Marlen Haushofer called this "an autobiography of my childhood." It's set in Austria in the 1920s, on the outskirts of a small, mountain village, this follows a young girl Meta, from her earliest memories through to her teens. There’s no obvious plot, no chapters, the structure follows the rhythm of Meta’s days and her interactions with the people around her. I thought Haushofer’s ability to convey a sense of place was breathtakingly good, as was the way she represented Meta’s thoughts and experiences. Haushofer abandons most of the usual conventions of books about childhood. This isn’t shaped by standard milestones, birthdays, first day at school. Time passing’s conveyed by Meta’s shifting perceptions, her encounters, her understanding of the adult world and her place in it, its codes, its morality, as she gradually develops an idea of herself as a separate person, tied to her family but also outside it.
Haushofer subtly contrasts Meta’s ‘time’ with the adults around her. For Meta there’s an immediacy, everything saturated in light or shrouded in darkness, streams of overwhelming sensations evoking strong emotional responses. Adults appear governed, not just by their working hours and domestic duties, but by history, external events have intruded on, and, somehow, defined them. Her father repeatedly tells Meta about serving in the First World War, her mother doesn’t seem to have recovered from that period’s losses, an older relative endlessly harks back to vanished Empire. There’s an impression that growing-up always involves trauma and becoming someone composed of fixed moments, constrained by past events that resonate in the present.
Meta’s not living in a pastoral paradise, from early on she’s confronted by images or reminders of death, the fertile patch behind the house soaked in blood from the slaughter of family pigs, her father’s hunting dogs’ short lives, inevitably picked off by stray bullets. Haushofer opens on two-year-old Meta encased in a barrel, left there for hours as punishment for wandering during harvest time. But this isn’t placed there to condemn her parents’ harsh methods, Meta conquers her fear by drawing on her imagination, turning the barrel into a benign space. She’s a dreamy child, fascinated by the natural world, as well as ideas about myths and ghosts, she's endlessly conjuring up tales of fantastical happenings.
The blurb for Nowhere Ending Sky says it shows a country under threat from, “the impending advent of Nazism and war.” If so that’s heavily encoded, there are hints of strands in Austrian society possibly foreshadowing its future: economic problems, anti-Semitism in particular, but no more pronounced than elsewhere in the same era, England for example. I’m not sure if Haushofer’s deliberately invoking later developments or if her novel’s been marketed to emphasize “Nazism and war,” because they’re popular selling-points. One definite theme is story-telling, another’s imagination and becoming a writer: the role of narrative in shaping reality, the stories we tell and the ones we’re told. Meta’s growing obsession with books ties to this and her attempts to transform what she pictures in her head into words on a page. Although I suppose there are questions that could be teased out around how we process our individual or collective past. Despite any ambiguities about what Haushofer’s ultimately talking about (and perhaps, as with The Wall, because of her enigmatic approach), I thought this was excellent, it’s funny and moving, deceptively simple, sensitively observed, and meticulously drawn. The translation by Amanda Prantera flows brilliantly. The imagery, the style, the characters, everything about this worked for me.