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Our Assessment:
A- : quietly powerful See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review: [Note: this review is based on the original German text, not Shaun Whiteside's English translation, which I have not seen beyond the Google preview pages; all quotes are, however, from his translation (yes, it was possible to cobble them together via the Google preview pages).]
The premise of The Wall is both simple and extreme: on a 30th of April the unnamed, widowed narrator joins the Rüttlingers -- her cousin Luise and Luise's husband, Hugo -- on a trip to their alpine hunting-lodge; after arriving there Luise and Hugo head back down into the village for an outing -- and never return.
Concerned, the narrator goes to investigate the next morning -- with Luchs ('Lynx'), the Rüttlingers' hunting dog that they had collected from where he was boarded on the way to the house -- and, on her way down to the village, comes up against: "something invisible, smooth and cool blocking my path".
A wall.
We were in a bad situation, Lynx and I, and at the time we didn't know just how bad it was. But we weren't lost entirely, because there were two of us.Among the questions the narrator can not answer are just how far this protected territory extends -- how long is the wall -- and whether or not she is actually alone. She explores some, but the alpine terrain makes it difficult to get very far. And almost immediately she comes across a cow, which she brings home and settles in a makeshift stable by the hunting-lodge -- a welcome source of milk and butter, but also an obligation that ties her more closely to one place, making it more difficult to explore further afield. Clearly, there are other animals in the enclosed space -- indeed, a cat joins her as well, and has several litters of kittens over the years, suggesting there are more out there, and the narrator also hunts meat for food, for her and her pets. She eventually also visits some other structures in the area, including an Alm -- but it appears that at the time of the disaster no one else was in the safe zone that she finds herself in. Much of her report is how she got by. Hugo had stocked his lodge well -- fearing and preparing for the possibility of nuclear war -- and a hunting rifle made it possible to hunt animals. There were potatoes and dried beans, both of which she planted, and while there are limited fruits and berries in the wild, she is able to harvest and enjoy these some as well. She has a decent store of matches, for vital fire -- enough to tide her over for a total of five years, she reckons -- and until they run out should be able to survive on what she grows and kills. The cow give birth to a steer, and the cat has kittens -- though not all of these survive. The animals, and taking care of her and their food-needs, keeps her quite busy -- but she also reflects some on her life, and her situation. She has two nearly grown daughters, but has to accept that they, and everyone she knows, has perished. She wonders whether whoever was responsible for the wall will ever come -- she has seen no planes overhead, which suggests there's not much going on out there ... -- and wonders what that will mean. After all: They could come back any day and get me. They will be strangers, who will find a stranger. We won't have anything more to say to each other. It would be better for me if they never came back.She comes to realize: The wall forced me to make an entirely new life, but the things that really move me are still the same as before: birth, death, the seasons, growth and decay. The wall is a thing that is neither dead nor alive, it really doesn't concern me, and that's why I don't dream about it.She surprisingly rarely looks back on her earlier, normal life -- but there are some nice, telling reflections-on-society slipped in, such as her noting that: Disorganization had never been one of my faults, yet I had rarely found myself in a position to carry out one of my plans, because as sure as fate somebody or something had always turned up to ruin them. If I failed now, it would be my own fault, and I could only hold myself responsible.In a way, The Wall is fairly uneventful. The narrator presents day-to-day life, which is as routine and almost dreary as most day-to-day life -- albeit under a very unusual set of circumstances. These, however, do not prove that much more challenging: after all, other than the complete isolation (i.e. that she has to be completely self-reliant), much about her circumstances isn't that far removed from much human experience. She battles nature and the elements, but is equipped to do so fairly well, and manages without extreme hardship -- this is no desert island she has suddenly been washed up on. What is different, of course, is her complete isolation. She has been removed from society -- and, as far as she can tell, civilization itself has come to an end. She does long believe someone -- those victors, for want of a better term, of whatever situation is behind this wall -- might come looking for her, but ultimately this is such a distant prospect that it doesn't really factor into her life or actions. She can not plan for it, and doesn't bother to. She finds companionship with her animals, and sadness in their loss; Lynx, especially, was a creature she leaned on; without him, she feels as though amputated. Haushofer's vision is extreme, but it's interesting that she does give her protagonist this close and meaningful company: she can imagine survival without human companionship, but seems unable to imagine her protagonist completely cut off from any social contact, even if that is just with animals. As is, this communing-with-nature is an important element of the novel -- though of course also limiting it as a vision of a (wo)man truly alone. There is one dramatic (and traumatic) event, one a long time in coming, hinted at but only revealed very near the end, explaining how Lynx died (and triggering the narrator to write her report) -- a flash of violence pretty much out of nowhere. Like the appearance of the wall itself, it is abrupt and fathomless, raising more questions than it answers. Its nature also makes for an intriguing final twist, in how the narrator's situation remains fundamentally unchanged -- beyond a terrible loss -- even as it suggests that other paths had been possible behind this wall. If not completely upending everything she had believed about this remaining world around her, it does force her to reëxamine it some. Superficially, The Wall is an almost humdrum novel -- an adventure novel with limited adventure, a commentary on modern civilization with barely any outright commentary -- yet there's so much strength to the controlled quiet of the narrator's voice that it is easily compelling. Haushofer beautifully builds her story off her premise, and in avoiding efforts at the sensational has created an all the more powerful, haunting work. - M.A.Orthofer, 17 May 2020 - Return to top of the page - The Wall:
- Return to top of the page - Austrian author Marlen Haushofer lived 1920 to 1970. - Return to top of the page -
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