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Our Assessment:
B- : jarring but facile approach has some entertainment value, but works at best as a YA novel See our review for fuller assessment.
Review Consensus: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Historical fiction is, of course, the cheapest and most base form of fiction.
In its reliance on the personal, autobiographical fiction is at least transparent in its dishonesty, but by being (ostensibly) grounded in the 'real' and based on 'facts' historical fiction has pretensions to so much more.
Which isn't to say that there can't be some value to it, from the pure entertainment value historical fictions that simply try to recreate the past can offer (as well as the limited informational value of the more well-researched ones), to the games authors can play with history, such as -- to cite just two examples that Laurent Binet also discusses in HHhH -- Robert Harris' cleverly amusing alternate-history story, Fatherland (where the what-if he posits is: what if the Nazis had won the war ?) and Jonathan Littell's execrable The Kindly Ones ("simply 'Houellebecq does Nazism'", Binet summarizes, in his two-birds-with-one-stone dismissal), whose premise of a fictional character in real situations has great potential but fails entirely in Littell's hands.
Through all the years that I carried the story around with me in my head, I never thought of giving it any other title than Operation Anthropoid (and if that's not the title you see on the cover, you will know that I gave in to the demands of my publisher, who didn't like it: too SF, too Robert Ludlum, apparently).Obviously, the published title is a different one; whether it was actually 'changed' -- so the story that is circulated, that it was done so at the publisher's behest -- or whether that is all just another part of the novel(ist)'s game (i.e. he always intended to call it HHhH but wants readers to believe otherwise) remains an open question. ('Operation Anthropoid' was the official name of the assassination-operation.) The story of the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich is, no doubt an interesting one. (It is also, in many ways, supremely uninteresting: everyone knows what happened, the facts are well-known (and to those to whom they are not, they can readily be found from a vast number of sources), and the story has often been told (indeed, Binet refers to and describes several different published fictional takes on and movie versions of the same events).) Certainly, as literary subject matter, the basics are undeniably good. As Binet notes, Heydrich is: a wonderful character. It's as if a Dr.Frankenstein novelist had mixed up the greatest monsters of literature to create a new and terrifying creature. Except that Heydrich is not a paper monster.(But of course through this very exercise that he is undertaking, Binet is reducing (and puffing up) Heydrich to a 'paper monster'.) The rest of the story -- the assassins parachuting into occupied territory, the actual attack and Heydrich's painful death, the manhunt -- is also action-drama of the highest order. And, just in case, Binet pads it all with a good deal more Nazi horror, from the relevant -- describing the fall of Czechoslovakia -- to the more peripheral, such as the horrors of Babi Yar. Binet takes a particularly odd tack early on that undermines much of what he is doing -- arguably fatally so: he not only professes ignorance, but he goes so far as to present himself as almost indifferent. He appears to be open about it, but it's still a very strange game he plays here. For example, early on he announces: I must admit that in this case -- regarding Heydrich's birthplace -- my knowledge is a bit sketchy. There are two towns in Germany called Halle, and I don't even know which one I'm talking about. Fort the time being, I think it's not important. We'll see.Or he reveals that he hasn't sought out a copy of Heydrich's wife's biography of her life with him; "So I should do without the book", he thinks. Having laid this groundwork of how selective (and/or careless) he is in his research, Binet seems to decide he can't leave it at that after all: he admits later that he has figured out which Halle Heydrich comes from, and he does acquire a copy of Lina Heydrich's memoirs. So why the games in the first place ? Certainly to place seeds of doubt in the reader's mind about his reliability, and his interest in (some of ?) the facts; but to what end ? Surely, for example, it should be clear to him and everyone from the outset that which Halle Heydrich comes from is a significant detail if one is writing about Heydrich. One might argue that Binet is only interested in aspects of Heydrich -- notably Heydrich as personification of Nazism, rather than an actual person -- and hence he doesn't want to know his origins, or how his wife saw him, but that is belied by his attention to other personal details about the man; here, as everywhere, Binet wants to have it both ways (and winds up having it neither). Binet remains torn between 'fact' and fiction. He wants to recount factually -- he's clear about that, condemning Littell's approach by maintaining: "inventing a character in order to understand historical facts is like fabricating evidence". But he's not entirely comfortable sticking to -- or even seeking out -- the facts. While he does refer to and quote from documentary accounts, he also turns repeatedly to film- and novel- versions of the events he recounts. Arguably, he is presenting his own account as the alternative (or summation) to the actual documentary accounts, but he's careful not to present it as serious or academic history: he emphasizes his amateur status in his stories of how he comes across much of the information or his visits to the relevant sites. It's as though he doesn't want to be seen as having authority. Binet also admits, towards the end: My story has as many holes in it as a novel.Which begs several questions, including what his story is (he implies here, after all, that it's not a novel), what exactly he was expecting -- and why he doesn't try a bit harder to fill the damn holes. Ultimately, HHhH is a sort of Young Adult-introduction to the Nazis and Heydrich, an author more than a generation removed from the time he is writing about describing how he learns about these events and regurgitating what he learns -- in reasonably approachable and catchy form. As Binet admits: This story is personal. That's why my visions sometimes get mixed up with the known facts. It's just how it is.The style is YA (Binet is no stylist, and some of the writing is dreadful, but at least it's simple and straightforward), and so is the presentation, the 257 short chapters and the fast-moving (back and forth) narrative surely ideal for the short-attention-span generation. It is fine as that -- arguably even pretty good. However, HHhH is in no way an adult novel -- and given how serious the subject matter is (and how the book has been marketed -- as serious literary fiction, no less) that is both dangerous and unfortunate. Very early on, Binet mentions that he reads a great deal of historical fiction and admits: I am struck all the same by the fact that, in every case, fiction wins out over history.Perhaps he means HHhH to prove it can be otherwise -- but of course it can't. And why should it ? Fiction is (or can be) everything; history is mere history -- a banality. Both, however, should be taken seriously -- and in HHhH Binet doesn't accord either the respect they deserve. The result is a decent YA novel about Nazi horrors, and about learning about them, presented by an amiable, wide-eyed, bumbling guide; it is not, however, a serious treatment of either Heydrich and the Nazis, or of fiction itself. [Updated (10 May 2012): Anthony Cummins' review in The Spectator suggests there are considerable translation and editorial issues with regard to the English version of the novel. Comparing it to the French original (which I have unfortunately not seen) he finds numerous outright mistakes ("This translation changes Simone Veil to Simone Weil, Tunis to Tunisia, and Birmingham to Stoke-on-Trent"), and also notes: "There are cuts as well as slips". He suggests: "The French expects you to know the story already; the English worries you won’t keep up" -- which may well address several of the issues I had with the novel (though I suspect my fundamental disagreements remain intact). Clearly, however, this is yet another example of how translation and editing (don't forget that editorial interference !) can change a book (usually, I'd suggest, not for the better).] - M.A.Orthofer, 1 May 2012 - Return to top of the page - HHhH:
- Return to top of the page - French author Laurent Binet was born in 1972. - Return to top of the page -
© 2012-2017 the complete review
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