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A review by kris_mccracken
Badenheim 1939 by Aharon Appelfeld
4.0
an odd, dreamlike novel set in an imagined Austrian resort town at the beginning of the Second World War as groups of middle-class Jews arrive to spend another idyllic summer vacation at an annual arts festival.
There is a fair whiff of Kafka in Appelfeld's restrained prose, and the incongruity of the characters’ struggle to maintain (simulate?) normality against the intimations of the approaching catastrophe. Although the reader has no choice but factor in the impending Holocaust as both the historical backdrop as well as its imaginative focus, the author deftly does so from surreptitiously and achieves a subtlety that you would think impossible.
The awkward ignorance of what is to come for the vacationers dominates this book. Spring is in the air and summer is about to blossom as the vast range of characters spend their days strolling among gardens, lounging in cafés, courting, swimming, gossiping and bickering as much as any other vacationer. The mounting tension (indeed horror), that any reader of this sensitive and elegant book will realise, is magnified by the fact that it is a reality that the characters simply cannot, or simply refuse to, see.
Despite the subject matter, this is a picturesque and ‘calm’ tale, and one told with delicate imagery and understatement. The narrative alters in much the same way the seasons do, in minimal and moving increments. Similarly, subtly and with seeming resigned acceptance, the townsfolk’s rights and choices are reduced and constrained: shops are closed, town gates are sealed, the postal service ceases operation. The fact that WE know where this is going to end up really does make you want to stamp your feet and shout out aloud, quite an achievement for such a quiet novel.
This really is a fantastic piece of work, and something that I can heartily recommend to anyone.
There is a fair whiff of Kafka in Appelfeld's restrained prose, and the incongruity of the characters’ struggle to maintain (simulate?) normality against the intimations of the approaching catastrophe. Although the reader has no choice but factor in the impending Holocaust as both the historical backdrop as well as its imaginative focus, the author deftly does so from surreptitiously and achieves a subtlety that you would think impossible.
The awkward ignorance of what is to come for the vacationers dominates this book. Spring is in the air and summer is about to blossom as the vast range of characters spend their days strolling among gardens, lounging in cafés, courting, swimming, gossiping and bickering as much as any other vacationer. The mounting tension (indeed horror), that any reader of this sensitive and elegant book will realise, is magnified by the fact that it is a reality that the characters simply cannot, or simply refuse to, see.
Despite the subject matter, this is a picturesque and ‘calm’ tale, and one told with delicate imagery and understatement. The narrative alters in much the same way the seasons do, in minimal and moving increments. Similarly, subtly and with seeming resigned acceptance, the townsfolk’s rights and choices are reduced and constrained: shops are closed, town gates are sealed, the postal service ceases operation. The fact that WE know where this is going to end up really does make you want to stamp your feet and shout out aloud, quite an achievement for such a quiet novel.
This really is a fantastic piece of work, and something that I can heartily recommend to anyone.