The Empusium - Olga Tokarczuk

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The Empusium

by
Olga Tokarczuk

general information | review summaries | our review | links | about the author

Title:	The Empusium
Author:	Olga Tokarczuk
Genre:	Novel
Written:	2022 (Eng. 2024)
Length:	302 pages
Original in:	Polish
Availability:	The Empusium - US
	The Empusium - UK
	The Empusium - Canada
	Le banquet des Empouses - France
	Empusion - Deutschland

	from: Bookshop.org (US)

A Health Resort Horror Story
Polish title: Empuzjon
Translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones

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Our Assessment:

B+ : substantial fiction with a light touch

See our review for fuller assessment.

Review Summaries
Source	Rating	Date	Reviewer
Irish Times	A+	15/9/2024	Michael Cronin
NZZ	A	19/6/2023	Ilma Rakusas
The Spectator	.	21/9/2024	Lee Langley
Sydney Morning Herald	A+	13/9/2024	Bram Presser
The Telegraph	B+	9/9/2024	Lucy Thynne
The Times	A-	11/9/2024	David Mills
TLS	B+	20/9/2024	Claire Lowdon
Wall St. Journal	.	18/9/2024	Sam Sacks

From the Reviews:

"The Nobel Prize-winning novelist is exceptionally adept at blending the high-minded sanctimoniousness of the sanatorium with the ever-present threat and legacy of violence. (...) Tokarczuk’s outstanding novel is a striking reaffirmation of literature’s genius for nuance in a world darkened by murderous polarities." - Michael Cronin, Irish Times

"Tokarczuk arbeitet mit Leitmotiven, die sie geschickt verknotet (.....) Olga Tokarczuk versteht es meisterhaft, den Unheimlichkeitsgrad der Romanhandlung ständig zu erhöhen. Mit Einbruch des Herbstes verfällt auch die Natur in Melancholie, und die Todeszahlen steigen. (...) Einmal mehr zeigt Olga Tokarczuk ihr überragendes literarisches Können und ihre besondere Sicht auf Mensch und Welt. Allein schon ihre Landschaftsschilderungen, die Präzision mit suggestiver Phantastik verbinden, sind ein Lesegenuss. Das gilt auch für ihre Figurencharakterisierungen und die lustvolle Beschreibung von Kulinarischem." - Ilma Rakusas, Neue Zürcher Zeitung

"Though the novel describes itself as ‘a horror story’, it’s more a salutation to the power of the natural world and a celebration of difference. (...) There’s an almost Borgesian quality to the resolution. But remember, this is Tokarczuk. Nothing is ever quite as it seems." - Lee Langley, The Spectator

"It could have been a disastrous exercise in high-lit navel-gazing. Instead, The Empusium is an emphatic triumph – a feast of culture, both literary and popular, highbrow and low, that shows Tokarczuk writing at the peak of her powers and enjoying every moment of it. (...) While the misogynist thought-orgy alone might have been horror enough to earn The Empusium its subtitle, there are some old-school pant-wetting scares at play, too. (...) Having endured The Books of Jacob with reluctant admiration, I was in thrall to this from the first page." - Bram Presser, Sydney Morning Herald

"The book’s tone is less Stephen King, more B-movie; (...) and you suspect that Tokarczuk’s choice of genre is more for plot scaffolding than anything else. The early twists are often so clichéd (...) that the later ones, which I won’t spoil, feel more unexpected: it’s the rare experience of a novel that much improves as it goes on. (...) Like a Victorian novel better read in stints of 50 pages than sputters of 10, The Empusium rewards your attention the further you go. That could be a problem for some, given that the book isn’t nearly as compelling as Tokarczuk’s best novel, the masterful Flights" - Lucy Thynne, The Telegraph

"The book challenges you to think while still being slyly funny (.....) With The Empusium, there’s also a compelling plot to pull us along. Chilling horrors pile up. (...) There are three plot-twisting surprises, one that I guessed early on, one I was wrong about and one that floored me. Tokarczuk is a writer of definite views, many of which I disagree with, but this is clever, intelligent stuff, touched with genius." - David Mills, The Times

"Despite the large (if mischievous) debt to The Magic Mountain, Tokarczuk makes this novel all her own with her idiosyncratic blend of registers and genres. She is both a collagist and a doodler, a freewheeling improvisator taking her narrative line for a gloriously erratic walk. (...) In Lloyd-Jones’s poised translation, Tokarczuk’s puckishness gleams brightly. The best passages in this new novel are weird, lyrical rhapsodies describing the natural world through the all-seeing eyes of those mysteriously plural narrators. (...) The novel is just 324 pages -- a modest size by Olga Tokarczuk’s standards. It seems longer, because the energy really flags in the second third, which feels repetitive and unedited. It’s a risk, perhaps, of taking a line for a walk: at some point your charming doodle might turn into more of a scribble. Happily, all the various unlikely strands come together in the closing chapters." - Claire Lowdon, Times Literary Supplement

"Part homage and part rejoinder, it shares its model’s protean properties, alternating between banality and fantasia, humor and horror, ambiguity and harsh political stridency. It’s an odd, fascinating book -- a blackly serious joke—from an author of great daring and intelligence. (...) The writing, in a cultivated translation by Antonia Lloyd-Jones, shares the easygoing gait and twinkling irony of Mann’s novel, a dispassionate amusement at the solemn goings-on among the patients, whose habits and personalities are delineated at length. (...) It makes for absorbing if often mystifying reading, but what stands out most is the philosophical conflict it stages between rationality and folk belief." - Sam Sacks, Wall Street Journal

Please note that these ratings solely represent the complete review's biased interpretation and subjective opinion of the actual reviews and do not claim to accurately reflect or represent the views of the reviewers. Similarly the illustrative quotes chosen here are merely those the complete review subjectively believes represent the tenor and judgment of the review as a whole. We acknowledge (and remind and warn you) that they may, in fact, be entirely unrepresentative of the actual reviews by any other measure.

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The complete review's Review:

The Empusium opens in September, 1913, with twenty-four-year-old Mieczysław Wojnicz arriving in Görbersdorf, in what was then German Silesia. (The real-life town is now in Poland, close to the Czech border, and known as Sokołowsko.). Wojnicz, a student in Lwów (now the Ukrainian Lviv), has come for treatment at the sanatorium of Dr. Brehmer; a real institution, founded in 1854, it was the first of the fresh-air sanatoria that became popular for treating tuberculosis now best remembered from Thomas Mann's novel, The Magic Mountain (itself an obvious influence on this novel). Wojnicz is not lodged at the sanitarium-proper, but rather at the local 'Guesthouse for Gentlemen' run by Wilhelm Opitz; ostensibly, he, like several of the other residents, is waiting for a place to open up at the sanatorium itself, but given that it's cheaper to stay at the guesthouse he's in no rush to move on.
Death hovers in the background all around here -- even as Görbersdorf doesn't even have its own cemetery, banishing such grave-reminders to the nearby towns as the local deaths: "seemed to pass hygienically and unnoticed, tactfully conforming to the rhythm of local life". Some of the patients are hopeless cases -- "Don't get attached to him, my boy. He hasn't much time left" Dr.Semperweiss advises Wojnicz about one fellow-lodger at the guesthouse -- but even beyond that: "People die here", Wojnicz is told; specifically: "People get murdered here". Indeed, it's suggested that:

This place is cursed. There's a strange acceptance of these deaths. It keeps recurring.

       Wojnicz has hardly settled in when he is already confronted with his first dead body, that of Opitz's wife, a suicide, laid out on the dining room table. Opitz doesn't take it that hard -- he's gone through several wives, and this one was particularly unsatisfactory -- but Wojnicz is rather shaken up. Life goes on, however -- and meals are soon enough taken at that dining room table again .....
       It's the locale itself, not just the Heilanstalt ('healing institution' , as the German for sanatorium has it), that has a deadly streak: "once a year the landscape takes its sacrifice and kills a man".
       The local charcoal burners, working in isolation in the forest, make themselves life-size puppets: "of moss, sticks, dry pine needles and rotten wood, overgrown with a fine lace of mushroom spawn" -- and, making clear their purpose: "between the legs -- instantly attracting an onlooker's attention -- was a dark, narrow hole, a tunnel into the depths of this organic forest body". (Yes: "they made themselves these recumbent Puppen, or dolls, to relieve themselves" (sexually).) These dolls are know as 'Tuntschi' -- and the annual deaths are considered sacrifices to them.
       Wojnicz is first told that the annual death in the forest has traditionally been a local man -- "a shepherd or a charcoal burner" -- but also that: "in recent years the victims haven't just been local people, that is to say, local men; this cruel slaughter strikes visitors too". In fact, however: "For the past fifteen years or so only young patients have perished, unless something goes wrong -- like a few years ago, when Opitz's brother died, or someone careless happens along, like one of the charcoal burners two years ago", and Wojnicz would seem to be a good candidate to be offered up as this year's sacrifice .....
       The contrast between the surface-veneer of civilization and the much more primitive instincts of man bubbling below is present in various forms in the novel -- not least in the way women are considered and treated. The doctor treating him reminds Wojnicz that: "This is not your world, young man. You're here for therapy, not to listen to fairy tales" -- but it's hard for Wojnicz to ignore what he hears and perceives (which includes strange sounds and sights).
       In this early psychological age, there's a great deal to be found (or suspected) just beneath the surface in The Empusium -- and, as the narrators at one point note: "the most interesting things are always in the shadows, in the invisible". And there are a lot of things in the shadows here .....
       One of the other young patients living in the guesthouse is Thilo von Hahn, who introduces Wojnicz to the work of artist Herri met de Bles and to the possibility of what he calls: "transparent looking":

"It goes beyond the detail, it leads, as Herr August would say, to the foundations of the view in question, to the basic idea, leaving out the minor features that continually scatter a person's mind and vision. If you look this way," he said, squinting, and even crossing his eyes a little, or so it seemed to Wojnicz, "and shift yourself here as well" -- at this point he tapped his head -- "you would see something else entirely."

One of his examples is a painting by de Bles, which he shows Wojnicz, insisting that in this instance especially: "it's not about entertainment. It's a deadly serious matter". The painting Tokarczuk describes is clearly Landscape with the Offering of Isaac (though it would seem to be a smaller version):

Looking at it more closely, more is revealed to Wojnicz:

a new sight loomed out of the picture, the old contours arranged themselves into something completely different that had not seemed to be there before, but must have been, since now he could see it. Wojnicz cried out in horror and turned to look at Thilo, who was gazing at him with satisfaction.

       Wojnicz is confused as to which of the things he sees he should consider 'real', but Thilo reässures him that: "Both are real, this one and the other one that's there inside it when you change your way of looking". The Empusium is full of such ambiguity, what lies underneath contrasting but also in concert with surface-appearance. (So also, as readers are reminded in this sanatorium-novel: "Tuberculosis was a symbolic as well as a physical disease".)
       The choice of paintings is also relevant because of the particular story it depicts, Abraham's near-sacrifice of his son, a story that is discussed by the characters at considerable length as well -- and interpreted in a variety of ways. Unsurprisingly, too, several of the characters also have male- and father-issues -- not least motherless Wojnicz, who was raised by his father. Throughout there are also hints of his outsider status, of not feeling like he quite fits in, including with the talk and yearnings of the men he interacts with.
       Wojnicz is also literally hiding something, as is made clear from his refusal to completely disrobe when examined by the doctor or when bathing. He claims it's: "for religious reasons", but also admits: "It's complicated"; certainly, it's very much at the root of some of his own issues, of understanding who he is. Revealingly, in this regard -- about how uncertain he is about his own being --, Wojnicz's favorite book -- "the only book he loved [...] nothing else had ever made such a great impression on him" -- is Apuleius' The Golden Ass, as: "Somehow the picaresque tale of an unlucky man transformed into a donkey suited him personally".
       Eventually Wojnicz confesses and admits: "I am not just anyone. I am an anomaly" (echoing also the time when he first encountered the forest-Tuntschi, where he: "gazed in fascination at this mid-forest anomaly, at this contravention of the usual order of things"). (As with the painting and many of the ambiguities in the novel, what Wojnicz is hiding isn't really much of a surprise; one of Tokarczuk's points is how close to the surface what's seemingly hidden underneath actually is, that one really just needs to look more closely or differently for it to be revealed.)
       Several of the characters, including Wojnicz, also frequently resort to a drink -- or a few -- of 'Schwärmerei', the "thick, tasty and strangely addictive liqueur" with the revealing name, a kind of rhapsodic enthusiasm. It leads to yet another form of world-altering seeing and experience; like tuberculosis, Tokarczuk treats it as a symptom and manifestation of the times ("Its bitter sweetness prompted bliss, but later on the drink disturbed one's nerve function and concentration").
       The environment at the guesthouse is very much male-dominated, with Mrs. Opitz out of the way almost as soon as Wojnicz arrives. Practically all the males have issues with women, including strong opinions about their obvious inferiority. (As the doctor notes, the local shepherds and charcoal-burners also have women-issues: "They're thirsty for women, but they're also afraid of women, with whom they don't know how to behave".) Tokarczuk has the men frequently converse, often at some length, on the topic -- and, amusingly, reveals in an Author's Note at the end of the novel that: "All the misogynistic views on the topic of women and their place in the world are paraphrased from texts" by a who's-who of illustrious (male) thinkers and writers; few are named in the text proper, but at one point: "Longing Lukas reverently cited the person of Otto Weininger", one of the most extreme of the misogynists of the time.
       Wojnicz is present for these exchanges but notably remains an odd man out in these conversations, not contributing to them -- not so much because he has a different opinion of women, but because his opinion or, more exactly, his understanding of the subject-matter is still unformed; he can't relate to what the men express and feel.
       The novel focuses on and follows Wojnicz almost entirely, only briefly moving elsewhere. The narrator is basically an omniscient one, but at times reveal themselves as some collective 'we' -- their identity only truly coming to the fore as the story draws to its conclusion. (The narrative shifts, and uncertainty about this 'we', also plays nicely with the general sense of ambiguity, about identity and much else, in the novel.)
       The subtitle of the novel promises a 'horror story', and there is some frisson throughout, even as death is treated almost casually (beginning with Mrs.Opitz). The looming annual death, recurring at about the same time every fall, makes for some suspense, but it's also only part of a bigger picture, with far more open questions. The true 'horror' is much bigger than just that annual sacrifice-murder -- including, not least, the men's ridiculous attitude to and about women.
       Tokarczuk weaves an intricate story -- deceptively casual on the surface, but with much that is striking if one just shifts one's perspective slightly ..... Full of ambiguities, especially about identity (neatly working also on the political-geographic labeling-level, as what was 'Görbersdorf' is now 'Sokołowsko' ...), The Empusium pleases also with its rich description of place and atmosphere. The novels leisurely pace also pays off nicely in its accelerated conclusion.
       It all makes for a satisfying read, substantial but presented with a deft, light touch.

- M.A.Orthofer, 20 September 2024

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Links:

The Empusium:

Riverhead publicity page
Fitzcarraldo Editions publicity page
RCW information page
Wydawnictwo Literackie publicity page
Noir sur Blanc publicity page
Kampa publicity page

Reviews:

Olga Tokarczuk:

Other books by Olga Tokarczuk under review:

Other books of interest under review:

See Index of Eastern European literature
See Index of Books by Nobel laureates under review

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About the Author:

Polish author Olga Tokarczuk was born in 1962. She was awarded the 2018 Nobel Prize in Literature.

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