literackafirma's review against another edition
4.0
ravicravicravic (naprawdę dobra książka, chociaż momentami widać, że niedokończona i nie zniszczyła mnie tak jak "łuk triumfalny", ale to akurat niekoniecznie coś złego; nadal jednak ravic i jego historia pozostają moją miłością jeśli chodzi o remarque'a)
pauletta's review against another edition
5.0
Selten ein Buch mit so wunderschöner Sprache gelesen. Remarque erzählt so Bildgewaltig und mit einem philosophisch anmutenden Ansatz. Eine unbedingte Empfehlung.
beliakovm's review against another edition
3.0
Я словно был в галерее картин о Второй Мировой войне. О солдатах, о разрушенных городах, о армейской жизни, о слабости и боли, силе, труде и упорстве.
Но такая тематика не очень любима.
Но такая тематика не очень любима.
cinnamonfox's review against another edition
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.25
cakefairy's review
dark
emotional
funny
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.75
Very traumatised people eating cake and goulash in New York. Spectacular and achingly sad.
lyasya's review
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.5
dissendiumnox's review against another edition
4.0
4,5/5
Très bon livre, bien écrit avec des personnages complexes et attachants. Aussi un beau portrait de New York. Une lecture solide mais pas un coup de cœur.
Très bon livre, bien écrit avec des personnages complexes et attachants. Aussi un beau portrait de New York. Une lecture solide mais pas un coup de cœur.
blackoxford's review against another edition
4.0
Promises Lost
A very different kind of emigrant fiction. Educated, sophisticated, cosmopolitan, the protagonist, Ludwig, whose real name might well be Remarque, arrives in New York City with false papers as a pseudo-Jew refugee from Hitler’s persecution. What he encounters is entirely unexpected: a country populated by immigrants and descendants of immigrants who do not pursue the promise of America, but rather are that promise. From them Remarque constructs a narrative of sustained comic irony that is as entertaining and as significant today as when it was written.
There is no Gestapo in America. But there are dreams and memories of a recent European past which can never be entirely escaped. ‘We were saved,” Ludwig muses, “but not from ourselves.”
What beckons is “the adventure of an orderly life and a settled future.” But that adventure implies risks: in speculatively investing half his meager capital in the purchase of a Chinese bronze; in forking out a good portion of the profit for a new suit; in negotiating for a great job at 50% higher wage than offered. Ludwig is savvy and therefore prospers, largely because of his emigre friends.
The seedy Hotel Rausch is where 'Americanisation', if one dare call it that, takes place; for "Here in the hotel the accents fly around like typhoid germs." Ludwig's friends are a Pickwickian bunch. From Hirsch, the Jewish Scarlet Pimpernel of WWII, who suffers from PTSD and combines his fear and feelings of dislocation with a longing for the adventure and exhilaration of outsmarting his pursuers. To Lachmann, the Jewish dealer in rosaries and Christian relics, an emotional storm drain who is in love with a crippled Puerto Rican woman.
It is from these characters that Ludwig gets unstinting support: legal assistance from the firm of Levin & Watson, Levin to get clients, Watson to front with the authorities; a job from the Silver twins, disillusioned lawyers turned to Third Avenue antiques; Jessie Stein, the organizer and philanthropic heart of the emigre network. They are his American promise.
"Only Jews are homesick for Germany" says one of Ludwig's fellow-refugees. Not really Jewish, Ludwig is anything but homesick. He dislikes speaking German. He can't wait to escape from the German neighbourhood of Manhattan's Yorkville. Even German art is painful to see and hear as the war drags on to its dismal conclusion.
It is this feeling of disgust for one's homeland that is most significant in my reading. As an American emigre to Europe, I have similar feelings about today's Trumpist America. The fascists of mid-century Germany were more articulate than the fascists currently in charge of the United States. But the mean-spirited hatred and xenophobia are exactly the same. I am as embarrassed, angry, and mournful as Ludwig.
As Ludwig himself notes, "Xenophobia is the surest sign of primitiveness in people." And certainly the primitiveness of American Red State Republicans and Evangelicals cannot be gainsaid. When a society goes mad, one can only be glad to escape it, despite the memories and dreams that it leaves as a permanent residue. At one point Hirsch says, “My dear Ludwig, don’t you understand that we are living in the age of anxiety? The age of real and imaginary fear? Fear of life, fear of the future, fear of fear?” How sad that it persists still..
Postscript: The dust jacket of my edition has a picture of one of the enormous alloy gargoyles near the top of the Chrysler Building. It is looking out over midtown Manhattan as if contemplating or perhaps threatening the city. The monster was of course fabricated by Krupp in its Rhineland factories. The visual irony by the jacket designer is superb.
And one other note: https://www.6sqft.com/where-i-work-glasers-german-bakery-has-been-satisfying-yorkvilles-sweet-tooth-for-115-years/?utm_source=6sqft+Daily+List&utm_campaign=c696805883-Daily_776&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_ac79eda340-c696805883-262529861
A very different kind of emigrant fiction. Educated, sophisticated, cosmopolitan, the protagonist, Ludwig, whose real name might well be Remarque, arrives in New York City with false papers as a pseudo-Jew refugee from Hitler’s persecution. What he encounters is entirely unexpected: a country populated by immigrants and descendants of immigrants who do not pursue the promise of America, but rather are that promise. From them Remarque constructs a narrative of sustained comic irony that is as entertaining and as significant today as when it was written.
There is no Gestapo in America. But there are dreams and memories of a recent European past which can never be entirely escaped. ‘We were saved,” Ludwig muses, “but not from ourselves.”
What beckons is “the adventure of an orderly life and a settled future.” But that adventure implies risks: in speculatively investing half his meager capital in the purchase of a Chinese bronze; in forking out a good portion of the profit for a new suit; in negotiating for a great job at 50% higher wage than offered. Ludwig is savvy and therefore prospers, largely because of his emigre friends.
The seedy Hotel Rausch is where 'Americanisation', if one dare call it that, takes place; for "Here in the hotel the accents fly around like typhoid germs." Ludwig's friends are a Pickwickian bunch. From Hirsch, the Jewish Scarlet Pimpernel of WWII, who suffers from PTSD and combines his fear and feelings of dislocation with a longing for the adventure and exhilaration of outsmarting his pursuers. To Lachmann, the Jewish dealer in rosaries and Christian relics, an emotional storm drain who is in love with a crippled Puerto Rican woman.
It is from these characters that Ludwig gets unstinting support: legal assistance from the firm of Levin & Watson, Levin to get clients, Watson to front with the authorities; a job from the Silver twins, disillusioned lawyers turned to Third Avenue antiques; Jessie Stein, the organizer and philanthropic heart of the emigre network. They are his American promise.
"Only Jews are homesick for Germany" says one of Ludwig's fellow-refugees. Not really Jewish, Ludwig is anything but homesick. He dislikes speaking German. He can't wait to escape from the German neighbourhood of Manhattan's Yorkville. Even German art is painful to see and hear as the war drags on to its dismal conclusion.
It is this feeling of disgust for one's homeland that is most significant in my reading. As an American emigre to Europe, I have similar feelings about today's Trumpist America. The fascists of mid-century Germany were more articulate than the fascists currently in charge of the United States. But the mean-spirited hatred and xenophobia are exactly the same. I am as embarrassed, angry, and mournful as Ludwig.
As Ludwig himself notes, "Xenophobia is the surest sign of primitiveness in people." And certainly the primitiveness of American Red State Republicans and Evangelicals cannot be gainsaid. When a society goes mad, one can only be glad to escape it, despite the memories and dreams that it leaves as a permanent residue. At one point Hirsch says, “My dear Ludwig, don’t you understand that we are living in the age of anxiety? The age of real and imaginary fear? Fear of life, fear of the future, fear of fear?” How sad that it persists still..
Postscript: The dust jacket of my edition has a picture of one of the enormous alloy gargoyles near the top of the Chrysler Building. It is looking out over midtown Manhattan as if contemplating or perhaps threatening the city. The monster was of course fabricated by Krupp in its Rhineland factories. The visual irony by the jacket designer is superb.
And one other note: https://www.6sqft.com/where-i-work-glasers-german-bakery-has-been-satisfying-yorkvilles-sweet-tooth-for-115-years/?utm_source=6sqft+Daily+List&utm_campaign=c696805883-Daily_776&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_ac79eda340-c696805883-262529861
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