Scan barcode
A review by brandonpytel
The Berlin Stories: The Last of Mr Norris & Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood
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…”