Take a photo of a barcode or cover
A review by notwellread
Alone in Berlin by Hans Fallada
3.0
Based on the true story of Otto and Elise Hampel, Alone in Berlin tells the story of an ageing working-class couple who, after the death of their only son on the front, begin a resistance effort wherein he leaves anonymous postcards around Berlin attacking the Nazi regime. (In real life, it was Elise’s brother who was killed.) Of perhaps equal interest is the background of the author, Hans Fallada (real name Rudolf Ditzen), who killed a friend in a duel (or possibly a suicide pact) at age eighteen, suffered persistent substance abuse problems throughout his life from this point onwards, and was twice committed to the insane asylum. When the Nazis came to power, Fallada chose to remain in Germany, but his purportedly apolitical works drew the regime’s ire for his sympathetic portrayals of convicts (derived from his own experiences in prison), exacerbating his mental health problems further. After the fall of the Third Reich, he drafted Alone in Berlin (or Jeder stirbt für sich allein, Every Man Dies Alone) in 1947 in the space of 24 days, before dying of an overdose shortly before its publication.
Conveying this particular time and place requires a great deal of consideration, tact, and literary skill, so the bar is very high (though obviously an author who lived through it himself has some baked-in legitimacy). In this review I have no intent of diminishing the bravery of the real-life dissidents (with whose case I was unfamiliar until now), nor the author’s experience of life under the Nazis — I mean to review it as a novel, that is, as a fictionalised narrative. I was glad to have the opportunity to learn about the small acts of resistance these people accomplished, but I didn’t always feel this central subject and the other characters’ storylines worked to the best effect as they were rendered here.
The book’s historical and authorial context is important to understanding its significance, but also provides the explanation for many of its flaws: while impressive that Fallada could write such a lengthy narrative in only three and a half weeks, I haven’t been particularly impressed by other books written in record time. I would perhaps have been more forgiving of this if it was presented as an unfinished manuscript, but given that it went to the presses right away I can’t excuse the lack of editing from both author and editor. The main subject and selling point for this book is obviously the postcard-dropping resistance plot, but the first postcard is not written until Chapter 17, or page 139 of my edition, and even after this point large parts of the book are not concerned with it. The narrative as a whole is undeniably bloated. Supposedly Fallada was asked by post-war authorities to write something about resistance to the Nazis, but admitted the book’s flaws, including the high number of coincidences and chance meetings between characters (though this is a pretty common conceit in novels like this), so I don’t feel I’m being unfair in pointing out the narrative’s faults. As for the writing, there is a lack of flair and artistry that makes for plain reading, but may appeal to those who basically want an airport thriller experience: certainly the rawness and urgency of the prose will appeal to some readers, at least in the scenes that are actually relevant to the story.
However, much of the book (maybe even the majority?) is actually concerned with the storylines of minor characters, which show different snapshots of life for ordinary Berliners under the Nazis. Many of these are resisters in their own right: Trudel Baumann, the former girlfriend of the Quangels’ dead son, has a brief involvement with a resistance group; Eva Kluge, the Quangels’ postwoman neighbour, tries to help an elderly Jewish lady, and plucks up the courage to leave the Party and escape to the countryside; and Judge Fromm, who takes in the same Jewish woman and. Although these pad, muddle, and complicate the narrative without any one character arc being particularly compelling, they nevertheless reinforce the author’s message: like the Quangels, all pursue small ways of resisting the Nazis which are ineffective in the bigger picture, but allow them to be true to their own moral compasses, free from the shame of complicity. This is a book about the heroism of ordinary people — the banality of good as the obverse of Hannah Arendt’s [b:banality of evil|52090|Eichmann in Jerusalem A Report on the Banality of Evil|Hannah Arendt|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1404513286l/52090._SY75_.jpg|1023716] — or like “Tubthumping” by Chumbawumba, but as a 600-page book. Unlike the famous song, however, it’s only the chosen few who earn laudation: the majority of people choose capitulation over heroism. .
As well as the pessimism that stems from their failure — ultimately the fall of the Third Reich had to come from within — I think Fallada was chastising himself in the process, churning out a resistance story mired in survivor’s guilt for an audience of fellow survivors who had also failed to resist. Both the self-interested anonymity of Berlin and the disappointing nosiness of the countryside are also derived from his own experiences under the regime. Although their vast numbers could have easily overthrown the regime (the Nazis never actually had majority support), the masses are too terrified to think critically; only a minority manage to preserve their own moral integrity and dignity, but. The other glimmer of hope is . Nor is this done out of adherence to a higher power, but as an expression of their own independence of will: the characters state that they don’t believe in God, but they stand up for moral righteousness out of an innate instinct. This intangible feeling gives them the strength to fight without despair or surrender, and to stand their ground even in the most terrifying circumstances — it is its own kind of triumph.
Conveying this particular time and place requires a great deal of consideration, tact, and literary skill, so the bar is very high (though obviously an author who lived through it himself has some baked-in legitimacy). In this review I have no intent of diminishing the bravery of the real-life dissidents (with whose case I was unfamiliar until now), nor the author’s experience of life under the Nazis — I mean to review it as a novel, that is, as a fictionalised narrative. I was glad to have the opportunity to learn about the small acts of resistance these people accomplished, but I didn’t always feel this central subject and the other characters’ storylines worked to the best effect as they were rendered here.
The book’s historical and authorial context is important to understanding its significance, but also provides the explanation for many of its flaws: while impressive that Fallada could write such a lengthy narrative in only three and a half weeks, I haven’t been particularly impressed by other books written in record time. I would perhaps have been more forgiving of this if it was presented as an unfinished manuscript, but given that it went to the presses right away I can’t excuse the lack of editing from both author and editor. The main subject and selling point for this book is obviously the postcard-dropping resistance plot, but the first postcard is not written until Chapter 17, or page 139 of my edition, and even after this point large parts of the book are not concerned with it. The narrative as a whole is undeniably bloated. Supposedly Fallada was asked by post-war authorities to write something about resistance to the Nazis, but admitted the book’s flaws, including the high number of coincidences and chance meetings between characters (though this is a pretty common conceit in novels like this), so I don’t feel I’m being unfair in pointing out the narrative’s faults. As for the writing, there is a lack of flair and artistry that makes for plain reading, but may appeal to those who basically want an airport thriller experience: certainly the rawness and urgency of the prose will appeal to some readers, at least in the scenes that are actually relevant to the story.
However, much of the book (maybe even the majority?) is actually concerned with the storylines of minor characters, which show different snapshots of life for ordinary Berliners under the Nazis. Many of these are resisters in their own right: Trudel Baumann, the former girlfriend of the Quangels’ dead son, has a brief involvement with a resistance group; Eva Kluge, the Quangels’ postwoman neighbour, tries to help an elderly Jewish lady, and plucks up the courage to leave the Party and escape to the countryside; and Judge Fromm, who takes in the same Jewish woman and
Spoiler
secretly helps the Quangels, slipping them cyanide after their imprisonment when it is obvious they will be sentenced to deathSpoiler
Of the 285 cards the Quangels dropped, 267 were handed in to the Gestapo, and the eighteen withheld may have been picked up by those who merely wished to avoid scrutiny, and were not necessarily convinced by the Quangels’ resistance movement. The only person he does persuade is his Nazi interrogator, who immediately commits suicide in the face of the hopelessness of it allAs well as the pessimism that stems from their failure — ultimately the fall of the Third Reich had to come from within — I think Fallada was chastising himself in the process, churning out a resistance story mired in survivor’s guilt for an audience of fellow survivors who had also failed to resist. Both the self-interested anonymity of Berlin and the disappointing nosiness of the countryside are also derived from his own experiences under the regime. Although their vast numbers could have easily overthrown the regime (the Nazis never actually had majority support), the masses are too terrified to think critically; only a minority manage to preserve their own moral integrity and dignity, but