Customer Reviews

The Cave

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Tim Krabbe's The Cave is a beautiful little book that is ultimately sad. Its tale twists over many decades and three continents and then twists back again. The beauty of the writing and the style of the author is how he is able to create so much in so little space. The reader understands the characters quickly and sympathizes with them instantly. These are basically good people moved to do things they would not otherwise do by an irrestible force in the form of a man, Axel. The themes of lost chances and the interconnectedness of everyone are present and poignant throughout the novel. The suspense is in the first part of the novel but the strength of the story is in the revealing of the tapestry that created the action. This novel was a joy, albeit bitter sweet. Worth the time it will take to finish this beautiful little tale.

I was surprised to see the book described in reviews as a thriller. Although it has some elements associated with that genre, thriller-readers will probably be disappointed with The Cave. Aside from the fact that it's a very fine piece of literature--something rarely true of thrillers--it's primarily an enchanting (and ultimately chilling) tale of love and fate. The translation was so smooth I wondered if it hadn't been written in English to begin with. It has the kind of weight that is usually only seen in the work of European masters--Peter Handke and Friedrich Durrenmatt come to mind. Speaking as a novelist, I have to say that I wish I'd written it myself.

I became really involved in reading this story to the point where I couldn't put it down. It's a small book, but a very complex story, that goes back and forth in time, where it may seem confusing at times but by the end it all falls into place. It was at this point I found myself saying this book would make a great movie. It involves two friends Egon Wagter and Axel van de Graaf who are from Amsterdam. The story weaves from between the time they meet at camp on vacation at the age of fourteen through the years to adulthood. Axel becomes such a part of Egon's whole life, always seeming to turn up at the most crucial times. It's a story of unforgettable characters and betrayal in the deepest sense. I felt sorry for Egon, his life seemed so controlled in so many ways by this one man, Axel.

I really enjoyed Tim Krabbe's writing, it makes you really pay attention. It's the type of book you want to read again to make sure you didn't miss anything, like a movie that you seem to learn more about every time you watch it again. Now I know why this was a bestseller in the Netherlands.

The theme of the book is hinted at in the description, toward the end of this novel, of a game that a mother plays were her two sons: "She would name two events, and they had to come up with a way for the second to result from the first. Someone in Rio chokes on his pudding, someone in Paris buys a box of thumbtacks twenty years later. It was always possible; you could always come up with something that made sense."

Puzzles, twists, interconnections are all laid over what seems like a straightforward suspense novel. The Cave is a beautiful little book, full of sweetness and irony, coincidence and inevitability.

Dutch writer Krabbé seems to have a knack for crafting slim but emotionally gripping psychological thrillers (for lack of a better term). His first book to appear in English was The Vanishing, which depicted the emotional implosion of man whose wife disappears at a highway rest stop (Two movies were made from it, skip the American version and see the original Dutch film.). A much earlier book, only recently translated, is an amazingly absorbing account of an amateur bicycle race, filled to the brim with psychological tension. Here, Krabbé adroitly hopscotchs through time to tell the story of two friends, one bad and one good.

The book starts in a Cambodia-like southeast Asian country, where a middle-aged Dutchman is sweating his way though his first assignment as a drug courier. The mild-mannered Egon is a geologist by training, and desperate for money. How he got to this point is taken up in the next section, which flashes back some 25 years to a trip he took as a 14-year-old. At summer camp he met the charismatic Axel van de Graaf, who instantly adopted Egon as his sidekick/admirer. Axel is one of those spectacularly wild and charismatic boys who evokes fascination and dislike at the same time. Egon falls in with his plans, even when he knows they're bad or wrong. This sets the theme for the book, a question which Egon asks himself: why is his life such a struggle when he does all the right things, while Axel grows rich and famous by being completely amoral.

The third section follows a Dutch journalist (and old acquaintance of Egon and Axel's) in the Cambodia substitute, as he explores the aftermath of Egon's trip. Structurally, this chapter doesn't really need to be in the book, but it does add a certain depth and clarity to what happened in the first section. The fourth chapter takes the reader to Massachusetts, where a college student is coping with the disappearance of his mother, who was an unhappily married rockhound. By the end of this, everything has fallen into place, and the final fifth section elegantly dovetails with the second to tie everything together. The story is somewhat contrived, but powerful nonetheless in the questions it raises about how we live our lives. It was made into a highly praised Dutch film called De Grot, which has only been shown on the festival circuit in the US and UK.

Beautifully written (by Krabbe) and translated (by Sam Garrett), this story is massively implausible. You either will give yourself over to it or not. If not, it will be a lot less fun. However, this book has a satisfying ending that stays with you and, perhaps, inspires.

A small novel from the Netherlands. A mystery novel with no mystery at all for the readers but only for the characters. A sad story too. Three fourteen year old kids in a summer camp in Belgium are going to sign up for their future in that one little summer month. One will end up a drug lord in the Netherlands. And the other two, due to their mediocrity and their lack of enterprising spirit will end up wanting what the drug lord can give them, money, when in their mid-life they will suddenly decide they have to become enterprising, and they will do what he asks them to do, pass drugs somewhere in a south-east Asian country. Pure accident, she travelling on a fake identity from the US, he travelling incognito from the Netherlands, having to pass a suitcase of heroin from one hired car to another, between two planes on an empty parking lot in the night. No real danger. Except that in this country living more or less under a dictator or at least a capricious hardly elected general known as General Suffering, which is funny in a Buddhist country since Suffering is the standard translation for Dukkha, the central concept of Buddhism, anything may happen. And anything happens. These two people who had not seen each other for thirty years, since they were fourteen, met, recognized each other but are imprudent in that recognition making them suspicious to some local tramps near by who join them once and for all in their entangled and intertwined guts. The rest is horror. The two tramps will vanish, into death and oblivion. An inoffensive one-legged kid will be accused, will confess and will be executed. And the drug will never surface anywhere. And who could care less or more? The book yet is sad because it ends with the husband and the two sons of the woman who never gets identified. These three men are mourning her, each one in their own ways, distant anyway. She just stepped out of their life and we wonder if she should ever have been in their life. That's sad because she was a good wife and a good mother, but she only left recollections that require her to be away to come back and be remembered. You have some people like that. They seem to be nothing but the instant when you meet them, day after day, without any time depth, past, nothing, and yet that past comes up when they have disappeared, a past that is in no real way emotional, just anecdotic. Sad indeed. That little book is sad.

Dr Jacques COULARDEAU, University Paris 1 Pantheon Sorbonne, University Paris 8 Saint Denis, University Paris 12 Créteil, CEGID