Wednesday night, I completed
the last of the pile of books my sister gave me last year for my
birthday, “Kleiner Mann – was nun?”. So it took me nearly a year to read
them all, and although it wasn’t always easy to stick
to them, I am glad I did not give up. It certainly was an overall
reading experience that served its purpose: to broaden my literary
horizon and give me a spectrum of good examples of classic German
literature from the time before and after the Great War.
“Kleiner Mann – was nun?” is a
novel by Hans Fallada (whose real name was Rudolf Ditzen), first
published in 1932. Only a year later, it was first turned into a
(German) movie. In 1934, an American movie by the title
“Little Man, What Now?” was made under director Frank Borzage, starring
Margaret Sullavan, Douglass Montgomery, Alan Hale senior and others.
The book accompanies a young
couple though the first few years of their marriage. Johannes Pinneberg
and his girlfriend Emma, both working hard for little money (this is the
time of the worldwide economic crisis), find
out that Emma is pregnant. They love each other dearly, so they don’t
lose time and get married quickly. They even find a flat and are
determined to make their life together a success, ready to work even
harder and save money whenever possible. Unfortunately,
the young husband’s boss wanted him for his own daughter, and fires
Johannes when he finds out that he is married. Trying to find new
employment at the height of the crisis is next to impossible, and things
look desperate until Johannes’ mother (whom he has
not been on speaking terms with for a long time) steps in. One of her
friends uses his connections, and soon the young couple have both a
flat and a regular income again. Still, it is not much, and a constant
struggle.
Emma gives birth to a little
boy (it was the chapter about her going into hospital for the birth that
induced my “pregnant” dream), and the personal happiness of the small
family is near perfect, even though their material
circumstances remain precarious.
Eventually, though, Johannes loses his job again, through no fault of his own.
Here, the book skips more
than a year, and next time we see the Pinnebergs, they live illegally in
a tiny summer house on a friend’s allotment. Johannes has become the
main caretaker of their little son and the household,
while Emma earns hardly enough to buy food by sewing and darning for
other people. Johannes wishes he could be like the other people on
neighbouring allotments; they don’t hesitate to steal in order to feed
their families, but Emma won’t have it. Is their
love for each other and their son going to be enough to see them
through all the hardship?
It was a very touching book,
touching in many ways. The desperation especially Johannes feels at
times is obvious, although the author does not make much “fuss” about it
– everything that happens is portrayed in a matter-of-fact
way, without ever playing down the importance the author obviously
gives his characters and the day-to-day happenings in their small,
ordinary lives. Those small, ordinary lives are always put against the
backdrop of the much bigger picture; politics figure
in the way they would for such working-class people, and the reader
learns a lot about social services and the regulations for employees and their families that
were in place back then.
The author lived a life so
full of drama that it would offer enough material for several books and
films – he was involved in an attempted double-suicide, struggled with
drug addictions nearly all his life and ended up
in prison more than once. His great success as a writer (“Little Man,
What now?” was an instant bestseller in Germany, the UK and the US) did
not make him happy, although taking constant financial worries off him.
He somehow survived the turbulences and dangers
of WWII, but his marriage did not. His alcoholism and other addictions
led to him being admitted to mental institutions and hospitals, being in
and out of them for the short remainder of his life. You can find a
more detailed biography in English on Wikipedia.
I recognise this title and also the names, but I can't remember whether I read the book or perhaps saw the movie... Or was there also a TV series?... Ah yes, checking the German Wiki page it seems there was; back in the 70s - I think it might have been shown on Swedish television.
ReplyDeleteI have another Fallada novel downloaded on my Kindle (Jeder stirbt für sich allein).
When I was researching the author's life for this review, I came across "Jeder stirbt für sich allein", too. He seems to have finished that one shortly before his own death. Knowing this will maybe make the reading experience more poignant.
DeleteI recognize Margaret Sullavan and Alan Hale (Jr. not Sr.), but not the book's title or the movie. When I was a teenager, I watched movies from that time period on a TV channel that showed them from the 1930s and 1940s. How wonderful to get a stack of books for your birthday!
ReplyDeleteI loved watching movies from the 1930s/40s to the 50s and 60s, and I had my "phases": There was a phase when I loved pirates films (with Errol Flynn!) and other costume dramas (Robin Hood, Ivanhoe...), and then there were some really great ones called "Revue-Film" in German, which involved lots of people dancing and singing on stage.
DeleteBooks are always welcome, even though I have to think good and hard about where they can go once I've read them - space is always an issue!
This sounds interesting, but it is not a free Kindle book for me, so it may take some time to get to it, alas.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry to read about the author's difficulties in life...
This (the author's difficult life) was something my sister and I discussed on our Saturday walk. It's strange but not unusual that the most gifted people (no matter whether they are/were writers, musicians, painters, dancers, scientists...) have/had very troubled lives.
Delete