TOO FAR AFIELD
By Guenter Grass
Translated by Krishna Winston
Harcourt, 658 pages, $30
The hoopla surrounding the breaching of the Berlin Wall, in November 1989, and German reunification seems not to have rubbed off on Guenter Grass, who finds less to celebrate than to worry about. “Too Far Afield” is his literary caveat emptor, a dense, complex and rewarding exploration — but far from a condemnation — of an uneasy marriage of nations.
Theo Wuttke, about to turn 70 as the novel opens in late 1989, feels lost amid all the changes. Imaginative and quietly observant, a lover of literature, an inveterate wanderer and an indefatigable letter writer, Wuttke is part Willy Loman and part Don Quixote, although in the workaday world an obscure East German government file courier who, as far as most people are concerned, has outlived his usefulness. Obsessed with the work and life of German novelist, poet and travel writer Theodor Fontane (1819-1898), Wuttke sometimes considers himself Fontane’s reincarnation — hence Wuttke’s nickname, “Fonty.”
Ludwig Hoftaller, also almost 70, for years has been Wuttke’s “day-and-night shadow”: friend, constant companion and, as Wuttke is well aware, a Stasi agent assigned to monitor him. In long, rambling monologues during walks in Berlin and elsewhere with his granddaughter, with Hoftaller or alone, Wuttke mixes complaint and commentary, outrage and resignation, present and past, confusing episodes from his life with those from Fontane’s.
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As reunification approaches, he observes with anxiety the impending apotheosis of capitalism and, as was the case with the communism of the East, its growing intrusion into every aspect of life. If most Germans seem, to Wuttke, unthinkingly enthusiastic about the future, they also seem willfully ignorant or unmindful of the past. Few consider that what a united Germany once did to the world, a reunited Germany could do again.
The new Germany is for Wuttke as Ireland was for Yeats, “no country for old men.” But his disapproval is tempered by doubt. Blindly believing in any system, communist or capitalist, is folly, but so is blindly hating it. Enjoying a birthday dinner at McDonald’s, Wuttke sees that capitalism has benefits even for him.
This novel is difficult. Besides the complexities of the subject and of Wuttke’s state of mind, which resist simple, straightforward prose, Grass displays his characteristically elliptical style, along with thickets of historical reference. Tedious verbosity and impenetrable abstruseness bury the meaning of some passages. But in most instances, it can soon be seen again, faintly and fleetingly at first, then strongly enough to grasp firmly once more. Effort and patience on the reader’s part are essential, and some knowledge of German history is helpful.