Das Geburtstagsgeschenk (detebe) (German Edition)

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Das Geschenk by Maria Elisabeth Straub

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• A História da ª Noite, de Joseph Roth!
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Umso erstaunlicher ist die glasklare Sprachgewalt, der Glanz und die Melancholie der Worte. Als ob Roth es allen noch einmal zeigen wollte, bevor seine Welt gemetzelt wurde. Der Kritiker Hermann Kesten spricht von "echter, liebesgieriger Verzweiflung" - und das trifft es genau. Die Story ist genial: Da er nicht versteht, dass dies in Wien nicht geht, es ihm aber auch niemand offen sagen kann, nimmt sich der schneidige Rittmeister Baron von Taittinger der Sache an.

Ein Skandal zieht herauf, die ganze Wiener k. Roth, Joseph, Die Geschichte von der In seinen beiden letzten Lebensjahren stieg die Schaffenskurve von Joseph Roth noch einmal an: Mai erschien, kam Roth noch einmal zum Thema der K. Nebenbei schafft Mizzi als Prostituierte noch in einem Bordell an.

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The New York Times. The war was called a ''world'' war, Joseph Roth said in one of his brilliant journalistic forays, ''not because the entire world had conducted it but because, owing to it, we all lost a world, our world. When Joseph Roth was born in in the Galician town of Brody, an eastern outpost, it had long been threatening to collapse if given a push. Austrian policy, as many contemporaries noted, was a continual struggle to save face; it created a world of appearances doing its utmost to ignore reality.

Of no institution was this truer than the Austrian Army, which was full of gloriously outfitted aristocrats on little pay and with rusty equipment -- until reality finally obtruded on the Eastern Front in After the war Austria lost nearly everything, including its monarchy, and was reduced to a rump of its original territory. Yet this unwieldy empire that stretched to the Mediterranean, with its 15 official languages and deeply conservative Catholicism, with its Jewish and Moslem subjects, left a mark on the 20th century like no other nation. Out of Vienna, its vaunted capital, in those golden years before the war came signal achievements in the arts and philosophy, and the prose and program of Hitler's ''Mein Kampf.

After serving as a soldier in the Austrian Army, probably at a desk job, Roth became a correspondent for a number of German newspapers in the 's. Initially sympathetic to the Red cause in the civil war fought around his hometown the Russian writer Isaac Babel wrote about Brody in his tense ''Red Cavalry'' stories , Roth began a year association in with the Frankfurter Zeitung, one of Germany's best newspapers, renowned for its exacting literary standards.

Walter Benjamin and Ernst Bloch were also associated with the paper, but Roth went out of his way to avoid them -- he had little time for intellectual writers. He preferred to hit the road, filing copy to the newspaper from all over Europe: His articles were widely read and brought him handsome fees; some were collected as ''Wandering Jews'' , an account of the hard life of the eastern Jews, scapegoats to all, not least to their assimilated western cousins in Vienna.

Roth developed his mature style early and thereby staked his claim to literary fame. He eschewed the self-protective ironic distance of an intellectual like Robert Musil -- whose witty toilet term for the former empire, ''Kakania,'' did not go down well with Roth -- favoring the emotions of someone participating in history itself. There are more than 3, pages of reportage in the collected German edition of his works, and his colleague Soma Morgenstern was later to claim, somewhat disingenuously in view of the seamlessness of Roth's two activities, that his journalism was in fact his greater accomplishment.

When Hitler came to power in , Roth severed all ties with Germany. He went to live in Paris on the fame of his novel ''The Radetzky March,'' wrote for emigre publications and, already a drinker, drank harder than ever. He wrote much as he always had, sitting at the Hotel Cafe de la Poste near the Luxembourg Gardens, glass at hand. By then he had become an active monarchist, addressing Otto, the exiled son of the last Hapsburg Emperor of Austria, as ''Your Majesty.

It was, however, no escapism. He continued writing to the end, never losing, like so many exiles, his sense of vocation. What he called the ''grace of misery'' kept him imaginatively supple, even in trying circumstances.

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He died in May in a Paris hospital, of pneumonia and acute alcohol withdrawal, leaving a threadbare suit, an overcoat and his manuscripts; and was interred in the Cimetiere Thiais, now a rather desolate place in a run-down region of outer Paris. Its title hints at a level of artificiality unusual for Roth: Michael Hofmann, the translator, calls it a ''fairy story that has swallowed a novel. Not satisfied with his wives, the Shah wishes to sleep with a beautiful countess espied at a ball in his honor.

It falls to the Captain of Horse, Baron Taittinger, a character singularly lacking in insight but with a certain savvy in such matters, to fix the assignation. He replaces the countess, married and unobtainable, with his ex-mistress, Mizzi Schinagl, an ordinary Viennese girl who happens to resemble her. It is, he says, an ''approximation'': Mizzi works as a prostitute in a brothel.

Das Geschenk

The Shah remains oblivious of the deception practiced on him, and afterwards sends Mizzi a string of pearls. The pearls must give off a subtle poison, since the lives of all who come in contact with them go awry; only the pearls remain unaltered, increasing fourfold in value in the course of the book. As the story unfolds, social distinctions lose meaning, and money becomes a corrupting agent of exchange: Shamed out of the army, and burdened by Mizzi and their illegitimate son, Taittinger ends up purchasing for his mistress, once she gets out of prison, a garish waxworks -- the new World Bioscope Theater -- on the Prater with money he hardly has.

The supernumerary Arabian Night, the d, returns to haunt the fairy tale like a scandal: By now the novel has swallowed its own tail. Mizzi, the original double, appears, to Taittinger's chagrin, as a variety act in his waxwork show, in a tableau of the story of the pearls.

Unable to return to the army the Shah's visit has frozen all official business , Taittinger shoots himself, his life having become as waxy as everything in the panopticon he owns.

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And in this piling up of simulacra and doubles, Roth concludes with a chilling little cameo from the World Bioscope waxworker himself: But there's no call for that at all in the world. People are only interested in monsters and freaks, so I give them their monsters. Monsters are what they want!



For all its lightheartedness the story ends on a note of dread: Roth is unsettlingly capable of writing in serious and comic modes at the same time, a register that Michael Hofmann, who is rapidly becoming an indispensable translator, captures with consummate skill. We catch a sense of Roth's sad adoration of his vanished Austria-Hungary when Taittinger returns to his estate in the Carpathians: The steward was from Moravia, the peasants were Carpathian Russians, the now-deaf footman was a Hungarian, who had completely forgotten where he had come from, and when and why.

That is an extraliterary justification for reading Roth, though his wonderful style should be reason enough -- for the way it plunges us into the swim of time, so cold it feels warm, and just for a night. Iain Bamforth, a British physician in Strasbourg, France, is the author, most recently, of ''Open Workings,'' a collection of poems. Sunday, January 10, Reviewed by Michael Dirda, a writer and editor for Book World. He avy, lugubrious, probably a little tedious — a bit, in fact, like Thomas Mann or Hermann Broch but with even fewer laughs: Such was my vague impression of the dozen or so novels of the Austrian writer Joseph Roth After all, Roth was a wandering Jew and journalist in between-the-wars Europe, an elegist of the tattered Austro-Hungarian empire, and, not least, a dedicated alcoholic, who died at 45 in Paris.