Tag Archives: Jen Calleja

The Pine Islands by Marion Poschmann (transl. Jen Calleja): To the north

Cover imageThis is the third novel I’ve read from this year’s Man Booker International Prize longlist. The other two are Hubert Mingarelli’s Four Soldiers, beautifully translated by Sam Taylor, which didn’t make it onto the shortlist, and Olga Tokarczuk’s quirky Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of The Dead, translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones, which did alongside The Pine Islands. One of the things I like about the prize is the joint credit given to the translator who often seems to be overlooked, even by publishers. Why not include their name on the cover? If it were not for Jen Calleja this monolingual wouldn’t have read Marion Poschmann’s novella which would be a shame. It follows a man woken by a vivid dream of his wife’s infidelity, convinced of its truth.

When Gilbert wakes from his dream, he’s affronted by Mathilda’s unfaithfulness, brooding on it all day and unconvinced by her denials. He heads to the airport, boarding the first plane that will take him far away and finds himself in Japan. He wanders the streets of Tokyo, sure that Mathilda’s failure to contact him proves the reality of her infidelity, eventually falling into conversation with a young man bent on finding a romantic suicide site. Gilbert is irritated by Yosa’s wan behaviour which reminds him of his students but takes it upon himself to deflect him from his mission, agreeing to visit a celebrated roof with its supposed view of Mount Fuji and the suicide forest where they inadvertently spend the night, before persuading the young man to accompany him to the pine islands of Matsushima, following Bashõ’s journey. They’re whisked along the poet’s route in high-speed trains, stopping here and there, composing haikus at Gilbert’s insistence. While Gilbert attempts to quash his annoyance, composing letters to Mathilda in his head and indulging in philosophical musings, Yosa seems to be fading away.

Poschmann’s novella is both playful and poignant. Gilbert cuts a comic figure with his pomposity and his research into the role of beards in the movies, ridiculous even to him, but he’s unable to shake off his concern for the young man who accompanies him, despite a constant and growing sense of irritation. Poschmann weaves references to Bashõ lightly through her narrative, her descriptions of the Japanese landscape providing a lyrically beautiful backdrop to this journey which becomes as much philosophical as physical. The novella ends on a hopeful note for Gilbert who may well have found what he was looking for even if it’s not quite what he expected.

Dance by the Canal by Kerstin Hensel (transl. Jen Calleja): Down but not out

Cover imagePeirene’s novellas come with a brief foreword from Meike Ziervogel, a short personal comment explaining why this particular book caught her eye. The one prefacing Kerstin Hensel’s Dance by the Canal ends ‘This book will make you think’. I’ve yet to read anything published by Peirene which hasn’t done that. Hensel’s book is the story of how Gabriela von Haßlau became homeless, fitting neither into the old GDR nor the new unified Germany.

Gabriela is the daughter of a surgeon, a man who reached the heady heights of Chief Medical Officer in an East German town only to lose his reputation to drink and a vocal disillusionment with the state. Her mother sacrificed her own career for her husband’s, frantically cleaning their mansion-like villa until he hires some illicit help. These two embark on hosting raucous parties packed with artists and the more exciting of Ernst’s colleagues but never the obedient plodders. When Ernst rumbles his wife’s affair with one of the actors he’s so delighted with, he divorces her and takes to drink with an even greater vengeance. On top of all this, his daughter is a disappointment to him, failing at her violin lessons, cavorting with the grubby Katka and only keeping her place at school thanks to his influence and the red ‘I’ on her records denoting a child of the intelligentsia. By the time she leaves school, university places are reserved for the children of workers. Instead, she finds herself assigned an apprenticeship as a mechanical engineer at which she fails dismally. When she pushes her boss into the canal, two mysterious men arrive eager to help her fulfil her dreams of becoming a writer. In the summer of 1994, Gabriela  scratches out her story under the bridge across the canal she and Katka once danced naked alongside. She determinedly separates herself from the filthier vagrants but as the winter sets in survival becomes harder. Then things take an unexpected turn.

Henshel’s novella begins with a vividly drawn word picture as Gabriela delights in acquiring a blank piece of paper on which she can write her story. From her disappointed father to the two be-suited individuals, nefariously intent on employing her writing skills, we learn that the men she meets either want to contain or exploit her but Gabriela refuses to play ball. Henshel’s writing is often striking – Gabriela’s mother’s grief is ‘a siren [which] wailed from inside her’ – and her characters vividly realised. Katka is a particular delight. There’s a good deal of humour in this novella but there are also moments of melancholy as winter drags Gabriela closer to ‘the last hole’. I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the ending but the journey that led to it was certainly a rewarding one.