21 of 22 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
What a Century of Misery was Ours!, December 4, 2009
The Twentieth Century, Herta Müller's and mine! I lived through more of it than she did, but she lived closer to 'ground zero' of social agony. Born in 1953, in Ceaucescu's nightmare police state, she escaped by self-exile to Germany in 1987. Her novels, as many as I've looked at, portray the claustrophobic anxiety of life in the 20th C more excruciatingly than any since Kafka's. I'm somewhat startled to discover that translations of her work into English have been available for at least eleven years, but American readers have utterly ignored her until she received the 2009 Nobel Prize. This time, I'm willing to shout, the Nobel went to the right person.
But back to the 20th Century: colonialist exploitation, Jim Crow lynchings and apartheid, the bloodbath of the Great War, genocide everywhere, fascism/nazism, the gulags, millions of refugees, death camps and dead-end camps, religious fanaticism and the consequences thereof, the Atomic Bomb... and that list doesn't include the spiritual/psychological malaise of anomie amidst throngs. Oh yeah, before the 20th C, life was universally "nasty, brutish, and short." Well, even discounting the decrease in child mortality, life has gotten statistically longer... but it's kept up, alas, in nastiness and brutishness. Want evidence? Read our literature, the novels, stories, poems, and plays we have prepared to bequeath to readers of the 22nd C and beyond. Does the literature of any other century match ours for anguish? For loneliness, depression, frustration, and fear? Not even close! We've mourned our lives so poignantly that our descendants will wonder why we bothered to persist.
Honestly, I've been mostly an observer of the century's misery. Not a bad life, I've had. So I'm prepared to be grateful to Herta Müller for sharing her torment with me. This novel, titled "Today I'd Rather Not Meet Myself" in German (Heute wär ich mir lieber nicht begegnet) but translated as "The Appointment" in English, is scarcely cheerful or diverting to read. The narrator, a youngish Romanian factory worker, has been summoned for another round of vicious interrogation by the police, concerning her wish to flee the country. As she prepares her mind for the interrogation while riding the bus, she tells the story of her own life and the lives of others in her world. Her narration is NOT in the style of so-called "stream of consciousness". It's quite simple and straight-forward, as easy to follow as an edited oral history. Reviewers who complain that this novel is 'difficult' must have avoided most of the classics of 20th C fiction. The narration is not written in simulation of the thoughts of an unsophisticated 'prol'. Müller is too honest for that game. It would be hard to doubt that Müller is portraying herself, her own dire anguish in her own disastrous homeland.
Müller writes with lapidary attention to details. Her sentences are beautifully shaped and timed. Her images are stunningly precise and original. In other words, this novel is potent both as a whole and in every clause. Rarely has 'ugliness' been rendered so beautifully! Müller's poetry is completely hermeneutic and untranslatable, composed of words literally clipped and pasted like a dada collage, but her prose is translucent as carbon monoxide. The woman she represents as her narrator breathes the sour gas of repression and harassment, but survives. Translators Michael Hulse and Philip Boehm catch Müller's inflection vividly and render her culturally-specific metaphors and allusions accessible for an English reader. Müller may well be as sour and edgy a person as her narrator, from various accounts, but she is a writer of the highest rank.
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17 of 20 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
beautifully fragmented, May 26, 2002
This review is from: The Appointment: A Novel (Hardcover)
Beautifully written prose and an incredibly fitting cover photo, this is a fictional account of a Romanian factory worker punished for pinning notes into the pockets of outgoing clothing.
This 'why' quickly takes a back seat to the out-of-sequence internal flashbacks that slowly reveal most of her adult life and routine. Told in a manner both simple and complex, it's not unlike a self-confession, and in this I think it makes its mark. The goings-on of the particular appointment doesn't seem, at the end to matter, for as the speaker tells us, "The trick is not to go mad."
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4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Stream of consciousness in Romania, November 24, 2009
This review is from: The Appointment: A Novel (Hardcover)
Sounding initially like Kafka's "The Trial," the book is narrated by a woman enroute to yet another mysterious interrogation. We slip between multiple layers of her life, learning of the present tram ride, her past family life and friendships, her previous life in the factory and her boss, and her interrogator. I'm certain some academic will devise a fascinating graphic representation of the patterns by which the novel travels through time and space. For me, the richest parts of the book are the minor characterizations -- among them, Frau Micu, the demented neighbor woman -- portrayed in such acute and poignant detail. There are touching and terrifying portrayals of the ways in which people come together and apart, love and hate -- that are certainly connected to the historical context, but the dynamics of which are not limited to that frame of reference. In fact, for a more "historical" portrayal of the effects of the Ceausescu regime's effect on relationships and trust, I recommend "Train to Trieste" by the Romanian writer Domnica Radulescu. Although also fiction, it demonstrates more directly the constant suspicion that permeates personal relationships in that era. For both books, though, I have problems with the endings: Muller's for its ambiguity and Radulescu's for its neatness. Maybe that's because the story's not really over.
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