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534 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1936
She began to speak, but soon I no longer heard what she was saying. I heard only her voice, and as I sat there on the table in the dark hall, between the boar's head and the kitchen with the haricot beans, a door seemed to open and a wave of warmth and light came in, soothing and bright, full of dreams and desire and youth. I propped my feet against the table, I rested my head in my hand, I looked at the boar's head and the repulsive kitchen door, but I could not help myself � summer was all at once there; wind, sunset over the fields of corn, and the green light of the woodland path.
Only the unhappy man appreciates happiness. The happy man is a mannequin for the life-feeling. He displays it merely; he doesn't possess it. Light doesn't shine in the light; it shines in the dark.
It was a strange feeling. Time seemed to have ceased to flow � it was no longer a river that came from the darkness and passed out into darkness again � it was a lake in which life was noiselessly mirrored.
“In the interval more people had arrived, and it was now obvious that they did not really belong here. With pale faces and threadbare clothes, they wandered, hands behind their backs, rather diffidently through the rooms, with eyes that were seeing something far other than the Renaissance pictures and the still, marble antique figures. Many were sitting on the red upholstered seats that were placed around. They sat wearily there, as if prepared to stand up at once, should anyone come to move them on. You could see in their attitudes that upholstered seats were something which it was quite incredible it should cost nothing to sit on. They were used to receiving nothing for nothing. It was very quiet in all the rooms, and despite all the visitors one hardly heard a word; and yet it seemed to me as if I were looking on at an enormous struggle—the soundless struggle of men who were stricken down, but did not mean to give in yet. They had been thrown out from the fields of their work, their striving, their callings; now they had come into the quiet rooms of Art, in order not to fall into paralysis and despair. They were thinking of bread, always and only of bread and occupation; but they came here to escape from their thoughts for a few hours—and amongst the clean-cut Roman heads and the imperishable grace of white, Greek female figures they wandered around with the dragging gait, the bowed shoulders of men who have no purpose—a shocking contrast, a cheerless picture of what humanity had been able, and unable, to achieve in a thousand years—the summit of eternal works of art, but not even bread enough for each of their brothers.�
No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one.
No truth, sincerity, strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow.
All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it,
but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning...
"Es ist besser, zu sterben, wenn man noch leben möchte, als zu sterben und man möchte auch sterben." (it's better to die while you still want to live, than to die and want to die)
The novel is called Three Comrades but there were actually 4 of them - Robert Lohkamp, Otto Köster, Gottfried Lenz and Patrice Hollmann whom they meet in the very beginning of the novel and who became an essential part of it. And there were also other people who weren't formally "comrades" but they could be called so because all they helped each other in this or that way. Ferdinand Grau, Fred, Gustav, Alfons... They all knew how hard the life can be sometimes and tried to help those for whom it was harder then for themselves. This is a novel about true friendship, when you can do anything for your friend.
All the characters are memorable and very realistic that's why you get used to them quickly and immediately begin to feel involved in their life, you share their emotions and can't help smiling or becoming sad when they do so. I liked them all - Robby who is sometimes a bit childish and learns to love having met Pat, "the last romantic" Lenz, always so cheerful and optimistic, Otto, so calm and reserved but who can feel probably even deeper than all other characters, Pat, sometimes so elegant and charming, sometimes funny bu always very brave, kind-hearted Alfons, philosophical Ferdinand... And though in the end there are only two comrades of four you can't help thinking that this friendship will live forever.
The language here is plain but very rich, I especially enjoyed the descriptions which were very colorful due to plenties of similes.
This novel is not an easy one, especially the end, but still it is pleasant to read. I can't say that it's absolutely melancholic, but the time in which the characters live isn't too cheerful and of course it influenced the whole tone of the book. here you can see the real life of Germany of that time with all its problems - unemployment, poverty, people, who were broken down by the war both physically and morally, prostitution, political meetings which promise much and give nothing... But it has a kind of optimistic feeling about it too. There are characters who have lived through the war, but it hadn't broken their spirit, they want to live even more, want to have the time of their life. Their parties, dances, drinking and hilarity with all those problems in the background may seem insane, but on the other hand it was the only way to survive.
I think the quote with which I began this review is the main idea of the book - you should live brightly, take as much as you can from your life up to the last day of it. And the main characters did so... It's okay if you haven't done everything you wanted during your life because it would take an eternity to complete everything. But if you haven't done anything because you were busy with pitying yourself... then did you live at all?