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Nach dem internationalen Erfolg von ›Die Mittagsfrau‹ erzählt Julia Franck in ihrem großen neuen Roman eine ergreifende Familiengeschichte im Deutschland der 50er und 60er Jahre. Ostberlin, Ende der 50er Jahre. Die Geschwister Ella und Thomas wachsen auf sich allein gestellt im Haus der Bildhauerin Käthe auf. Sie sind einander Liebe und Gedächtnis, Rücken an Rücken loten sie ihr Erwachsenwerden aus. Ihre Unschuld und das Leben selbst stehen dabei auf dem Spiel. Käthe, eine kraftvolle und schroffe Frau, hat sich für das kommunistische Deutschland entschieden. Leidenschaftlich vertritt sie die Erfindung einer neuen Gesellschaft, doch ihr Einsatz fordert Tribut. Im Schatten scheinbarer Liberalität setzen Kälte und Gewalt Ella zu. Während sie mal in Krankheit flieht und mal trotzig aufbegehrt, versucht Thomas sich zu fügen, doch nur schwer erträgt er die Erniedrigungen und flüchtet in die unglückliche Liebe zu Marie. Julia Franck zeichnet das Bild einer Epoche, die die Frage nach Aufrichtigkeit neu stellt. Sie erzählt von großer Liebe ohne Rückhalt und einer Utopie mit tragischem Ausgang – eine Familiengeschichte, die zum Gesellschaftsroman wird.
380 pages, Hardcover
First published October 18, 2011
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 32 reviews
December 27, 2013
From my review for the Washington Independent Review of Books:
Back to Back is the story of Thomas and Ella, a brother and sister growing up in the German Democratic Republic in the late 1950s. The majority of their family fled Germany to escape Hitler or Stalin, so the children live alone with their mother, Käthe, and a lodger called (but not named) Ulrich. Käthe is a sculptor, a Party true-believer, and a domestic tyrant who alternately exploits and neglects her children, denying them love and treating them with cruel disdain. Ulrich is believed to be an agent for the Stasi – thus the pseudonym.
The first half of the book is designed like a collection of short stories, each chapter dedicated to an awful event from Thomas and Ella’s childhood: there is the time they are left completely unattended for days without enough food, and decide to clean the house to please the absent Käthe. She eventually returns but doesn’t notice their hard work, berating them instead for picking flowers from the garden. Finally tired of being ignored, the children run away. They return half-drowned days later to find Käthe hasn’t noticed their absence […]
The second half of the book finds a more sustained narrative. Recovered from his illness, Thomas is a hospital orderly, the price of entry to medical school – a path chosen for him, of course, by Käthe. He meets a nurse, Marie, who is also a victim: her husband pimps her to his friends. The two fall in love, and theirs is the story that ties the last chapters together. Ella’s experiences are still recounted, but in a manner episodic and sporadic, denied any chance to evolve; the emphasis is elsewhere.
While the couple’s attempts at happiness form the novel’s most powerful section, inevitable failure hanging over the endeavor like a guillotine, the change in focus and subsequent imbalance between the siblings simultaneously highlights the book’s greatest weakness: that it is otherwise a world of straw-men and disposable effects. The fearsome Ulrich, for example, disappears for the length of a bible; his absence has no consequence, demonstrating the extent to which his role lacks significance […]
The reviews quoted by the publicity material were apparently chosen to suggest that art about those who suffered is inherently good. At its most extreme, this approach would redefine as values the novel’s very deficits: if the story doesn’t evolve, it is because repression stifles evolution; the characters are flat because Communism has flattened them; events fail to hang together cohesively because totalitarianism undermines all cohesion. To ask for more is to deny these truths, to trample the dead.
To present this as a strength is a failure of imagination. Think how the perfectly rounded and believable Kate Croy enacts the hidden cruelties of the class system in James’s The Wings of the Dove, or the characters in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness perform all the terrible roles of colonialism – even literally setting severed heads on spikes – without ever appearing two-dimensional. William Faulkner, in Light in August, gives us two fully-fleshed monsters (murderous criminal Joe Christmas and his lynch-mobster grandfather, Doc Hines) to epitomize all the horrors of slavery, folding back the leaves of atrocity to show its roots, tangled and complex, without ever limiting plot or character.
It is an error to imagine that a rounded depiction of cruel people must demonstrate acceptance of cruelty; quite the reverse is true. The flattening of characters – the reduction of their humanity – denies their actions a human origin, precisely when totalitarianism no less than slavery or colonialism is the product of human behaviour. To make the ill we do to one another appear the random effect of force majeure is to let those responsible off scot-free – surely the opposite of what Julia Franck had in mind writing this book.
Back to Back is the story of Thomas and Ella, a brother and sister growing up in the German Democratic Republic in the late 1950s. The majority of their family fled Germany to escape Hitler or Stalin, so the children live alone with their mother, Käthe, and a lodger called (but not named) Ulrich. Käthe is a sculptor, a Party true-believer, and a domestic tyrant who alternately exploits and neglects her children, denying them love and treating them with cruel disdain. Ulrich is believed to be an agent for the Stasi – thus the pseudonym.
The first half of the book is designed like a collection of short stories, each chapter dedicated to an awful event from Thomas and Ella’s childhood: there is the time they are left completely unattended for days without enough food, and decide to clean the house to please the absent Käthe. She eventually returns but doesn’t notice their hard work, berating them instead for picking flowers from the garden. Finally tired of being ignored, the children run away. They return half-drowned days later to find Käthe hasn’t noticed their absence […]
The second half of the book finds a more sustained narrative. Recovered from his illness, Thomas is a hospital orderly, the price of entry to medical school – a path chosen for him, of course, by Käthe. He meets a nurse, Marie, who is also a victim: her husband pimps her to his friends. The two fall in love, and theirs is the story that ties the last chapters together. Ella’s experiences are still recounted, but in a manner episodic and sporadic, denied any chance to evolve; the emphasis is elsewhere.
While the couple’s attempts at happiness form the novel’s most powerful section, inevitable failure hanging over the endeavor like a guillotine, the change in focus and subsequent imbalance between the siblings simultaneously highlights the book’s greatest weakness: that it is otherwise a world of straw-men and disposable effects. The fearsome Ulrich, for example, disappears for the length of a bible; his absence has no consequence, demonstrating the extent to which his role lacks significance […]
The reviews quoted by the publicity material were apparently chosen to suggest that art about those who suffered is inherently good. At its most extreme, this approach would redefine as values the novel’s very deficits: if the story doesn’t evolve, it is because repression stifles evolution; the characters are flat because Communism has flattened them; events fail to hang together cohesively because totalitarianism undermines all cohesion. To ask for more is to deny these truths, to trample the dead.
To present this as a strength is a failure of imagination. Think how the perfectly rounded and believable Kate Croy enacts the hidden cruelties of the class system in James’s The Wings of the Dove, or the characters in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness perform all the terrible roles of colonialism – even literally setting severed heads on spikes – without ever appearing two-dimensional. William Faulkner, in Light in August, gives us two fully-fleshed monsters (murderous criminal Joe Christmas and his lynch-mobster grandfather, Doc Hines) to epitomize all the horrors of slavery, folding back the leaves of atrocity to show its roots, tangled and complex, without ever limiting plot or character.
It is an error to imagine that a rounded depiction of cruel people must demonstrate acceptance of cruelty; quite the reverse is true. The flattening of characters – the reduction of their humanity – denies their actions a human origin, precisely when totalitarianism no less than slavery or colonialism is the product of human behaviour. To make the ill we do to one another appear the random effect of force majeure is to let those responsible off scot-free – surely the opposite of what Julia Franck had in mind writing this book.
February 16, 2014
Es kann doch nicht alles schlecht sein
Die Geschwister Ella und Thomas wachsen in der Nachkriegszeit in Ost-Berlin auf. Sie haben zwei jüngere Zwillingsschwestern, die die Mutter aber ins Heim oder zu Pflegeeltern gegeben hat, weil ihr vier Kinder irgendwie zu viel sind. Arbeiten muss sie schließlich auch. Dafür hat Käthe, die Mutter, ein Zimmer an den Untermieter vergeben, der Beziehungen nicht nur zu Käthe, sondern auch zur Stasi und zu Ella unterhält. Thomas ist Käthes Liebling, soweit diese kühle und ichbezogene Frau einen Liebling haben kann. Für ein Studium vorgesehen, muss Thomas jedoch eine Art Arbeitsdienst in einem Bergwerk ableisten. Von den anderen Jugendlichen dort verlacht, gehänselt und gemobbt, bricht er den Dienst recht schnell ab als sein Körper beginnt sich heftig dagegen zu wehren, indem er eine Gürtelrose entwickelt.
Zwei mal Kindheit und Jugendjahre in der DDR. Für mich als Wessi und diesmal etwas jüngeres Semester ein sehr interessantes Thema. Wie ging es wohl hinter dem eisernen Vorhang zu? War das Erwachsenwerden dort signifikant anders oder trotz der etwas anderen Rahmenbedingungen doch ähnlich? Ausgehend von diesen Fragen oder Erwartungen wurde ich doch schwer enttäuscht. Kalte, gefühllose Mutter, Missbrauch, Quälerei, Mobbing, Vernachlässigung, Stasi - was hat die Autorin den handelnden Personen nur alles aufgebürdet. Fast als müssten zwei für ein ganzes Land leiden. Das ist doch zu heftig. Wären nicht die eindringlichen Schilderungen, die die Autorin selbst vorträgt, die präzisen und aufwühlenden Beschreibungen dieses Leids, die Modulation der Stimme, mit der sie die Hörer beeindruckt und ihre Wirkung erzielt, ich hätte die Lektüre des Buches möglicherweise nicht beendet. Wenn man einfach etwas über das Leben in den frühen Jahren der DDR erfahren möchte, ist dieses Buch vielleicht nicht die richtige Wahl. Wenn man sich auf eine Schilderung des Lebens in einer kaputten Familie einlassen kann und will, wird einen das Buch aufwühlen und mitreißen, auch wenn es nun nicht so DDR-spezifisch ist, denn auch dort kann ja nicht alles schlecht gewesen sein.
Die Geschwister Ella und Thomas wachsen in der Nachkriegszeit in Ost-Berlin auf. Sie haben zwei jüngere Zwillingsschwestern, die die Mutter aber ins Heim oder zu Pflegeeltern gegeben hat, weil ihr vier Kinder irgendwie zu viel sind. Arbeiten muss sie schließlich auch. Dafür hat Käthe, die Mutter, ein Zimmer an den Untermieter vergeben, der Beziehungen nicht nur zu Käthe, sondern auch zur Stasi und zu Ella unterhält. Thomas ist Käthes Liebling, soweit diese kühle und ichbezogene Frau einen Liebling haben kann. Für ein Studium vorgesehen, muss Thomas jedoch eine Art Arbeitsdienst in einem Bergwerk ableisten. Von den anderen Jugendlichen dort verlacht, gehänselt und gemobbt, bricht er den Dienst recht schnell ab als sein Körper beginnt sich heftig dagegen zu wehren, indem er eine Gürtelrose entwickelt.
Zwei mal Kindheit und Jugendjahre in der DDR. Für mich als Wessi und diesmal etwas jüngeres Semester ein sehr interessantes Thema. Wie ging es wohl hinter dem eisernen Vorhang zu? War das Erwachsenwerden dort signifikant anders oder trotz der etwas anderen Rahmenbedingungen doch ähnlich? Ausgehend von diesen Fragen oder Erwartungen wurde ich doch schwer enttäuscht. Kalte, gefühllose Mutter, Missbrauch, Quälerei, Mobbing, Vernachlässigung, Stasi - was hat die Autorin den handelnden Personen nur alles aufgebürdet. Fast als müssten zwei für ein ganzes Land leiden. Das ist doch zu heftig. Wären nicht die eindringlichen Schilderungen, die die Autorin selbst vorträgt, die präzisen und aufwühlenden Beschreibungen dieses Leids, die Modulation der Stimme, mit der sie die Hörer beeindruckt und ihre Wirkung erzielt, ich hätte die Lektüre des Buches möglicherweise nicht beendet. Wenn man einfach etwas über das Leben in den frühen Jahren der DDR erfahren möchte, ist dieses Buch vielleicht nicht die richtige Wahl. Wenn man sich auf eine Schilderung des Lebens in einer kaputten Familie einlassen kann und will, wird einen das Buch aufwühlen und mitreißen, auch wenn es nun nicht so DDR-spezifisch ist, denn auch dort kann ja nicht alles schlecht gewesen sein.
March 18, 2017
I don't know if it's the writing or the translating or the era (1950s Totalitarian East Germany) or the combination of factors, but I just did not understand this book. Thomas and Ella grow up neglected by an artist named Kathe; throughout the book I was confused as to what their relationship was - it seems they are Kathe's son and daughter but she refuses to be their mother, also there are twins she abandons.
There were fragments of story lines I was able to follow intermittently but it was frustrating the way each was so abruptly discontinued and at odds with the others. This author's style seems to be ambiguity and non sequitur; I was further irritated by grammatical errors: "Kathe nodded and her smile turned to fiery earnest." "...we are doing ourselves and the workers down" "and she take Thomas's poem out of his pocket". Ella's random use of imaginary language, Thomas's poetry, and Kathe's politics were all confusing and ultimately boring to me.
There were fragments of story lines I was able to follow intermittently but it was frustrating the way each was so abruptly discontinued and at odds with the others. This author's style seems to be ambiguity and non sequitur; I was further irritated by grammatical errors: "Kathe nodded and her smile turned to fiery earnest." "...we are doing ourselves and the workers down" "and she take Thomas's poem out of his pocket". Ella's random use of imaginary language, Thomas's poetry, and Kathe's politics were all confusing and ultimately boring to me.
April 29, 2016
The State as Mother
Thomas and Ella, ten and eleven respectively, work all day to get the house ready for their mother, who has been away. She hardly notices, and only reproves them for picking flowers from the garden. Thinking to run away, they take an old boat out on the lake by their house in the eastern suburbs of Berlin, and return in the morning frozen almost to death. Their mother is not even aware that they had gone. Julia Franck has already introduced us to one monster mother in her best-selling novel The Blindness of the Heart, although that book ends by showing that the apparently callous act of abandoning one's child in a train station may have had a loving reason. But there is no such reason in the actions of this single mother, a sculptor named Käthe, living in East Germany in the years immediately before and after the erection of the Wall. She may be the coldest, least feeling woman I have come across in modern fiction. And her household out-grims Grimm for deprivation and callousness.
Franck's new novel, which follows the lives of Ella and Thomas for the next eight years, marks a departure from her earlier one in several respects. It is tighter in focus, less linear in construction, and infinitely more tragic. Though centered on a single character, the earlier book followed German history from the rise of the Nazis to the end of the war. Here, the only outside events allowed to penetrate the claustrophobic setting are mentions of Gagarin's flight into space, the debacle of the Bay of Pigs, and the building of the Wall. In place of normal dialogue, Franck uses a free combination of speech and description, with neither punctuation nor always paragraph breaks to distinguish the speakers. Combined with occasional use of the nonsense words that are part of the siblings' private language and the increasing alienation of Thomas's poetry, the book becomes almost Faulknerian in tone (at least as translated by the exquisite Anthea Bell), whose power resides largely in the gradual curdling of its narrative clarity.
"Was it really so bad?" asks the Saarbrücker Zeitung; "It was much worse." From this and most of the other reviews on the back cover, it seems we are to read the novel as a denunciation of the evils of Walter Ulbricht's GDR. By the second half of the book, certainly: Ella can be exploited by party officials threatening to withhold her school leaving certificate; Thomas gets sent to work in a stone quarry to free him from the taint of privilege. But why such horrors on the private front too? I am sure there were plenty of good-party-member mothers who nonetheless showed a little love for their children. I wasn't sure whether there was supposed to be some causal connection between Käthe's mothering and the demands placed upon her by the state, or whether Franck intends it in part as an allegory. This doubt makes me withhold my fifth star. Though because the intensity of this horrible book was such as even to overcome my distaste while reading it, it was a difficult decision.
Thomas and Ella, ten and eleven respectively, work all day to get the house ready for their mother, who has been away. She hardly notices, and only reproves them for picking flowers from the garden. Thinking to run away, they take an old boat out on the lake by their house in the eastern suburbs of Berlin, and return in the morning frozen almost to death. Their mother is not even aware that they had gone. Julia Franck has already introduced us to one monster mother in her best-selling novel The Blindness of the Heart, although that book ends by showing that the apparently callous act of abandoning one's child in a train station may have had a loving reason. But there is no such reason in the actions of this single mother, a sculptor named Käthe, living in East Germany in the years immediately before and after the erection of the Wall. She may be the coldest, least feeling woman I have come across in modern fiction. And her household out-grims Grimm for deprivation and callousness.
Franck's new novel, which follows the lives of Ella and Thomas for the next eight years, marks a departure from her earlier one in several respects. It is tighter in focus, less linear in construction, and infinitely more tragic. Though centered on a single character, the earlier book followed German history from the rise of the Nazis to the end of the war. Here, the only outside events allowed to penetrate the claustrophobic setting are mentions of Gagarin's flight into space, the debacle of the Bay of Pigs, and the building of the Wall. In place of normal dialogue, Franck uses a free combination of speech and description, with neither punctuation nor always paragraph breaks to distinguish the speakers. Combined with occasional use of the nonsense words that are part of the siblings' private language and the increasing alienation of Thomas's poetry, the book becomes almost Faulknerian in tone (at least as translated by the exquisite Anthea Bell), whose power resides largely in the gradual curdling of its narrative clarity.
"Was it really so bad?" asks the Saarbrücker Zeitung; "It was much worse." From this and most of the other reviews on the back cover, it seems we are to read the novel as a denunciation of the evils of Walter Ulbricht's GDR. By the second half of the book, certainly: Ella can be exploited by party officials threatening to withhold her school leaving certificate; Thomas gets sent to work in a stone quarry to free him from the taint of privilege. But why such horrors on the private front too? I am sure there were plenty of good-party-member mothers who nonetheless showed a little love for their children. I wasn't sure whether there was supposed to be some causal connection between Käthe's mothering and the demands placed upon her by the state, or whether Franck intends it in part as an allegory. This doubt makes me withhold my fifth star. Though because the intensity of this horrible book was such as even to overcome my distaste while reading it, it was a difficult decision.
February 10, 2014
Two children, Ella and Thomas, ages 11 and 10 respectively, are left at home for weeks when their absent mother does her work for the country. But when she returns, instead of acknowledging the good work they've done bringing the place to sparkling standards, all she does is criticize them for wasting cleaning liquid. This continues, and gets increasingly worse - the heating is turned off, and the door to the coal cellar is locked. There's not much money, and there's certainly no love. There's work at a stone quarry where the workers take it out in a horrible way for being a rich and good at studies. Horrifyingly, a blind eye is turned to the sexual abuse that happens right under the mother's nose and implications are that she knows about it.
I look at this book as confirmation of all the worst things I've supposed Communist East Germany capable of. (I know practically nothing). The torture, both emotional and physical, is intense. Almost everyone in the book are persecuted in some way. None seem happy, not even the persecutors. What's worse is that portions of the book are apparently borrowed from the life of the author's grandmother - Ingeborg Hunziger. Given how brilliant portions of the book are, and given the ideas that are floated around - mindless worker culture, the introversion of the entire country, the selling of souls required for even the simplest of things - it's sad that the book dissolves into some kind of love triumphs all at the end. The love is neither believable nor moving. I was especially surprised about . Maybe the explanation was in the poetry, after a couple of which I guiltily skipped.
It's an unflinching book in parts. If it didn't end the way it did, I would have rated it higher than I did. Either way, I'm glad I read it. 3 stars.
I received a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.
I look at this book as confirmation of all the worst things I've supposed Communist East Germany capable of. (I know practically nothing). The torture, both emotional and physical, is intense. Almost everyone in the book are persecuted in some way. None seem happy, not even the persecutors. What's worse is that portions of the book are apparently borrowed from the life of the author's grandmother - Ingeborg Hunziger. Given how brilliant portions of the book are, and given the ideas that are floated around - mindless worker culture, the introversion of the entire country, the selling of souls required for even the simplest of things - it's sad that the book dissolves into some kind of love triumphs all at the end. The love is neither believable nor moving. I was especially surprised about . Maybe the explanation was in the poetry, after a couple of which I guiltily skipped.
It's an unflinching book in parts. If it didn't end the way it did, I would have rated it higher than I did. Either way, I'm glad I read it. 3 stars.
I received a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.
December 14, 2014
Mir hat diese Buch nicht gefallen. Ich mag nicht die Geschichte dieser abwesende Mutter und manchmal morbiden Beziehung zwischen den beiden Brüdern, und diesemhistorischen Kontext. Ich mag es nicht der Weg oder die Art, in der es geschrieben wurde. Alle sprechen gut aus dem Buch des Franck: Mittagsfrau, ich denke, ich werde es lesen, um ihre letzte Chance geben, aber ich wollte nicht, dass für alles.
To me this book was awful. I do not like is the history of this absent mother and sometimes morbid relationship between the two brothers, and especially in that historical context. I do not like the way or style in which it was written. All speak good of the other book by Franck: Mittagsfrau, I think I'll read it to give her last chance, but I'm not looking forward to it.
A me questo libro non é piaciuto. Non mi é piaciuta la storia di questa madre assente e del rapporto a tratti morboso tra i due fratelli e in quel contesto storico. Non mi é piaciuto il modo o lo stile in cui é stato scritto. Tutti parlano bene dell'altro libro della Franck: Mittagsfrau, credo che lo leggeró per darle l'ultima chance, ma non ho per niente voglia.
To me this book was awful. I do not like is the history of this absent mother and sometimes morbid relationship between the two brothers, and especially in that historical context. I do not like the way or style in which it was written. All speak good of the other book by Franck: Mittagsfrau, I think I'll read it to give her last chance, but I'm not looking forward to it.
A me questo libro non é piaciuto. Non mi é piaciuta la storia di questa madre assente e del rapporto a tratti morboso tra i due fratelli e in quel contesto storico. Non mi é piaciuto il modo o lo stile in cui é stato scritto. Tutti parlano bene dell'altro libro della Franck: Mittagsfrau, credo che lo leggeró per darle l'ultima chance, ma non ho per niente voglia.
January 6, 2013
nicht immer einfach zu lesen, weil man mit den beiden Kindern leidet. Ein Zeitbild aus der früheren DDR und dem Schicksal der beiden Kinder.
March 5, 2023
Citaat :
Review : Ella en haar broertje Thomas groeien in het toenmalige Oost-Duitsland op in het huis van hun moeder, de beeldhouwster Käthe. Ze vluchten weg in een eigen imperium maar kunnen zich niet handhaven in een ijskoude wereld die hen vijandig benadert. Käthe zet zich met hart en ziel in voor de idealen van een nieuw, beter Duitsland, nadat ze als jodin de nazitijd heeft overleefd, kiest ze hoopvol voor het communistische Duitsland. Haar kinderen betalen echter daarvoor de prijs.
Tegenover haar eigen kinderen is ze afstandelijk en kil. Ze heeft geen oog voor Ella’s kwetsbare eenzaamheid en ook niet voor het verlangen naar liefde van Thomas. Hoe de kinderen ook hun best doen, het huis schoonmaken, soepjes koken van de weinige voorraden, Käthe blijft ze uiterst afstandelijk en kil behandelen. Haar tweeling van een paar jaar oud heeft ze zelfs naar een opvanghuis gestuurd. Die dwarrelen slechts af en toe door het boek. De kinderen groeien op met alleen elkaar als houvast in het leven, rug aan rug en toch alleen.
Terwijl Ella haar toevlucht zoekt in ziekte en af ten toe opstandig is, probeert Thomas zich aan te passen aan de wensen van zijn moeder. Thomas is in alles meegaand. Hij is mama’s ideale model, letterlijk en figuurlijk, maar toch vernedert ze hem. Hij haalt tienen op school, maar wordt naar een steengroeve gestuurd. En dat terwijl hij voorbestemd is om woordkunstenaar te worden. Thomas zelf wil dichter worden. Met steeds meer moeite verdraagt hij de vernederingen.
Dan wordt in 1961 de Berlijnse Muur gebouwd en escaleert de situatie helemaal. Er zijn onderhuurders, duidelijk Stasi-agenten die de ‘ontaarde kunstenaarswereld’ in de gaten houden. De staat heeft allang tegen het individu gekozen. Niemand is daadwerkelijk geïnteresseerd in de beeldhouwwerken van Käthe, maar zij gaat onverdroten voort.
De onderhuurder vergrijpt zich aan de inmiddels zeventien jaar oude Ella. Ella trekt zich terug in een zelfbedachte wereld. Ze creëert een eigen taal om in te schuilen.
Julia Franck schrijft prachtig maar het is wel een onbarmharmtig schrijnend verhaal van een gekweste vrouw die haar kinderen levenslang geestelijk verminkt. De heldin in het verhaal is een zeer ambivalente figuur, gebaseerd op Julia Francks grootmoeder. Die laatste had in de zomer van 1945, in de chaos van de vlucht, haar zevenjarige zoon achtergelaten bij een station op het platteland. De zoon zag zijn moeder nooit meer terug, nooit sprak hij over het grote trauma. Die ogenschijnlijk barbaarse daad van de moeder was voor kleindochter Julia Franck een aanleiding om in de familegeschiedenis te duiken.
De roman krijgt een extra geladenheid wanneer duidelijk wordt dat de auteur bestaande gedichten in het geheel verwerkt zijn, die de auteur heeft ontleend aan de nalatenschap van een oom die op achttienjarige leeftijd in 1962 omkwam.
Review : Ella en haar broertje Thomas groeien in het toenmalige Oost-Duitsland op in het huis van hun moeder, de beeldhouwster Käthe. Ze vluchten weg in een eigen imperium maar kunnen zich niet handhaven in een ijskoude wereld die hen vijandig benadert. Käthe zet zich met hart en ziel in voor de idealen van een nieuw, beter Duitsland, nadat ze als jodin de nazitijd heeft overleefd, kiest ze hoopvol voor het communistische Duitsland. Haar kinderen betalen echter daarvoor de prijs.
Tegenover haar eigen kinderen is ze afstandelijk en kil. Ze heeft geen oog voor Ella’s kwetsbare eenzaamheid en ook niet voor het verlangen naar liefde van Thomas. Hoe de kinderen ook hun best doen, het huis schoonmaken, soepjes koken van de weinige voorraden, Käthe blijft ze uiterst afstandelijk en kil behandelen. Haar tweeling van een paar jaar oud heeft ze zelfs naar een opvanghuis gestuurd. Die dwarrelen slechts af en toe door het boek. De kinderen groeien op met alleen elkaar als houvast in het leven, rug aan rug en toch alleen.
Terwijl Ella haar toevlucht zoekt in ziekte en af ten toe opstandig is, probeert Thomas zich aan te passen aan de wensen van zijn moeder. Thomas is in alles meegaand. Hij is mama’s ideale model, letterlijk en figuurlijk, maar toch vernedert ze hem. Hij haalt tienen op school, maar wordt naar een steengroeve gestuurd. En dat terwijl hij voorbestemd is om woordkunstenaar te worden. Thomas zelf wil dichter worden. Met steeds meer moeite verdraagt hij de vernederingen.
Dan wordt in 1961 de Berlijnse Muur gebouwd en escaleert de situatie helemaal. Er zijn onderhuurders, duidelijk Stasi-agenten die de ‘ontaarde kunstenaarswereld’ in de gaten houden. De staat heeft allang tegen het individu gekozen. Niemand is daadwerkelijk geïnteresseerd in de beeldhouwwerken van Käthe, maar zij gaat onverdroten voort.
De onderhuurder vergrijpt zich aan de inmiddels zeventien jaar oude Ella. Ella trekt zich terug in een zelfbedachte wereld. Ze creëert een eigen taal om in te schuilen.
Julia Franck schrijft prachtig maar het is wel een onbarmharmtig schrijnend verhaal van een gekweste vrouw die haar kinderen levenslang geestelijk verminkt. De heldin in het verhaal is een zeer ambivalente figuur, gebaseerd op Julia Francks grootmoeder. Die laatste had in de zomer van 1945, in de chaos van de vlucht, haar zevenjarige zoon achtergelaten bij een station op het platteland. De zoon zag zijn moeder nooit meer terug, nooit sprak hij over het grote trauma. Die ogenschijnlijk barbaarse daad van de moeder was voor kleindochter Julia Franck een aanleiding om in de familegeschiedenis te duiken.
De roman krijgt een extra geladenheid wanneer duidelijk wordt dat de auteur bestaande gedichten in het geheel verwerkt zijn, die de auteur heeft ontleend aan de nalatenschap van een oom die op achttienjarige leeftijd in 1962 omkwam.
May 5, 2018
It’s the 50s and 60s, the early years of the German Democratic Republic. The siblings Thomas and Ella live with their mother Käthe in a sprawling old villa in East-Berlin.
Käthe works as a sculptress and is passionate about socialist ideals but her privileged and bourgeois background alone make her suspicious in the eyes of the State Security who’ve stationed a mysterious lodger with the family.
Käthe is a harsh mother, cruel and neglectful and in a way sacrifices her children to the new socialist order.
Thomas and Ella have formed a strong bond and look out for each other but life is a struggle in their little dysfunctional unit.
Ella tries to rebel, she is a wild, free spirit, but after being sexually abused by the lodger is pitched into a life of low self-esteem and failure.
Thomas conforms, he is Käthe’s golden boy, although all he really wants to do is leave. But the borders are closed and after getting nowhere he and his new girlfriend only see one last way out.
This is a well written novel but not a happy read.
The characters, though not all likeable are complex in their failings. A bunch of artistic and talented people are being blinded by big socialist ideas but ultimately crushed by the humdrum life in the new republic.
A sense of doom permeates everything, a sense of being caught, a family imploding.
Käthe works as a sculptress and is passionate about socialist ideals but her privileged and bourgeois background alone make her suspicious in the eyes of the State Security who’ve stationed a mysterious lodger with the family.
Käthe is a harsh mother, cruel and neglectful and in a way sacrifices her children to the new socialist order.
Thomas and Ella have formed a strong bond and look out for each other but life is a struggle in their little dysfunctional unit.
Ella tries to rebel, she is a wild, free spirit, but after being sexually abused by the lodger is pitched into a life of low self-esteem and failure.
Thomas conforms, he is Käthe’s golden boy, although all he really wants to do is leave. But the borders are closed and after getting nowhere he and his new girlfriend only see one last way out.
This is a well written novel but not a happy read.
The characters, though not all likeable are complex in their failings. A bunch of artistic and talented people are being blinded by big socialist ideas but ultimately crushed by the humdrum life in the new republic.
A sense of doom permeates everything, a sense of being caught, a family imploding.
October 29, 2017
This is a strong, innovative but very depressing novel. It’s set in East Germany in the 50s and 60s, as the Berlin Wall is being built. It centers around Thomas and Ella, who are ten and eleven as the novel begins, and eighteen and nineteen at the end of it. Their mother, Kathe, is an artist – independent, dynamic, politically active, and emotionally abusive. She treats her children basically as servants.
This novel conveys the risks of growing up in a house where nobody is really looking after you. The two children have each other, and try to protect each other, but there is little they can do. Ella is sexually abused by her mother’s lodger, who is some sort of government official. Thomas has dreams and ambitions, but is hyper-aware of the Wall that is being built around him, cutting off his options, and he is shuttled into work that is dangerous and sometimes terrifying.
The atmosphere of the novel is very gloomy, but stoic. The author doesn’t try to get into the character’s heads, but simply describes their actions, and this underlines the sense of alienation. Both young people are driven to destroy themselves, in different ways, and at different times in their lives, and one finally succeeds.
This novel conveys the risks of growing up in a house where nobody is really looking after you. The two children have each other, and try to protect each other, but there is little they can do. Ella is sexually abused by her mother’s lodger, who is some sort of government official. Thomas has dreams and ambitions, but is hyper-aware of the Wall that is being built around him, cutting off his options, and he is shuttled into work that is dangerous and sometimes terrifying.
The atmosphere of the novel is very gloomy, but stoic. The author doesn’t try to get into the character’s heads, but simply describes their actions, and this underlines the sense of alienation. Both young people are driven to destroy themselves, in different ways, and at different times in their lives, and one finally succeeds.
May 24, 2021
I found this book difficult to read. Perhaps it is the translation, you never know. But somehow the story didn't hang together. Often I didn't know what year I was in, there is not enough explanation about what was going on. Kathe is a one dimensional character, of course she isn't the main character in the book. I felt empathy for the children, but it seemed hopeless from the beginning. I just would have liked clearer writing, and some dialogue punctuation wouldn't have hurt either.
All in all a disappointment.
All in all a disappointment.
February 20, 2022
Čekala jsem od ní něco jiného. Asi to byla chyba. Nakonec to mělo blíže k Nemajetným. Myšleno stylem. Bylo to takový umělecký literární styl, který si pohrával s emocemi a vše bylo tak nějak mezi řádky. Kniha není pro každého. A rozhodně je zajímavá. Dotýká se problematických témat. Navíc ona matka taky nic moc.
June 18, 2021
Wouldn't recommend - hard to follow at times, and an unsatisfactory ending.
December 27, 2023
Not the fault of the author - just not the book for me.
December 15, 2018
November 26, 2018
„Zucker? Ella starrte auf den Teewagen.
Zucker. Käthe reichte ihr nicht die Hand, keine herzliche Geste deutete sie an, keinen Glückwunsch sprach sie aus, sie drehte sich auf dem kaum vorhandenen Absatz ihrer mongolischen Schuhe um und verschwand…
Sie denkt bestimmt, sie macht dir eine Freude.
Sollte das ein Trost sein? Glaubte Thomas wirklich, Käthe wollte Ella mit dem Zucker eine Freude machen?“
Die Geschichte der Geschwister Ella und Thomas, die im Haus ihrer Mutter, der Bildhauerin Käthe aufwachsen. Ende der 50er, Anfang der 60er Jahre, Ostberlin. Der Müggelsee. Käthe hat noch zwei weitere Kinder, aber sie leben in einem Heim und kommen nur sehr selten zu Besuch. Die Väter sind im Leben dieser Familie nicht mehr anwesend. Dafür gibt es einen Untermieter, der sich an Ella heran macht und sie missbraucht, regelmäßig. Der ihr droht, wenn sie nicht Informationen weiter gibt, über die Lehrer, die Mutter, die Freunde der Mutter, dann könne er ihr Leben zerstören.
Rücken an Rücken, ein Buch von Julia Franck aus dem Jahre 2011, ist eine Lektüre, die wirklich weh tut. Gleichzeitig entwickelt das Buch von der ersten Seite an einen Sog, dem ich mich nicht widersetzen kann.
Den Rest meiner kurzen Besprechung findet Ihr unter http://lobedentag.blogspot.com/2018/1...
„Zucker? Ella starrte auf den Teewagen.
Zucker. Käthe reichte ihr nicht die Hand, keine herzliche Geste deutete sie an, keinen Glückwunsch sprach sie aus, sie drehte sich auf dem kaum vorhandenen Absatz ihrer mongolischen Schuhe um und verschwand…
Sie denkt bestimmt, sie macht dir eine Freude.
Sollte das ein Trost sein? Glaubte Thomas wirklich, Käthe wollte Ella mit dem Zucker eine Freude machen?“
Die Geschichte der Geschwister Ella und Thomas, die im Haus ihrer Mutter, der Bildhauerin Käthe aufwachsen. Ende der 50er, Anfang der 60er Jahre, Ostberlin. Der Müggelsee. Käthe hat noch zwei weitere Kinder, aber sie leben in einem Heim und kommen nur sehr selten zu Besuch. Die Väter sind im Leben dieser Familie nicht mehr anwesend. Dafür gibt es einen Untermieter, der sich an Ella heran macht und sie missbraucht, regelmäßig. Der ihr droht, wenn sie nicht Informationen weiter gibt, über die Lehrer, die Mutter, die Freunde der Mutter, dann könne er ihr Leben zerstören.
Rücken an Rücken, ein Buch von Julia Franck aus dem Jahre 2011, ist eine Lektüre, die wirklich weh tut. Gleichzeitig entwickelt das Buch von der ersten Seite an einen Sog, dem ich mich nicht widersetzen kann.
Den Rest meiner kurzen Besprechung findet Ihr unter http://lobedentag.blogspot.com/2018/1...
December 2, 2013
I was grossly under-prepared for the intensity of Julia Franck’s Back to Back. Which is probably why I found it so disturbing.
The story begins in 1954, and centers around a single family living in Berlin in the socialist East. The mother, Käthe, is a sculptor, who has been leveraging her party connections in order to get more significant commissions. Devoted entirely to becoming a success, she is a cruel and completely unaffectionate mother, putting the socialist party above her children – Thomas, Ella and (unnamed and mostly absent) twin girls. She treats her children as if they were adults – there is no bourgeois mollycoddling in her household.
“Käthe was hardly ever happy, but she was proud.”
Thomas and Ella are unable to live the lives they want to – instead of his dream of becoming a writer, Thomas is forced to study geology, including hard labor at a quarry as the practical part of his education. Ella drifts along, never finding her niche but becoming increasingly introverted and troubled.
There are strong themes of sexual and physical abuse in this book and whilst they make for tough reading, it was Käthe’s psychological abuse of Ella and Thomas that I found intensely disturbing. In particular, the opening scenes with Thomas and Ella, aged roughly nine and ten, fending for themselves while Käthe is away for a fortnight (!) were horrifying. Further along, the scenes describing Ella’s nervous breakdown were so well (and terrifyingly) written that it will be hard to forget them.
“Ella didn’t move; when no one could hear her she couldn’t hear anyone, and she didn’t think of anyone… She couldn’t sleep, she slept less and less, and for a shorter and shorter time. But she wasn’t awake now either. Her thinking didn’t obey her, she begged her memory please not leave her. Time passed. She could watch herself from the outside.”
The intriguing aspect of Franck’s writing is that when I look back over my margin notes, there were no particular scenes where Käthe’s cruelty is extreme or stands out (with the exception of Ella’s 16th birthday). Instead, it’s ever-present; an undercurrent, slyly woven into the text to give the reader this constant but nagging sense of foreboding and anxiety.
“Unlike Ella, Thomas seldom felt hatred. He was not annoyed with Käthe, he was annoyed with himself. What did he expect? Käthe had often told him and Ella not to make selfish claims. Moderation was all. No one had the right to love and protection…. Her children were to learn to work like anyone else, that was what she demanded, that was what she expected. Thomas liked her glowing cheeks, but he distrusted the reason for them.”
The line, “No one had the right to love and protection…. ” made me pause. And feel ill. Because, of course, everyone has the right to feel loved and protected.
My only critisism of the book was the pace – there were moments toward the end that felt out of sync, particularly Thomas’s work at the quarry, his romance and Ella’s education. Perhaps Franck’s intention was to present these plot developments as vignettes, however, after feeling so intimately connected with the children and their unsentimental household, I felt I’d been cut adrift.
There are a number of startling parallels between the story and Franck’s own family history – they’re described here but be aware that the short piece contains significant spoilers.
3.5/5 Never have I read a story where a mound of sugar becomes pivotal to the plot – intrigued?
I received my copy of Back to Back from the publisher, Grove/Atlantic via NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.
The story begins in 1954, and centers around a single family living in Berlin in the socialist East. The mother, Käthe, is a sculptor, who has been leveraging her party connections in order to get more significant commissions. Devoted entirely to becoming a success, she is a cruel and completely unaffectionate mother, putting the socialist party above her children – Thomas, Ella and (unnamed and mostly absent) twin girls. She treats her children as if they were adults – there is no bourgeois mollycoddling in her household.
“Käthe was hardly ever happy, but she was proud.”
Thomas and Ella are unable to live the lives they want to – instead of his dream of becoming a writer, Thomas is forced to study geology, including hard labor at a quarry as the practical part of his education. Ella drifts along, never finding her niche but becoming increasingly introverted and troubled.
There are strong themes of sexual and physical abuse in this book and whilst they make for tough reading, it was Käthe’s psychological abuse of Ella and Thomas that I found intensely disturbing. In particular, the opening scenes with Thomas and Ella, aged roughly nine and ten, fending for themselves while Käthe is away for a fortnight (!) were horrifying. Further along, the scenes describing Ella’s nervous breakdown were so well (and terrifyingly) written that it will be hard to forget them.
“Ella didn’t move; when no one could hear her she couldn’t hear anyone, and she didn’t think of anyone… She couldn’t sleep, she slept less and less, and for a shorter and shorter time. But she wasn’t awake now either. Her thinking didn’t obey her, she begged her memory please not leave her. Time passed. She could watch herself from the outside.”
The intriguing aspect of Franck’s writing is that when I look back over my margin notes, there were no particular scenes where Käthe’s cruelty is extreme or stands out (with the exception of Ella’s 16th birthday). Instead, it’s ever-present; an undercurrent, slyly woven into the text to give the reader this constant but nagging sense of foreboding and anxiety.
“Unlike Ella, Thomas seldom felt hatred. He was not annoyed with Käthe, he was annoyed with himself. What did he expect? Käthe had often told him and Ella not to make selfish claims. Moderation was all. No one had the right to love and protection…. Her children were to learn to work like anyone else, that was what she demanded, that was what she expected. Thomas liked her glowing cheeks, but he distrusted the reason for them.”
The line, “No one had the right to love and protection…. ” made me pause. And feel ill. Because, of course, everyone has the right to feel loved and protected.
My only critisism of the book was the pace – there were moments toward the end that felt out of sync, particularly Thomas’s work at the quarry, his romance and Ella’s education. Perhaps Franck’s intention was to present these plot developments as vignettes, however, after feeling so intimately connected with the children and their unsentimental household, I felt I’d been cut adrift.
There are a number of startling parallels between the story and Franck’s own family history – they’re described here but be aware that the short piece contains significant spoilers.
3.5/5 Never have I read a story where a mound of sugar becomes pivotal to the plot – intrigued?
I received my copy of Back to Back from the publisher, Grove/Atlantic via NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.
February 11, 2013
In Rug aan rug gebruikt Julia Franck (1970), schrijfster van onder andere De Middagvrouw, de beginjaren van de DDR vooral als dramatische achtergrond voor haar verhaal. Meer dan een historische roman is haar nieuwste boek vooral een psychologisch familiedrama tegen een historische achtergrond.
Rug aan rug vertelt het verhaal van twee kinderen en hun tirannieke, alleenstaande moeder in een nog jonge DDR-staat. De Joodse Käthe heeft de oorlog overleefd en wordt fanatiek aanhanger van het communisme; maar haar kinderen betalen de prijs. De liefdeloze, koude kindertijd van Ella en Thomas is dramatisch en wordt ook dramatisch beschreven door Julia Franck. De beginjaren van de DDR dienen zijn de achtergrond waartegen het familiedrama zich afspeelt. Hoewel een groot deel van het boek plaatsvindt in 1961, het jaar waarin wordt begonnen met de bouw van de Berlijnse muur, krijgt de lezer niet veel van deze historische gebeurtenis mee. Het verhaal draait om de kinderen Ella en Thomas, hoe hun moeder hen verwaarloost, en zelfs niet doorheeft hoe haar tweede man en een onderhuurder de kinderen seksueel misbruikt.
Van de twee kinderen is Thomas degene op wie de ideologie van de DDR het meeste invloed heeft. Franck lijkt namelijk met dit boek het benauwende van een jeugd in de afgesloten DDR-staat af te willen zetten tegen de idealen van een generatie die opgroeide onder het fascisme. Terwijl de volwassenen vol enthousiasme aan de nieuwe staat bouwen, wordt de horizon voor hun kinderen steeds smaller. Maar door de gebrekkige uitwerking komt die interessante tegenstelling nauwelijks tot haar recht. De mate waarin Käthe zelf beschadigd is, en de liefdeloze jeugd van Ella en Thomas, zijn te extreem neergezet om echt te kunnen overtuigen.
Rug aan rug is geen historische roman. Het is ook geen boek dat je moet lezen als je op zoek bent naar een literaire beschrijving van de beginjaren van de DDR. Daarvoor hebben de historische feiten een te ondergeschikte rol in dit verhaal. Dit is vooral een psychologische roman, met een te veel aan dramatische wendingen. Hoewel Franck op sommige momenten prachtig schrijft, verliest het verhaal hierdoor ontegenzeggelijk aan kracht.
Recensie van Ditte van Dulmen op http://bit.ly/V93AE7
Rug aan rug vertelt het verhaal van twee kinderen en hun tirannieke, alleenstaande moeder in een nog jonge DDR-staat. De Joodse Käthe heeft de oorlog overleefd en wordt fanatiek aanhanger van het communisme; maar haar kinderen betalen de prijs. De liefdeloze, koude kindertijd van Ella en Thomas is dramatisch en wordt ook dramatisch beschreven door Julia Franck. De beginjaren van de DDR dienen zijn de achtergrond waartegen het familiedrama zich afspeelt. Hoewel een groot deel van het boek plaatsvindt in 1961, het jaar waarin wordt begonnen met de bouw van de Berlijnse muur, krijgt de lezer niet veel van deze historische gebeurtenis mee. Het verhaal draait om de kinderen Ella en Thomas, hoe hun moeder hen verwaarloost, en zelfs niet doorheeft hoe haar tweede man en een onderhuurder de kinderen seksueel misbruikt.
Van de twee kinderen is Thomas degene op wie de ideologie van de DDR het meeste invloed heeft. Franck lijkt namelijk met dit boek het benauwende van een jeugd in de afgesloten DDR-staat af te willen zetten tegen de idealen van een generatie die opgroeide onder het fascisme. Terwijl de volwassenen vol enthousiasme aan de nieuwe staat bouwen, wordt de horizon voor hun kinderen steeds smaller. Maar door de gebrekkige uitwerking komt die interessante tegenstelling nauwelijks tot haar recht. De mate waarin Käthe zelf beschadigd is, en de liefdeloze jeugd van Ella en Thomas, zijn te extreem neergezet om echt te kunnen overtuigen.
Rug aan rug is geen historische roman. Het is ook geen boek dat je moet lezen als je op zoek bent naar een literaire beschrijving van de beginjaren van de DDR. Daarvoor hebben de historische feiten een te ondergeschikte rol in dit verhaal. Dit is vooral een psychologische roman, met een te veel aan dramatische wendingen. Hoewel Franck op sommige momenten prachtig schrijft, verliest het verhaal hierdoor ontegenzeggelijk aan kracht.
Recensie van Ditte van Dulmen op http://bit.ly/V93AE7
September 23, 2013
The book opens in 1954, with Thomas and Ella, children of just 10 and 11 years old, left alone at home for 2 weeks while their self-absorbed and neglectful mother, Käthe, a sculptor, pursues her own career. These are the early days of the GDR and Käthe is both ambitious and a committed socialist, to the detriment of her family. Her younger children, whose names we never know, and who are referred to throughout merely as the Twins, have been farmed out to foster parents. Käthe is cold, withdrawn and abusive, and shows no affection to her children.
Family life is reflected by the cold nature of the totalitarian state, one in which normal human affection has no place. This interconnection of public and private life is horrifyingly demonstrated by the sufferings of the children, and the story of how Thomas and Ella strive to gain their mother’s attention is heart-breaking. The tragedy within the family is the tragedy of Communist society, and just as the children are trapped in their loveless home, so they are trapped, along with the wider population, behind the Berlin Wall. There is no room for sentiment in the new Socialist state, and Käthe’s brutal and materialistic attitude mirrors that of society.
I found this a moving and frightening tale. The character of Käthe is to some extent based on the author’s own maternal grandmother, the sculptor Ingeborg Hunzinger, who also committed herself heart and soul to the GDR, and certainly there is a very personal feel to the book. Julia Franck is one of the most prominent authors working in Germany today, and this bleak book showcases her considerable talent.
Family life is reflected by the cold nature of the totalitarian state, one in which normal human affection has no place. This interconnection of public and private life is horrifyingly demonstrated by the sufferings of the children, and the story of how Thomas and Ella strive to gain their mother’s attention is heart-breaking. The tragedy within the family is the tragedy of Communist society, and just as the children are trapped in their loveless home, so they are trapped, along with the wider population, behind the Berlin Wall. There is no room for sentiment in the new Socialist state, and Käthe’s brutal and materialistic attitude mirrors that of society.
I found this a moving and frightening tale. The character of Käthe is to some extent based on the author’s own maternal grandmother, the sculptor Ingeborg Hunzinger, who also committed herself heart and soul to the GDR, and certainly there is a very personal feel to the book. Julia Franck is one of the most prominent authors working in Germany today, and this bleak book showcases her considerable talent.
March 19, 2014
This is a very brave, though somewhat uneven story. It's originally in German so you never know what is lost or gained in translation, but it certainly paints a gray (as opposed to black and white) picture post WWII life in the German Democratic Republic than the more sensationalist portrayals in movies and other books (The movie, The Lives of Others, comes to mind even though I loved it). The overwhelming aspect of this story is "listening" to an artist/mother buy into the Utopian vision of a society where the worker (proletariat) is king while her two children suffer egregiously as the promise of that society withers into banality, oppression, abuse, and evil. The boy and girl only have each other, not even their mother, but their love isn't enough to rescue them. I use the word "uneven" because the girl kind of recedes into the background of the story in the middle, and what is happening to her becomes a little confusing. The boy's relationship with a nurse at the hospital he is forced to work at comes off as needlessly provocative, though riveting nevertheless. On the other hand, the relationship between the boy and girl, brother and sister, almost crosses over into incest yet is perfectly explainable within the context of the story. And now that I am looking at them, the cover image above is so different from the cover on the edition I checked out of our library. Maybe one if from the movie or something. Anyway, this is a powerful rendition of what life must of have been like as a totalitarian regime tightened its grip on a country, and the devastating effect on one already slightly dysfunctional family.
December 1, 2014
„Rücken an Rücken“ ist die Gescichte von den Geschwister Thomas und Ella, und der Hintergrund ist Ostberlin, Ende der 50er Jahre.
Am Anfang, sind die Geschwister nur Kinder, aber am jeden Kapitel werden sie alter, und am Ende des Buches sind sie 18-19 Jahre alt.
Versäumte von ihre Mutter, und oft ganz allein zu Hause, ihre Leben ist voller schlechte Erfahrungen, Mobbing, und Vergewaltigungen. Die ganze Geschichte ist schrecklich bedrückend, traurig, und ganz hoffnungslos.
Es nervt mich, dass man eine Autorin ist, und kann alles erfinden, das sie will, und sie benutzt diese unglaubliche, grenzlose Möglichkeiten, um eine Geschichte erzählen, die nur ablehnend ist, ohne einen Hoffnungsschimmer von Befreiung. Warum? Habe ich vielleicht etwas böses zu dir getan?
Eine gute Geschichte soll nicht unbedingt eine Happy-Ending haben: ich habe auch Bücher gelesen, die traurig Enden, das ist nicht das Problem.
„Rücken an Rücken“ ist aber keine echte Geschichte: es ist nur die gleichgültige Beschreibung von eine trostlose und schmutzige Realität. Ich muss nicht ein Buch lesen, um so eine Beschreibung zu finden. Ich kann einfach die Tageszeitung blättern.
Wenn ich ein Roman lese, erwarte ich viele mehr.
Am Anfang, sind die Geschwister nur Kinder, aber am jeden Kapitel werden sie alter, und am Ende des Buches sind sie 18-19 Jahre alt.
Versäumte von ihre Mutter, und oft ganz allein zu Hause, ihre Leben ist voller schlechte Erfahrungen, Mobbing, und Vergewaltigungen. Die ganze Geschichte ist schrecklich bedrückend, traurig, und ganz hoffnungslos.
Es nervt mich, dass man eine Autorin ist, und kann alles erfinden, das sie will, und sie benutzt diese unglaubliche, grenzlose Möglichkeiten, um eine Geschichte erzählen, die nur ablehnend ist, ohne einen Hoffnungsschimmer von Befreiung. Warum? Habe ich vielleicht etwas böses zu dir getan?
Eine gute Geschichte soll nicht unbedingt eine Happy-Ending haben: ich habe auch Bücher gelesen, die traurig Enden, das ist nicht das Problem.
„Rücken an Rücken“ ist aber keine echte Geschichte: es ist nur die gleichgültige Beschreibung von eine trostlose und schmutzige Realität. Ich muss nicht ein Buch lesen, um so eine Beschreibung zu finden. Ich kann einfach die Tageszeitung blättern.
Wenn ich ein Roman lese, erwarte ich viele mehr.
August 30, 2021
What can I do? I can’t do anything. What do I want? I don’t want anything. What am I? I’m nothing. Ella was crying.
I’ve been dwelling over this review for four or five days. What do I write? I can’t write anything. How do I explain my silence? I can't say anything. To me this was a most harrowing journey. And I’m not talking about the subject matter here.
Narratively it’s quite simple, we have siblings Ella and Thomas, unloved by their sculptor mother Kathe, being left to fend for themselves weeks at a time at a really young age, and highly dependent upon each other, their father has been long gone. They live in East Germany and no end of turmoil comes into their lives.
For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/
I’ve been dwelling over this review for four or five days. What do I write? I can’t write anything. How do I explain my silence? I can't say anything. To me this was a most harrowing journey. And I’m not talking about the subject matter here.
Narratively it’s quite simple, we have siblings Ella and Thomas, unloved by their sculptor mother Kathe, being left to fend for themselves weeks at a time at a really young age, and highly dependent upon each other, their father has been long gone. They live in East Germany and no end of turmoil comes into their lives.
For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/
October 19, 2014
Set in Post World War II East Berlin (the wall is erected during the period of the story), this is a dark tale of a brother and sister who are alternately ignored and and taunted by their mother.
It is bleak and hard to read, not only because of the disturbing nature of the story, but also because of the disjointed way of presenting it. It wanders from person to person, from reality to imagination, and it is really difficult to follow. I kept wanting it to be more mythic or more realistic, but it was a mishmash.
This is on the long list for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. I don't think it is good enough to win.
It is bleak and hard to read, not only because of the disturbing nature of the story, but also because of the disjointed way of presenting it. It wanders from person to person, from reality to imagination, and it is really difficult to follow. I kept wanting it to be more mythic or more realistic, but it was a mishmash.
This is on the long list for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. I don't think it is good enough to win.
October 18, 2013
I read the English translation by Anthea Bell. Bleak and often disturbing piece on family bonds and the lack thereof in post-WWII East Germany. Nonstandard dialogue punctuation, of which I am never a fan. I enjoyed the book, though.
March 3, 2014
een psychologische familiegeschiedenis en (recent) historische roman ineen. Veel leed, weinig begrip voor elkaar. Familiebiografische gegevens gebruikt. Bijzonder verhaal, maar te afstandelijk beschreven om echt te boeien.
July 19, 2014
Very poignant story about Eastern Germany and all those lives through tough period in the history. Story about brother and sister and the mother who was affected the most and how the sister stuggled to save them both.
June 4, 2012
hart, hart und kalt was da geschildert ist
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September 21, 2014A dark and disturbing book -no wonder it took me so long to finish it
August 3, 2014
This is a complex piece of literary & historical fiction, which NoveList describes as: "Bleak; Disturbing; Haunting." I call it "dark to darker to darkest."
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March 19, 2016Striking.
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March 31, 2016na 40 blz gestopt. misschien te vroeg, maar het kon me niet boeien
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