Tag Archives: world war 2

Shadows Walking, by Douglas R. Skopp

“To them, you’re just a freak, like me! They need you right now, but when they don’t, they’ll cast you out, like a leper! You see, their morals, their code, it’s a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They’re only as good as the world allows them to be. I’ll show you. When the chips are down, these… these civilized people, they’ll eat each other. See, I’m not a monster. I’m just ahead of the curve.” – The Joker, The Dark Knight (2008)

Taking its title from a passage in Macbeth, Shadows Walking takes the reader into the nightmarish descent of modern German history.  Skopp traces the lives of two men – Johann Brenner, an ardent nationalist, and Philipp Stein, a Jew – throughout their military and medical careers.  Brenner and Stein endure the hardships of the First World War and the economic uncertainties of the Weimar Republic.  The rise of the Nazis causes their friendship to fracture.

The novel begins in the postapocalyptic wasteland of Nuremburg with Brenner, under an alias, working as a janitor in the Palace of Justice.  The Doctors’ Trial is beginning and Brenner listens to the horrific testimony of a victim.  The testimony concerns castrations done by SS doctors at concentration camps.  With the starvation, destruction, and desperation outside, the witness’s testimony hits the reader like a vicious sternum punch.  The graphic descriptions bring home the horrors of the Holocaust.

Even amidst the hellish experience of the Holocaust, the medical experiments performed by Mengele and his associates stands unique in its horror and obscenity.  The novel achieves brilliance in its accretion of details and experiences in the lives of the two main characters.  The common question is: How could Germany, which has such a rich tradition of arts, sciences, and philosophy, create such a barbaric and evil regime?  Skopp tries to answer that question through indirection and burying himself in the minds of Brenner and Stein.  The two are seen as “ordinary” Germans, not as famous political and historical figures.  Through the years, we see both enduring “death by inches”, to use another phrase from Shakespeare.  Compromise, desperation, and stubbornness contribute to the choices they make.

The book has passages, illuminating the inner thoughts of Brenner and Stein that lend the narrative a haunting plausibility.  The anthropomorphizing of German Culture in philosophical discourse combined with the medicalization of this discourse to create the idea that Germany, following the First World War, is sick and corrupt.  Philipp Stein sees the remedy in positive eugenics, although he slowly backs off the idea when he sees it done in everyday practice.  Johann Brenner also sees a eugenics-based solution, but resentment, economic desperation, and death push him towards the National Socialists.  Brenner isn’t one to question authority figures and his personal circumstances lead him to find a scapegoat for his (and the nation’s) problems.

Skopp’s self-published novel weaves a Balzackian tale that perfectly captures the ideas and lives of a specific time and place.  Skopp’s background as a history professor merges with his desire to tell a compelling story.  He also creates a historically authentic narrative that forces the reader to question the validity of his or her beliefs, yet, at the same time, not doing it in a manner that comes across as preachy or heavy-handed.  The novel aims to explore the questions we must face with the deeds perpetrated by the Third Reich, but it has the audacity to point back at the reader.  In the dark corners of our being, although we usually don’t admit as such, either to each other or to ourselves, we are capable of perpetrating criminal atrocities against each other.  Like a boiling frog, we don’t always realize the rationalizations and self-justifications we construct to distance ourselves from actions of criminality and evil.  Shadows Walking illustrates we only need a little push and we will devour each other.

What I’m Reading 2012 and Other Business

What I’m Reading 2012

Overview: I’m currently reading five books.  Each poses certain challenges (in some cases, self-imposed challenges) to me as a reader, reviewer, critic, historian, and aesthete.  While New Year’s Resolutions get broken seconds after they’re uttered, these challenges will form an informal backbone to my reading schedule.  As it stands, I want to increase the frequency of my blog posts from bimonthly to weekly.  (The same goes for my other blog, Coffee is for Closers.)  The positive responses from readers has really inspired me to do more.

As you’ll see with these challenges, I want to “raise the bar” with the Driftless Area Review’s content.

The Book: The Brethren: Inside the Supreme Court, by Bob Woodward and Scott Armstrong

The Challenge: Woodward and Armstrong’s book chronicles the Burger Supreme Court from 1969 to 1975.  The Supreme Court decided on many significant cases, including the Pentagon Papers, Roe v Wade, and others.  Reading The Brethren has inspired me to write a multibook, deep-reading-style review, focusing on the Supreme Court.  For this review, I will also read The Nine: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court, by Jeffrey Toobin, and Scorpions: The Battles and Triumphs of FDR’s Great Supreme Court Justices, by Noah Feldman.

As a historian, the review will pose a great challenge.  The nice thing about the three titles is how each reflects off each other.  The Brethren follows the decisions of Hugo Black and William O. Douglas, two long-lasting Justices and FDR appointments.  Black died in 1971, paving the way for President Nixon to nominate and appoint William Rehnquist.  The Nine examines the Court during the Dubya Years, including the consequences of Rehnquist’s death, Rehnquist having then been elevated from Justice to Chief Justice.  The three books reveal the slow movement from a liberal to a conservative agenda.  The differing genres will be interesting to evaluate, since Brethren and Nine are works of investigative journalism and Scorpions is popular history.  It should prove to be an interesting project.

The Book: Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Volume 2, by Karl Marx

The Challenge: Currently back-burnered for more compelling books.  Unfortunately, some sequels are worse than the originals.  Unlike Marx’s first volume, Volume 2 is a slow, tedious, bone-dry work, more akin to an economics textbook.  In addition, Friedrich Engels edited the present volume following Marx’s death.  The work exists as an amalgamation of several of Marx’s notebooks.  While the work presents relevant material on the operations of political economy, it is almost too dull to read.  The challenge will involve trying to read it without falling asleep.

A further challenge involves me writing more essays in my series Essays on Capital.  I want to continue this series, since the first volume presented a rich seam to mine.

The Book: Shadows Walking, by Douglas R. Skopp

The Challenge: Douglas Skopp’s self-published novel is a revelation, a well-written exploration of two doctor’s lives in Nazi Germany.  I will review the novel on its own, but it will become part of a larger project.  This project involves reading three massive, controversial novels about the Third Reich.  Two specifically focus on the Eastern Front: Europe Central, by William Vollmann, and The Kindly Ones, by Jonathan Littell.  The third novel – The Tunnel, by William Gass – is technically a “university novel,” but the subject matter associated with the protagonist feeds into the works of Vollmann, Littell, and Skopp.

The final challenge will be psychological, since these four novels survey the darkest aspects of modern history.

The Book: Citizens: A Chronicle of the French Revolution, by Simon Schama

The Challenge: This is the second history by Simon Schama that I’ve read.  I previously read Rembrandt’s Eyes, his magisterial double biography of Peter Paul Rubens and Rembrandt von Rijk.  As with Rembrandt’s Eyes, Citizens is an epic account, mixing biography, pop culture history, visual culture, politics, foreign policy, and tax law into a compelling page-turner.

French history is a particular enthusiasm of mine.  The challenge will be tempering this enthusiasm with the disinterested eye of a historian and bringing to bear my previous knowledge in French literature, historiography, and pop culture.

Blog Feature Revival

This year will see the revival of blog features on long hiatus.  The first will be the return of The Art of Reviewing.  French theorist Roland Barthes and prolific Gnostic Bardolator Harold Bloom are the first two on the docket.

The limited series 5000 Pages of Kissinger will conclude with my review of Years of Renewal, Kissinger’s final volume of his memoirs.  I have the skeleton of a review in place that I wrote several months ago.  The Arab Spring of 2011 and the nascent Occupy movement have made it a challenge to contextualize Kissinger’s work without seeming immediately outdated.  Both Arab Spring and Occupy have overturned the Nixon-Kissinger paradigm of supporting US-friendly free market dictatorships and absolutist monarchies in the Middle East.  These movements, along with the Tea Party movement and Ron Paul’s Small Government Neo-Isolationism, present opportunities for the government that acts in our name (if you’re a US reader of this blog) to reassess its global strategy, foreign policy interests, and free market cheerleading.

For decades, the Nixon-Kissinger paradigm had operated as a given within the global foreign policy architecture.  That given is no longer true and no longer equipped to deal with the Middle Eastern calls for freedom and the end of economic inequality.  As of this writing, the Arab Spring has become the symbol for freedom and liberation from oppression.  The end-result of these protests and coups is still unwritten.

“The Best 80s Sci Fi and Fantasy Films” will continue with an installment on Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Other Business

While I would like to this blog a major part of my life, creative projects and personal obligations inevitably get in the way.  These include a random assortment of personal and professional business.

I am getting married in early October and planning a wedding is a time-consuming endeavor.

On the reviewing front, I have a small pile of books from the Permanent Press I want to get around to reading.  I also have a couple novels from Archipelago Books I want to read and review.

My job is second shift and a temporary assignment.  Like many, many others who have been displaced, abandoned, or simply eliminated from the free market economy, I have a very real and very pressing goal of achieving full-time employment.  (The kind of employment associated with health benefits and paid time off.)  Working second shift has made it more challenging to post reviews, but with any challenge, it can be overcome.  On that note, if any blog readers like what they see and want to hire me as a writer, I’m all ears.  My contact information is in the Submitting Materials section.

Finally, I am working on the last round of revisions for a science fiction thriller.  I am planning to resubmit it to a small publisher who showed interest in the work.  In my query letter, I described my story as “The Sopranos meet Dune.”  I’m making this creative project a priority, since I am nearly finished with the revisions.  Overall, I have been pleased, since the revisions have strengthened the novel.

After Lyletown, by K.C. Frederick

A game of tennis with a good friend signifies that Alan Ripley has achieved “the good life.”  It is 1988 and Alan works as a Boston area real estate lawyer, has a loving wife working in academia, and a growing son.  The idealistic picture of late twentieth century domestic bliss fractures when Rory Dekker enters Alan’s life.  Alan met Rory twenty years ago as the intense fires of Sixties idealism curdled into resignation and rage.  With Nixon ascendant, Alan and his friends decide to “make a difference.”

Inspired by a seductive ideologue named Lily Culp and aided by a couple ex-cons, the tiny cadre of revolutionaries decide to participate in a heist.  The heist involved raiding a gun store, stealing the weapons, and distributing them to blacks.  It all seemed to make sense, at least on paper.  Then the day Alan should have participated in this nascent revolutionary action, he becomes sick and has to bow out.  The Lyletown Six became the Lyletown Five.  In the resulting melee, one person died, the others fled, and Rory ended up serving hard time.  Now Rory has returned into Alan’s life and Alan doesn’t know why.  Blackmail?  Revenge?  The reunion of friends possesses an ominous tinge.

After Lyletown by K.C. Frederick is a meticulously constructed narrative that Alan and Rory dealing with the consequences from the events of the Sixties.  On the surface, the premise is reminiscent of a thriller.  The novel itself operates on a much smaller, much more psychological level.  It is a novel of interiors.  Much is given over to Alan thinking and rethinking his decisions in the past and calculating the degree of his culpability.  The superficial portrait of the upper middle class real estate lawyer is only part of the picture.  Between the fires of Sixties idealism and thriving in Reagan’s America, Alan suffered one failed marriage and a dead-ended literary career.  He then reinvented himself as a law student, divorced his first wife Martha, and remarrying an attractive literary scholar named Julia.

Because of Rory’s silence in prison, Alan thinks he owes the ex-con something.  This is exacerbated by Alan’s realization that he could have lost everything if Rory chose to expose Alan’s part in the botched heist.  To further complicate matters, Alan chose to not reveal this part of his life to Julia.

What follows is a series of meetings between Alan and Rory.  Alan mired in self-guilt, Rory noticeably vague on his current situation.  Rory says he needs money, but doesn’t elaborate.  Alan, with lawyerly rationalizations, decides best not to ask, since too much knowledge would make him more culpable, especially if Rory’s plans for the money aren’t exactly legal.

Some passages in the novel seem a bit too on-point, like when Alan visits an elderly Polish woman who is his client in an eviction case.  The woman worked for the Polish resistance and lives on a modest pension.  The woman’s work in the resistance seems like an obvious mirror to Alan’s work with the Lyletown Five.  On the other hand, Julia’s father fought in the Second World War but refused to talk about it.  The war left him taciturn and tortured on a deep psychological level.  The omnipresence of war creates these peculiar ripple effects.  Since the story is set in the Late 80s/Early 90s, the reader could project the future for Tommy and how the future War on Terror will effect him.

The novel is an exploration of how war, prison, and affluence effect individuals, told at an unhurried pace.  The writing shimmers with descriptions of Innisfree, the Vermont cabin Julia’s father built, and Boston bars (dive bars and trendy Yuppie havens alike).  Not a narrative of spectacular confrontations but one that builds menace with a slow intensity and allows for the exploration of human interrelationships damaged by bad personal and foreign policy decisions.

The Road by Vasily Grossman

Best known for his novel Life and Fate, Vasily Grossman also wrote short stories and worked as a war correspondent in the Second World War.  A Ukrainian Jew with parents who worked as urban professionals, Grossman did not represent the common stereotype of the Eastern European Jew living in a “Litvak shtetl.”  The Road, a collection of short stories, journalism, and letters published by New York Review Books, provides a useful jumping off point for anyone interested in the life and work of Vasily Grossman.  It includes his earliest stories and his last short story he wrote.  “The Hell of Treblinka,” one of the first pieces of journalism about the Holocaust, is the centerpiece in the section devoted to the stories he wrote that focus on the Second World War.

Grossman had his share of tragedy in life.  His mother perished at the hands of the German war machine.  He wrote his masterpiece Life and Fate to deal with this loss.  The Soviet authorities “arrested” the book and Grossman became a non-person following his commitment not to whitewash Soviet complicity in the Second World War and the Holocaust.  Becoming a victim of the USSR’s anti-Semitic policies forced him to come to terms with his allegiance to the Soviet Union.  The Road charts this gradual disillusionment through his fiction and non-fiction.  His earliest stories, written in the 1930s, reflect the common tropes of Soviet Socialist Realism.  (Not too different from the heavy-handed moralizing of Ayn Rand’s fiction except that the heroes are Soviet soldiers and not industrialists.)  By the 1950s, he had abandoned the trappings of Socialist Realism, transcending literary movements to craft miniature literary gems.

New York Review Books has produced a beautiful book.  In terms of content, the translators have chosen the fiction and non-fiction selections that represent the overarching themes important to Grossman.  The selections also show Grossman developing as a writer, from devotee to Socialist Realism to literary artist.  A photograph opens each section.  Each section has an introduction explaining the historical context and specific linguistic issues each piece presents.  For instance, the story “Living Space” ends on a complex pun.  The translators avail themselves of the challenge successfully.  The story involves the everyday lives of residents in a communal apartment after a rehabilitated Gulag prisoner is assigned to live with them.  Following the main text, two appendices are included.  The first expands further on Grossman and his coverage of Treblinka.  The second explores his delicate relationship with Nikolay Yezhov, head of the NKVD and architect of the Great Terror, and his wife Yevgenia, who held a literary salon.  Like Roberto Bolaño, Grossman examined the dangerous interrelationship between art, politics, and terror.  Bolaño critiqued the US-supported South American authoritarian regimes, most notably Augusto Pinochet, while Grossman casts a subtle eviscerating eye on the lives of the Yezhovs.  The short story entitled “Mama” charts the life of a child adopted by the Yezhovs.  The child, orphaned by the very same NKDV that Nikolay heads, witnesses the rise and fall of her parents.  Yezhov eventually gets pushed out and meets death at the hands of Levrenti Beria.

“The Hell of Treblinka” explains in a few short pages the monumental horror of the Holocaust.  With a journalist’s trained eye for the immediate, the reader gets into the head of both the victims and the perpetrators.  It explains the demonic efficiency the Germans used to strip the Jews of their humanity.  The dehumanization is combined with an equally efficient method of murder on a massive industrial scale.  (It hearkens back to Karl Marx’s critique of capitalism in Capital.  Beginning with the commodity, he ends his critique by describing the cruelties of mass production and industrialization.  Instead of spinning cotton or making clothes, the death camps produced death on a scale unseen before or since.)  On the cover of the book, the reader sees a black and white photograph of a road in close up.  Grossman explains how the German policy of extermination changed radically following their defeat at the Battle of Stalingrad.  Intoxicated by their successes, the SS simply buried their victims in mass graves.  After Stalingrad, Himmler ordered the bodies dug up and burned.  The SS tried to cover its tracks when German defeat became a foregone conclusion.  They did so by covering the road approaching Treblinka with the ashes of the dead.  Then they also worked to destroy the camp itself.  “The Hell of Treblinka” provides a witness to the Shoah and also makes any reference to an American politician as “a Hitler” as something obscene.  It trivializes a tragedy, exposing the intellectual laziness of the accuser.  Grossman’s reportage and fiction would later get him into trouble when it failed to line up with official Soviet policy that “all races suffered in the camps.”  The policy artfully sidesteps Soviet complicity prior to 1941 and avoids recognizing the unique fate of the Jews at the hands of the Nazis and their willing collaborators.

One would be remiss without mentioning the more upbeat works in this collection.  While Grossman lived in the darkest time of modern history, he brought forth stories reflecting his humanism and compassion for both man and animal.  “The Road” is a story about the Italian participation in the German invasion of Russia.  Told from the perspective of a mule in an artillery company, it has this pack animal contemplating the meaning of infinity and solving Hamlet’s dilemma.  Grossman masterful tale combines gritty realism with elements of a fable.  He succeeds in making the reader empathetic to the mule while not making it sound contrived.  Another animal story, “The Dog”, tells the story of the first dog to successfully travel in space.

The Sistine Madonna (1513 – 14) by Raphael.  Not in the book.

“The Sistine Madonna” is a non-fiction piece devoted to Raphael’s painting.  The story relates the travels of the painting from the Dresden courts (now under Soviet control following the Second World War) and its arrival in the Hermitage for an exhibition.  Combining art history, reportage, and imaginative reverie, Grossman creates a visionary tableau in appreciation of Raphael’s work.

The Road offers an embarrassment of riches for the reader.  Newcomers to Grossman or readers familiar with his novels will appreciate the work of Robert and Elizabeth Chandler and Olga Mukovnikova.  Vasily Grossman works of literary genius place him with the great modern stylists Samuel Beckett, Truman Capote, and Thomas Pynchon.

 

 

The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: a history of Nazi Germany (Thirtieth Anniversary Edition) by William Shirer

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Nazi Germany.  Hitler.  The SS.  The names bring up connotations ranging from the cinema of Steven Spielberg and Mel Brooks to tasteless political posters at town hall meetings and anti-war protests.  In the eternal words of stand-up comic Bill Hicks: “We’re going in for God and country and democracy and here’s a fetus and he’s a Hitler.”  In our modern age, we have called whatever enemy of convenience a Hitler.  The same phenomenon throughout history with different groups of people thinking the Antichrist was Nero, the Pope, Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin, FDR, Ronald Wilson Reagan, Ayatollah Khomeini, Mikhail Gorbachev, Bill Clinton, Barney the Dinosaur, and, most recently, Barack Obama.  What was once a dire metaphysical threat has now become a punch line … and a funny one at that.  Since Hitler’s demise, nearly every US President and nearly every dictator working against US interests (or for them) has been labeled “a Hitler.”  Reducing those dark years that engulfed the world to a punch line is a dangerous thing.  Reading The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by William Shirer has been a useful corrective to the omnipresent cheapening and poisonous cultural illiteracy that permeates our present political discourse.

Published in 1960 during the height of the Cold War, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich represents one of the first and most comprehensive analyses of Hitler’s Germany.  When reading the book, it is important to remember the subtitle.  It is “a history” of Nazi Germany, not “the history.”  Even in 1100 pages, Shirer gives the reader a summary of Hitler’s rise, the European theater of war, and the Shoah.  Even with the oceans of ink spilled in trying to comprehend the madness and seduction of the Third Reich, Rise and Fall of the Third Reich is still a very useful book for those interested in Nazism, World War 2, and the Holocaust.

The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich remains important as a document of witness.  William Shirer was a newspaper correspondent in Germany during Hitler’s ascent to absolute power.  On occasion, he editorializes and lets his rage show through.  In this case, just because he is angry does not mean he is inaccurate.  One also has to remember it was written in 1960 with the wounds of the Second World War still fresh.  The Thirtieth Edition, published in 1990, comes with an Afterword by Shirer.  He writes about his worry that a united Germany will become a militarist threat.  Hindsight has proven Shirer wrong, although the hatred, anti-Semitism, and anti-democratic intimidation have now become the modus operandi of different actors.

Homosexuality, in Shirer’s estimation, becomes another manifestation of Nazism’s decadence and criminality.  Ernst Roehm, head of the SA, is labeled “a pervert” because of his homosexuality.  Roehm participated in his fair share of political violence, but his predilection for male company is immaterial.  Homosexual men with less than admirable personal lives are nothing new and the Nazi movement was not the only mass movement to Roehm-type figures.  One’s sexual orientation does not presume one’s political orientation.  Roy Cohn and Harvey Milk illustrate this point.

The book excels in condemns the Nazis by using primary documents.  Shirer uses testimony from the Nuremburg trials, memoirs, and the captured “confidential archives of the German government and all its branches.”  He shines a light on the hidden documents and lets the participants incriminate themselves.

Shirer, as a newspaperman, makes the book an exciting read.  It is a page-turner with forward narrative momentum like the best of thrillers.

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For those interested in the political aspects, Stanley Payne’s A History of Fascism 1914-1945 is a more academic treatment.  Payne analyses the specific characteristics of “generic fascism” and proceeds to illustrate the various fascist movements in Europe.  Fascism is a political philosophy as varied as any other.

The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich is a masterful telling of a dark decade that nearly destroyed civilization and no laughing matter.

Gravity’s Rainbow (1973) by Thomas Pynchon

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“unreadable, turgid, overwritten and obscene.” — Pulitzer Prize board.

Scenario: Imagine you’re a peasant, wallowing about the mud, occasionally getting hassled by men in armor alleging they are kings because some lass threw a scimitar at him, and you’re late for the biweekly meeting of your anarcho-sydiclist commune. Perhaps you’re name is Dennis. Life is a constant struggle involving mud, plague, and rampaging Crusaders lopping the heads off random farmers.

Your daily routine of mud farming is disrupted. Out of nowhere, an day-glo painted SR-71 Blackbird, piloted by a figure reminiscent of Donald Sutherland’s character from Kelley’s Heroes and co-piloted by Donald Sutherland’s character from JFK, lands in your mud-field. Your reaction would be very similar to that of the reading public in 1973.

This isn’t so much a novel in the conventional character-plot-setting deal common since the days of Homer. No, this is something wildly, beautifully, obscenely different. Not so much a narrative as much as a Rosetta Stone of literary modernism and postmodernism.

What Pynchon did for the novel with Gravity’s Rainbow is what Matthew Barney did for film in Cremaster 3. Epic gorgeous labyrinthine genius encased in paranoia and bio-psychic nightmares.

Parallels: Ulysses by James Joyce, Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, and 2666 by Roberto Bolano.