Scan barcode
pythonesque's review against another edition
lighthearted
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
ana_rooth's review against another edition
4.0
It's been a long while since I read these novels, so my memory is hazy. That being said, I found GOODBYE TO BERLIN to be more interesting, to me personally. Mostly I say that because it's the story that I can remember more clearly. Still, both never left me feeling bored, and these are definitely worth reading. As a matter of fact, just remembering these makes me want to pick up some more Isherwood...
brandonpytel's review against another edition
3.0
I read this one to prep for my trip to Berlin. Divided into two novellas, The Berlin Stories describes the events leading up to Nazi’s eventual takeover in Germany, as told by an Englishman abroad.
Though both were well written and complemented b they lacked a certain power y keen observations of both the political and social environment, both lacked a certain power in driving the narrative forward; in other words, they weren’t much in terms of plot — but rather the interest was in the characters and how they responded to such a dynamic setting.
I preferred the first story, The Last of Mr. Norris, perhaps because it was a bit more mysterious and came more smoothly to its tragic end, guided by the titular character Mr. Norris.
With the backdrop of an ultimately failed transition to communism, Isherwood finds himself befriending a communist, Mr. Norris, who we meets on a train. As their friendship blossoms, we learn more about this man, who is a sort of an enigma: He lives lavishly, though is always in debt, and his self-consciousness is constantly present, emphasized by the role of his odd and unkind yet beleaguered personal assistant, Schmidt.
As Norris falls further into debt and trouble, he brings Isherwood along with him, and we get the outline of the plot: One centered around a narrator falling into a trap he does not see, around seedy communists and amid a surging wave of Naziism (which we get sprinkled throughout the novella to add a looming sense of dread: “The whole city lay under a epidemic of discreet, infectious fear”). As Norris escapes Berlin, on the run from Schmidt, his own story parallels the nation’s.
The second story, Goodbye to Berlin, is set chronologically further than the first, and therefore offers us a more comprehensive view of Berlin’s slow succumbing to Nazism. It centers around Sally Bowles, the charismatic, charming woman at the heart of the movie Cabaret.
“She was really beautiful, with her little dark head, big eyes and finely arched nose — and so absurdly conscious of those features,” writes Isherwood, conscious of his slow infatuation with her. But she’s also flawed, worn out by the hard life of Berlin that will only get harder: “I noticed how old her hands looked in the lamplight… the hands of a middle-aged woman. The green finger nails seemed not to belong to them at all.”
The novella is written like a diary, looking back at this time that Isherwood spent in Berlin, surrounded by unusual characters that were all lodging with him under the same roof, Frl. Scroeder’s: “I find myself relapsing into a curious trance-like state of depression. I begin to feel profoundly unhappy. Where are those lodgers now?”
As Sally and Isherwood become closer, he learns more of her — her vanity, her sexual nature, her preference for riches, despite having money problems. Eventually her lifestyle leads her to the central plot point of the story, her pregnancy and abortion.
Meanwhile, Isherwood is wrestling with his own feelings for her, turning from infatuation to annoyance and “vulgarly jealous.” There are more characters here — Otto and Peter, the Jewish family, the Landauers, with Isherwood’s relationship to the daughter — but I’ll spare those details to be somewhat succinct in my review.
Probably the best part of the Stories is their dramatic conclusion — if the stories are a sort of nostalgic remembrance of a time in Berlin in his youth, the ending is a tragedy, a loss of innocence, with those memories completely overshadowed by the eventual takeover of Nazis.
Isherwood struggles to hold onto the friend she made amid this terror, wondering how they survived the takeover, the “cold and cruel and dead… winter desert,” and lamenting the once vibrant city lost to history:
“Behind everything he said is an immense sadness…. Thousands of people like Frl. Schroeder are acclimatizing themselves. After all, whatever government is in power, they are doomed to live in this town… Even now I can’t altogether believe that any of this has really happened…”
Though both were well written and complemented b they lacked a certain power y keen observations of both the political and social environment, both lacked a certain power in driving the narrative forward; in other words, they weren’t much in terms of plot — but rather the interest was in the characters and how they responded to such a dynamic setting.
I preferred the first story, The Last of Mr. Norris, perhaps because it was a bit more mysterious and came more smoothly to its tragic end, guided by the titular character Mr. Norris.
With the backdrop of an ultimately failed transition to communism, Isherwood finds himself befriending a communist, Mr. Norris, who we meets on a train. As their friendship blossoms, we learn more about this man, who is a sort of an enigma: He lives lavishly, though is always in debt, and his self-consciousness is constantly present, emphasized by the role of his odd and unkind yet beleaguered personal assistant, Schmidt.
As Norris falls further into debt and trouble, he brings Isherwood along with him, and we get the outline of the plot: One centered around a narrator falling into a trap he does not see, around seedy communists and amid a surging wave of Naziism (which we get sprinkled throughout the novella to add a looming sense of dread: “The whole city lay under a epidemic of discreet, infectious fear”). As Norris escapes Berlin, on the run from Schmidt, his own story parallels the nation’s.
The second story, Goodbye to Berlin, is set chronologically further than the first, and therefore offers us a more comprehensive view of Berlin’s slow succumbing to Nazism. It centers around Sally Bowles, the charismatic, charming woman at the heart of the movie Cabaret.
“She was really beautiful, with her little dark head, big eyes and finely arched nose — and so absurdly conscious of those features,” writes Isherwood, conscious of his slow infatuation with her. But she’s also flawed, worn out by the hard life of Berlin that will only get harder: “I noticed how old her hands looked in the lamplight… the hands of a middle-aged woman. The green finger nails seemed not to belong to them at all.”
The novella is written like a diary, looking back at this time that Isherwood spent in Berlin, surrounded by unusual characters that were all lodging with him under the same roof, Frl. Scroeder’s: “I find myself relapsing into a curious trance-like state of depression. I begin to feel profoundly unhappy. Where are those lodgers now?”
As Sally and Isherwood become closer, he learns more of her — her vanity, her sexual nature, her preference for riches, despite having money problems. Eventually her lifestyle leads her to the central plot point of the story, her pregnancy and abortion.
Meanwhile, Isherwood is wrestling with his own feelings for her, turning from infatuation to annoyance and “vulgarly jealous.” There are more characters here — Otto and Peter, the Jewish family, the Landauers, with Isherwood’s relationship to the daughter — but I’ll spare those details to be somewhat succinct in my review.
Probably the best part of the Stories is their dramatic conclusion — if the stories are a sort of nostalgic remembrance of a time in Berlin in his youth, the ending is a tragedy, a loss of innocence, with those memories completely overshadowed by the eventual takeover of Nazis.
Isherwood struggles to hold onto the friend she made amid this terror, wondering how they survived the takeover, the “cold and cruel and dead… winter desert,” and lamenting the once vibrant city lost to history:
“Behind everything he said is an immense sadness…. Thousands of people like Frl. Schroeder are acclimatizing themselves. After all, whatever government is in power, they are doomed to live in this town… Even now I can’t altogether believe that any of this has really happened…”
teresatumminello's review against another edition
4.0
The Last of Mr. Norris (1935): 3 stars
Goodbye to Berlin (1939): 4.5 stars
I started this book before the events at Charlottesville; unfortunately, it proved timely. Based on his own experiences living in pre-WWII Berlin, Isherwood writes of the Nazis being talked of, even laughed at, at first; and by the book's end of their stalking the streets and terrorizing Jewish citizens, the police powerless to do anything about it. For the most part, though, that’s ‘just’ the background and atmosphere: character (in both senses of the word) is foremost in both of these works. Yet it’s because of what’s going on in the ‘background’ that the characters achieve their importance as they live their lives under, and in spite of, an increasing atmosphere of menace.
Your response to Isherwood’s characters will vary depending on your tolerance for ‘characters’, i.e. eccentrics, for lack of a better word. Mr. Norris of the first novella is not the kind of character I warm to, though perhaps it is more that this is an earlier work than the other, and with the latter Isherwood found his voice. In the second work, a collection of pieces that nevertheless make a coherent whole, the character of Sally Bowles is a revelation (she is not Liza Minnelli at all) and I was dismayed when her section ended—not to worry, she makes one more appearance. The other characters may not be as memorable as Sally (though all Isherwood's female characters are remarkable), but they and their stories are all part of the stage upon which Isherwood always gives himself a minor role.
The author’s preface tells of his first visit to Berlin since before the war, after the success of the Broadway play I Am a Camera, which was adapted from his story "Sally Bowles" and starred Julie Harris (whom he thought was more Sally than the ‘real’ Sally). During this 1952 visit, he hears the war stories of his indomitable former landlady, sees the places he’d lived in and hopes someone will, one day, write the story of the ‘new’ Berlin.
Goodbye to Berlin (1939): 4.5 stars
I started this book before the events at Charlottesville; unfortunately, it proved timely. Based on his own experiences living in pre-WWII Berlin, Isherwood writes of the Nazis being talked of, even laughed at, at first; and by the book's end of their stalking the streets and terrorizing Jewish citizens, the police powerless to do anything about it. For the most part, though, that’s ‘just’ the background and atmosphere: character (in both senses of the word) is foremost in both of these works. Yet it’s because of what’s going on in the ‘background’ that the characters achieve their importance as they live their lives under, and in spite of, an increasing atmosphere of menace.
Your response to Isherwood’s characters will vary depending on your tolerance for ‘characters’, i.e. eccentrics, for lack of a better word. Mr. Norris of the first novella is not the kind of character I warm to, though perhaps it is more that this is an earlier work than the other, and with the latter Isherwood found his voice. In the second work, a collection of pieces that nevertheless make a coherent whole, the character of Sally Bowles is a revelation (she is not Liza Minnelli at all) and I was dismayed when her section ended—not to worry, she makes one more appearance. The other characters may not be as memorable as Sally (though all Isherwood's female characters are remarkable), but they and their stories are all part of the stage upon which Isherwood always gives himself a minor role.
The author’s preface tells of his first visit to Berlin since before the war, after the success of the Broadway play I Am a Camera, which was adapted from his story "Sally Bowles" and starred Julie Harris (whom he thought was more Sally than the ‘real’ Sally). During this 1952 visit, he hears the war stories of his indomitable former landlady, sees the places he’d lived in and hopes someone will, one day, write the story of the ‘new’ Berlin.
swmortecai's review against another edition
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.5
troyrought's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
mafiabadgers's review
dark
funny
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
First read 08/2024
There's someting about the doomed, reckless extravagance of Weimar-era Germany that I find oh so intriguing. Perhaps it's the roiling political conflict, the rampant cocaine usage, the shifting social norms (leading to increased emancipation of women and sexual minorities), the experimental spirit of contemporary art, the constantly unfurling economic disaster, or the inescapable knowledge that it's all about to go completely and utterly to shit.
Isherwood's The Berlin Stories have come to be seen as emblematic of Berlin in those days. I have to confess Mr Norris Changes Trains wasn't quite as saucy as I'd been hoping, but it was well-received by critics, so I suppose it couldn't be too lurid. There's something oddly, delicately charming about Norris, and it's easy to see why the narrator is so attached to him, but he's so obviously sketchy that the narrator's surprise and hurt later on seem rather startling. Nonetheless, it's easy to sympathise with him. Isherwood later described the book as 'heartless', and perhaps that's why it didn't entirely click with me; it feels a little divorced from its surroundings, or perhaps the narrator never experiences consequences of any sort. Still, it has its own remarkable appeal, somehow vapid and poignant. Four stars.
This appeal is only increased in Goodbye to Berlin. The narrator's insistence on his own objectivity is an intriguing sham which, I think, does the absolutely necessary work of undercutting what would otherwise tend toward an infuriating, detached superiority. It's the rise of fascism, Christopher. This is not the time for the faux neutrality practiced by English newspapers. I'm not convinced Isherwood should get any credit for critique it implies, but it's in the book and I think it's great. The character portraits are all fascinating. Sally Bowles puts me in mind of the narrator of The (Golden) Ass—they have such high opinions of themselves, and so little sense. I don't think there will ever be peace on earth, but such people will be with us always. This seems quite fair, and in some way I am almost glad of it. The world would be a sorrier place without human idiocy. A useful reminder to keep one's hand in. Five stars.
There's someting about the doomed, reckless extravagance of Weimar-era Germany that I find oh so intriguing. Perhaps it's the roiling political conflict, the rampant cocaine usage, the shifting social norms (leading to increased emancipation of women and sexual minorities), the experimental spirit of contemporary art, the constantly unfurling economic disaster, or the inescapable knowledge that it's all about to go completely and utterly to shit.
Isherwood's The Berlin Stories have come to be seen as emblematic of Berlin in those days. I have to confess Mr Norris Changes Trains wasn't quite as saucy as I'd been hoping, but it was well-received by critics, so I suppose it couldn't be too lurid. There's something oddly, delicately charming about Norris, and it's easy to see why the narrator is so attached to him, but he's so obviously sketchy that the narrator's surprise and hurt later on seem rather startling. Nonetheless, it's easy to sympathise with him. Isherwood later described the book as 'heartless', and perhaps that's why it didn't entirely click with me; it feels a little divorced from its surroundings, or perhaps the narrator never experiences consequences of any sort. Still, it has its own remarkable appeal, somehow vapid and poignant. Four stars.
This appeal is only increased in Goodbye to Berlin. The narrator's insistence on his own objectivity is an intriguing sham which, I think, does the absolutely necessary work of undercutting what would otherwise tend toward an infuriating, detached superiority. It's the rise of fascism, Christopher. This is not the time for the faux neutrality practiced by English newspapers. I'm not convinced Isherwood should get any credit for critique it implies, but it's in the book and I think it's great. The character portraits are all fascinating. Sally Bowles puts me in mind of the narrator of The (Golden) Ass—they have such high opinions of themselves, and so little sense. I don't think there will ever be peace on earth, but such people will be with us always. This seems quite fair, and in some way I am almost glad of it. The world would be a sorrier place without human idiocy. A useful reminder to keep one's hand in. Five stars.
lori85's review against another edition
3.0
This was . . . underwhelming. I read all 400 pages in two days, not because the book was especially riveting but because it was so simply written.