HERSCHT 07769

Krasznahorkai’s latest postmodern experiment explores small-town discontents in post-unification eastern Germany.

“Your voice is so fucking insipid, Florian, are you some Jew or what?” So bellows “the Boss,” the head of a clutch of neo-Nazis in a Thuringian backwater smack in the heart of the new Germany. Apart from idolizing Hitler, the Boss is also a hectoring concertmaster who owns a cleaning company (its ominous all-caps slogan “ALLES WIRD REIN, ALL WILL BE CLEAN”). It’s good for business but enraging all the same that someone is spray-painting sites associated with Johann Sebastian Bach, one of the Boss’ many obsessions, with graffiti signed “WOLF HEAD.” The subject of the Boss’ meltdown is Florian Herscht, a gentle and dim giant who is fascinated by particle physics, even if he doesn’t understand it, and harbors fears of dentists, tattoos, and the end of the world. About the latter he regularly writes to German premier Angela Merkel, warning of the impending apocalypse. Reminiscent of the similarly dim but good-hearted giant of Günter Grass’s The Tin Drum, Florian strains to understand what is happening in tiny Kana, now populated by immigrants from Eastern Europe and from even as far away as Vietnam. While the Boss rails against his neighbor Ringer, “a Jew, meaning he was part of the conspiracy,” the wolves are indeed returning, as are magical birds and other signs and portents of the very apocalypse that Florian worries about. In a long book with only one terminal punctuation mark, not easy to read but graced by a certain poetry, Krasznahorkai allegorizes globalism and nationalism, gets in digs at complacent burgers and ardent environmentalists, and illustrates, through Florian and other characters, how thinly the veneer of civilization lies atop a thick crust of savagery.

Brilliant, like all of Krasznahorkai’s books—and just as challenging, though well worth the effort required.