'The Radetzky March' by Joseph Roth (Review)

Over the past couple of years, partly owing to the influence of Caroline and Lizzy's German Literature Month, I have been reading a lot more books in the German language (good to know that my university time wasn't completely wasted...).  While some of that reading has been fairly contemporary (e.g. Peter Stamm, Judith Hermann, Birgit Vanderbeke), I haven't been neglecting the classics.

A while back, Marcel Reich-Ranicki, a famous German literary critic, published his Kanon, a list of the most noteworthy works in German-language literature.  I have been working my way (slowly!) through the list of novels, and today's post looks at another of Reich-Ranicki's recommendations - and a very good book it is too...

*****
Joseph Roth's major work Radetzkymarsch (The Radetzky March) is a novel which you will find on any list of best German-language novels, occasionally at the very top of the tree.  It is a family saga spanning three generations, set in the dying days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where the fate and fortunes of the Trotta family are intertwined with those of Emperor Franz Josef I - and of the empire itself...

The story begins in 1859, at the Battle of Solferino, where a quick-thinking soldier dives on the Emperor to save him from being assassinated by an enemy sniper.  The monarch's gratitude expresses itself in the form of riches and promotion to the aristocracy - a fair reward for the son of a Slovenian farmer.  However, the prize turns out to be a double-edged sword - both the brave soldier and his descendants struggle to come to terms with their new station in life.  The new Baron is astounded by the way his life has changed:

"Als hätte man ihm sein eigenes Leben gegen ein fremdes, neues, in einer Werkstatt angfertigtes vertauscht, wiederholte er sich jede Nacht vor dem Einschlafen und jeden Morgen nach dem erwachen seinen neuen Rang und seinen neuen Stand, trat vor den Spiegel und bestätigte sich, daß sein Angesicht das alte war."

"As if his life had been exchanged for a strange, new one, one which had been factory-made, every night before sleeping and every morning after waking up, he repeated his new rank and position in life, walked up to the mirror and checked that his face was still the same old one."***

He passes away, never having quite come to terms with his elevation in life.  However, for his son and grandson, life is to be even more difficult...

Franz, the son, becomes a high-ranking goverment official, having been expressly forbidden by his father to enter the military.  However his son, Carl Joseph, at his father's request, does become a soldier.  Sadly, just like the first baron, the two are unable to enjoy life as privileged gentlemen; a constant feeling of being slightly out-of-place mixed with misfortune in love leads to a lifetime searching for a reason to keep going.

Part of the problem is the absence of female influence in their lives.  Both Franz's mother and wife passed away at an early age, events which have lasting effects on the Trottas.  The father buries himself in work and tradition, following a regime so regimented that the outside world is unable to penetrate or surprise it.  The son wanders around lost, in search of affection, often finding it in the arms of an older woman - a mother figure...

There is one more important male character in the novel though, one who has an enormous influence on events.  Kaiser Franz Joseph himself appears several times, meeting all three generations of the Trottas, and the fate of the Barons seems inextricably linked to those of the Emperor and his realm.  As the Empire totters towards its destruction, decaying gradually over decades before being given the coup de grace by the events of the First World War, so too does the ageing Franz Joseph move gracefully towards the grave.  And let's not forget, the Emperor also lost his wife at an early age...

Roth skilfully uses a visual metaphor to bind the fortunes of the two families further.  The first Baron had his portrait painted by one of his son's friends, a painting which remains in the family, and which his grandson is obsessed with.  As the second Baron ages, he begins to resemble the portrait remarkably - but this is not the only resemblance.  The Kaiser too has his portrait (found all over his empire), leaving the youngest Trotta to be watched over by two formidable old men - it isn't easy being constantly in the eyes of the Kaiser...

"Seine Gnade selbst, die über der Familie der Trottas ruhte, war eine Last aus scheidendem Eis.  Und Carl Joseph fror es unter dem blauen Blick seines Kaisers."

"Even his favour, which rested upon the Trotta family, was a burden of ice.  And Carl Joseph froze beneath the blue gaze of his Emperor."***

As the empire draws closer to its inevitable doom, so too does the family line of the Trottas, men lifted above their station, a historical aberration soon to be smoothed out.  In linking the fate of the family with that of the empire, Roth allows the reader to witness the death throes of what was one of Europe's great powers.  It all makes for a wonderful novel, one worthy of its inclusion in Reich-Ranicki's pantheon of German-language greats.

*****
So, after the success of Hotel Savoy, that's two out of two for Roth - time to look for more of his work :)  As for the Kanon, despite my recent activity, that is just the ninth of the top novels that I've read.  Another eleven to go...

*** All translations are my own, pitiful efforts ;)

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like...

One writer I've been wanting to try for some time is Joseph Roth, author of Radetzkymarsch, one of the most famous novels in the German language.  While I won't be getting to that one this month, I thought I'd get a taste of his work by reading a famous novella, Hotel Savoy, so I was all set to start the bus off on the road to Vienna.  That is, until I discovered that despite being described as an Austrian writer, Roth was actually born in Eastern Europe (present-day Ukraine) - and that his book takes place in Poland...

*****
Hotel Savoy is set in the years after World War One in the Polish town of Łódź.  Gabriel Dan, a returning prisoner of war, arrives in the city on his journey westward.  He is hoping to press onwards to America, but as his rich uncle, Phöbus Höhlaug lives in the city, he decides to stay for a while in the hope of getting the money he needs to emigrate.  While he is waiting, he takes up residence in the Hotel Savoy, an imposing building in the centre of the town, where rich and poor alike are in residence - albeit on different floors.

Right at the start of the book, we see the hotel through Gabriel's eyes, his and our first impression of the town:

"Zum erstenmal nach fünf Jahren stehe ich wieder an den Toren Europas.  Europäischer als alle anderen Gasthöfe des Ostens scheint mir das Hotel Savoy mit seinen sieben Etagen, seinem goldenen Wappen und einem livrierten Portier."

"For the first time in five years, I stand once again before the gates of Europe .  The Hotel Savoy appears more European than any other resting place in the east, with its golden coat of arms and a liveried porter."
(my translation)

Once he enters the hotel though, we see that this grand facade hides a slightly more prosaic existence.  While the bottom floors belong to the wealthy, the poor and displaced are hidden away in the upper floors.  As is claimed in the book:

"In allen Städten der Welt gibt es kleinere oder größere Savoys, und überall in den höchsten Stockwerken wohnen die Santschins und ersticken am Dunst fremder Wäsche."

 "In every city in the world, there are small or large Savoys, and everywhere, on the highest floors, live the Santschins [the name of a poor family] of this world, suffocating in the steam of other people's washing."

Perhaps though, those on the higher floors are, as is occasionally alluded to, closer to God than the luxury-worshipping people down below...

The hotel is more than just a building, of course.  It's a representation, an embodiment, of society, and the book is an allegory for the sorry state the world found itself in after the horrors of the Great War.  Just as in the wider world, the hotel quickly separates the rich from the poor, and those lucky enough to live on the lower floors make sure that they pull together.  For example, whenever a worker from the local factories dies, the doctor makes sure to give the cause of death as heart failure - and not lung failure caused by breathing in tiny fragments of cloth day in, day out at work...

Gabriel intends to move on quickly, but he finds himself strangely in tune with life in the hotel, in part because of the attractions of the cabaret artist, Stasia.  As the days and weeks pass, it appears that he will struggle to ever leave the town - and the hotel.  It's all very reminiscent of a book I spent a lot of time on last year :)

Unlike in Kafka's work though, there is a revolutionary streak running through Hotel Savoy.  When Zwonimir, Gabriel's old friend from his army days, arrives in town, he acts as a catalyst, setting a light to the volatile atmosphere, sending the story towards a dramatic climax.  As the rich housewives see a hypnotist to have their headaches cured (while their husbands cavort with naked dancers in the cellar bar), the poor and hungry are dying in the streets, lying in the dirt.  It doesn't take a genius to see that things aren't going to end well.

Hotel Savoy is an entertaining story, fairly easy to read, but with a serious message underneath.  What makes it even more interesting is that the hotel depicted in the novella is real, located in the central-Polish city of Łódź.  There was a picture on Wikipedia of the hotel after its renovation, with beautiful, gleaming white walls.  However, I decided that the picture above was far more interesting and, what's more, better suited to the story.  While I wouldn't like to live at the Hotel Savoy myself, it is definitely a fun place to while away a few hours ;)