21st Century Literature discussion

I’m setting up this thread for the first 1/4 of the book — up to Modern Library p.75 / Penguin p. 106, with this “rugger team”:




Let us know what you think!

Seeing this discussion thread going up is making me want to re-read this--actually, I listened to an audio-recording the first time, and I've never sat down and actually looked at the photographs.

There's something about a Sebald book that I find entrancing and captivating and soothing, though this book has plenty enough tragedy in it--actually all his books have a hint of tragedy; I could well believe Sebald had problems with depression. But that would just be a guess.

I'll be home at the end of the week. I feel pretty confident I'll at least pull this down and look it over

Thanks Bryan, I hope you can join us. Reading Sebald feels a lot like sampling mixed media, even when I’m only reading the text (with pictures, obviously), the text suddenly turns into some kind of “list,” or italicized text that makes you think you’re being given something “borrowed” from another source — like a collection of found objects in a multimedia museum, or an archive.

I googled the italicized line: London a lichen mapped on mild clays and its rough circle without purpose , just because it’s italicized, turns out it’s from a poem
http://spitalfieldslife.com/2010/11/3...

I hope reading the book visually would be even richer and more evocative for you.!

BTW, that line of poem — the rough circle — reminds me of Camus’ novel, The Fall, and its in your face topographical allusion to Dante’s Inferno. I feel like Sebald is doing something similar — right from page one, you get a sense of someone descending into darkness, feeling lost and dislocated, struggling to see.

I think Sebald’s academic focus was on suicidal writers and intellectuals, many with known ideations, most succeeded. I get why people think Sebald had problems with depression. I don’t know if he did, but from interviews I’ve read, it sounds like Sebald wasn’t himself depressed about it. (He died in a car accident, maybe that’s also why Sebald reminds me of Camus a little bit.)

since this is such a visual book..can we talk for a moment about the cover? who is this boy? the narrator? Austerlitz? some historical character noted in the story? what do you think? I love this pic so much--for a while it was my GR avatar--

Lark wrote: "since this is such a visual book..can we talk for a moment about the cover? who is this boy? the narrator? Austerlitz? some historical character noted in the story? what do you think? I love this p..."

Since you’ve read the book before I suspect you know :p

But then, people also say this is the most non-biographical book of Sebald, this is clearly actually fiction, Sebald made it up. So, actually, factually, outside the fictional world, this boy is really just a boy in a photo — it tickles me that Sebald weaves something so heavy out of some random objects and photos!

Also, that look on his face! Imagine him all grown up and giving his kids his “I’m disappointed in you” look!

My book has a white “border” framing the photo, some editions have the picture filling to the edge of the cover. I think the white border makes the boy seem smaller, more isolated, separated from the world, and more helpless looking.

Lia wrote: "Since you’ve read the book before I suspect you know :p ..."

no, I don't know--if Sebald ever tells us I missed it!

Hmm, now that I think about it, I’m not so sure!

Despite what the narrator says Austerlitz told him, how much can we be certain? I think certain parts of his narrative is definitely ambiguous; I didn’t think his conclusion about this photo of this boy was uncertain, but now that I think about it, the whole thing is kind of foggy.

What about the name / title “Austerlitz”?

It immediately reminds me of Tolstoy (War and Peace.) I know it’s the name of a town where a famous battle took place, but the geographical AND historical fact is somehow overshadowed by Tolstoy’s tendentious fictional treatment of it.

Sebald explains the image on the cover here: http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d...

It's an authentic image of a colleague of Sebald's, an expert for the history of architecture who taught in London. He was an eccentric guy who had to retire early, which threw him in a state of crisis. When this man was about 60, he started to research his own family background, which made him understand things he wasn't able to grasp before, and the whole experience changed his mental state (unfortunately, Sebald doesn't elaborate on that). This man was one of Sebald's inspirations for writing Austerlitz.

This is my first Sebald and I just finished this section. I wasn't sure at first, but I'm fully sucked in now. I agree with Bryan that it is strangely soothing. There is a steadiness to the voice that creates this feeling I think.

I'm also really intrigued about the photos. You look at them knowing they depict something other than what's in the story, which sort of clashes but in a good way. For example about the picture at the top of this thread, Sebald has Austerlitz actually relate that he is the boy to the far right in the first row. You just look at the picture and think, "Who is that boy really, and what would he think of his image being borrowed like this?"

Interesting about the history of the cover photo. It appears on pg. 183 of my ML edition, and apparently is supposed to depict someone named Jacquot, but that's all I'm reading for now to avoid spoilers. :-)

Meike wrote: "Sebald explains the image on the cover here: http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d...

It's an authentic image of a colleague of Sebald's, an expert for the history of architecture who t..."

Thanks for sharing that, I wish I could read it. It also reminds me of what Sebald said about “What good is literature”:

There are many forms of writing; only in literature, however, can there be an attempt at restitution over and above the mere recital of facts, and over and above scholarship.

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/20...

Anyway, this factoid really affect how I parse the relationship between the narrator (a German gentile living in Britain), and Austerlitz, an academic expert for the history of architecture, gradually uncovering, reacting to, disclosing his own being. Maybe this “novel” is sort of autobiographical after all.

I especially love how much of this is ostensibly Austerlitz’s own voice, the narrator’s frame story seems almost marginal. Whatever the narrator can tell us about Austerlitz was apparently a kind of false account, a “fiction,” the narrator then allows Austerlitz be Austerlitz, and lets him give his own account. (Sounds like The Odyssey: after war trauma and 7 years of being “concealed” from the world, Odysseus narrates his own tale and announces who he is.)

Except during the years of Austerlitz’s absence from the narrator’s life, he (the narrator) also got his eye photographed — it makes me wonder if this is about Austerlitz, or if Sebald is documenting a German gentile’s eyes, his gaze, overcoming his blindspot, bearing witness.

I can’t wait to read your reaction to Austerlitz’s reaction to that photo!

Kathleen wrote: "You just look at the picture and think, "Who is that boy really, and what would he think of his image being borrowed like this?..."

Ikr? I’m not saying Sebald is joking, but I find myself uncomfortably amused. It’s a bit like reading Kafka. Certain things don’t belong to the same family, but Sebald juxtaposing them made me roll my eyes and laugh.

I'm not sure why, but going into this, I fully expected the tale to be told by Austerlitz in 1st person, or to be about Austerlitz via a 3rd person, omnipotent-type narrator. Again, not sure what made me have this expectation, but having this told through a kind of "witness" gives it a rather fascinating and selective approach.

Was just trying to find out a little bit more about the cover and stumbled instead upon a thesis titled WORD, IMAGE & ARCHITECTURAL HISTORIOGRAPHY IN W.G. SEBALD’S AUSTERLITZ (2001). This is from the abstract:

What Sebald’s Austerlitz offers is an untraditional way of represention of the built environment, locating it within its social and cultural backgrounds. While containing significant amount of architectural criticism, yet this work reveals an understanding that there are multiple contexts that the built environment fits in. Revolving around the hidden or neglected histories, it questions “reality” and the status of the documentary material whether written or visual, and blends it with fiction, in
other words it uses the opportunities of literature.

That looks interesting Marc. I downloaded it and Ctrl+F it, I am not surprised at all to find Foucault referenced repeatedly in the essay. I kept thinking this is Foucault’s archaeology/ discipline in novel form. (More obvious in the second half of the novel.)

Lia wrote: "That looks interesting Marc. I downloaded it and Ctrl+F it, I am not surprised at all to find Foucault referenced repeatedly in the essay. I kept thinking this is Foucault’s archaeology/ discipline..."

I knew there was a reason I told myself nearly 20 years ago I needed to get some Foucault under my belt. Too bad I rarely listen to my own advice (although I did read Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison and built a small scale domestic panopticon to help with parenting).

Yikes, domestic panopticon!

It does make me wonder, is Austerlitz’s “self” a work of art? Or a “mere” archival object? If, like those poor animals taken out of their natural habitats, Austerlitz lives in a world that is hell bent on covering up his past, and then throwing their “acquisitions” into institutions, can someone form a humanistic self out of that pile of random fragments in ruins?

Or is Austerlitz’ endeavor like raccoons with OCD?

Excellent questions! I shall keep them in mind as I get farther into the book. Raccoons with OCD--one scavenger's persistence is another's futility... something like that? :p

The ophthalmologist, Zdeňek Gregor, whom the narrator consults in London, seems to be a real person. =/

I think he’s practicing in California currently, if you google him. Must be weird to wake up one day and find out you're a minor character in a foreign novel.

Lark wrote: "since this is such a visual book..can we talk for a moment about the cover? who is this boy? the narrator? Austerlitz? some historical character noted in the story? what do you think? I love this p..."

I love this photo too, and remember when it was your avatar!

Like others here, I also found this first section of the book to be soothing - I almost felt like I went into a meditative reading trance. Few books have had that effect on me.

I'm finding this book a bit hard going. It demands my complete attention and I am rarely able to give it that for more than 15 minutes, so it is slow going. And I do so dislike the lack of paragraphs - an 87 (ML edition) page first paragraph! I don't mind the sentence length, although that is the primary reason complete attention is required, but the lack of paragraphs is so frustrating. Now putting that peeve aside, I am enjoying the story. I love the pictures - first because they break the monotony of text with no paragraphs and second because they so nicely complement the story. I am glad I read James Wood's introduction before starting the book. Since I have way past the ending point for this part of the discussion, I will say nothing about the story, although I don't think there can really be spoilers for this book.

I first read Austerlitz over ten years ago, so didn't remember the details. Reading it a second time, I find it much darker. It certainly is entrancing, hypnotic, but I sense something ominous that will emerge. There is a kind of dread.

Lia's comment about covering up the past is striking. The horrors of the past seem to live on, to breath through the text.

Having spent much time reading Kakfa recently, I too find similarities. The monstrous Palace of Justice in Brussels resonates with The Trial. I wonder if Kafka visited.

I'm finding it much sadder this time. It is not just melancholy, but elegiac. Austerlitz's life as a boy in Wales must have been horrendous. These poor repressed people could not express any affection or love. But Wales sounds beautiful. I imagine that it also evokes this gloom and sadness. At one point I found myself on the verge of tears. So much loss. But there is much beauty too. It is emotionally difficult, evoking painful memories. But yes at the same time there is something soothing about it, in the way the narrator can empathize with Austeritz.

I’m the same, Elaine. The first time I read it, I was trying to also figure out what’s going on, what is Sebald’s narrative strategy, etc. I was moved, I was infected with a kind of mood, but it didn’t rock my world.

On rereading, I was pretty messed up by the beginning of Section 3 (where Austertliz finally meets Vera.) The language is so subdued, it’s hard to explain how it can make me so emotional.

Very good point about his repressed fostered parents. I wonder what caused their attitude, their guardedness, their will to conceal, and their tragic, horrible decline. I mean, obviously aging just happens, but this is a made up story, I wonder if it means anything.

I think the deaths of the foster parents is related to their extreme emotional repression. The husband is drastically changed by his wife's death and soon joins her, showing a very powerful attachment, but one that could not be expressed in their marriage/life together.

Likewise, Austerlitz undergoes a severe depression and only seems to emerge when he begins to connect to his past, to own its ghosts as his. This is what happened to him; they are not figments of his imagination. On one level it's as if he's reconnecting to his feelings.

I think one of the strategies Sebald is making excellent use of his having Austerlitz recount his story to the narrator (as opposed to telling it from a first person perspective). What we have in the novel we are reading becomes Austerlitz addressing us, telling us his story indirectly. We are aligned with the narrator. It makes a subtle difference. What do you think?

This is such an interesting question, Elaine. I think the use of this strategy does make a big difference. The things that happen to Austerlitz are so difficult he can't process them for a long time and when he does it's with extreme difficulty. The way we see his story through someone else in this drawn out narration kind of parallels the slow way that Austerlitz himself accepts it. And it's almost like the very steady, calm accounting of the story creates even more of a sense of foreboding in the reader. At least it does for me.

To what you said, Lia, about what it means that the foster parents are so repressed, repression is an overarching theme in this story, right? Maybe it's just a way to show another side of that.

This narrative strategy reminds me of how Austerlitz never seems to erupt in rage; he only calmly gives an account of someone else's silent fury flaring up and firing his rifle at the clock tower, leaving behind visible marks on the clock face. Something explosively emotional happened, but I'm just a reporter inking the facts. There seems to be an infinite regress of that same strategy: you are seeing the narrator doing what Austerlitz was doing to the memory of Ashman, of his foster parents ... and what his foster parents are doing to knowledge and memory of Austerlitz's horrible early childhood plight.

Shuttered windows and doors are also recurring motives through the book; somewhere around the middle, we also got shown a series of photos of closed doors with not a lot of explicit narrative significance. Maybe it is about confronting repression, closed door, a man barred from some threshold he's not allowed to cross (like Kafka's man in front of the law.)

Telling us Austerlitz's story through a narrator felt to me like a connection to the oral tradition of holocaust narratives, and felt very authentic as a story. I can't imagine this book would resemble itself much at all if it had been told in first person.

It's very interesting to reflect on the recurring motifs you identify here. Certainly, confronting repression seems central to the story.

I like your suggestion, Lia, that relaying the message to the narrator acts as a form of emotional censorship, so that we get a more subdued narrative rather than a manifestation of rage and grief. There is this sense, esp. early on, that some repressed emotion hovers below the narrative. So the narrator functions as a kind of super-ego, for whom the story is filtered.

I read this novel early in the 21st century, but don't remember it clearly. I suspect I repressed a lot! I read all of Sebald's novels with the exception of Vertigo, which I may soon read. After reading the novels, I began a collection of his essays. I recall beginning it on a plane as I was flying off on vacation. I put the book down because it felt as if pain were being emitted from the pages. I haven't actually read any Sebald since then, although two years ago I did read The Emergence of Memory: Conversations with W. G. Sebald. I may read that again too.

Elaine wrote: "I read this novel early in the 21st century, but don't remember it clearly. I suspect I repressed a lot!"

That's an interesting introspection -- I never felt like I suppressed anything unpleasant in this book, though from time to time I'm a little amused, a little bemused, that Sebald is obviously making fictitious stuff up, but then linking them to real people with real medical practices, real shops, real museums, real hotels etc, with PICTURES. My head wants to be convinced that this is a documentary, but seeing is believing! And then another part of my brain reminds me that this is fiction.

Also, recurring elements in the book gradually building up on what we've read in previous sections work to "confirm" what was previously only a hunch, I keep feeling like Sebald FOOLED me into thinking I'm retrieving lost memory simply because of the way he structures his novel. (I should look at Meike's link on the topic of memory and Sebald!)

Though -- I haven't looked into this yet, I'm feeling quite uncomfortable about it -- but I meant to double check on what Sebald said about the Bibliotheque Nationale and its complicity, its foundation etc. I think it's horrifying, I should be angry if true, but another part of my psychological make up makes me want to just forget about it, procrastinate, read something else, forget about this whole thing ... maybe that's repression at work?

Yes!

I agree that at times it reads like documentary but is fiction, i.e., made up. However, that doesn't mean Sebald is not getting at truth -- the horror at the center of the 20th century, something we'd all like to forget.

On the back of my copy there is a quote from Jane Urquhart: "Sebald creates literature that penetrates deep into the reader's unconscious, as only very great books can."

In becoming literature, the novel transcends mere fiction.

Better late than never. Although I did read this along with all of you, I couldn't bring myself to discuss it, feeling overwhelmed and suffocated by what looked to be a haunting tale of memories; perhaps, even a warning call to not repress that which most causes us to want to forget. Ah, Sebald you're just too damn affecting! I had no idea I would be so bothered by this book, I wanted to read it because I had read and heard such great things about Sebald! In these first seventy-five pages, Sebald is pensive and prodding along, but there's something about the tone that is penetrating and cuts to the core. I kept wondering, what is this? ...I kept chanting the title in my mind, like a mantra, Austerlitz, Austerlitz, Austerlitz. It's an infectious title/name, and I couldn't forget it... Why? I couldn't quite put my finger on it...until later on.

I'll be reviewing my notes and doing some rereading in the next couple of days, for the thumbnail book cover image popping up in my "currently reading" group is having the same effect as the images of those eyes looking back at me on pages 4-5. :P

I genuinely apologize for my absence in October, I'll talk a little more about this as I progress in these discussions. Also, please do not feel pressured to indulge me in conversation. I understand this read/discussion came to an end quite some time ago. I'm mostly wanting to purge what I have kept on hold, and put "Austerlitz" to bed.

I'll be back to read through these posts, I think they will help me navigate my own thoughts as I process the narrative again. :)

I agree that this book gets under your skin, and can see how you'd be anxious for that cover picture to stop staring back at you, Ami! I look forward to more of your thoughts as you review.

I enjoyed his dry humor at times, and his command of expression. I was surprised to learn that, although he worked as a professor in England for 30 years, he always wrote in a somewhat archaic German and then worked closely with a translator to render the text into English.

I had heard that there was an eleven page sentence at some point in the book, and I was halfway through it before I realized what was happening! He used the stunt to convey the stifling captivity of the polish Jews in Theresienstadt. It was very effective.

Lia wrote: "Thanks Bryan, I hope you can join us. Reading Sebald feels a lot like sampling mixed media, even when I’m only reading the text (with pictures, obviously), the text suddenly turns into some kind of..."

I feel like Sebald is doing something similar — right from page one, you get a sense of someone descending into darkness, feeling lost and dislocated, struggling to see.
These initial pages are heavily laden with repetitive allusions: the gold stars, Austerlitz wandering around in these various cities, the decaying nature of monuments and the ghosts of people that remain within them, even his name seems to be of great importance. Yes, I felt very dislocated here as well, regardless of the existing map within the narrative, but also Sebald own re-drawing of it. I think Austerlitz is on a journey, Daniel Deronda-esque style in some form? Perhaps, to better understand his own history, but mostly, to come to terms why he survived it...when others did not.

Lark wrote: "since this is such a visual book..can we talk for a moment about the cover? who is this boy? the narrator? Austerlitz? some historical character noted in the story? what do you think? I love this p..."

I was overwhelmed by this very thing, Lark, how visual this book is. From the images to the various buildings, the architecture, etc., I didn't know what Sebald was attempting to convey between these inorganic aspects interspersed with what I would consider to be organic, the narrative.

I thought the image on the cover was supposed to be a younger Jacques Austerlitz, only because it appears underneath the title. I believe later it is revealed who it is.

The narrator, I thought was Sebald. I was unable to connect the voice to anybody else, so far.

I'm intrigued.

Lia wrote: "What about the name / title “Austerlitz”?

It immediately reminds me of Tolstoy (War and Peace.) I know it’s the name of a town where a famous battle took place, but the geographical AND historica..."

What about the name / title “Austerlitz”?
At a quick glance, I read the title to be Auschwitz, initially. Aren't they awfully close

Kathleen wrote: "This is my first Sebald and I just finished this section. I wasn't sure at first, but I'm fully sucked in now. I agree with Bryan that it is strangely soothing. There is a steadiness to the voice t..."

There is a steadiness to the voice that creates this feeling I think.
It's as if we're reading a documentary of this man's life. I didn't think it soothing at first, but now that I've read your comment, there is that calming nature that is often elicited from a documentary. Like a Ken Burns documentary, Kathleen. LOL!

Elaine wrote: "I first read Austerlitz over ten years ago, so didn't remember the details. Reading it a second time, I find it much darker. It certainly is entrancing, hypnotic, but I sense something ominous that..."

I first read Austerlitz over ten years ago, so didn't remember the details. Reading it a second time, I find it much darker. It certainly is entrancing, hypnotic, but I sense something ominous that will emerge. There is a kind of dread.
I love that you said this because it's my second reading as well, and I echo your comments wholeheartedly.

Lia's comment about covering up the past is striking. The horrors of the past seem to live on, to breath through the text.
I didn't understand this concept of covering up the past until I read Austerlitz to have seen ghosts of people in some of these places. The theme of dead vs living starts rather strong in this section.

Austerlitz's life as a boy in Wales must have been horrendous.
Ugh. I can't imagine living with such people. Elias was too taciturn, and his wife; well, she just appeared to be extremely repressed. It's no wonder why Daffyd dreaded going home on break.

Ami wrote: "Lark wrote: "since this is such a visual book..can we talk for a moment about the cover? who is this boy? the narrator? Austerlitz? some historical character noted in the story? what do you think? ..."

I think the visuals may be what make this book so affecting, as you say Ami. They are kind of removed from the story, but they continue to make connections in our subconscious maybe.

I so appreciate you adding your thoughts here, Ami!

Kathleen wrote: "Ami wrote: "Lark wrote: "since this is such a visual book..can we talk for a moment about the cover? who is this boy? the narrator? Austerlitz? some historical character noted in the story? what do..."

They are kind of removed from the story, but they continue to make connections in our subconscious maybe.
I think you're right. One aspect that Sebald seems to have in his repertoire is this ability to transcend from narrative, to character, to reader. Yes, it's the subconscious that is heavily worked on in this book, as it is for Austerlitz as well.

I so appreciate you adding your thoughts here, Ami
I should be thanking you, Kathleen!