What do you think?
Rate this book
Irgendwo ist Prostken: Roman eines masurischen Lokführers
Wilhelm Bubat, 1888 im masurischen Prostken geboren, träumt seit frühester Jugend davon, Lokomotivführer zu werden. Als junger Eisenbahner gehört er zur Armee des Kaisers und fährt von Tannenberg bis Verdun. Im nächsten Weltkrieg ist er wieder unterwegs, befördert Kohle und Menschen, auch in die Konzentrationslager Sachsenhausen und Auschwitz. Die Fracht ist egal – er erfüllt seine Pflicht, schweigt und leidet ...Eindringlich schildert Arno Surminski die Schrecken der Weltkriege, Flucht und lebendige Geschichte aus der Perspektive der einfachen Leute.
386 pages, Kindle Edition
Published July 16, 2020
1 person is currently reading
5 people want to read
About the author
Arno Surminski
46 books5 followersArno Surminski (born 20 August 1934 in Jäglack, East Prussia) is a German writer, living in Hamburg, and a father of two.
After growing up in East Prussia, his parents were deported to ther Soviet Union, while he was expelled to Schleswig-Holstein. Having finished his school education there, he was apprenticed to a lawyer from 1950-1953.
He lived in Canada from 1957 to 1960, but then came back to Germany, where he worked for an insurance company from 1962 until 1972.
Since 1972, apart from writing, he has been working as a journalist, specialising in economy and insurance. His fame is mainly due to his novels, the principal themes of which are his recollections of a happy childhood and the fate of the deportees; he has no interest however in revenge, but only wants to preserve his childhood memories. Several of his books were used for TV productions.
Since 2001, he has been working as an ombudsman in the field of health insurance.
After growing up in East Prussia, his parents were deported to ther Soviet Union, while he was expelled to Schleswig-Holstein. Having finished his school education there, he was apprenticed to a lawyer from 1950-1953.
He lived in Canada from 1957 to 1960, but then came back to Germany, where he worked for an insurance company from 1962 until 1972.
Since 1972, apart from writing, he has been working as a journalist, specialising in economy and insurance. His fame is mainly due to his novels, the principal themes of which are his recollections of a happy childhood and the fate of the deportees; he has no interest however in revenge, but only wants to preserve his childhood memories. Several of his books were used for TV productions.
Since 2001, he has been working as an ombudsman in the field of health insurance.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
December 21, 2024
Were this novel a painting, it would be a primitive, albeit one of the most spectacular imaginable. The lines would be clearly defined, the colors simple, the contrasts obvious. There would be no need for terms like chiaroscuro or tenebrism. Or debates about whether is was conceptual or abstract. It would all be there, right in front of you, with seemingly obvious images that, upon further viewing, would reveal a simple complexity. Were it a food, it might be the most magnificent boccadillo needing only the sweetest, ripest tomato pressed into the crispy softness of a Spanish baguette surrounding the refined simplicity of the most noble jamón ibérico. Or since the story revolves around train conductor from Masuria, perhaps a more appropriate dish would be a bed of the sweetest, tenderest sauerkraut with a perfect smoked pork loin chop nestled invitingly on top.
Arno Surminski is the prolific chronicler and interpreter of East Prussia, a place that no longer exists. He has written novels, short stories, and children’s tales about life there in times of crisis including the Vertriebene, the estimated 12-16 million East Prussians who were forced to emigrate to present day Germany following the capitulation of World War II. Today it is the extreme western enclave of Russia; where Kaliningrad has replaced Königsberg and Masuria is now the the northwestern lake district of Poland, the largest city of Olsztyn being the former Allenstein. On the furthest western edge of Masuria is the Polish village Prostki, which in East Prussia, was known as Prostken, the birthplace of Wilhelm Bubat, whose story is told in plain language in staccato-like short paragraphs ranging from two-to-six pages. There is no need for analysis nor are there seemingly any complex themes in the telling of his story. Nonetheless, the beauty, horror, dreams, and realities of his life are told in a straightforward style that is elevated into the true literature, arguably Surminski’s most impeccable novel.
Wilhelm is born in the late 19th century into a small world of limited expectations. His father has spent his whole life farming in Prostken, his mother Russian, having grown up just a few miles away across the border. No one in the village has ever traveled far, so when Wilhelm becomes a train conductor, when he tells his family and neighbors of his journeys to Königsberg, it almost seemed as exotic as traveling to the moon, as far as they were concerned. Over time, his travels take him even further; to Berlin, Hamburg, and places where people have no idea where Prostken is. It is, as the title of novel states, irgendwo, somewhere. But is someplace for Wilhelm, who comes back home to woo and marry his wife Lina, and to describe the outside world to people at time before radios and newspapers with news in faraway places. His train transports young, idealistic soldiers to the Western Front of World War I, a place no one in Prostken can imagine or visualize. He also brings back the broken, disillusioned, and bitter survivors—some surviving more than others—after the reality of war has broken their false romanticism. Wilhelm’s train carries passengers during the hard times of post-war reconstruction and the inflation. The sudden, yet oft-occurring suicides of people throwing themselves in front of his locomotive never becomes routine. Nor is it something he tells Lina or the people in Prostken about. They wouldn’t understand; it would only tarnish the aura of being in such a seemingly glamorous profession. The same is true of the war machinery he must transport around the country in the late 1930s. He has work obligations to fulfill and is neither given any information about details or intent.
When he transports a group of people to Riga—people he is not allowed to see or interact with—and is told to stop outside the city in the Rumbula forest to have them disembark, the sudden and continuous shooting and execution of his passengers makes him physically sick, confused, and induces feelings of helplessness. It is another episode he will keep to himself. He wonders what is happening to the many transports of people his trains take to the east, places like Auschwitz and Sobibor. He is never allowed to observe what happens. His job is to disconnect the cars and bring them back where they came from. But he sees the destruction of war, it is unavoidable. He is witness to the bombings of Hamburg and other cities, all the while fulfilling his obligations to get things where they need to be, despite bombed out train tracks that cause numerous detours. In the closing weeks of the war, his trains are overflowing with refugees from East Prussia, with released prisoners of war, and many more wounded and dying. On one of the trips, Piontek, his longtime Polish assistant conductor, decides it is time for him to disappear, before he becomes a victim. Wilhelm understands. Once again, despairing people jumping unexpectedly in front of his locomotive becomes eerily routine. In the end, he even transports his family and neighbors from Prostken to Hamburg Altona, his new home and travel hub as he becomes part of the infrastructure of a new West German nation, a fate he shares with millions. The simplicity of the language and images Surminski creates evokes a story worthy of the best of Remarque, in this case a comprehensive history of how people who live through cataclysmic historical events.
After settling down, approaching retirement, when Lina has the opportunity to visit their old home in Prostken, Wilhelm declines to join her. He no longer has a connection to his home. He learns about new terms like Holocaust and considers episodes in his past he had never, and would never, share with Lina. As he reaches his ninety-first birthday, his last, he he has coffee one afternoon with Lina in their new home in Hamburg. He concludes, despite what he has seen and experienced, by finishing his life with her in peace, that his life had more light than dark. The painting that was his life turned out to be a primitive with many touches of tenebrism.
Arno Surminski is the prolific chronicler and interpreter of East Prussia, a place that no longer exists. He has written novels, short stories, and children’s tales about life there in times of crisis including the Vertriebene, the estimated 12-16 million East Prussians who were forced to emigrate to present day Germany following the capitulation of World War II. Today it is the extreme western enclave of Russia; where Kaliningrad has replaced Königsberg and Masuria is now the the northwestern lake district of Poland, the largest city of Olsztyn being the former Allenstein. On the furthest western edge of Masuria is the Polish village Prostki, which in East Prussia, was known as Prostken, the birthplace of Wilhelm Bubat, whose story is told in plain language in staccato-like short paragraphs ranging from two-to-six pages. There is no need for analysis nor are there seemingly any complex themes in the telling of his story. Nonetheless, the beauty, horror, dreams, and realities of his life are told in a straightforward style that is elevated into the true literature, arguably Surminski’s most impeccable novel.
Wilhelm is born in the late 19th century into a small world of limited expectations. His father has spent his whole life farming in Prostken, his mother Russian, having grown up just a few miles away across the border. No one in the village has ever traveled far, so when Wilhelm becomes a train conductor, when he tells his family and neighbors of his journeys to Königsberg, it almost seemed as exotic as traveling to the moon, as far as they were concerned. Over time, his travels take him even further; to Berlin, Hamburg, and places where people have no idea where Prostken is. It is, as the title of novel states, irgendwo, somewhere. But is someplace for Wilhelm, who comes back home to woo and marry his wife Lina, and to describe the outside world to people at time before radios and newspapers with news in faraway places. His train transports young, idealistic soldiers to the Western Front of World War I, a place no one in Prostken can imagine or visualize. He also brings back the broken, disillusioned, and bitter survivors—some surviving more than others—after the reality of war has broken their false romanticism. Wilhelm’s train carries passengers during the hard times of post-war reconstruction and the inflation. The sudden, yet oft-occurring suicides of people throwing themselves in front of his locomotive never becomes routine. Nor is it something he tells Lina or the people in Prostken about. They wouldn’t understand; it would only tarnish the aura of being in such a seemingly glamorous profession. The same is true of the war machinery he must transport around the country in the late 1930s. He has work obligations to fulfill and is neither given any information about details or intent.
When he transports a group of people to Riga—people he is not allowed to see or interact with—and is told to stop outside the city in the Rumbula forest to have them disembark, the sudden and continuous shooting and execution of his passengers makes him physically sick, confused, and induces feelings of helplessness. It is another episode he will keep to himself. He wonders what is happening to the many transports of people his trains take to the east, places like Auschwitz and Sobibor. He is never allowed to observe what happens. His job is to disconnect the cars and bring them back where they came from. But he sees the destruction of war, it is unavoidable. He is witness to the bombings of Hamburg and other cities, all the while fulfilling his obligations to get things where they need to be, despite bombed out train tracks that cause numerous detours. In the closing weeks of the war, his trains are overflowing with refugees from East Prussia, with released prisoners of war, and many more wounded and dying. On one of the trips, Piontek, his longtime Polish assistant conductor, decides it is time for him to disappear, before he becomes a victim. Wilhelm understands. Once again, despairing people jumping unexpectedly in front of his locomotive becomes eerily routine. In the end, he even transports his family and neighbors from Prostken to Hamburg Altona, his new home and travel hub as he becomes part of the infrastructure of a new West German nation, a fate he shares with millions. The simplicity of the language and images Surminski creates evokes a story worthy of the best of Remarque, in this case a comprehensive history of how people who live through cataclysmic historical events.
After settling down, approaching retirement, when Lina has the opportunity to visit their old home in Prostken, Wilhelm declines to join her. He no longer has a connection to his home. He learns about new terms like Holocaust and considers episodes in his past he had never, and would never, share with Lina. As he reaches his ninety-first birthday, his last, he he has coffee one afternoon with Lina in their new home in Hamburg. He concludes, despite what he has seen and experienced, by finishing his life with her in peace, that his life had more light than dark. The painting that was his life turned out to be a primitive with many touches of tenebrism.
Displaying 1 of 1 review