Bleak. Dismal. Desolate.
Dark Mirrors
is Arno Schmidt's gripping 1951 post-apocalyptic tale. It's 1960 and
the unnamed narrator, a sole survivor, has been roaming on his bicycle
through nuclear devastation in Northern Germany for the past five years.
Let's
give our narrator, a gent in his early forties who spent time as a POW
back in WWII, a name: Horst (meaning: man of the forest). Arno Schmidt
packs a plethora of Horst's adventures and reflections into a mere
fifty-seven pages - a short novel superbly translated from the German by
John E. Woods that can be read in one afternoon. To share a taste of
what a reader will encounter, I'll make an immediate shift to a Dark Mirrors highlight reel.
ALL TOO USUAL
On
the opening page, Horst is pedaling along at dusk and comes upon a car
on the dreary road. “By way of precaution, I aimed my carbine's mouth at
the greasy wreck : the windows thickly dusted: only after I hit it with
the butt did the car door open a little. Backseat empty: a skeletal
lady at the wheel (so, same as always for the past five years); well :
enjoy your bliss ! But is would be dark soon too, and I, still didn't
trust creaturiness : whether ferny ambush o mocking birds : I was ready
with ten rounds in the automatic : so pump onward.”
Although he
hasn't seen a living human in all these post A-bomb years, Horst is
forever on his guard, always carrying a rifle. And notice the slightly
funky punctuation. It's there but not nearly as distinctive and weird as
the great experimental German author would come to write in his later
fiction. Also noteworthy: Dark Mirrors is signature Arno Schmidt
where each paragraph begins with italicized words and the first line of
the paragraph isn't indented; rather, all the other lines are indented.
GNOSTIC THEOLOGY
Horst
surely was raised as a Christian but his current view of the creator of
our world shares little with Christianity (understatement). “...in the
end I'll be alone with the Leviathan (or even be him myself). And deep
into the novel: “I was so hate-full, that I raised my rifle,
aimed it toward heaven : and through his Leviathan's maw gaped ten
thousand nebulae : I'd like to pounce on the dog !”
Similar to
those ancient Gnostics, Horst's view of his fellow humans is equally
scorching. “Notwithstanding, human beings have kept on spinning about in
the very same circle of stupidity, error, and abuse for several
thousand years, growing no wiser either through their own experience or
that of others, in short, becoming, in certain individuals at best,
wittier, more perceptive, more learned, but never wiser.” Well, Horst,
what can you expect since, in your view, the monster Leviathan passed on
its predatory nature to us mere humans? Echos of Arno Schmidt's living
through both those jackboot Nazi years and the worldwide paranoia of
atomic bombs.
CULTURAL CESSPOOL
It becomes clear Horst despises the debasement of literature and the arts. "Magazines
: the plague of our times ! Stupid pictures with even more insipid
texts : there is nothing more despicable than journalists who love their
job (lawyers of course as well !).” Harsh judgements are sprinkled
throughout, including a humorous five-page reply (Horst furiously typed
it out on a typer) to a Reader's Digest article authored by an
American professor. America's contribution to culture? Ha! Nothing worth
a crap. You tell 'em, Horst. When pop art, pop lit, pop music, and
sports are the subjects, Horst (and indirectly Arno Schmidt) are no less
scathing than fellow countryman Theodor W. Adorno, who once famously
wrote, "Walt Disney, the most dangerous American of all time."
MUSIC OF THE SPHERES
Horst's
possesses a mind capable both of poetic expression and mathematical
calculation and theorizing. “Two birds shot up out of a distant jagged cut of trees, curved upwards squawking, flew off, off toward the surf of
western clouds, gave yet another Indian whoop, and sank behind the
silent wave of earth like castaway stones.” Might he shoot one? Horst
immediately determines the speed and rotation of a bullet in a precise
mathematics. At another point, utilizing detailed mathematical notation,
Horst delves into Fermat's theorem. Ah, although one might be plunged
into the vortex of an unending chaos, mathematics to the rescue.
SURPRISE
What
is needed to shake the tale up a bit? Of course, an attractive young
woman appearing on the scene. Enter Lisa, who has journeyed all the way
from Russia. A series of fascinating exchanges follow, many turning
philosophical. I'll conclude with a snip from the ever pessimistic
Horst, “Eventually those aforesaid tiny groups may pave the way for a
repopulated earth; but that will take – well – let's hope a thousand
years.” “And that's all to the good !”
Dark Mirrors. Read it.
Arno Schmidt, 1914-1979
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