Sculpture of a pair of eggheads on a college campus in California
The Egghead Republic,
Arno Schmidt's 1957 novella, is set in a world fifty years into the
future (2008), marked by a nuclear world war that has turned much of the
planet into a wasteland filled with mutants. Amidst this desolation, a
ray of light emerges: the eight major world governments have established
the International Republic of Artists and Scientists (IRAS) on a
jet-propelled island. Here, the greatest minds in the sciences and the
arts can keep the flame of civilization shining.
An American
journalist, Charles Henry Winer (a super great name – Win-er instead of
Lose-r - for this hale and sexually-charged Yank from the land of Roger
Ramjets), ventures forth to report on the developments among the
eggheads. What he finds isn't the envisioned harmonious pursuit of
truth, beauty, and peace, but just the opposite.
The novella
takes the form of Winer's wacky journal – with funky punctuation,
reverse indentation (the first line of a paragraph isn't indented;
rather, all the other lines), quizzical footnotes, and loads of oddball
wordplay and word combinations, as in 'ohbytheway.' This makes for a
fun, enjoyable, and highly engaging read, the perfect starting place for
those readers unacquainted with Arno Schmidt.
Speaking of fun,
Michael Horovitz surely had his share since Winer's report is written in
English and translated into the now dead German language (oh, yes,
sorry to say, few Germans have survived nuclear devastation). Thus, The Egghead Republic, a Short Novel from the Horse Latitudes is Horovitz's translation of Arno Schmidt's Die Gelehrtenrepublik: Kurzroman aus den Roßbreiten back into English.
Prior
to boarding a ferryboat that will take him to the Egghead Republic,
Winer must cross the Hominid Strip, a fenced-off province in the Sierra
Nevada, a desert filled by all varieties of mutant creatures. Here we
can see Arno Schmidt will hold a special appeal for fans of New Wave SF
writers like Philip K. Dick, Walter M. Miller, Jr, and Brian Aldiss. The
nightmare prospect of mutants following a nuclear holocaust was a
common theme back in the 1950s. PKD detailed a carnival sideshow of
human monstrosities with feathers, scales, tails, wings or without eyes
or faces; Miller wrote of a leper-like colony peopled by warped and
crawling things. Arno Schmidt adds a light, comic touch, for among his
hideous mutants (giant butterflies and spiders with human heads) are
centaurs. Winer develops a love interest for one of their female number
and describes the centaurs in detail. “No, on their tongues: the females
have handlong pinkish tubes” (they are the dreaded suckers!) The males
have an equally long blown-up kind of penis (legend has it they
oft-times lewdly make for centaurlets' behinds - : what alibis these
bucolic belles dream up for themselves:...”
At one point, Winer
must deal with officials at an administrative checkpoint. “And I had to
present my papers immediately: identity card with photo, thumbprint,
tooth structure, penis type." What types of penises are on official
record in this future world? One can only imagine. Arno Schmidt doesn't
miss an opportunity to stick his sharp satiric needle into the fleshy
backside of everybody and everything. He can see the colossal problem on
Planet Earth: humans!
Once aboard the massive Egghead vessel
jointly controlled by the US on one side and the USSR on the other,
Winer quickly detects a sinister brew of cold war-like intrigue, power
plays and manipulation. One of the American journalist's preliminary
observations: "I might perhaps be under scrutiny after all, through some
tiny peepholes: where on earth can one prevent that these days?" Arno
is SO prophetic here, clearly foreseeing 21st century omnipresent
surveillance.
The experimental German author hits all the notes
in the comic register, including the blackest of black humor. Winer is
taken to an area in the massive (over 2 miles in diameter) Egghead
Republic where there are statues of the famous. “On the left,
decoratively shackled, malicious critics, each with an asymmetrical gag
in his envious mus: very tasteful!” Ahh! Echoes of the the Nazi's 1937
Degenerate Art exhibit.
And when it comes to who will and who
will not be permitted membership to the Egghead Republic, we read,
“approximately three-quarters of these are, in practice, refused by our
admissions committee! It is just too sad: in the mother countries
even political parties sometimes vindictively prevent the advancement
of geniuses they find irksome.” Ominous, ominous. Arno Schmidt could
detect scientists and especially those in literature and the arts would
be given a choice: either adhere to the party line or...well, so much
for your creative efforts.
And another country took a different
approach - "Mind you, once a country - "I don't want to mention any
names" - had registered all its dissident writers, right down to the
below average ones, for its quota of 53 places. With the cunning motive:
then they will be (a) removed (which also annoys the populace further:
"yes, they are trying to get to safety!"); and (b) after two years
they're no longer competent to describe the subtle developments: no
longer have 'their finger on the pulse of the nation'..." One can think
of the fate of artists, writers, scientists once the Nazis came to
power. Likewise, those in countries under the hammer of the USSR.
The ultimate fate of the Egghead Republic? Another comic stroke of Arno genius. Read all about it.
*Note: The Egghead Republic is included in Collected Novellas translated by John E. Woods under the title Republica Intelligentsia and published by Dalkey Archive Press
Arno Schmidt's illustration of the island republic with all those eggheads
Arno Schmidt, 1914-1979
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