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Europe Central: A Comparative Review
I read Europe Central less than a month after Jonathan Littell's very similar The Kindly Ones. Both are massive tomes, the magnum opus of their respective authors. They both delve deep into the era of World War II, with a particular focus on Eastern Europe. As such, this review will inevitably involve some comparisons.
Europe Central is told from the perspective of an anonymous narrator, observing from the shadows. The eponymous Europe Central is not just a geographical location but rather a central switchboard where all the wires from the continent converge, leading to an all-knowing narrator. It also functions as the geographical setting where all the plot unfolds, between Germany and Russia.
The viewpoint changes with each chapter. Many chapters are told from the perspective of historical figures, although Vollmann emphasizes that the book is a work of fiction. Others feature unknown people representing certain archetypes. Often, a chapter with a German perspective is contrasted with one from a Russian viewpoint. Notably, Vollmann has an unbalanced and excessive focus on a hypothetical Russian love triangle involving the composer Shostakovich, the movie director Roman Karmen, and their shared love interest Elena Konstantinovskaya.
This is the most obvious difference from The Kindly Ones, which is told from the single, unusual perspective of a German SS member looking back on the war. Europe Central is far less consistent and reliable, making it an uneven book.
Too many chapters in Europe Central seem masturbatory in nature, with long ruminations on figures like Achmatova, Shostakovich, Kollwitz, and Karmen. Shostakovich takes center stage for the majority of the book, which makes some sense as a representation of the climate under Stalin and the ways people adapted to survive. However, Vollmann gets lost in his admiration for the composer. The worst offender is a lengthy chapter of over 100 pages about Shostakovich's Opus 110, where Vollmann seems to want to explain every single note in relation to a specific event in Shostakovich's past.
The style also varies from chapter to chapter. When writing about Hilde Benjamin, Vollmann is factual, showing the oppression of the judicial system in the GDR. Short chapters about the fate of an unknown young woman in the GDR raped by Russian soldiers and a rocket scientist border on magical realism. The introduction and outro remind me of Döblin's expressionist writing style.
In the longer chapters, we first meet General Andrej Wlassow, who switched sides from Russia to Germany in 1942, allegedly after doubting Stalin's inhuman orders and witnessing Soviet crimes against the Polish in Katyn. Horrors are present on both sides, and no one can claim moral superiority on the Eastern Front. We learn about Wlassow's involvement with a Lebensborn mother after he switches sides. In contrast, General Paulus gets his turn next. For the most part, the chapter doesn't add much beyond a history of Stalingrad. In the end, it becomes clear that Vollmann is trying to explain the belief in the Führer and the resulting allegiance as moral choices.
An interesting juxtaposition to Littell's The Kindly Ones is the description of the concentration camps through the eyes of the hygiene expert Kurt Gerstein. As a Christian, he wanted to do something about the horrors of the camps and chose to fight the system from within, trying to inform the allies with first-hand knowledge but ultimately failing during the war. Littell's Max Aue was tasked with improving the efficiency of prisoner labor, looking at them only from an administrative perspective.
The demise of the Third Reich and the post-war period are described in dream-like sequences of steel, with characters of negligible historical importance such as the German actress Lisca Malbran and Shostakovich's lover Elena Konstantinovskaya, as well as anonymous soldiers and spies. After the straightforward chapters during the war, the narration becomes abstract and symbolic, making it more difficult to read.
The final chapter, about the lack of color and the shades of grey at the time, helps to explain more of Vollmann's goal. He wants to show how people took moral stands during the war and in the difficult post-war period. All shades of grey are present, and the same person may be at different points on the continuum. The obsessive focus on Shostakovich and his accompanying cast of Karmen and Konstantinovska zooms in on this target.
To draw a parallel to the behavior of the SS officer in Littell's The Kindly Ones, morality often takes a backseat to personal well-being. Those who remain true to their beliefs often have to emigrate. This also reminds me of Anna Seghers' excellent treatment of this conflict in The Seventh Cross. It is almost impossible to remain true to one's beliefs and act on them.
While I can appreciate and admire Vollmann's effort, dedication, and enormous research for this book, too many parts fall short for me. Littell also has longer passages that test the reader's patience, but the descriptions of administrative processes or the protagonist's thoughts make more sense to me. There is no excuse for going overboard with Shostakovich. Either focus on a consistent cast or go all the way with a facet view.
I read Europe Central less than a month after Jonathan Littell's very similar The Kindly Ones. Both are massive tomes, the magnum opus of their respective authors. They both delve deep into the era of World War II, with a particular focus on Eastern Europe. As such, this review will inevitably involve some comparisons.
Europe Central is told from the perspective of an anonymous narrator, observing from the shadows. The eponymous Europe Central is not just a geographical location but rather a central switchboard where all the wires from the continent converge, leading to an all-knowing narrator. It also functions as the geographical setting where all the plot unfolds, between Germany and Russia.
The viewpoint changes with each chapter. Many chapters are told from the perspective of historical figures, although Vollmann emphasizes that the book is a work of fiction. Others feature unknown people representing certain archetypes. Often, a chapter with a German perspective is contrasted with one from a Russian viewpoint. Notably, Vollmann has an unbalanced and excessive focus on a hypothetical Russian love triangle involving the composer Shostakovich, the movie director Roman Karmen, and their shared love interest Elena Konstantinovskaya.
This is the most obvious difference from The Kindly Ones, which is told from the single, unusual perspective of a German SS member looking back on the war. Europe Central is far less consistent and reliable, making it an uneven book.
Too many chapters in Europe Central seem masturbatory in nature, with long ruminations on figures like Achmatova, Shostakovich, Kollwitz, and Karmen. Shostakovich takes center stage for the majority of the book, which makes some sense as a representation of the climate under Stalin and the ways people adapted to survive. However, Vollmann gets lost in his admiration for the composer. The worst offender is a lengthy chapter of over 100 pages about Shostakovich's Opus 110, where Vollmann seems to want to explain every single note in relation to a specific event in Shostakovich's past.
The style also varies from chapter to chapter. When writing about Hilde Benjamin, Vollmann is factual, showing the oppression of the judicial system in the GDR. Short chapters about the fate of an unknown young woman in the GDR raped by Russian soldiers and a rocket scientist border on magical realism. The introduction and outro remind me of Döblin's expressionist writing style.
In the longer chapters, we first meet General Andrej Wlassow, who switched sides from Russia to Germany in 1942, allegedly after doubting Stalin's inhuman orders and witnessing Soviet crimes against the Polish in Katyn. Horrors are present on both sides, and no one can claim moral superiority on the Eastern Front. We learn about Wlassow's involvement with a Lebensborn mother after he switches sides. In contrast, General Paulus gets his turn next. For the most part, the chapter doesn't add much beyond a history of Stalingrad. In the end, it becomes clear that Vollmann is trying to explain the belief in the Führer and the resulting allegiance as moral choices.
An interesting juxtaposition to Littell's The Kindly Ones is the description of the concentration camps through the eyes of the hygiene expert Kurt Gerstein. As a Christian, he wanted to do something about the horrors of the camps and chose to fight the system from within, trying to inform the allies with first-hand knowledge but ultimately failing during the war. Littell's Max Aue was tasked with improving the efficiency of prisoner labor, looking at them only from an administrative perspective.
The demise of the Third Reich and the post-war period are described in dream-like sequences of steel, with characters of negligible historical importance such as the German actress Lisca Malbran and Shostakovich's lover Elena Konstantinovskaya, as well as anonymous soldiers and spies. After the straightforward chapters during the war, the narration becomes abstract and symbolic, making it more difficult to read.
The final chapter, about the lack of color and the shades of grey at the time, helps to explain more of Vollmann's goal. He wants to show how people took moral stands during the war and in the difficult post-war period. All shades of grey are present, and the same person may be at different points on the continuum. The obsessive focus on Shostakovich and his accompanying cast of Karmen and Konstantinovska zooms in on this target.
To draw a parallel to the behavior of the SS officer in Littell's The Kindly Ones, morality often takes a backseat to personal well-being. Those who remain true to their beliefs often have to emigrate. This also reminds me of Anna Seghers' excellent treatment of this conflict in The Seventh Cross. It is almost impossible to remain true to one's beliefs and act on them.
While I can appreciate and admire Vollmann's effort, dedication, and enormous research for this book, too many parts fall short for me. Littell also has longer passages that test the reader's patience, but the descriptions of administrative processes or the protagonist's thoughts make more sense to me. There is no excuse for going overboard with Shostakovich. Either focus on a consistent cast or go all the way with a facet view.