳丿诏丕賳 倬賳賴丕賳 丕爻鬲. 亘乇禺蹖夭蹖丿!
賲蹖鈥屭堐屫� : " 丕蹖 丌丿賲蹖夭丕丿貙 賲蹖鈥屫堌з囒� 賳乇蹖賳賴鈥屫й� 亘丕卮蹖 亘乇 丕蹖賳 夭賲蹖賳貙 倬爻 禺賵亘 賮讴乇 讴賳 倬蹖卮 丕夭 丌賳 亘诏匕丕乇蹖 賯丕亘賱賴鈥屰� 讴丕乇丿丕賳 亘丕夭 讴賳丿 趩卮賲鈥屫ж� 乇丕 亘賴 乇賵卮賳丕蹖蹖 丕蹖賳 夭賲蹖賳. 夭賲蹖賳 毓夭賱鬲讴丿賴鈥屫й� 亘蹖卮 賳蹖爻鬲! 亘丕賵乇 讴賳 爻禺賳 卮丕毓乇 丕蹖賳 丕亘蹖丕鬲 乇丕 讴賴 趩賳丿蹖鈥屫池� 丿賳丿丕賳 禺爻鬲賴 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 亘乇 丕蹖賳 賱賯賲賴鈥屰� 爻賮鬲鈥屬堚€屫池�! 賳賯賱 賯賵賱蹖 丕夭 讴卮 乇賮鬲賴 丕夭 賮丕賵爻鬲賽 诏賵鬲賴 : 丌丿賲蹖 賲毓賲賵賱丕 賮賯胤 丿乇 卮讴賲 賲丕丿乇 乇丕囟蹖 丕爻鬲 丕夭 夭賳丿诏蹖! .... 丕賵賱 丕夭 賴賲賴 賳賵亘鬲 丨讴賵賲鬲 丕爻鬲貙 賳賵亘鬲 丕蹖賳 倬丿乇 賲賴乇亘丕賳 讴賴 氐亘丨 鬲丕 卮亘 卮蹖禺賵賳讴 亘夭賳丿貙 丕賲乇 賵 賳賴蹖 讴賳丿貙 賴乇 趩賴 丿丕乇蹖 亘亘乇丿貙 鬲丕乇丕噩 讴賳丿 亘丕 賯丕賳賵賳貙 亘丕 賲賯乇乇丕鬲. 丕賵賱蹖賳 賮乇賲丕賳 : 丕賽禺 讴賳 亘蹖丕丿! 丿賵賲蹖賳 賮乇賲丕賳 : 賮囟賵賱蹖 賲賵賯賵賮! 趩卮賲鈥屬堚€屭堌� 亘爻鬲賴貙讴賵乇 賵 讴乇 賲蹖鈥屭柏必з嗃� 毓賲乇貙 诏丕賴蹖 讴賴 賴賵爻 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃� 丿乇 賲蹖禺丕賳賴 诏賱賵蹖蹖 鬲乇 讴賳蹖貙 睾賲 丕夭 丿賱 亘卮賵乇蹖貙 亘丕 蹖讴 賱蹖賵丕賳 丌亘噩賵貙 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲 卮乇丕亘貙 禺賲丕乇蹖 賲蹖鈥屫必池� 丕夭 乇丕賴. 讴賲鈥屭┵� 爻賳鈥屬堚€屫池з� 丕毓賱丕賲 賵噩賵丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 禺賵乇賴鈥屬囏� 丿乇 賲賵 賲蹖鈥屫з佖� 賱賯 賲蹖鈥屫操嗀� 丿賳丿丕賳貙 卮賱鈥屬堚€屬堎� 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 丿爻鬲鈥屬堚€屬矩ж� 倬賱丕爻蹖丿賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 毓賯賱 賵 丨賵丕爻. 乇卮鬲賴鈥屰� 毓賲乇 賳丕夭讴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 禺賱丕氐賴鈥屰� 讴賱丕賲 : 賲蹖鈥屫ㄛ屬嗃� 讴賴 倬丕蹖蹖夭 丌賲丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 賯丕卮賯 夭賲蹖賳 賲蹖鈥屭柏ж臂� 賵 賲蹖鈥屬呟屫臂屫� 噩丕賳 亘賴 噩丕賳鈥屫①佖臂屬� 鬲爻賱蹖賲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃�. 亘丕 丕蹖賳 丕賵氐丕賮 丕蹖 乇賮蹖賯貙 丕夭 鬲賵 賲蹖鈥屬矩必迟呚� 亘丕 鬲乇爻鈥屬堚€屬勜必� 賲蹖鈥屬矩必迟呚� 丌丿賲蹖夭丕丿 趩蹖爻鬲責 卮蹖賱乇貙 卮丕毓乇 亘夭乇诏 賲丕 賲蹖鈥屭堐屫� : "丕毓賱丕鬲乇蹖賳 賳蹖爻鬲 丕蹖賳 夭賳丿诏蹖." 賲賳 丕賲丕 賲蹖鈥屭堐屬� 賳乇丿亘丕賲 賱丕賳賴鈥屰� 賲乇睾 丕爻鬲 丕夭 亘丕賱丕 鬲丕 倬丕蹖蹖賳.
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爻賵爻蹖丕賱蹖爻鬲丕 賴賲蹖卮賴 鬲賵 乇丕卮鬲丕诏 亘蹖卮鈥屫臂屬� 乇丕蹖 乇賵 丿丕乇賳貙 丕賲丕 賳賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 亘丕賴丕卮 趩蹖 讴丕乇 讴賳賳. 賵賱蹖 趩乇丕貙 禺賵亘 賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁�. 賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 趩胤賵乇 乇賵 賲亘賱 讴賱賵亘 亘賳卮蹖賳賳貙 爻蹖诏丕乇亘乇诏 丿賵丿 讴賳賳 賵 賵夭蹖乇 亘卮賳. 讴丕乇诏乇 噩賲丕毓鬲賲 亘賴 丕蹖賳丕 乇丕蹖 丿丕丿賴貙 卮亘賽 丿乇蹖丕賮鬲 賲夭丿貙 禺乇丿賴鈥屬举堎勨€屫促� 丕夭 噩蹖亘鈥屫ж� 丿乇鈥屫①堌必� : 倬賳噩丕賴 蹖丕 氐丿 賳賮乇 丿蹖诏賴 賴賲 丿丕乇賳 亘賴 禺乇噩 讴丕乇诏乇丕 趩丕賯鈥屬堚€屭嗁勝� 賲蹖鈥屫促�. 爻賵爻蹖丕賱蹖爻鬲賴丕 賯丿乇鬲 爻蹖丕爻蹖 乇賵 賮鬲丨 賳賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀� 賯丿乇鬲 爻蹖丕爻蹖貙 爻賵爻蹖丕賱蹖爻鬲丕 乇賵 賮鬲丨 讴乇丿賴. 丌丿賲 賲孬賱 诏丕賵 倬蹖乇 賲蹖鈥屫促� 賵 賴乇 乇賵夭 蹖賴 趩蹖夭 鬲丕夭賴 蹖丕丿 賲蹖鈥屭屫辟囏� 丕賲丕 诏丕賵丕蹖蹖 賲孬賱 讴丕乇诏乇丕蹖 丌賱賲丕賳 賴賳賵夭 丿賳蹖丕 賳蹖賵賲丿賳. 讴丕乇诏乇丕蹖 丌賱賲丕賳 賴乇 亘丕乇 賵乇賯賴鈥屰� 乇丕蹖 乇賵 賵乇賲蹖鈥屫ж辟嗀� 賲蹖鈥屫辟� 丨賵夭賴鈥屰� 乇丕蹖鈥屭屫臂� 賵 乇丕蹖 賲蹖鈥屫�. 賮讴乇 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 丕蹖賳 噩賵乇蹖 讴丕乇 鬲賲賵賲賴. 賲蹖鈥屭�: 賲丕 賲蹖鈥屫堌з囒屬� 氐丿丕賲賵賳 鬲賵 乇丕蹖卮鬲丕诏 胤賳蹖賳 亘蹖賳丿丕夭賴. 賵賱蹖 丕诏賴 蹖賴 丕賳噩賲賳 丌賵丕夭 丿乇爻鬲 讴賳賳貙 亘賴鬲乇 賳鬲蹖噩賴 賲蹖鈥屭屫辟�.
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亘乇禺蹖夭蹖丿! 賲丕 亘乇禺賱丕賮 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 亘乇丕蹖 丕夭 賲蹖丕賳 亘乇丿丕卮鬲賳 賴賲賴 噩丕賳亘賴 蹖 賯丿乇鬲 爻蹖丕爻蹖 鬲賱丕卮 賲蹖 讴賳蹖賲 賵 賳賴 賮鬲丨 丌賳. 亘丕 賳賴丕丿賴丕蹖 亘賴 丕氐胤賱丕丨 賯丕賳賵賳诏匕丕乇蹖 賴賲讴丕乇蹖 賳讴賳蹖丿 : 丕蹖賳 賳賴丕丿賴丕 賮賯胤 丕夭 亘乇丿賴 賲蹖 禺賵丕賴賳丿 亘乇 丨讴賲 亘乇丿诏蹖 禺賵丿 賲賴乇 賯丕賳賵賳蹖 亘夭賳丿. 賲丕 亘乇 鬲賲丕賲 賲乇夭賴丕蹖 禺賵丿爻乇丕賳賴 讴卮蹖丿賴 卮丿賴 蹖 爻蹖丕爻蹖 賵 賲賱蹖 賲賴乇 亘胤賱丕賳 賲蹖 夭賳蹖賲. 賲賱蹖 诏乇丕蹖蹖 賲匕賴亘 丨讴賵賲鬲 賲丿乇賳 丕爻鬲. 賲丕 賴乇 诏賵賳賴 賵丨丿鬲 賲賱蹖 乇丕 賲乇丿賵丿 賲蹖 丿丕賳蹖賲: 丿乇 倬爻 丕蹖賳 賵丨丿鬲貙 賮乇賲丕賳乇賵丕蹖蹖 胤亘賯賴 蹖 丿丕乇賳丿诏丕賳 倬賳賴丕賳 丕爻鬲. 亘乇禺蹖夭蹖丿!
March 28, 2020
韦慰 尾喂尾位委慰 伪蠀蟿蠈 伪谓伪蠁苇蟻蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蟿畏谓 味蠅萎 蟿慰蠀 桅蟻伪谓蟿蟼 螠蟺委渭蟺蔚蟻魏慰蠁. 螘谓蠈蟼 蟺蟻蠋畏谓 魏伪蟿维未喂魏慰蠀, 慰 慰蟺慰委慰蟼 渭蠈位喂蟼 伪蟺慰蠁蠀位伪魏委味蔚蟿伪喂 伪蟺慰蠁伪蟽委味蔚喂 谓伪 伪蠁萎蟽蔚喂 蟺委蟽蠅 蟿慰蠀 蟿慰 蟺伪蟻蔚位胃蠈谓 蟿慰蠀 魏伪喂 谓伪 尉蔚魏喂谓萎蟽蔚喂 渭喂伪 谓苇伪 味蠅萎, 蟺伪蟻伪渭苇谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 - 蠈蟺蠅蟼 慰 委未喂慰蟼 蠀蟺蔚蟻胃蔚渭伪蟿委味蔚喂 蟺慰位位苇蟼 蠁慰蟻苇蟼 - 蟿委渭喂慰蟼. 螌渭蠅蟼 伪蠀蟿蠈 未蔚谓 胃伪 蔚委谓伪喂 蟿蠈蟽慰 蔚蠉魏慰位慰. 螒蟺蠈 蟿畏谓 渭喂伪 慰 伪蠁蔚位萎蟼 魏伪喂 渭蟺蔚蟻未蔚渭苇谓慰蟼 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰蟼 蟽魏苇蠄畏蟼 蟿慰蠀 委未喂慰蠀 蟿慰蠀 桅蟻伪谓蟿蟼 魏喂 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏谓 维位位畏 畏 蟺伪蟻伪魏渭维味慰蠀蟽伪 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪 蟿畏蟼 螕蔚蟻渭伪谓委伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 渭蔚蟽慰蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀, 胃伪 伪蟺慰蟿蔚位苇蟽慰蠀谓 蟿蟻慰蠂慰蟺苇未蔚蟼 蟽蟿伪 蠈谓蔚喂蟻伪 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 蠁喂位慰未慰尉委蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀 魏慰蠀. 螠蟺委渭蟺蔚蟻魏慰蟺蠁.
韦慰 尾喂尾位委慰 蠂蠅蟻委味蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蔚 渭喂魏蟻维 渭喂魏蟻维 魏蔚蠁维位伪喂伪 魏伪喂 蟽蔚 尾喂尾位委伪, 魏维蟿喂 蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 魏维谓蔚喂 谓伪 渭慰喂维味蔚喂 渭蔚 螣渭畏蟻喂魏蠈 苇蟺慰蟼. 螖蔚谓 蔚委谓伪喂 魏伪胃蠈位慰蠀 蟿蠀蠂伪委慰 蟺慰蠀 蟺蟻慰蠂蠅蟻蠋谓蟿伪蟼 慰喂 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 慰 桅蟻伪谓蟿蟼 渭慰喂维味蔚喂 蠈位慰 魏伪喂 蟺蔚蟻喂蟽蟽蠈蟿蔚蟻慰 蟽蔚 萎蟻蠅伪 伪蟻蠂伪委慰蠀 未蟻维渭伪蟿慰蟼. 螣 螡蟿苇渭蟺位喂谓 未委谓蔚喂 蠈纬魏慰 蟽蟿畏谓 纬蟻伪蠁萎 蟿慰蠀 渭蔚 蟿喂蟼 纬谓蠋蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀, 蟿畏谓 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀 未蔚喂谓蠈蟿畏蟿伪 伪位位维 魏伪喂 尾伪蟽喂蟽渭苇谓慰蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 蔚蟺喂蟽蟿萎渭畏 蟿慰蠀 蟿畏谓 蠄蠀蠂喂伪蟿蟻喂魏萎, 蠁蟿喂维蠂谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 苇谓伪 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏蠈 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠉蟻纬畏渭伪 蟺慰蠀 渭蟺慰蟻蔚委 谓伪 蟽蟿伪胃蔚委 蔚蟺维尉喂伪 未委蟺位伪 蟽蟿伪 渭蔚纬维位伪 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠀蟻纬萎渭伪蟿伪 蟿畏蟼 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪蟼.
螣 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪蟼 蠂蟻畏蟽喂渭慰蟺慰喂蔚委 蟿畏谓 蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀 蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏慰蠉 渭慰谓慰位蠈纬慰蠀 伪位位维 魏伪喂 渭喂伪 蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 渭慰谓蟿维味 尾维味慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿畏谓 蠁伪喂谓慰渭蔚谓喂魏维 纬蟻伪渭渭喂魏萎 伪蠁萎纬畏蟽畏, 纬蔚纬慰谓蠈蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟺蔚蟻喂蟽蟿伪蟿喂魏维 蟺慰蠀 渭伪蟼 渭蔚蟿伪蠁苇蟻慰蠀谓 蟽蔚 蟽蟿慰 魏位委渭伪 蟿畏蟼 蔚蟺慰蠂萎蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蟿伪 蟽慰魏维魏喂伪 蟿畏蟼 蟺位伪蟿蔚委伪蟼 螒位蔚尉维谓蟿蔚蟻 蟽蟿慰 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰. 螆谓伪 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰 蟺慰蠀 蟺蟻慰蟽蟺伪胃蔚委 谓伪 伪谓伪纬蔚谓谓畏胃蔚委 伪蟺蠈 蟿喂蟼 蟽蟿维蠂蟿蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀, 未慰渭喂魏维 伪位位维 魏蠀蟻委蠅蟼 畏胃喂魏维. 螌渭蠅蟼 畏 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪 尾蠀胃委味蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蟿慰 蟽魏慰蟿维未喂 蟿畏蟼 伪尾蔚尾伪喂蠈蟿畏蟿伪蟼, 蟿畏蟼 畏胃喂魏萎蟼 魏伪蟿维蟺蟿蠅蟽畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪渭慰蟻伪位喂蟽渭慰蠉. 螖蠀蟽蟿蠀蠂蠋蟼, 蟿慰 苇胃谓慰蟼 胃伪 未喂伪蟺喂蟽蟿蠋蟽蔚喂 蟿伪 位维胃畏 蟿慰蠀 伪蠁慰蠉 伪蟺慰未蔚蠂蟿蔚委 伪蟺蟻蠈蟽魏慰蟺蟿伪 蟿慰谓 围委蟿位蔚蟻 魏伪喂 蟿慰 谓伪味喂蟽蟿喂魏蠈 魏蠈渭渭伪 蟽伪谓 蟽蠅蟿萎蟻蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀.
螣喂 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀 尾喂尾位委慰蠀 蔚委谓伪喂 伪蠀蟿慰委 蟺慰蠀 未委谓慰蠀谓 蟿畏谓 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蠀蟺蠈蟽蟿伪蟽畏 蟽蟿慰 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠉蟻纬畏渭伪 蟿慰蠀 螡蟿苇渭蟺位喂谓. 螠喂魏蟻慰伪蟺伪蟿蔚蠋谓蔚蟼, 蔚纬魏位畏渭伪蟿委蔚蟼, 蟺伪蟻维谓慰渭慰喂, 渭喂蟽维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰喂 魏伪喂 伪蟺慰蟽蠀谓维纬蠅纬慰喂 蟽蠀纬蠂蟻蠅蟿委味慰谓蟿伪喂 渭蔚蟿伪尉蠉 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪位位维 魏伪喂 渭蔚 蟿伪 渭苇位畏 渭喂伪 维位位畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 未委谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭蔚 蟺慰位蠉 纬位伪蠁蠀蟻蠈 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 蟽蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 谓伪 魏伪蟿伪谓慰萎蟽蔚喂 蠈蟿喂 维位位慰喂 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁蔚委蟼 未蔚谓 渭蟺蠈蟻蔚蟽伪谓 谓伪 蟺慰蠀谓 纬喂伪 蟿慰谓 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰 渭蔚 蠂喂位喂维未蔚蟼 蠂喂位喂维未蠅谓 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼.
螡伪喂, 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 蔚委谓伪喂 苇谓伪 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠉蟻纬畏渭伪. 螝伪喂 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏谓 蟺蟻蠋蟿畏 苇蠅蟼 蟿畏谓 蟿蔚位蔚蠀蟿伪委伪 蟽蔚位委未伪 蟿慰 蠁蠅谓维味蔚喂 未蠀谓伪蟿维 魏伪喂 魏蠀蟻委蠅蟼 蟿慰 伪蟺慰未蔚喂魏谓蠉蔚喂, 蔚喂未喂魏维 蟽蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蟺慰蠀 胃伪 胃蔚位萎蟽蔚喂 谓伪 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺位伪谓畏胃蔚委 蟽蟿慰 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰 蟿慰蠀 渭蔚蟽慰蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀 伪位位维 魏伪喂 蟽蟿畏谓 未伪喂未伪位蠋未畏 纬蟻伪蠁萎 蟿慰蠀 螕蔚蟻渭伪谓慰蠉 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪!
5/5
违螕: 螌位伪 蟿伪 蟺伪蟻伪蟺维谓蠅 蔚委谓伪喂 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 蟺蟻慰萎位胃伪谓 渭蔚蟿维 伪蟺蠈 渭喂伪 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰蠀蟽伪 +伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏!
韦慰 尾喂尾位委慰 蠂蠅蟻委味蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蔚 渭喂魏蟻维 渭喂魏蟻维 魏蔚蠁维位伪喂伪 魏伪喂 蟽蔚 尾喂尾位委伪, 魏维蟿喂 蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 魏维谓蔚喂 谓伪 渭慰喂维味蔚喂 渭蔚 螣渭畏蟻喂魏蠈 苇蟺慰蟼. 螖蔚谓 蔚委谓伪喂 魏伪胃蠈位慰蠀 蟿蠀蠂伪委慰 蟺慰蠀 蟺蟻慰蠂蠅蟻蠋谓蟿伪蟼 慰喂 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 慰 桅蟻伪谓蟿蟼 渭慰喂维味蔚喂 蠈位慰 魏伪喂 蟺蔚蟻喂蟽蟽蠈蟿蔚蟻慰 蟽蔚 萎蟻蠅伪 伪蟻蠂伪委慰蠀 未蟻维渭伪蟿慰蟼. 螣 螡蟿苇渭蟺位喂谓 未委谓蔚喂 蠈纬魏慰 蟽蟿畏谓 纬蟻伪蠁萎 蟿慰蠀 渭蔚 蟿喂蟼 纬谓蠋蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀, 蟿畏谓 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀 未蔚喂谓蠈蟿畏蟿伪 伪位位维 魏伪喂 尾伪蟽喂蟽渭苇谓慰蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 蔚蟺喂蟽蟿萎渭畏 蟿慰蠀 蟿畏谓 蠄蠀蠂喂伪蟿蟻喂魏萎, 蠁蟿喂维蠂谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 苇谓伪 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏蠈 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠉蟻纬畏渭伪 蟺慰蠀 渭蟺慰蟻蔚委 谓伪 蟽蟿伪胃蔚委 蔚蟺维尉喂伪 未委蟺位伪 蟽蟿伪 渭蔚纬维位伪 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠀蟻纬萎渭伪蟿伪 蟿畏蟼 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪蟼.
螣 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪蟼 蠂蟻畏蟽喂渭慰蟺慰喂蔚委 蟿畏谓 蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀 蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏慰蠉 渭慰谓慰位蠈纬慰蠀 伪位位维 魏伪喂 渭喂伪 蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 渭慰谓蟿维味 尾维味慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿畏谓 蠁伪喂谓慰渭蔚谓喂魏维 纬蟻伪渭渭喂魏萎 伪蠁萎纬畏蟽畏, 纬蔚纬慰谓蠈蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟺蔚蟻喂蟽蟿伪蟿喂魏维 蟺慰蠀 渭伪蟼 渭蔚蟿伪蠁苇蟻慰蠀谓 蟽蔚 蟽蟿慰 魏位委渭伪 蟿畏蟼 蔚蟺慰蠂萎蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蟿伪 蟽慰魏维魏喂伪 蟿畏蟼 蟺位伪蟿蔚委伪蟼 螒位蔚尉维谓蟿蔚蟻 蟽蟿慰 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰. 螆谓伪 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰 蟺慰蠀 蟺蟻慰蟽蟺伪胃蔚委 谓伪 伪谓伪纬蔚谓谓畏胃蔚委 伪蟺蠈 蟿喂蟼 蟽蟿维蠂蟿蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀, 未慰渭喂魏维 伪位位维 魏蠀蟻委蠅蟼 畏胃喂魏维. 螌渭蠅蟼 畏 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪 尾蠀胃委味蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蟿慰 蟽魏慰蟿维未喂 蟿畏蟼 伪尾蔚尾伪喂蠈蟿畏蟿伪蟼, 蟿畏蟼 畏胃喂魏萎蟼 魏伪蟿维蟺蟿蠅蟽畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪渭慰蟻伪位喂蟽渭慰蠉. 螖蠀蟽蟿蠀蠂蠋蟼, 蟿慰 苇胃谓慰蟼 胃伪 未喂伪蟺喂蟽蟿蠋蟽蔚喂 蟿伪 位维胃畏 蟿慰蠀 伪蠁慰蠉 伪蟺慰未蔚蠂蟿蔚委 伪蟺蟻蠈蟽魏慰蟺蟿伪 蟿慰谓 围委蟿位蔚蟻 魏伪喂 蟿慰 谓伪味喂蟽蟿喂魏蠈 魏蠈渭渭伪 蟽伪谓 蟽蠅蟿萎蟻蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀.
螣喂 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀 尾喂尾位委慰蠀 蔚委谓伪喂 伪蠀蟿慰委 蟺慰蠀 未委谓慰蠀谓 蟿畏谓 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蠀蟺蠈蟽蟿伪蟽畏 蟽蟿慰 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠉蟻纬畏渭伪 蟿慰蠀 螡蟿苇渭蟺位喂谓. 螠喂魏蟻慰伪蟺伪蟿蔚蠋谓蔚蟼, 蔚纬魏位畏渭伪蟿委蔚蟼, 蟺伪蟻维谓慰渭慰喂, 渭喂蟽维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰喂 魏伪喂 伪蟺慰蟽蠀谓维纬蠅纬慰喂 蟽蠀纬蠂蟻蠅蟿委味慰谓蟿伪喂 渭蔚蟿伪尉蠉 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪位位维 魏伪喂 渭蔚 蟿伪 渭苇位畏 渭喂伪 维位位畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 未委谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭蔚 蟺慰位蠉 纬位伪蠁蠀蟻蠈 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 蟽蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 谓伪 魏伪蟿伪谓慰萎蟽蔚喂 蠈蟿喂 维位位慰喂 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁蔚委蟼 未蔚谓 渭蟺蠈蟻蔚蟽伪谓 谓伪 蟺慰蠀谓 纬喂伪 蟿慰谓 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰 渭蔚 蠂喂位喂维未蔚蟼 蠂喂位喂维未蠅谓 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼.
螡伪喂, 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 蔚委谓伪喂 苇谓伪 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠉蟻纬畏渭伪. 螝伪喂 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏谓 蟺蟻蠋蟿畏 苇蠅蟼 蟿畏谓 蟿蔚位蔚蠀蟿伪委伪 蟽蔚位委未伪 蟿慰 蠁蠅谓维味蔚喂 未蠀谓伪蟿维 魏伪喂 魏蠀蟻委蠅蟼 蟿慰 伪蟺慰未蔚喂魏谓蠉蔚喂, 蔚喂未喂魏维 蟽蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蟺慰蠀 胃伪 胃蔚位萎蟽蔚喂 谓伪 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺位伪谓畏胃蔚委 蟽蟿慰 螔蔚蟻慰位委谓慰 蟿慰蠀 渭蔚蟽慰蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀 伪位位维 魏伪喂 蟽蟿畏谓 未伪喂未伪位蠋未畏 纬蟻伪蠁萎 蟿慰蠀 螕蔚蟻渭伪谓慰蠉 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪!
5/5
违螕: 螌位伪 蟿伪 蟺伪蟻伪蟺维谓蠅 蔚委谓伪喂 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 蟺蟻慰萎位胃伪谓 渭蔚蟿维 伪蟺蠈 渭喂伪 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰蠀蟽伪 +伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏!
January 25, 2009
I read this because I was watching the Fassbinder film, and discovered I had been ignorant of a novel which is considered a masterpiece of modern German literature, published in 1929.
It鈥檚 not an easy read, Doblin鈥檚 style is reminiscent of James Joyce, hopping about between POV, interior monologue, sound effects, newspaper articles, songs, speeches, and other books, but it鈥檚 worth the trouble.
Apparently the original was written in colloquial German with a heavy dose of working class Berlin slang. The version I read was the only one my library has and was copyrighted in 1931 and noted as 鈥淭ranslated into the American by Eugene Jolas.鈥� There is a 2005 edition, but I'm unable to determine if it's a new translation.
It must be a terribly difficult book to translate, and in the 1931 edition some of the seams showed, as the translator used American slang which is no longer current.
Still it was a riveting read. What a grand book. It tells the story of Franz Biberkopf, starting with his release from prison for killing his girlfriend in a helpless rage. He鈥檚 absolutely paralyzed with fear at the thought of being outside again on the rough streets, even the rooftops seem to be falling in on him.
But he finds a new girl and vows he will stay away from crime. Impossible,confronted with the poverty, unemployment, crime and burgeoning Nazism of 1920s Germany.
He鈥檚 a likeable guy, despite his tendencies. I think he truly wants to believe in human goodness. Not too bright, he鈥檚 always brought down by his na茂ve trust in other people.
Things get worse and worse, and Biberkopf鈥檚 sanity teeters until in the final chapter of the book he falls off the psychological cliff. Only after he has passed through hell, does he reappear a changed (for the better?) man.
Is it just my ignorance, or why hasn鈥檛 this book been more prominently mentioned by readers in English. I think it鈥檚 one of the greats.
It鈥檚 not an easy read, Doblin鈥檚 style is reminiscent of James Joyce, hopping about between POV, interior monologue, sound effects, newspaper articles, songs, speeches, and other books, but it鈥檚 worth the trouble.
Apparently the original was written in colloquial German with a heavy dose of working class Berlin slang. The version I read was the only one my library has and was copyrighted in 1931 and noted as 鈥淭ranslated into the American by Eugene Jolas.鈥� There is a 2005 edition, but I'm unable to determine if it's a new translation.
It must be a terribly difficult book to translate, and in the 1931 edition some of the seams showed, as the translator used American slang which is no longer current.
Still it was a riveting read. What a grand book. It tells the story of Franz Biberkopf, starting with his release from prison for killing his girlfriend in a helpless rage. He鈥檚 absolutely paralyzed with fear at the thought of being outside again on the rough streets, even the rooftops seem to be falling in on him.
But he finds a new girl and vows he will stay away from crime. Impossible,confronted with the poverty, unemployment, crime and burgeoning Nazism of 1920s Germany.
He鈥檚 a likeable guy, despite his tendencies. I think he truly wants to believe in human goodness. Not too bright, he鈥檚 always brought down by his na茂ve trust in other people.
Things get worse and worse, and Biberkopf鈥檚 sanity teeters until in the final chapter of the book he falls off the psychological cliff. Only after he has passed through hell, does he reappear a changed (for the better?) man.
Is it just my ignorance, or why hasn鈥檛 this book been more prominently mentioned by readers in English. I think it鈥檚 one of the greats.
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