Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck (transl. Michael Hofmann): ‘The god of fortunate moments’

Cover image for Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck I was delighted to spot a new Jenny Erpenbeck on the horizon, putting up my hand as soon as I was offered a proof of Kairos. Erpenbeck’s books offer much food for thought on the events that have shaped modern Germany. Opening in 1986, her new novel charts an affair between Hans, a successful writer born in 1933, and Katharina, born in East Berlin in 1967, the same year in which Erpenbeck herself was born.

Face-to-face with the man sitting opposite – a great happiness, a great unhappiness and a question mark – she appreciates that this is the beginning of her life, for which everything so far has been mere preparation.

Hans and Katharina meet by chance, both heading to the Hungarian Cultural Centre only to find it closed. Walking away into the rain, Hans turns back, asking Katharina if she would like to join him for coffee. These two find themselves caught up in a passionate affair which spans the years leading up to the fall of the Wall and the reunification of Germany, Hans impressing upon Katharina the need for discretion despite his wife’s tolerance of his many lovers. They meet often, each besotted with the other: Katharina impressed by her older lover’s knowledge and experience, Hans thrilled by Katharina’s youthful beauty and idealism. Katharina has known nothing but the GDR while Hans has travelled extensively, even to New York. When she takes up an internship in a theatre an hour from Berlin, he is oddly reluctant to visit her, disparaging her colleagues. Then something happens that irrevocably changes their relationship which becomes increasingly abusive and dysfunctional. Years later, Hans’ son tells Katharina of his father’s death, sending her the many papers that form a record of their affair.

This summer evening, they’re sitting as though they’re still happy, or happy again, on holiday from their sadness, and fitting one word to another until they’ve managed a whole conversation.

Ostensibly the story of an affair between two people unable to let each other go despite the increasing harm inflicted by their relationship, Erpenbeck’s novel is an allegory which explores the history of her native country, a country that no longer exists. Thirty-six years Katharina’s senior, Hans is a child of the Nazi era which saw his father engaging with a regime he later fled. The war has thrown a long shadow over his generation. Hans is entirely cognisant not only of the horrors of the Holocaust but of the enormity of the wartime sacrifice made by the Soviets. Katharina is looking to the future, travelling to countries she could only dream of before the Wall came down, yet unable to let go her hopes of a life with Hans. Erpenbeck’s exploration of the period through their affair is thought provoking and enlightening, the black and white with which the West painted the fall of the Wall and its aftermath rendered in more nuanced shades of grey. Threaded through with cultural erudition, it’s a novel which manages to be both visceral and cerebral, intimate and atmospheric, leaving readers much to think about. All three of the books I’ve read by Erpenbeck have been impressive, particularly The End of Days, but with Kairos she’s excelled herself.

Granta Books: London 9781783786121 304 pages Hardback

26 thoughts on “Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck (transl. Michael Hofmann): ‘The god of fortunate moments’”

    1. I’m fascinated by the themes Erpenbeck explores, particularly after travelling a little in the old GDR. I think she uses her writing to make sense of the seismic changes her (new) country went through, a little like Anna Krien whose work I also love. I hope this one hits the spot for you.

  1. James O'Doherty

    Another thought-provoking masterpiece from Erpenbeck, one of the most interesting writers active today. Kairos is unsettling in many ways, not least the decline of the relationship between Hans & Katherina from besotted euphoria into asymmetrical abuse between the older Hans and younger Katherina. Read as an allegory of the GDR, it adds shade to the western narrative, perhaps reflecting Erpenbeck’s views on what was lost when the wall collapsed. The setting of quiet streets and over views into the loud west Berlin are also spoken about in her non-fiction. All her work in English translation is rewarding, “Go, Went, Gone” is the most accessible, and “Visitation” the broadest vision.

    1. I’m pleased to hear it’s getting so much attention. Jamie Bulloch and Charlotte Collins are my go-to translators from German but it sounds like I should add Michael Hofmann to that list. Hope you enjoy the Erpenbeck when you get to it.

  2. jenniferbeworr

    I’ve only read Go Went Gone which I found brilliant. I don’t think I can miss this one as described, but may wait a bit yet to order it. Enticing review!

    1. For readers with an interest in the events of 1989 and their aftermath I think she is unmissable. She writes as though she’s trying to make sense of it all and takes you with her.

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