It was a bit of a gamble choosing Roth for a readalong. Not because germanlitmonthers dislike Roth – previous readalongs have always gone well – rather I wasn’t keen. (Am I the only person in the universe who disliked The Radetzky March? And because of that have never read anything else by him.) However, for 1918 week, I wanted something that acknowledged the events of a century ago, and Roth’s lament to the loss of the Austro-Hungarian Empire both fit the bill and is widely available. So the decision was made. Then I started reading the critics’ reviews. I struggled to find anything complimentary. In summary, it’s a ramshackle novel with an incoherent plot, written by an alcoholic who initially submitted a manuscript containing the same final chapter as his novel Flights Without End. Oh dear, what had I done?
And so, it was with great trepidation that I opened the book and began to read ….
Translated from German by Michael Hoffmann
… suffice to say, hang the critics! I was lamenting with Roth within the first 10 pages.
I won’t say too much about the plot, but I will direct you to Emma’s review which includes a comprehensive synopsis. I will admit that the critics aren’t entirely wrong. The prisoner of war years in Siberia are far-fetched in terms of the good luck and the good will of the enemy needed to survive, and I struggled to suspend my disbelief during those chapters. But it’s pretty effective as an interlude between the pre- and the post-WWI years, serving to highlight the contrast between the world Franz Ferdinand Trotta left behind and the one he returned to …
… a world in which he had lost his sense of place and purpose. It had moved on and fragmented without him. He had no job. His wife had become bohemian moving into art and design, together with her female partner. He needed to move back in with his aged mother. At least Franz Ferdinand Trotta could see what was happening, even if he was powerless to do anything about it. Remortgaging the house to sink the funds into his wife’s fruitless attempts at business, hanging on in the hopes of winning her, his old world, back. Equally fruitless, even if there is a momentary reconciliation ….
The past which Franz hopes to retrieve is gone, fading irretrievably just like his mother’s hearing.
Soon – so I thought – she will be quite deaf, like the piano without strings. Yes, perhaps even that occasion, when in a fit of confusion she had asked for the strings to be taken out, even that had been a sense of her approaching deafness alive in her, and a vague fear that before long she wouldn’t be able to hear notes any more! Of all the blows that old age has to give, this for my mother, a true child of music, must have been the worst.
The Emperor’s Tomb is moving on so many levels, and that’s a passage that resonated deeply with me. Frau Trotta, who encapsulated for her son the “heroic nobility” of the past century, was on a slow slide to the inevitable. Franz’s fate could, perhaps, have been turned around, but the world was not finished handing out disappointments. We all know what the interwar years led to, and The Emperor’s Tomb ends with Franz Ferdinand, having sent his son to France for safety, reduced to sitting forlornly on the Franz-Josefs-Kai or the Elisabeth Promenade, pining for his lost emperor and his lost family. With the Anschluss, he can bear no more. He heads to the Kapazinergruft – the tomb where his emperor is buried. His final words, “Where can I, a Trotta, go?”
I’m no longer sure at what point I began to think of The Emperor’s Tomb as the Austrian Great Gatsby, in the sense that plot and characters are an all encompassing metaphor for a lost world, a broken dream. I’m going to have to reread to pursue that thought further, but it’s one that prevented me getting too frustrated with city boy Franz’s inability to adjust to his new reality, in stark contrast to his pragmatic country cousins from lost parts of the empire. So, too, my thinking on the reduced circumstances of the book’s author. In 1938, at the time of publication of what was to be the last book published in his lifetime, Roth was living in exile in Paris, in dire financial straits, living on handouts from his friends, his drinking spiralling completely out of control. In despair, knowing that there was no return home for his Jewish self, his own world vanished entirely and forever, I can hear the echo of Franz Ferdinand Trotta: “Where can I, Joseph Roth, go?
I loved the old Radetzky March, but I havevn’t read much Roth since then – I might have to give this a go 🙂
I *** might *** love RM too now. I plan on re-reading it next year.
I first read The Emperor’s Tomb during GL Month in 2013.
Here were my thoughts
he Emperor’s Tomb by Joseph Roth is a sequal to his The Radetsky March (1932) and should be read only by those who have previously read and enjoyed the first book. I enjoyed them both but I did find The Radetsky March the much better of the two. The second book is only 160 pages and I do endorse reading both of them in close sequence.
A. S. Byatt in a very good short article in The Guardian says that this novel is about mothers, wives, and women where the first one was about fathers, grandfathers, uncles, and brothers in arms in the Royal Austrian army and a country dominated by the Emperor Franz Joseph. It is very much about prostitutes and how omni-prescent they were in old Vienna. There was also a constant fear of disease. It was a very “macho culture” where dueling scars were a mark of manhood and a distaste for brothels or a concern over illnesses made one suspect in the eyes of your all important fellow officers. The Emperor’s Tomb follows the life of a grand-nephew of a founder of the Nobel Trotta line.
In this novel the central character goes from being a young dandy in Vienna ( a great place to be a well healed young man about town) to being inducted into the military and winding up in Siberia. In a scene you knew it broke Roth’s heart to write, he talks about the day Austria voted to be unified with Germany and the growing proliferation of Nazis Swastikas in his beloved home town.
Ok, not the master work that The Radetsky March is but still it has great scenes, and weak ones, but I am still very glad I read it. I will next read by Roth The Savoy Hotel, kind of a Grand Hotel type of work.
I was going to join in but then realised it was a sequel to RM which I still haven’t read yet. Can it be read as a stand-alone book?
Yes, it can.
Absolutely.
Definitely.
I’m glad we both liked this. Yes, it’s flawed and the war years are almost surreal but he’s such an amazing writer. I need to reread The Radetzky March. I read it as a teenager. It would make a great readalong title.
I’d love to do a readalong using the same format as we used for Effi Briest. The Radetzky March is long enough for that, don’t you think? I’m planning on re-reading it next year anyway, but wouldn’t want to wait until next November …..
Yes, it’s long enough. I really enjoy doing readalongs in the Effi Bruest format. Some people moaned because it felt restrictive. But it’s good to have portions to discuss. Whether or not we want the questions can be debated. I also wouldn’t want to wait too long. There were several people expressing interest. If we aim for maybe March, we could gather people via Twitter.
Could I advance you to February? Will be travelling in March …..
Of course. Or April. Would be good to see how many people would like to join.
I’m glad you organised this readalong, it pushed me to read this Roth and it was a great pleasure.
Maybe The Radetsky March is superior but it felt colder than this one.
I really enjoyed Franz’s voice, even if I wanted to shake him, but more importantly, to yell at his parents for their poor parenting. They didn’t raise an adult, he remained a child.
All his life, he’ll be an indecisive man with no real abilities to make his own way.
Beautiful review, Lizzy! Glad to know that the critics were wrong and you loved the book, though it had its flaws. From your review and from others’ reviews, it looks like the portrayal of the Austria of that time in the book is fascinating – how diverse it was with people belonging to different cultures and languages. It is also fascinating that Franz’ wife has a female partner – the book must have been far ahead of its times (or the Austria of that time was far ahead of its times). That last scene you have described is heartbreaking. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
I don’t think the book was far ahead of its times at all, Vishy. Written in 1938, I think Roth was portraying the slide into the decadence of the 1920’s ….
Very interesting to know that, Lizzy! I will read The Radetzky March and then read this after that.