From Publishers Weekly
Starting off as a refugee in Guldenberg, Germany, was tough enough, but for Bernhard Haber, whose family—led by his one-armed carpenter father—fled Breslau after the 1945 Soviet invasion, things never got easier. From his first days in school, tossed into a class with students a year younger than he, when Bernhard makes quick business of exacting revenge upon a bully, to later injustices like the arson of his father's workshop, the murder of his dog and his father, Bernhard can't get a fair shake. Not one to gripe, he sticks it out. Through stints as a goon for a farmers' collective, a smuggler, a carpenter and town powerbroker, Bernhard remains a steady, if mysterious, character as his story is told by five acquaintances. Hein, a former president of PEN Germany, has a history of politically themed writing, and this novel does his legacy proud with its smart prose and keen social commentary. Seeing the postwar German landscape through the eyes of smalltown dwellers whose greatest moments involve their wooden bridge being used for a briefly rerouted autobahn, a reader can soak up the refugee experience.
(Sept.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From Booklist
When a central character is continually kept at an arm’s length, can you ever really understand him? In Settlement, the answer is no, but the result is less frustrating than it sounds. The rags-to-riches life story of Bernhard Haber, a refugee living in a small East German town following World War II, is told in five segments, each narrated by someone who knew him: a school chum, his first girlfriend, a fellow rabble-rouser, a former lover, and a merchant colleague. As a child, Haber is tormented by townspeople who consider refugees filthy and lazy, and this cements his obsession with revenge in the form of power and wealth. The chillingly single-minded Haber remains fairly one-dimensional, but the side characters are fleshed with excruciating accuracy and detail. A true home, Hein seems to be saying, cannot be fashioned without suffering and blood, and the digressions facilitated by Hein’s structural gamble together weave a wholly realistic cross section of a community coming to terms with the rebirth of a country—and learning how to bear the contractions of such a painful delivery. Capably translated from the German. --Daniel Kraus
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