eJournals

Band 48 2015 Heft 1 - 2 Harald Höbus ch, Linda K . Worle y (Hr sg.) ISSN 0010-1338 Band 48 T h e m e n h eft: B e rnh a rd S c hlink s D e r Vo rle s e r G a s th e ra u s g e b e r: W illia m Collin s D on a hu e und E va B . R e ve s z E va B . R e ve s z : B e r n h a rd S c hlin k ’ s T h e R e a d e r a n d th e P roble m of G e r m a n V i c tim hood J udith R ya n: S c hlin k ’ s Vo rl e s e r , S ü s kin d ’ s Pa r fu m , a n d th e Conc e pt of G lob al L ite ratu re R ob e r t C . H olub: G e r m a n s a s V i c tim s in 1 9 9 5 B ill N ive n: B e r n h a rd S c hlin k a n d th e L e g a c ie s of 1 9 6 8 B ra d Pra g e r: O n S te p h e n D ald r y ' s A d a ptation of T h e R e a d e r G a r y L . B ake r: E m otion al D eta c h m e nt in B e r n h a rd S c hlin k ‘ s D e r Vo rl e s e r: A P roble m for D e m o c ra c y C la udia R u s c h: D e m U n a u s s p re c hli c h e n b e g e g n e n D e ni s e M . D ella R o s s a: D e r Vo rl e s e r a n d B e r n h a rd S c hlin k in th e C la s s roo m S a s c h a Fe u c h e r t und B jörn B e rgm a nn: I m m e r wie d e r S c hlin k ? W illia m Collin s D on a hu e: T h e S c hlin k A bid e s H eidi M a dd e n: B io- B ibliog ra p h y periodicals.narr.de C O L L O Q U I A G E R M A N I C A C O L L O Q U I A G E R M A N I C A I n t e r n a t i o n a l e Z e i t s c h r i f t f ü r G e r m a n i s t i k I n t e r n a ti o n a l e Z e it s c h r ift f ü r G e r m a n i s ti k Band 48 • Heft 1-2 Themenheft: Berhard Schlinks Der Vorleser Gastherausgeber: William Collins Donahue und Eva B. Revesz Inhalt Introduction: Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader and the Problem of German Victimhood Eva B. Revesz � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 3 Schlink’s Vorleser , Süskind’s Parfum, and the Concept of Global Literature Judith Ryan � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 13 Germans as Victims in 1995 Robert C. Holub � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 23 Bernhard Schlink and the Legacies of 1968 Bill Niven � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 35 Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader Brad Prager � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 43 Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser : A Problem for Democracy Gary L. Baker � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 59 Dem Unaussprechlichen begegnen Claudia Rusch � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 69 Der Vorleser and Bernhard Schlink in the Classroom Denise M. Della Rossa � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 75 Immer wieder Schlink? Der Vorleser und seine literaturdidaktischen Chancen und Grenzen im Spiegel schulischer Praxis in Deutschland Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 83 The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority William Collins Donahue � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 103 Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography Heidi Madden � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 125 Autorenverzeichnis � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � 150 Introduction 3 Introduction: Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader and the Problem of German Victimhood Eva B. Revesz Denison University This special issue grew out of a 2015 MLA panel commemorating the twentieth anniversary of Bernhard Schlink’s runaway bestseller Der Vorleser ( The Reader), 1 a novel whose controversial reception has only increased over the years. 2 When it first appeared in 1995 (the English translation by Carol Brown Janeway was published in 1997), it was for the most part enthusiastically received. Critics lauded Schlink’s refreshingly unconventional and thought-provoking Holocaust narrative from a second-generation perspective, particularly his bold attempt to conflate victim and perpetrator in the character of the illiterate former SS guard Hanna Schmitz. Yet a number of critical ( Jewish) voices—among them Omer Bartov, Eva Hoffmann, and Cynthia Ozick—raised serious concerns from the start not only regarding Schlink’s portrayal of a Holocaust perpetrator as victim, but also regarding his use of illiteracy as an alibi for Hanna’s criminal behavior in a nation that was, after all, highly educated. Especially Bartov and Ozick accused the author of pursuing a revisionist agenda in his attempt to minimize German guilt. As this more critical reception of The Reader has gained momentum (especially in the United States and Great Britain in contrast to its more commendatory reception in Germany), so too have defenders of the novel on both sides of the Atlantic responded in a number of ways. These advocates generally concede that its apologetic portrayal of a Nazi perpetrator may indeed have problematic aspects, but warn that the author Bernhard Schlink must not be confused with his (supposedly) unreliable narrator Michael Berg, through whose sole perspective the character of Hanna is presented to the reader. The controversy surrounding the novel persists to the present day; indeed, as a number of the contributions to this issue demonstrate—foremost among them the response by William Collins Donahue to the articles in this issue—it is far from resolved. 3 Despite its controversial reception, the novel has nonetheless been canonized as an important contribution to the problem of Vergangenheitsbewältigung . A 4 Eva B. Revesz staple in the German school curriculum, it also continues to be required reading for the A-exam in Great Britain and remains a perennial favorite on American college campuses as well. Narrated in sparse, matter-of-fact prose, it tells in flashback form the “coming of age” story of a German teenager born at the end of World War II —one of the “Nachgeborenen,” to use the Brechtian idiom—who becomes entangled in the guilt of his parents’ generation by falling in love with a former Nazi perpetrator. Michael Berg comes to represent an entire generation condemned to being “schuldlos schuldig,” as the expression has it. This no doubt struck a cord with German readers whose national identity has been stigmatized by the Holocaust and who welcomed a more apologetic approach to German guilt that permits finally laying the Holocaust to rest. That The Reader would go on to capture the international market as well relies on a general sense of Holocaust exhaustion worldwide, as William Collins Donahue has argued in his groundbreaking monograph on Schlink’s work, to which I shall return shortly. The immense international success of Der Vorleser , translated at last count into fifty languages and adopted in 2008 into an Academy Award-winning Hollywood film, did not take its author entirely by surprise. Bernhard Schlink had anticipated the novel’s appeal especially for an American audience, having had his eye on Hollywood from the start. At the time a judge and law professor who had published a couple of moderately successful detective novels when Der Vorleser appeared in 1995, Schlink intended to have the book published initially in English in an attempt to attract the Hollywood film studios. According to Spiegel correspondent Volker Hage in an article for which he interviewed the author, Schlink even went so far as to commission a translation for which he paid out of pocket (242). Yet his agent at Diogenes convinced him to publish the novel in German first, also negotiating the film rights for the book under condition that a Hollywood producer would be given preference. In 1998, Miramax bought the film rights, nearly a year before the novel topped The New York Times bestseller list in March of 1999, for which Schlink had especially Oprah Winfrey to thank after she selected it for her popular book club and invited him as a guest onto her show. 4 Schlink’s initial plan to publish his novel in English first was also influenced by his apprehension about being misunderstood in Germany: “Schlink fürchtete, in Deutschland falsch verstanden zu werden” (Hage 242). Labeling his book as “politically incorrect” himself, Schlink feared that it might appeal to a “wrong” readership. That Schlink concedes his novel might attract readers with a revisionist agenda (“der befürchtete Zuspruch von falscher Seite” 242) is certainly telling, since this is precisely the concern that the novel has raised, particularly among Jewish reviewers. The vexing irony of Schlink’s prediction Introduction 5 lies in the novel’s enthusiastic reception especially in Germany by readers and critics alike, raising the question of the extent to which a latent revisionism isn’t more mainstream than Schlink himself anticipated. By distancing himself from such an agenda while at once adhering to it, Schlink uses a strategy similar to the one that William Collins Donahue has worked out as the narrative ploy upon which Der Vorleser relies by simultaneously having it both ways. In Holocaust as Fiction: Bernhard Schlink’s ‘Nazi’ Novels and Their Films , 5 an in-depth analysis of the novel alongside Schlink’s detective novels, Donahue demonstrates that the moral ambiguity that commentators have lauded does not complicate the question of guilt so much as reduce it to an either-or binary by rendering Michael and Hanna as guilty and not guilty at once. Not only is Hanna in Donahue’s reading a “garden variety perpetrator at best” (86); by continuously drawing an analogy between Michael’s suffering and the suffering of Hanna’s Jewish victims, the novel serves up “soothing fictions” (51) that invite the reader to identify with Michael’s predicament and to share his apologetic view of Hanna, thus making Michael a much more reliable narrator than defenders of the novel contend. The novel’s apparent moral ambiguity and complexity by co-opting a “gray zone” 6 falls flat, according to Donahue, since it serves to obfuscate a necessary distinction between German perpetrators and Jewish victims. As a case in point, Hanna’s employment as an SS guard in Auschwitz is rendered analogous to the “choiceless choices” of the Jewish victims, brought to a climax when Hanna asks the judge in helpless desperation what he would have done in her place. Hanna thus becomes a mere victim of circumstance whom the reader is invited to pity. Her victimhood becomes analogous—both implicitly and explicitly—to that of Holocaust victims. Pointing out how problematic such a conflation of victim and perpetrator is, Donahue quotes from Schlink’s Gedanken über das Schreiben : Deutsche waren Täter und Opfer […] Juden haben gelitten und waren beteiligt. Was bewährt und beschützt werden muß, ist […] ein vollständiges Bild, in dem die Beteiligung der Judenräte nicht verschwiegen, sondern erklärt wird, in dem die Tatsache, dass Deutsche Opfer waren, nicht für Relativierungen und Entschuldigungen benutzt wird. (“Taking Jewish Cover” 252) As Donahue emphasizes, “sermonizing on the fact of ‘involvement’ on both sides can easily become a comforting platitude—one that quickly devolves into the commonplace: ‘There was good and evil on both sides’” (252). The extent to which Schlink comes to the defense of Germans while blaming Jews for their own fate is not only exemplified in the quotation from Gedanken über das Schreiben above, but also in the following claim from his essay on “Kollektivschuld? ”: 6 Eva B. Revesz Aber zu verstehen ist vieles. Sogar in der kaltschnäuzig gestellten Frage, die ich in einer einschlägigen Diskussion gehört habe, liegt etwas, das verstanden werden kann und sogar muss: Wenn nicht einmal die Juden Widerstand und Widerspruch geleistet haben, obwohl es um ihr eigenes Leben ging und sie nichts mehr zu verlieren hatten, warum sollten dann die Deutschen widerstehen und widersprechen, die selbst gar nicht betroffen und bedroht waren? (31) Schlink’s admonishment as to what we need to understand about the Holocaust is problematic on a number of levels. First, to claim that the Jews offered no resistance (to say nothing of “Widerspruch,” a particularly elastic term) 7 misrepresents historical fact, since Jewish resistance took many forms. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum documents over a hundred armed Jewish ghetto uprisings, and the many Jews who joined partisan resistance fighters numbered in the thousands (“Jewish Resistance”). Second, the very assumption that the Jews were responsible for their own fate rests on a misapprehension of the entirely hopeless situation in which they found themselves, leading to the very common form of passive resistance by committing suicide. While the number of suicides is impossible to document (given their high number in the concentration camps), most of the Jewish ghetto uprisings were effectively suicide missions. As is well known, any overt resistance was brutally crushed, exemplified by the Warsaw ghetto uprising, in which over 13,000 Jews were killed. In effect, the Jews had little means of successful resistance, being for the most part dependent on the help of non-Jews for their survival. Yet another questionable aspect of Schlink’s comment is the clear distinction he draws between Germans and Jews, which tends to obscure the fact that Jews were Germans as well, thus emphasizing the “otherness” of the Jews and their perceived difference from “the Germans.” To justify the failure of the majority of non-Jewish Germans in coming to the aid of their fellow countrymen and women in their time of need by saying they were not personally “betroffen” or “bedroht” betrays an indifference and lack of empathy towards their lot, an indifference (that Hanna arguably also shares) that went a long way to making the Holocaust possible. 8 But to reduce my discussion of Schlink’s novel to the question of the extent to which he himself pursues a revisionist agenda does not do justice to the many other issues he raises and the ways in which he ingeniously combines these with Germany’s troubled past. Schlink himself has emphasized that he has not written a novel about the Holocaust (albeit in the wake of criticism about his problematic Holocaust portrayal) so much as a novel about the vicissitudes of intergenerational love and the shame and troubling silence that result from them. The novel is foremost an illicit love story—indeed, a love story that Schlink explicitly places into the tradition of the German bourgeois Introduction 7 tragedy through its intertextual references to the two most celebrated bourgeois tragedies in German literature, Lessing’s Emilia Galotti and Schiller’s Kabale und Liebe . Schlink thereby invites the reader to view the relationship between Michael and Hanna also in terms of their class difference—an aspect that Daldry’s cinematic adaptation clearly foregrounds 9 —which becomes just one more socially unacceptable aspect of the relationship between them. But the provocative taboo Schlink breaks with his novel has more to do with the age difference between the couple and the criminal context into which this relationship is ultimately placed. Strictly speaking, Michael becomes a victim of statutory rape. By switching the gender in the usual case of a female minor seduced by an older man, Schlink exposes the double standard regarding this transgression when it comes to the gender of the seduced. Here again, one can detect Schlink’s strategy of having it both ways by making Michael both indulged and victimized at once. For despite the sense of bravado and feelings of confidence that Michael Berg’s sexual initiation through the much older Hanna give him, there is no question that Schlink wants the reader to feel that Michael was also a victim of Hanna’s abuse, and not only in the scene in which she violently lashes out at him. As Ursula Mahlendorf and others have already pointed out, Hanna dominates the relationship in disturbing ways through the sexual and emotional power she exercises over him. The much more sensitive Berg, it is clearly implied, walks away from the relationship as psychologically damaged even before he finds out about Hanna’s Nazi past. This is brought to a point when he confesses to the affair for the first time to the surviving daughter of the church fire at the very end of the novel when in New York. The daughter replies, “Was ist diese Frau brutal gewesen,” upon hearing about the affair, asking him if he believes she was aware of “what” she had done to him. Michael responds by evoking Hanna’s Holocaust victims, “Jedenfalls wußte sie, was sie anderen im Lager und auf dem Marsch angetan hat” (202). Michael is, in other words, also a victim of Hanna’s immoral and criminal conduct, if to a lesser degree, and it is important for the reconciliatory logic of the novel that a Jewish Holocaust survivor validate Michael’s suffering and victimhood, as Ernestine Schlant first pointed out (216) and as Donahue’s in-depth analysis has reinforced. There can, in other words, be little question that both Hanna and Michael are configured as victims in Schlink’s novel and that their victimhood parallels that of Jews and other victims of the Nazis. The Reader may therefore be seen as representative of an increasing tendency in German literature since 1990 towards a “normalization” of the Holocaust that scholars such as Bill Niven have already identified. 10 This shift in German memory politics has resulted from a climate of reconciliation between the GDR and the FRG that has noticeably moved the discourse around Germans as perpetrators more towards a preoccupation with 8 Eva B. Revesz Germans as victims. This can be seen in the number of books that have been published since reunification that deal with German suffering, primarily with the victims of Allied bombings, of which W. G. Sebald’s Luftkrieg und Literatur (1999) and Günter Grass’s Im Krebsgang (2002) are two prominent examples. Indeed, an Allied bombing also plays a pivotal role in The Reader since the main crime for which Hanna receives a life sentence is hardly a crime usually associated with perpetrator guilt but rather with the war crimes of the Allies. For Hanna’s failure to open the church doors that led the victims trapped inside to burn alive as a result of the bombing also clearly alludes to the tens of thousands of Germans who died in similar firestorms in the final phase of the war. Through the juxtaposition of her passive crime with the active crime of the Allies—hers is, after all, a crime of omission rather than a crime of aggression—Schlink further mitigates Hanna’s guilt. Whether one finds such a downplay of guilt in the portrayal of a Holocaust perpetrator questionable or not, one cannot deny that Schlink’s novel raises provocative questions. These he purposefully leaves unanswered: about the nature of guilt (moral, legal, and even existential guilt); about the nature of love and shame; about gender and class relations; about intergenerational conflict— questions that reach beyond the scope of the Holocaust per se and give the novel its universal appeal. And in the context of intellectual European history, it also raises complex questions regarding the extent to which the celebrated values of the Enlightenment, foremost among them the faith placed in Bildung , hold true. It remains, after all, ambiguous as to whether Hanna’s newfound ability to read actually fosters a moral consciousness . In short, the richness of The Reader as a literary text cannot be denied, as also evidenced by the scores of academic articles the novel has elicited. The MLA International Bibliography lists ninety entries to date, which also include close to a dozen teaching guides. To those will now be added the articles in this special issue, some of which take up the debate surrounding the novel while others open up new lines of inquiry. Thus, no matter what stance one takes on the novel (and on Schlink’s work as a whole), it is Schlink’s grappling with controversial issues and purposefully provocative positions that account for The Reader ’s enduring legacy. And as a book focused on the nature of reading—indeed, on the benefit and purpose of reading literary classics—its popularity, especially in the literature classroom, is not in danger of waning soon. It is as such well on the way to becoming a literary classic. The articles in this issue are conceived for the most part as shorter position papers in order to accommodate a wide range of responses (to Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser / The Reader as well as other works by Schlink). In the opening article, “Schlink’s Vorleser , Süskind’s Parfum , and the Concept of Global Literature,” Judith Ryan compares these two international bestsellers in terms Introduction 9 of changing tastes in global readership. She contends that the postmodern complexities that made Süskind’s 1985 novel such a success are largely absent in Schlink’s 1995 novel, which is much less demanding of its readers. This trend towards a more popular readership is also reflected in the different ways in which each novel deals with the Holocaust, Das Parfum engaging Holocaust themes on a much more complex aesthetic and allegorical level than does Schlink’s realistic text. The second paper by Robert Holub, “Germans as Victims in 1995,” begins with an overview of German victimhood in German postwar literature and film in order to contextualize the changing landscape in the representation of German victimization since 1990. What is new since reunification is not a focus on German victimhood as such, he argues, but the direct juxtaposition of German victims with victims of the Holocaust. Comparing Der Vorleser with two other novels published in 1995 that juxtapose German and Jewish victimhood in different ways, Binjamin Wilkomirski’s fraudulent memoir Fragments and Christoph Ransmayr’s Morbus Kitahara (The Dog King) , Holub demonstrates how all three are part of a new trend towards a normalization of the Holocaust by including German suffering as part of a more complex historical totality. In the third paper, “Bernhard Schlink and the Legacies of 1968,” Bill Niven sees Der Vorleser as setting the tone for Schlink’s later oeuvre insofar as it already touches on Schlink’s coming to terms with Nazism in a much broader context, namely as a reaction to inadequacies of the 1968 student movement. By analyzing three recent works that each have a negatively conceived former 68er as their protagonist—the short story “Zuckererbsen” from his collection Liebesfluchten and the two novels Das Wochenende and Die Frau auf der Treppe — Niven demonstrates how Schlink ultimately discredits the moral grandstanding of the 1968 generation. Brad Prager argues convincingly in the next article, “Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader ,” that the courtroom in which Hanna Schmitz is tried is modeled on the courtroom of the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials of 1963-65. By having Hanna’s trial devolve much like the Frankfurt Trials into a media circus, Prager poses the provocative question of whether Daldry (and indirectly Schlink) are thereby disparaging the proceedings and thus challenging the very legitimacy of Holocaust trials on the whole. The fifth paper by Gary L. Baker, “Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser : A Problem for Democracy , ” places the lack of emotion pervading the novel into a political context. He argues that Michael’s and Hanna’s absence of feeling represents the emotional coldness of the entire German nation and stands at odds with the establishment of a true democratic society in the new Federal Republic. 10 Eva B. Revesz Claudia Rusch’s enthusiastic defense of Der Vorleser in her essay “Dem Unaussprechlichen begegnen” is based on what she sees as a misapprehension on the part of Schlink’s critics as to what the novel is actually about. It is not a Holocaust novel; it is a novel about coming to terms with having loved a Nazi perpetrator that raises a number of complex questions regarding the nature of shame, guilt, and intergenerational love, questions that purposefully remain unanswered. The next two contributions deal with Schlink’s novel as a pedagogical tool. Denise M. Della Rossa’s article, “ Der Vorleser and Bernhard Schlink in the Classroom” discusses the use of the novel in the American college classroom. She argues for its continued relevance not only for German Studies but also beyond a specifically German context. Sascha Feuchert and Björn Bergmann’s contribution, “Immer wieder Schlink? Der Vorleser und seine literaturdidaktischen Chancen und Grenzen im Spiegel schulischer Praxis in Deutschland,” affirms the canonical status of Der Vorleser in German high schools, and examines two recently published teaching guides (Lehrbücher). Heidi Madden concludes the issue with the first comprehensive primary bibliography of Bernhard Schlink, including also his legal writings. Her contribution substantiates that Schlink is without question one of the most prolific writers in Germany today. The penultimate contribution by William Collins Donahue is conceived as a response to the articles in this issue, taking on predominantly those who argue for reading Michael Berg as an “unreliable narrator” ( Judith Ryan and Sascha Feuchert / Björn Bergmann). He also counters Claudia Rusch’s enthusiastic apologia of Schlink’s novel by demonstrating how Schlink invites the kind of subtle conflation of author and protagonist that she falls prey to herself. Both Rusch’s contribution and that of Feuchert and Bergmann also dismiss viewing Der Vorleser as a Holocaust novel (following here the lead of the author himself). Donahue finds this position especially troubling since it takes any problematic features in its Holocaust portrayal automatically off the table. Donahue’s contribution demonstrates how charged the debate around The Reader remains to the present day. Indeed, this issue shows us that the jury is still out on the merits and demerits of Schlink’s novel and the extent to which the novel employs a questionable instrumentalization of the Holocaust. Hence the controversy surrounding the novel continues. Notes 1 The special session at the 2015 MLA convention in Vancouver that I organized was entitled, like this introduction, “Bernhard Schlink’s The Read- Introduction 11 er and the Problem of German Victimhood.” It included Robert Holub, Gary L. Baker, and William Donahue. 2 For an excellent overview of the novel’s controversial reception, see Hall. 3 Those that view Michael Berg as an unreliable narrator include Bill Niven, Stanley Corngold, Daniel Reynolds, and Kim Worthington; in this issue, Judith Ryan and Sascha Feuchert / Björn Bergmann promote this reading; Bill Donahue analyses the pitfalls of the “unreliable narrator” approach to the novel in his response to Ryan and Feuchert / Bergmann. 4 The novel first reached The New York Times paperback bestseller list in mid-March 1999 after Schlink appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show in late February. It was listed as #1 for four weeks straight from March 21 to April 11� 5 The book appeared in German translation in 2013 under the title, Holocaust Lite: Bernhard Schlinks ‘ NS -Romane’ und ihre Verfilmungen. 6 “The Gray Zone” is a chapter in Primo Levi’s The Drowned and the Saved that deals with the morally compromised situation in which many Jewish victims found themselves, such as those in the Sonderkommando who worked the crematoria or the Judenrat leaders in the ghettoes, and who made it impossible for Levi to pass judgment on them. 7 I thank Bill Donahue for pointing out how vague Schlink’s use of the term “Widerspruch” (meaning any kind of dissent or opposition) in this context is; he has made the same point about Schlink’s repeated use of the vague term “Beteiligung” in his German Quarterly forum discussion “Taking Jewish Cover.” 8 That the general population of certain countries came to the aid of their fellow Jewish countrymen and women while other countries did not is substantiated in Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. As she reports, especially Bulgaria and Denmark resisted the Nazis when it came to their “Jewish problem”. Indeed, Arendt reports that not a single Jew was deported from Bulgaria thanks to the non-Jewish Bulgarians’ sabotage of Nazi deportation orders by holding outright demonstrations against them in the streets (Arendt 188). This was certainly not the case among the German populace. 9 See Brad Prager’s contribution to this issue. 10 See especially the introduction to his edited volume, Germans as Victims: Remembering the Past in Contemporary Germany. Taberner and Berger advance a similar argument in their introduction to Germans as Victims in the Literary Fiction of the Berlin Republic. 12 Eva B. Revesz Works Cited Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (1963). New York: Penguin, 2006. Bartov, Omar. “Germany as Victim.” New German Critique 80 (2000): 29-40. Donahue, William Collins. Holocaust as Fiction. Bernhard Schlink’s ‘Nazi’ Novels and Their Films. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. ---. Holocaust Lite: Bernhard Schlinks ‘ NS -Romane’ und ihre Verfilmungen. Bielefeld: Aisthesis, 2013. ---. “Taking Jewish Cover: A Response to Bernhard Schlink.” The German Quarterly 85.3 (2012): 249-52. Hage, Volker. “Gewicht der Wahrheit.” Der Spiegel 29 March 1999: 242-43. Hall, Katherine. “Text Crimes in the Shadow of the Holocaust: The Case of Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser / The Reader .” German Text Crimes: Writers Accused from the 1950s to the 2000s. Ed. Tom Cheesman. Amsterdam / New York: Rodopi, 2013. 193-208. Hoffmann, Eva. “The Uses of Illiteracy.” The New Republic 23 March 1998: 33-36. Mahlendorf, Ursula. “Trauma Narrated, Read and (Mis)understood: Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader.” Monatshefte 95.3 (2003): 458-81. Niven, Bill. “Introduction: German Victimhood at the Turn of the Millenium.” Germans as Victims: Remembering the Past in Contemporary Germany. Ed. Bill Niven. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006. 1-25. Ozick, Cynthia. “The Rights of History and the Rights of the Imagination.” Commentary 107.3 (1999): 22-27. The Reader . Dir. Stephen Daldry. Perf. Kate Winslet, Ralph Fiennes, David Kross. Miramax / Weinstein, 2008. Schlant, Ernestine. The Language of Silence: West German Literature and the Holocaust. New York: Routledge, 1999. Schlink, Bernhard. Der Vorleser . Zurich: Diogenes, 1995. ---. The Reader . Trans. Carol Brown Janeway. New York: Vintage, 1997. ---. “Kollektivschuld? ” Vergangenheitsschuld: Beiträge zu einem deutschen Thema. Zurich: Diogenes, 2007. 11-33. “Jewish Resistance.” Holocaust Encyclopedia . United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. n.d. Web. 15 Aug. 2016 Taberner, Stuart, and Karina Berger, eds. Germans as Victims in the Literary Fiction of the Berlin Republic. Rochester, NY : Camden House, 2009. Schlink’s Vorleser, Süskind’s Parfum, and the Concept of Global Literature 13 Schlink’s Vorleser, Süskind’s Parfum, and the Concept of Global Literature Judith Ryan Harvard University Abstract: A comparison of two bestselling novels that appeared a decade apart allows us to assess the changes that have taken place in the efforts of German-language publishers to gain a foothold in the marketplace of global literature. Patrick Süskind’s Das Parfum (1985) and Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser (1995) both appeared on bestseller lists in numerous countries. The shift from the intensely literary aesthetics of Das Parfum to the more straightforward prose of Der Vorleser suggests that a new emphasis on “readability” (“die neue Lesbarkeit”) had become the publishing strategy of choice in the 1990s. Nonetheless, this essay argues for a reading of Der Vorleser that moves the reader away from absorption in the emotional aspects of the love story to increasing modes of distance from it. Step by step, Schlink’s novel encourages the reader to balance “absorptive” and more skeptical modes of reading. Keywords: global, literature, postmodernism, Holocaust, German The ten-year time difference between the publication of Patrick Süskind’s Das Parfum (1985) and Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser (1995) can serve as a useful barometer of the changes that have taken place in the global functioning of literature. In terms of their reach across cultures and languages, the two novels are roughly comparable: Das Parfum has been translated into some 49 languages, and Der Vorleser into 50; 1 both appeared on bestseller lists in several countries. 2 Of the two, Das Parfum has attained quite remarkable sales figures (approximately 20 million copies), 3 although it has had a considerable head start over Der Vorleser (which had sold over 1.5 million copies by 2000, 4 and, while exact numbers are difficult to obtain, has undoubtedly sold more in the intervening years). Schlink’s reputation in the United States was aided by its selection by Oprah Winfrey for her Book Club in 1999 and its subsequent appearance on 14 Judith Ryan The New York Times bestseller list for several weeks in 2009, following Stephen Daldry’s film version in 2008. In Germany, Der Vorleser has found a place in the German high school curriculum. 5 In Britain and the US , it has been the subject of vehement debate, largely about its approach to the Holocaust, and these concerns have now filtered back to Germany in turn. 6 Although Das Parfum and Der Vorleser are by no means situated on an even playing field, they have enough features in common to help us gauge the shifting conditions for global literary success. Das Parfum was an instant bestseller that sprinted rapidly across Europe and into the US and other English-speaking countries. Its success was largely the result of its style: it had the flavor—metaphorically, of course, the “scent”—of time-proven classics, and the original jacket illustration, Antoine Watteau’s painting “Nymph and Satyr” (1715), suggested that the book possessed a certain patina that was consonant with its seemingly traditional style. In fact, however, much of the “fine writing” was actually pastiche of identifiable authors from different periods. 7 This pastiche combined with other forms of allusion to distinguish “specialist” readers from general readers. The presence of allusive elements is entirely in accord with one of the novel’s major themes: the questionable nature of the concept of “original genius.” The development of the protagonist from a perfume maker alive to the subtle nuances of different ingredients to an obsessive monster who commits murder in his desire for the perfect scent, reflects our current skepticism about the adequacy of such concepts as genius or originality. The episode in which a crowd, seduced by his extraordinary perfume, cannibalizes his body in order to enjoy it to the full, appears at first to be an attempt to shock the reader. Yet this grotesque episode is in fact an allusion to the myth of Orpheus, whom jealous matrons tore limb from limb because of his rejection of their daughters following his loss of Eurydice. Stylistically and conceptually, Das Parfum is an extraordinary tour de force � Although both ordinary readers and those with more sophisticated knowledge of literary tradition were full of praise for the novel, the reasons for their admiration differed: one set of readers was fascinated by Süskind’s ingenious use of borrowings from other texts, while another set enjoyed what appeared to be the novel’s overall aesthetics. What the theory of postmodernism terms “double encoding” (writing a text so that it can enjoyed by both general and specialist readers) did not so much split the readership as augment it. If a single novel could be said to be paradigmatic of postmodernism, Das Parfum might be the one. Its success, not only upon its first publication but also subsequently, shows that at least this type of postmodernism can work well in the global market. Schlink’s Der Vorleser confronts us with an almost opposite set of characteristics. Instead of a highly wrought style, Der Vorleser uses plainer, more restrained Schlink’s Vorleser , Süskind’s Parfum , and the Concept of Global Literature 15 language; instead of the spectacular grotesqueries of Süskind’s novel, Der Vorleser confines itself primarily to everyday settings such as Hanna’s apartment and the law court, using realistic techniques that remain relatively unobtrusive. As Katharina Hall points out, the novel’s prose hews closely to what was called “Die Neue Lesbarkeit,” a combination of “universal themes, storytelling, and a straightforward, accessible writing style” (447). Publishers promulgated this style in the 1990s with the aim of gaining a place for German writers on the international market and stanching the flow of German readers toward American novels that were seen as less depressing and more enjoyable than their German counterparts (Hall 447). Joseph Metz points out that the style of Der Vorleser provides an almost too easy read, with “its smoothly accessible realist prose, stereotypical scenarios, and power to seduce readers into passively accepting the values and viewpoints of hypnotic narrator [Michael] Berg” (300). In addition, as both Metz and Hall point out in different contexts, the love plot is distinctive primarily because it inverts traditional male and female roles. It is easy to see how a more straightforward type of narrative combined with a schema familiar from the romance genre would be likely to draw a wider range of readers in. Being drawn in is what most readers desire when they pick up a novel, especially if they do so outside the framework of an academic course. Reading for pleasure is usually identified with a state in which a reader feels completely “absorbed in the book.” In childhood we are led to believe that this posture is the correct one, and that a “good book” is one that gets us hooked on the narrative it presents. Sometimes such a mode of reading creates the impression that there is “a whole world in [the reader’s] head.” 8 Norman Holland has described the principal symptoms of this state as loss of perception of our bodies and our environment, letting go of testing the narrative against familiar reality, and responding to the text with the same emotions we would experience if the situation were real (397). As long as we are reading the book, we are to all intents and purposes lost to the familiar world around us. Schlink’s Der Vorleser sets up a three-part structure in which the first seems to call precisely for such “absorptive” reading. This opening part, some eighty pages in length, sets the tone for readers who prefer to be carried away by the narrative without too much concern for testing it against their familiar view of reality. It is not difficult for readers to “lose themselves” in the love story of Michael and Hanna. Part Two, by contrast, calls for a different approach. The setting of most of this part, the law court where Hanna is being tried along with four other female concentration camp guards, is designed to make us attend to details. As Michael takes stock of his earlier experience with Hanna, he begins to resolve inconsistencies and understand events that at first seemed puzzling. This reality-testing mode operates in a manner akin to detective novels and 16 Judith Ryan police procedurals, genres popular among a wide spectrum of readers. Part Three, finally, ranges more widely in time and space. Michael’s reflections on law and its place in society are shown through a widened aperture that allows for complex historical and moral considerations. Michael is acutely aware of the ambiguities that arise in such reflections, and through them, the reader is brought to a third level of abstraction. In the last analysis, Der Vorleser is not a simple love story, but rather a text that exercises increasing distancing from the actions it depicts. Yet it would seem that some readers failed to recognize the novel’s increasingly probing structure and allowed the “love story” mode of reading to carry them through to the end. Skimming over the intellectual and moral problems addressed in the third part of the book would be unsurprising in the case of readers from outside the German-speaking countries, who are unlikely to be familiar with generational shifts in those cultures’ changing understanding of individual and collective guilt during the Nazi period. Lack of knowledge about these matters presumably makes it difficult for some readers to assess the psychological and moral predicament of the “second generation” (Germans who were not adults during the Holocaust). Readers for whom the novel was primarily a love story may also not have realized that Michael is an unreliable narrator. 9 As the novel progresses, we need to take an increasingly skeptical position toward what Michael writes. Above all, we are invited to question his decisions. The shoplifting spree he engages in toward the end of the first part is symptomatic: he is terrified when he thinks that the store detective has seen him, but in the end, he is excited by Hanna’s delight when he gives her the silk nightgown he has stolen. 10 His narration here does not fully reflect the older person he already is when he begins to write his story. Michael’s belated revelation of Hanna’s illiteracy is the most telling indication of his narrative unreliability. Coupled with this unreliability is his failure to exercise moral responsibility. When he goes to see the presiding judge during the course of Hanna’s trial, he fails to tell him about Hanna’s disability, instead taking part in small talk about his law studies and his future prospects in the legal profession. At the end of the novel, he does follow the prison superintendent’s request to find Hanna a job and a place to live after her release, but he does so in a perfunctory manner. His relationship to her has changed, not only as a result of the trial, but also because of new public and private reflections on the past that have occurred in the meantime. It may be worth saying just a little more about the issue of Hanna’s inability to read and write. In a 2002 article in The Guardian , Nicholas Wroe looked back at the way in which Schlink’s novel Der Vorleser hinged on the issue of literacy: “Of all the ways literature has found to deal with the Holocaust and its consequences, a book about the inability to read might not seem the most obvious. Yet in terms of attracting a mass audience, a German novel with illiteracy at its heart, published in 1995, has been a publishing phenomenon.” This is indeed remarkable. Schlink himself explains his interest in illiteracy by saying that he once did some substantial research on it. Perhaps more to the point is a declaration made by UNESCO that 1990 was to be designated the “International Literacy Year”; the aim was to attain “universal literacy” by the year 2000 (Bhola). News items that appeared in the early 1990s and thereafter kept the issue alive by noting, among other things, that even in Germany, the number of people who were either illiterate or functionally illiterate was much higher than one might expect (“Unbelesen, unbelehrt”). Among other things, such articles tended to describe the great ingenuity with which functional illiterates contrived to keep their handicap secret, even from close family members, and how deeply ashamed they were of it. No doubt such articles helped create a public climate in which a range of disability in reading and writing could be more clearly understood. There was now an informed international readership that was able to empathize with the fictional Hanna’s predicament. Nonetheless, opinion is divided about whether her disability is to be taken metaphorically, especially in connection with the moral implications of the novel and the issue of victimhood. 11 Still, I do not believe that the discrepant view of general readers and more skeptical readers is equivalent in this case to the “double encoding” of postmodernism. Although William Collins Donahue points out that Der Vorleser “gestures toward” a number of features that are often equated with postmodernism ( Holocaust as Fiction 66) it is not really a postmodern text. I see it, rather, as situated within a new turning to a global readership. 12 To some extent, Der Vorleser benefits from the fact that many of its greatest fans are unfamiliar with much of the textual canon that Michael reads to Hanna. With some exceptions, such as Homer’s Odyssey and Tolstoy’s War and Peace , the list of readings is drawn from the German tradition, much of it scarcely known to readers outside the German-speaking countries. None of the texts is presented in any detail, and they increasingly become a bare list of titles. The young Michael regards Hanna as an astute judge of the texts he reads to her, but in fact, her comments are quite superficial. The novel leaves no hint, furthermore, of the importance of the first text Michael reads to Hanna: Lessing’s drama Emilia Galotti (1772). In Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werther (1774), Emilia Galotti is found open on Werther’s desk after he has committed suicide. At this point in Der Vorleser , we have no inkling that Hanna will ultimately commit suicide or that she will do so after eighteen years of canonical readings that Michael sends to her on tape. If Werther’s suicide results from a distorted reading of Lessing’s play, what are we to say about the effect of reading on Han- Schlink’s Vorleser , Süskind’s Parfum , and the Concept of Global Literature 17 18 Judith Ryan na? Has she learned anything, psychologically or morally, from this extensive course of literary fare? What, if anything, has Michael himself learned from his many years of audiotaping texts for Hanna? There is one fleeting moment in Der Vorleser when Michael questions the premises of his almost lifelong reading aloud project, describing it as born of “ein großes bildungsbürgerliches Urvertrauen” on his part (176). He even wonders why he was never tempted to read experimental literature to her, but he rapidly dismisses that thought because he fears that such works might also experiment on the reader. His fear of texts that may not confirm his long-held opinions reveals how little he understands the dialogical function of literature. Michael’s conservative perspective is troubling, and it would seem to speak against a view of literature as in itself redeeming. Of course two novels do not make for a satisfactory theory about the global literature market around the turn of the millennium. The comparison is instructive nonetheless. One crucial difference is the shift in the more popular readership, which in the case of Das Parfum was at least to some degree aspirational (there was widespread approval of the novel’s style), whereas with Der Vorleser the popular reader seems to have preferred the easy reading of relatively plain language. Both novels are written in crossover genres: Das Parfum , with its subtitle “Die Geschichte eines Mörders” alludes to murder mysteries, although it is not itself one, and as we have seen, Der Vorleser capitalizes on the police procedural genre in its courtroom scenes. Das Parfum has a sensationalist streak that was emphasized in its marketing, while Der Vorleser was assigned to the less flashy “love story” category. Although Das Parfum does raise the association with Hitler in the deranged seduction of its protagonist, it avoids altogether the kind of direct representation of Nazi Germany that had already led to what is called “Holocaust exhaustion.” In Der Vorleser , the plot hinges on Hanna’s role during the Holocaust, but we hear about that role only through the testimony given in the law court. Despite the novel’s “realistic” style, there is no actual description of the small camp not far from Auschwitz where she and the other accused women served as guards. Although mention is made of the “selections” in which prisoners arriving at a concentration camp were divided into able-bodied potential workers and others who were sent immediately to their deaths, the crucial scene does not take place in a concentration camp, but in a burning church where the prisoners are confined overnight during a forced march westward. Surely fictional representations have an important place even so many decades after the end of the Nazi regime. It is doubtless too early to tell, but Süskind’s displacement of Holocaust issues into an aestheticized allegory seems, to some extent against all odds, to have had better staying power than the controversial minimalism of Schlink’s novel. Yet given the expectations of a diverse global readership, it is hard to imagine that more radically experimental forms of fiction would be a safe strategy for publishers who wish to reach beyond a select audience of readers accustomed to more complex modes of approaching literature. Paradoxically, the marketing strategies of the 1980s and 1990s do not seem to have unified a diversity of readers, but have instead revealed even more clearly the fault lines of global sales ambitions. On the face of it, the two modes of reading—absorptive and more detached—seem fundamentally incompatible. Those of us who read against the grain, or from the margins, or with a focus on seemingly minor but telling details will continue to do so and teach others to do so. It may be asking too much to expect all readers to give up their desire to be swept away by a book. Yet it seems to me that it is also possible to switch back and forth, now empathizing with the characters and their predicaments, now stepping back from them more critically. We also know that in the classroom or other more formalized discussions of texts, even inexperienced readers can be brought to appreciate a second, more complicated approach. What I am proposing here is that we hold the absorptive and the more skeptical modes in balance as we attempt to learn what is involved when we think about large questions through literature. Notes 1 See the website of the Diogenes Verlag: http: / / www.diogenes.ch/ leser.html. 2 Bestseller lists differ widely in the number of categories they use. In the US alone, USA Today uses a single category, while the New York Times divides the adult fiction list into hardcover, paperback, trade book, and mass market publications. Such differences create difficulties in comparisons across different lists. 3 See http: / / www.diogenes.ch/ leser/ verlag/ geschichte. In general, Diogenes resists giving sales figures for its publications. The astonishing figures achieved by Das Parfum seem to have made an exception to the publishing house’s general rules. 4 Katherine Hall cites this figure for 2000 (47), and Nicholas Wroe also gives it in his article of 2002; these figures cover sales in Germany, the US , Britain, and France. Unfortunately, the publisher is not eager to cite exact figures. 5 In this connection, see Ursula R. Mahlendorf ’s observation that all but two of the teachers’ manuals she consulted fail to mention that the sexual relationship between Michael (at fifteen years of age, a minor at the time) and Hanna was, in legal terms, youth abuse under German law (476). The situation here can be compared with a similarly neglected aspect of another bestseller, Schlink’s Vorleser , Süskind’s Parfum , and the Concept of Global Literature 19 20 Judith Ryan Marguerite Duras’s L’Amant (1984), the protagonist of which is aged fifteenand-a-half. There, too, the “love story” has significant implications for the theme of abuse and oppression in Indochina during French colonial rule. 6 See Niven 381-82. 7 See Ryan. 8 See Jacobus, Chapter 2 (“A whole world in your head”) 52-86. 9 Michael’s narrative is, to be sure, “einsinnig”—in other words not obviously devious or ironic—but even in the stories by Kafka for which Friedrich Beißner used this term (Beißner 37), the reader is still able to “get around behind” the narrator and catch a glimpse of at least some of his or her inadequacies. Here I beg to disagree with Donahue, “The Popular Cultural Alibi” 476. 10 The shoplifting episode is motivated by his desire to bribe his younger sister so that he can have Hanna visit his parents’ house during their absence; yet this motivation seems insufficient. 11 See Bartov. In addition, Jeremy Adler in Britain, and Cynthia Ozick in the US made similar charges. 12 Note that Donahue uses the term “global” in his chapter on the film version of Der Vorleser , where he explores differences between film and book ( Holocaust as Fiction , especially 185). I use the term “global” for the print versions of both Der Vorleser and Das Parfum because it is important to differentiate the type of literature I am considering here from David Damrosch’s more capacious term “world literature.” Although circulation in translation is also a key category in Damrosch’s definition of world literature, his book on that topic considers several texts (such as Gilgamesh or the writings of Mechthild von Magdeburg) that predate the bestseller culture that is my focus here (284-300). Works Cited Bartov, Omer. “Germany as Victim.” New German Critique 80 (2000): 29-40. Beißner, Friedrich. “Der Erzähler Franz Kafka.” Der Erzähler Franz Kafka und andere Vorträge. Mit einer Einführung von Werner Keller. Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 1983. 21-54. Bhola, H. S. “International Literacy Year: A Summons to Action for Universal Literacy by the Year 2000.” Educational Horizons 67.3 (1989): 62-67. Damrosch, David. What Is World Literature? Princeton: Princeton UP , 2003� Donahue, William Collins. “The Popular Culture Alibi: Bernhard Schlink’s Detective Novels and the Culture of Politically Correct Holocaust Literature.” The German Quarterly 77.4 (2004): 462-81. ---. Holocaust as Fiction: Bernhards Schlink’s “Nazi” Novels and Their Films . New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Duras, Marguerite. L’Amant . Paris: Les Éditions de Minuit, 1984. Hall, Katharina. “The Author, the Novel, the Reader and the Perils of ‘Neue Lesbarkeit’: A Comparative Analysis of Bernhard Schlink’s Selbs Justiz and Der Vorleser .” German Life and Letters 59.3 (2006): 446-67. Holland, Norman. “The Power(? ) of Literature: A Neuropsychological View.” New Literary History 37.3 (2004): 395-410. Jacobus, Mary. Psychoanalysis and the Scene of Reading. Oxford: Oxford UP , 1991. Mahlendorf, Ursula R. “Trauma Narrated, Read, and (Mis)understood: Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader: ‘…Irrevocably complicit in their crimes…’.” Monatshefte 95.3 (2003): 458-81. Metz, Joseph. “‘Truth is a Woman’: Post-Holocaust Narrative, Postmodernism, and the Gender of Fascism in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser .” The German Quarterly 77�3 (2004): 300-23. Niven, Bill. “Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser and the Problem of Shame.” Modern Language Review 98.2 (2003): 381-96. Ryan, Judith. “The Problem of Pastiche: Patrick Süskind’s Das Parfum .” The German Quarterly 63.3 / 4 (1990): 395-403. Schlink, Bernhard. Der Vorleser . Zurich: Diogenes, 1997. Süskind, Patrick. Das Parfum: Die Geschichte eines Mörders . Zurich: Diogenes, 1985. “Unbelesen, unbelehrt.” Die Zeit 6 Nov. 1992. Web. 4 Aug. 2015. Wroe, Nicholas. Rev. of The Reader , by Bernhard Schlink. The Guardian 9 Feb. 2002. Schlink’s Vorleser , Süskind’s Parfum , and the Concept of Global Literature 21 Germans as Victims in 1995 Robert C. Holub The Ohio State University Abstract: The lasts two decades have witnessed a growing debate on German victimization. While some commentators noted a shift toward the foregrounding of Germans as victims after 1990, these views came under increasing criticism during the past decade. More recent observers have rightfully noted that the discourse of German victimization has been present and continuous in writings dealing with Vergangenheitsbewältigung . What changed, I argue, was the nature of victimization: prior to 1990 German victims were rarely juxtaposed to the most obvious victims of the Nazis: those who suffered and were murdered in the Holocaust, especially the Jews. Three works that appeared in 1995 demonstrate different ways in which victimization took shape in the post-wall era: Christoph Ransmayr’s novel The Dog King , Binjamin Wilkomirski’s faux memoir Fragments , and Bernhard Schlink’s bestseller, The Reader � Keywords: victim, victimization, German, postwar, crime For the past two decades debate has flourished about the change in the status of Germans during the Second World War and its aftermath. A popular view that emerged during the 1990s was that a formerly contrite Germany, which had accepted responsibility for the atrocities committed during the war years and identified itself as a nation of perpetrators, had changed and begun to consider itself the victim of the Hitler regime, or even the Allies. The perception of a shift is not implausible. In the 1960s we frequently encounter scholarly and cultural works that endeavored to expose the heinous crimes of the Third Reich. Often we can detect in these writings an attempt on the part of a generation that did not participate directly in the war to level accusations at an older generation that did not protest against the injustices of the Hitler regime and either participated in criminal activity or passively allowed such activity to occur. This 24 Robert C. Holub generational conflict, which can surely be observed in the student movement, became explicit in the writings associated with “Väterliteratur” in the late 1970s. We find in these novels, and in the writings of the most prominent intellectuals in the Federal Republic, such as Günter Grass or Jürgen Habermas, a heavy emphasis on moral condemnation of perpetrators, an almost complete refusal to acknowledge German suffering, and a belief that Germany as a nation occupies a special place in the international community and has responsibilities that extend beyond those of other countries. The 1980s and 1990s appear to bring a different tone into this conversation on Vergangenheitsbewältigung . We begin to hear more clearly a call for normalization in the observations on the past. Among mainstream intellectuals there are no Holocaust deniers or individuals who dismiss German responsibility for criminal actions. But we find a recognition that Germans also suffered during the war and in the postwar years. Exemplary in this regard are the focus on the Dresden bombings in the work of historian Jörg Friedrich and of the novelist W. G. Sebald, the renewed interest in the violation of women during and after the war in a film like BeFreier und Befreite (Helke Sander, 1992), and the general belief, articulated in political discourse, that the passage of time allows Germans to put the past to rest. The fall of the Berlin Wall and the emphasis on Stasi oppression also assisted in displacing attention from Nazi to communist crimes. Thus if we look at the discourse of “mastering the past” from the tumultuous 1960s to the times of a newly unified Germany, we can certainly construct and discern a shift toward victim status for Germany and Germans during the Berlin Republic. A bit more reflection on the matter, however, has caused a reconsideration of this preliminary assessment and the perception of a tendency toward considering Germans as victims. Once commentators examined more critically the span of postwar discourse, it became evident that victimization had always been a theme in German reflections on, and representations of, the Third Reich. Recent reflections on the course of Vergangenheitsbewältigung have therefore called into question the shift that at first seemed so evident. In the introduction to his collection of essays on Germans as Victims from 2006, for example, Bill Niven disputes the notion that victimization has been a “taboo,” stating that all the contributors to the volume “test the relative validity of the ‘taboo’ claim in the case of political, social and cultural discourse in both Germanies” (21). The common conclusion, Niven tells the reader, is that “discourse on German victimhood was always a feature of memory of the Second World War in West and East Germany alike” (22). Indeed, one could argue that the founding myth of the German Democratic Republic was the victimization of Germany and of all Europe through Hitler as the aggressive representative of capitalism. In the West, as the historian Robert G. Moeller points out, “rhetorics of victimization were central parts of the civ- Germans as Victims in 1995 25 ic culture of the early Federal Republic” (33). He contends further that “on both sides of the border, Germans made the transition from the racially defined ‘community of the people’ of the Third Reich to the community of victims of the war for which they accepted no responsibility, to the community of survivors that gradually emerged from the ruins, ready to preserve and rebuild what remained of the ‘good’ Germany” (38). Indeed, the first feature film in postwar Germany, The Murderers Are Among Us ( Die Mörder sind unter uns, Wolfgang Staudte, 1946), features two victims of the Nazi regime, Susanne Wallner and Hans Mertens, who ultimately come to terms with their own sufferings and hold the promise for a brighter German future. The early postwar works of writers like Heinrich Böll and Wolfgang Borchert are similarly populated by individuals who have experienced suffering in the war and under Hitler. Even the sixty-eighters can be integrated into a consistent concern with victimization: their attempt to expose the crimes of their parents can be regarded as part of the burden Germany and the second generation have had to bear. From this perspective, postwar Germany and the sixty-eighters become victims of their parents’ participation in the activities of the Third Reich, and their efforts consist of not only accusations directed at the elders, but also self-reflections on the misfortunes they as Germans have experienced in the wake of the National Socialist legacy. While we can undoubtedly detect a continuous discourse of victimization in German public and cultural life from the end of the war through the first decades of the twenty-first century, it also seems apparent that something changed in the nature of this discourse at about the time of German unification. Victims in the early years were German soldiers and prisoners of war, such as we find populating the aforementioned works of Wolfgang Borchert or Heinrich Böll; Hans Mertens was similarly involved in combat, where he experienced the moral depravity of his superiors and of the army battalion to which he was attached as staff physician, and Susanne Wallner is shown as a former concentration camp prisoner, although the reasons for her incarceration under the Nazis remain vague. Frequently throughout the years in the Federal Republic, Germans displaced after the war are regarded as victims, and several commentators have noted that the motif of victimization is a constant in their reflections and statements. Often women, children, and older Germans on the home front were recognized for the suffering they had to endure. The discourse on victimization that was acceptable and widespread for many decades in postwar Germany was one that focused on Germans as the direct victims of Nazi policies and Allied actions in the postwar era. There was no attempt to compare the suffering of Germans with non-German victims of the Third Reich, or to exonerate perpetrators because they were somehow victims too. “Good” Germans were generally categorized as victims of the war and its aftermath. 26 Robert C. Holub What changes around 1990 is not that the non-existent taboo of regarding Germans as victims is violated, but that Germans are more often juxtaposed with acknowledged victims of the Third Reich, especially those who suffered in concentration camps. This juxtaposition of two classes of victims was truly a taboo that was broken in the Berlin Republic. When it had surfaced in earlier decades, it was the cause for disgust and censure. Thus when Martin Heidegger in a speech from 1949 compared blockades and famine in the postwar world with gas chambers in extermination camps (“Das Ge-Stell” 27), or when in correspondence with Herbert Marcuse he compares the murder of Jews during the Third Reich with the misfortunes of Eastern Germans driven from their homes after the cessation of hostilities, 1 he received and merited vilification. When several decades later, Andreas Hillgruber published a short volume under the title Zweierlei Untergang , which included reflections on the destruction of the Third Reich and the demise of European Jewry, he earned the wrath of public intellectuals who found the juxtaposition of these two events highly offensive. 2 German victimization itself was rarely criticized in the postwar era; if Heidegger had merely referred to the sufferings of Germans after the war, he might have been considered impolitic, but he would not have earned such a strong rebuke from later observers. If Hillgruber had not chosen to publish his two essays in the same volume, pitting the demise of the Third Reich against the destruction of European Jewry, he would have attracted no attention. The violation of the taboo was not victimization as such, but juxtaposing the fate of those who suffered at the hands of Germans with the suffering experienced by Germans during and after the war. The novel turn in Vergangenheitsbewältigung in the 1990s was not a focus on victimization, but an implicit comparison of victimization according to which German victimization was positioned next to the sufferings of those victimized by Germans. The juxtaposition of victims finds expression in an unusual trio of books published in 1995. The first is a novel by the Austrian writer Christoph Ransmayr entitled Morbus Kitahara (in the English version The Dog King, 1997). The conceit that structures the narrative is that after the war the Allied forces, and in particular the Americans, turn German-speaking countries into deindustrialized wastelands. Instead of the Marshall plan, the United States implemented the Morgenthau plan. Our attention is focused on one isolated Austrian town, Moor, and on three inhabitants: the son of the village blacksmith, Bering, who eventually becomes bodyguard to Ambras, known as “The Dog King.” Ambras is a liberated slave laborer and former photographer, who currently manages the granite quarry in which he worked during the war. The third protagonist is Lily, also known as the Brazilian, a refugee “from the rubble wastelands of the city of Vienna” (87), whose father was a former commander of a concentration Germans as Victims in 1995 27 camp. After the Allies capture Lily’s father while seeking to escape with his family to Brazil, Lily is left in Moor and eventually makes a living smuggling goods between the towns of the region. There is no doubt that Ambras was a victim, and that he retains the scars of his suffering. He is punished arbitrarily while working in the quarry on the infamous swing or Schaukel , whereby the arms of the victim are tied behind him and extended while supporting his entire body weight; after this torture he is no longer able to raise his arms above his head. The effects of his enslavement at the hands of the Nazis have resulted in both physical and mental deformation, since Ambras is consumed by feelings of rancor toward the town and its inhabitants. Unable to relate to the human beings in his surroundings, he lives as a recluse in the company of a pack of feral dogs. In an act that vacillates between compensation and vengeance, he was appointed the head administrator of the quarry nine years after the cessation of hostilities—the end of the war in Ransmayr’s novel is marked by the Peace of Oranienburg, which was the site of an actual concentration camp under the Nazis (Sachsenhausen) and which, during the 1930s, imprisoned mostly political detainees. The authority in charge of Moor and the occupation forces in Moor at the start of the novel is Major Elliot, who is feared by the town’s inhabitants, over whom he exercises absolute authority. He is responsible for everything that occurs in Moor, including Ambras’s appointment to his management position. Elliot makes sure that justice reigns in this small Austrian town. Victims and perpetrators have exchanged roles in this novel, and one of the functions of the occupation is to make certain that the native population is reminded of the crimes committed in the name of the previous regime. We thus find in Ransmayr’s novel a quite unusual reflection on the place and nature of Vergangenheitsbewältigung . Definite rituals meant to recall the past and admonish the inhabitants of Moor are strictly enforced by Major Elliot, who acts in the name of Lyndon Porter Stellamour, the Supreme Court Justice from Poughkeepsie responsible for sending the German-speaking lands back into the stone age and an obvious allusion to Henry Morgenthau Jr., who died in Poughkeepsie in 1967. Elliot transforms part of the quarry into a monument to the victims by having the inhabitants erect a huge inscription announcing the deaths of 11,973 laborers at the hands of “the inhabitants of this land.” Despite protests, claims of innocence, and even sabotage, Elliot remains committed to turning “the whole mountain range into a monument” (24), and his threat to create “new and even worse indictments” “inscribed on cliffs and hillsides” (25) eventually compels the population of Moor to acquiesce in its fate. Elliot also berates the inhabitants of Moor on loudspeakers and reinforces the “Stellamour” plan with derisive harangues. He insults the inhabitants, calling them “riffraff” 28 Robert C. Holub and proclaiming the “re-education and conversion of warmongers into swineherds and asparagus diggers! … back to the fields! … with oats and barley among the ruins of industry … cabbage heads, dunghills … and steaming cow-pies in the lanes of your autobahn, where potatoes will grow next spring! ” (32). And he stages quarterly reenactments of the hard labor to which the former victims were subjected, all carried out by the town’s current citizens. “Instead of letting things take their course, letting the horrors of the war years gradually grow pale and indistinct, Elliot constantly invented new rituals of remembrance for these parties” (34). The head of the occupation forces is a stickler for detail. Costumes for Moor’s inhabitants in which they dress as Jews, prisoners of war, communists, and race defilers must be entirely realistic; and while he does not insist that the native population stand half-naked in the snow, he does stage roll calls at which they stand for “horrible, icy, unbearable hours” (35). He does not force his subjects to carry the heavy stones, but merely makes certain that the burdens they bear from the quarry resemble the stones of former times. “Elliott simply wanted the pictures [from then and now] to look alike and did not insist on the unbearable weight of reality” (36). But there are no indications that this enforced “coming to terms with the past” meets with any success. The commemorative activities rapidly degenerate into empty rituals, especially once the occupation forces leave the area. The inhabitants increasingly treat them with cynicism or indifference; even the inscription about which Elliott was so insistent is ultimately overgrown with moss and rendered illegible. Representative for this change from forced penitence to hackneyed tradition are the concerts held at the empty hangar of the local airport. Under Elliot’s authority the makeshift hall was decorated with banners reading “ Never Forget and other Stellamour slogans” (116); a giant tent at the entrance to the hangar contained a constant screening of documentary films detailing the crimes of the previous regime. Since Elliot’s departure, however, there were no banners and the films were discontinued, so that the concerts that served as reminders of past crimes “degenerated into poorly attended ceremonies put on by Societies of Penitence” (116). These official organizations of Vergangenheitsbewältigung continue to exist, but shrink in size and are not “disbanded only because even from a distance the army continued to support the organized activities of all penitents” (117). Ransmayr’s dystopic vision is nonpartisan; there are no moral prerogatives propounded in the novel. Coming to terms with the past is treated with cynicism and exposed at times as the ritual it has often become in postwar years. The perpetrators have become victims, but the current perpetrators are merely imitating or even staging the victimization of the past. Perpetrators from the past are not condemned; in their vengeful actions victims exhibit a mentality that resembles their Nazi predecessors. The Germans as Victims in 1995 29 current victimization is portrayed as simply a fact, eliciting as little compassion as the sufferings of the past. A second work of 1995 that juxtaposed victim status in a completely different fashion was the book Fragments: Memories of a Wartime Childhood by Binjamin Wilkomirski. With the appearance of Fragments we are concerned more with an event or series of events, which unfolded in the subsequent years, than with an actual literary work. As we have learned through assiduous research and documentation, we are really dealing with a Swiss musician born Bruno Grosjean, adopted by a family named Dössekker in 1945 and given their patronym, who published a book of memoirs in which he claimed to be a Jewish child from Poland, Binjamin Wilkomirski, who had experienced the horrors of the concentration camps. “Wilkomirski” insisted that that these memories were eventually dislodged from his unconscious by therapy and that there was subsequently a conspiracy of sorts on the part of Swiss officials to deny his true identity. There is no reason to rehearse or debate the facts of this strange case: Stefan Maechler’s thorough study of The Wilkomirski Affair recounts in patient detail the story of Bruno Grosjean and his adoption, the composition of the text, and the historical facts that have established beyond any reasonable doubt that Fragments is a fiction and not the recollections of a Polish child caught up in the Holocaust. 3 Significant in our context is the eagerness with which a German speaker, even one whose background lies somewhat outside the sphere of crimes committed during the Third Reich, readily adopts the persona of a Jewish victim of the Holocaust. In Fragments Wilkomirski was a superb imitator of Holocaust motifs, and his descriptions of purported experiences in the children’s barracks of Nazi death camps were recorded so poignantly and persuasively that he was able to deceive a major publisher and thousands of readers, including many genuine Holocaust survivors, about the veracity of his account. His narrative strategy aided his persuasive endeavors. He claims in the opening section of his “memoirs” that he has no proper mother tongue since he was placed in a camp at such an early age and never mastered any language sufficiently. The roots of his language are Yiddish, he maintains, the language of his older brother Mordechai, but the many languages of the camp and the lack of extensive verbal communication during his incarceration meant that he never developed a satisfactory mastery of any known language. His memories are thus cast in images implanted in his mind that he has subsequently “translated” into the German he has learned since he came to Switzerland. Thus in Fragments he describes his experiences from the perspective of a child without linguistic sophistication, which reinforces his victimhood, his status as a subject who is acted upon and unable to resist physically or verbally his persecutors. He fashions himself as 30 Robert C. Holub the prototypical victim of the Nazis: as Jew, as Polish, as a child, defenseless, silently bearing his torments, unable to communicate in the manner of an adult. Wilkomirski presents us with an unusual case of comparative victimhood. As a child Bruno Grosjeans was indeed a victim of sorts, being abandoned to adoption by his mother and gathering some unpleasant experiences before his integration into the Dössekker household. He may have been abused by his first foster mother, who was eventually unable to care for him and brought him back to child welfare and a children’s home. 4 Maechler describes his early life as follows: “When the boy arrived at the Dössekkers’ he was leaving behind a terrible past: conceived in ignorance, born with death hovering nearby, he had been bounced around from place to place from the start, ultimately landing in a children’s home” (20). His subsequent childhood and life, however, were relatively uneventful, and it was probably difficult for him to convince anyone of his victimhood as the son of a well-to-do physician. What is fascinating is that his status as victim becomes more real, more accepted, and more celebrated once he adopts the persona of a Jewish child in Poland. Wilkomirski accomplished something Germans appear to have been seeking in their focus on victimization: he achieves the status of the traditional victims of the Third Reich by becoming one of them, and seeks to trump that status by having to struggle to receive recognition of his past suffering, and by the continuing trauma he experiences from repressed memories. Wilkomirski thus places himself in the position of an individual who suffers twofold victimization: once as a child in the concentration camps at the hands of the Germans, and again at the hands of the unsympathetic Swiss bureaucracy, which would deny his status and prevent him from discovering his true identity. With the birth of the fictive persona Binjamin Wilkomirski, the victimhood of Bruno Grosjeans is transformed and validated, transcending the victimhood of mere Jews in the Holocaust. The third and most notorious instance of juxtaposed victim status is found in Bernhard Schlink’s popular novel, The Reader . That Schlink participates in the new agenda of German victimization is evident: both the narrator of this strange love story, Michael Berg, and the former SS perpetrator, Hanna Schmitz, suffer from the war and its aftermath. Berg never recovers from his ill-fated affair with Hanna; he leads a psychologically scarred life, in which he cannot maintain a relationship with another woman or relate openly to anyone, including his daughter. Hanna is a victim insofar as she too is unable to form any normal relationship with another human being. But the most obvious instance of her victimhood comes in the trial in which she assumes almost sole responsibility for the murder of Jews, and is thus directly victimized by her fellow SS guards. These cases of victimization are very different from the sufferings of soldiers, refugees, and concentration camp detainees in early German literature. In both Germans as Victims in 1995 31 cases from The Reader we find an implicit comparison with the more traditional victims of the Third Reich, in this case the Jews who were imprisoned and murdered by the Nazi regime. But the victim status of both narrator and protagonist are also complicated by circumstances: in the case of the narrator by what is revealed as a neurotic personality, perhaps caused, but at least aggravated, by his relationship with Hanna, and certainly evident in his relationship with his family, and his inability to confront Hanna’s crimes and disentangle her victim and perpetrator roles. For Hanna the complication arises from her illiteracy, which functions in part as a reason for her joining the SS and for her itinerant existence in the postwar years, but also as an excuse for her actions during the war and a vehicle for initiating a more intimate relationship with Michael. It is also the reason that she winds up accepting chief responsibility in the postwar trial for the failure to rescue the Jewish women from the burning church. The victimization of Germans in this novel is thus associated with personal quirks or failings in the characters and is not solely the result of a criminal regime. We might say that these personality flaws and individual inadequacies led to victimhood only in the context of the horrendous Nazi violations of humanity, and that victim status was achieved only by this unfortunate constellation. Still, in the course of the narrative Michael and Hanna are juxtaposed both explicitly and implicitly with the Jewish victims of the Third Reich. Unlike the protagonists in this novel, these Jewish victims remain nameless individuals; even the daughter of the one woman who survived the church fire remains unnamed. As readers we are drawn into identification with the unfortunate fate of Michael and Hanna, made to feel empathy with their suffering and misfortune. They are flawed protagonists, to be sure, but they are therefore all the more human for their deficiencies. The very brevity associated with the inclusion of Jewish victims compared with the extensive focus on Michael and Hanna makes the victim status of the latter individuals more intricate and significant, if not of greater magnitude. But the key to this saccharine narrative is not really victimization, but psychological damage. Indeed, Michael is unable throughout the novel to recognize Hanna’s responsibility for the wayward course of his life and the psychological impairments that have accompanied him since his fateful affair with her. Hanna appears to gain some insight into the moral depravity of her past activities, but her final, tepid gesture of penitence is contrived and clearly inadequate. Ultimately, The Reader describes the fate of two psychologically damaged individuals whose status as victims is less important than their inability to overcome this damage, to confront their complicity in the crimes committed in the name of their country, and to realize a high standard of moral agency. The novel thus fits into the tendency toward victimization that we have seen as a new development in the late 1980s and 1990s, but the underpinnings 32 Robert C. Holub of the plot and the driving force of the narrative are tied more to individual limitations than to a revisionism of postwar Vergangenheitsbewältigung � There are many contexts involving Vergangenheitsbewälitung that are important for the mid-1990s, and most do not entail a deviation from the consensus that had been built since the end of the war. Germany under National Socialism was still recognized and condemned as a criminal regime. The victims of the Third Reich were clearly identified as those persecuted and murdered by the Nazis, most of whom were non-Germans. In the general culture there continued to be an absolute rejection of Holocaust deniers and few concessions made to a normalization of the past, as much as it was occasionally advocated even at the highest levels of government. The discussion of German guilt and the status of Germans as perpetrators of crimes during the Second World War continued unabated in this decade. The debates around a Holocaust memorial, the controversies surrounding the Wehrmacht exhibit, the publication of Daniel Goldhagen’s book Hitler’s Willing Executioners all provide evidence of a continuity of concerns in coming to terms with the past. But the three works discussed briefly in this essay contribute to establishing a slightly different and a slightly more differentiated context for Vergangenheitsbewältigung , one in which the status of Germans as victims, which was a standard theme since the end of the war, was slightly expanded and explored in a new manner. In very different ways Morbus Kitahara , the controversy surrounding Fragments , and The Reader indicate an increased willingness to juxtapose victims of the Third Reich with Germans who also suffered during or after the war, to see the sufferings of Germans as part of a more complex totality that is both ideological and psychological, and, as a consequence, to relativize to an extent the victimization associated primarily with the Holocaust. This new stage of comparative victimization may not change the landscape of culpability for German crimes, but it does signal a further diminution of taboos surrounding the German past that some have welcomed as a more realistic appraisal of the historical record, but others have protested as an illicit attempt to reduce moral and criminal responsibility for the past. Notes 1 The exchange of letters, edited and translated by Richard Wolin, was reprinted in English in New German Critique 53 (1991). 2 Hillgruber’s book was a main target for Habermas in the “Historians’ Debate” in the mid-1980s precisely because of its participation in what Habermas perceived as an illicit normalization of the discourse about Nazi crimes. Germans as Victims in 1995 33 See “ Historikerstreit”: Die Dokumentation der Kontroverse um die Einzigartigkeit der nationalsozialistischen Judenvernichtung. 3 An interesting account of Wilkomirski’s fate as his veracity was being questioned, especially about his travels and status in the US , can be found in Blake Eskin’s A Life in Pieces: The Making and Unmaking of Binjamin Wilkomirski � 4 The children’s home was not an orphanage, but a home for children whose parents were in crisis and unable to care for their child. See Maechler 17. Works Cited Augstein, Rudolf et al. “ Historikerstreit”: Die Dokumentation der Kontroverse um die Einzigartigkeit der nationalsozialistischen Judenvernichtung . Munich: Piper, 1987. BeFreier und Befreite . Dir. Helke Sander. Edition Salzgeber, 1992. Eskin, Blake. A Life in Pieces: The Making and Unmaking of Binjamin Wilkomirski . New York: Norton, 2002. Heidegger, Martin. “Das Ge-Stell.” Gesamtausgabe � Vol. 79. Bremer und Freiburger Vortäge. Frankfurt: Klostermann, 1994. Hillgruber, Andreas. Zweierlei Untergang: Die Zerschlagung des Deutschen Reiches und das Ende des europäischen Judentums . Berlin: Siedler, 1986. Die Mörder sind unter uns . Dir. Wolfgang Staudte. DEFA , 1946. Moeller, Robert G. “The Politics of the Past in the 1950s: Rhetorics of Victimization in East and West Germany.” Germans as Victims: Remembering the Past in Contemporary Germany . Ed. Bill Niven. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006. Niven, Bill. “Introduction: German Victimhood at the Turn of the Millenium.” Germans as Victims: Remembering the Past in Contemporary Germany . Ed. Bill Niven. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006. 1-25. Maechler, Stefan. The Wilkomirski Affair: A Study in Biographical Truth . Trans. John E. Woods. New York: Schocken, 2001. Ransmayr, Christoph. The Dog King . Trans. John E. Woods. New York: Knopf, 1997. Wilkomirski, Binjamin. Fragments: Memories of a Wartime Childhood . Trans. Carol Brown Janeway. New York: Schocken, 1996. Wolin, Richard. “Herbert Marcuse and Martin Heidegger: An Exchange of Letters.” New German Critique 53 (1991): 28-32. Bernhard Schlink and the Legacies of 1968 Bill Niven Nottingham Trent University Abstract: This article argues that the recent literary and essayistic works of Bernhard Schlink represent a reckoning with the 1968 generation—a generation to which Schlink belongs, but as one of the “silent majority” who made their way without getting involved in the student unrest of the late 1960s and early 1970s. Schlink takes issues with the 1968 generation for its supposedly moralising attitude to the Nazi past, calling implicitly for the historicization of Nazism. His recent work therefore shares views of the 1968 generation typical of others such as the historian Götz Aly, and is part of a wider deconstruction of 1968 noticeable in Germany in recent times. Keywords: 1968, generation, Nazism, moral, historicization To think of Bernhard Schlink is to think of Der Vorleser (1995), and of Schlink’s contribution, however it might be evaluated, to the German tradition of coming to terms with Nazism. Yet it might make as much sense to think of Schlink’s literary work as focused on coming to terms with, as he clearly sees it, the problematic legacies of 1968. These legacies, of course, are themselves entwined with the process of coming to terms with Nazism, so that, for Schlink, addressing one past inevitably means addressing the other. It is not surprising that Schlink would wish to articulate his views on the 1968 generation, of which, in terms of his date of birth at any rate (1944), he is a member. Nor is it surprising that he should do so in the last two decades or so, a period which has seen many, now aging members of that generation take stock of its achievements. Yet Schlink’s take on his own generation is almost uniformly critical, give or take the odd nod towards the 1968ers’ confrontation with Nazism. He is not the only intellectual of his generation to seek to expose as a myth the conventional assumption that the effect of the 1968 movement was a positive one. The historian Götz Aly (born 1947) has argued in Unser Kampf (2008) 36 Bill Niven that the 1968ers were not even interested in Nazism, unless it be to exploit it for cheap rhetorical attacks against the supposed fascism of the USA ; nor, he says, were they interested in the fate of the Jews, or, if so, then only insofar as it served as a point of comparison with their own supposed “victimhood” at the hands of the West German establishment. Unlike Aly, though, Schlink does not seem to have been particularly rebellious in his youth; he bears comparison to Thilo Sarrazin (born 1945), the Social Democratic politician whose recent books represent an attack on the supposed legacies of “political correctness” inherited from the 1968ers. 1 While Aly’s anger at his own generation is part of a process of self-reckoning (and thus a more extreme form of the self-reckoning typical of other intellectuals such as Peter Schneider), Schlink’s and Sarrazin’s seems to spring from a different source. Their views represent those sections of the 1968 generation whose more distant stance towards the student movement has long gone unnoticed. That their voices now ring out so clearly has much to do with a general shift in Germany’s culture of memory of Nazism away from “moralization” towards “historicization”—a shift that has also resulted in criticism of some members of the so-called “Flakhelfergeneration” for their part in supposedly establishing rules and regulations around how the Nazi past is to be remembered. 2 Schlink’s oeuvre, I argue here, needs to be understood as a deconstruction and indeed discrediting of 1968 and its representatives, and as preparing the way for an approach to the Nazi past freed from what is clearly perceived as moral censure: Martin Walser’s dictum that memory of Auschwitz should not be deployed as a threat, a form of intimidation, moral club (“Moralkeule”) or a routine duty is surely one with which Schlink would concur. 3 In his book on Bernhard Schlink, William Collins Donahue argues that Schlink’s Der Vorleser actually sets out to “burnish” the image of the 1968 generation rather than incriminate them (113). Yet Donahue also shows how the novel separates the narrator, Berg, from the rest of his generation. In the courtroom, Berg shares in the moral zeal and self-righteousness of the 1968 generation, but only out of a kind of curiosity and momentary desire to belong ( Vorleser 89). He stands aloof, judging the judgers. Prior to any half-hearted participation in condemnation of the war generation, he has sex with a former camp guard, and he never really sheds his empathy with her, nor abandons his desperate attempts to understand her. He is, mutatis mutandis , more a representative of today’s younger generations, eager to get away from dismissive categories of guilt and shame (even if he cannot succeed) in order to enter the mindsets of the killers. 4 Der Vorleser sets the tone for several of Schlink’s subsequent publications—on which I wish to focus here more—by mapping out, through Berg’s generational critique, the psychological dependencies and susceptibilities which inform what Schlink clearly regards as the overwrought, judgemental and arrogant response Bernhard Schlink and the Legacies of 1968 37 of the 1968 generation to the guilt or complicity of their elders. Der Vorleser thus undermines the notion that this generation was inspired by any truly ethical or political sensibilities, and paves the way for Schlink’s exploration of maladjusted 1968er psychologies in his later works. The first of these I would like to consider is the short story “Zuckererbsen,” published as part of Schlink’s short story collection Liebesfluchten in the year 2000. The central character is Thomas, a member of the 1968 generation who, when the hoped-for revolution does not transpire, takes up his studies again and becomes an architect, and then a bridge designer and, finally, a painter—professions he continues to pursue simultaneously, as he does three relationships, one with his wife, Jutta, one with the gallery owner Veronika, and one with a student of dentistry, Helga. Unable to make his mind up as to where his true love lies, he feigns fatal prostate cancer and abandons all three women to take up an itinerant life, indulging in a self-pitying asceticism and even dressing himself in a habit. When his outfit becomes caught in one of the doors of a departing train—literary justice for his self-stylisation as a monk—he is severely injured; he returns to Berlin paralysed from the waist down, and in a wheelchair. In his absence, the three women have formed a triumvirate, and they take control of his life and assets, consigning him to his flat with orders to produce paintings for them to sell. The story’s title “Zuckererbsen” refers to Heinrich Heine’s vision of “sugar peas for everyone” in Deutschland. Ein Wintermärchen (1844), a vision often interpreted as an affirmation of communism (yet this is to overlook the sarcasm of the verses concerned). At one point—Thomas has just opted to spend his 49 th birthday alone, rather than make up his mind which woman to spend it with—he reflects on his erstwhile commitment to the egalitarian goals of the 1968 movement, recalling that Heine’s idea of the sugar peas had impressed him more than Marx’s communist vision. Now, he wonders if the secret behind the sugar peas is to make sure one is having a good time, so that one can enjoy life and help other people to feel good (165). In Thomas’s case, then, 1968er visions of a better world seem to have given way to a reckless egocentricity which, in typical self-delusion, he construes as a form of selflessness—although it is abundantly clear that his unashamed sexual and professional experimentation comes at the cost of the happiness of the three women he “juggles.” Yet it could be argued that Thomas never had such purely altruistic visions, given that he felt more drawn in his student days to the mouth-watering image of the sugar peas than to the rationalistic prose of Marx. The 1968 spirit he embodies is hedonistic and individualistic from the start. Schlink casts doubt on the motives of the 1968ers: they were really in pursuit of their own privatized utopias. Thomas’s development is thus to a degree only logical. The ideals of his generation (such 38 Bill Niven as sexual freedom and freedom of choice) which he transports into the future in exploitative form were but forms of egoism from the outset. In the conclusion to the story, Thomas, a macho leftover from 1968, returns to Berlin and is subjected to punitive control by a matriarchy formed through the solidarity of his female lovers. Deprived of his sexual potency and his ability to walk (no more marching through institutions for him), stripped, in other words, of the libidinous drive behind his generational restlessness or at least of the mechanisms for its fulfilment, there is a hint he might even find a kind of contentment. But this is hardly the “conciliatory” ending it has sometimes been taken to be. The message seems to be that only the emasculation and domestication of the 1968 generation, together with a good dose of discipline in the form of quasi-forced labor (even if it is in the name of art), is likely to put an end to its misdirected energies, or redirect them fruitfully. Schlink’s later novel Das Wochenende (2008) shares some features with Der Vorleser. In fact, in some ways, it reworks Der Vorleser . In the latter novel, Hanna, formerly a guard at a satellite camp of Auschwitz, is imprisoned for her crimes, until, shortly due to be pardoned, she commits suicide. In Das Wochenende , Jörg, an RAF terrorist imprisoned for his crimes, is pardoned, but on his release reveals to former acquaintances and family that he has prostate cancer. Jörg’s son, Ferdinand, struggles to come to terms with his father’s guilt in a manner not dissimilar to Michael’s struggles with the knowledge that his lover, Hanna, was part of the mass-murdering Nazi system. Yet while Hanna’s illiteracy and apparent ethical ignorance render her an at least ambiguous character, there is no such moral shilly-shallying in the portrayal of Jörg, an intellectual turned murderer who is fully aware of his actions and their impact, yet defends them in the name of a social revolution that never took place. In fact, while Hanna in prison learns to read and perhaps to understand and regret her crime (though this is never entirely clear), Jörg stands by his deeds after his release, even if his self-justifications are mixed with tinges of regret, tearfulness and uncertainty. Das Wochenende is a third-person narration whose perspective alternates from that of characters who are sympathetic to Jörg, to that of characters who are not, but for the most part the critical view predominates. Der Vorleser is a first-person narrative whose narrator is so caught up emotionally with Hanna that he is prone to defend her; some have seen in the novel an unseemly invitation to feel sorry for a camp guard. No such invitation is extended in the case of Jörg: he is well-educated, makes conscious choices on the basis of his beliefs, is well aware of the cost of these beliefs and resulting actions, and remains at bottom unrepentant. He does not “slip” into terrorism as Hanna does into murdering Jews. Schlink’s anger at his own generation pervades Das Wochenende more than any moral indignation towards Hanna pervades Der Vorleser . Ferdinand’s Bernhard Schlink and the Legacies of 1968 39 view is that his father is no better than a Nazi; in comparison to Hanna, he seems even more cold-blooded. If “Zuckererbsen” condemns the emotional and sexual legacies of 1968, Das Wochenende shows us its violent legacies. Both Thomas and Jörg are pathologically self-obsessed, just in different ways. Schlink does create other 1968-generation characters in Das Wochenende who, while also not without their psychological deficits and family problems, nevertheless seem to have found a normal place in society. They belong to that silent majority of 1968ers—so we are meant to think—who were hitherto marginalized in discussions of the period because they opted to adapt to social and professional norms and shed their 1968 skins. Jörg is the exception among other members of his generation in Das Wochenende , who effectively subject him to a kind of peer-group tribunal. The harmonious conclusion where all pass buckets to each other in an attempt to clear the cellar of floodwater and Jörg finds himself part of a positive collective enterprise—rather than throwing bombs to destroy property, he is helping to rescue it—hints at his redemption, as does the prospect of Jörg’s rehabilitation through work: he seems ready to accept a position in one of Ulrich’s dental laboratories ( Wochenende 215). This may all come too late, however, to save him from cancer. Schlink’s most recent novel, Die Frau auf der Treppe (2014), though set in the present, begins by taking us back to the summer of 1968. Commissioned by the industrialist Peter Gundlach to paint Gundlach’s wife, Irene, the artist Karl Schwind falls in love with Irene, who leaves her husband to live with him. Schwind hires the services of a lawyer, the unnamed narrator, when he discovers that Gundlach has been wilfully damaging his painting, presumably in retaliation for being cuckolded by Schwind. The lawyer-narrator then also falls in love with Irene. All three men become involved in drawing up a rather shameful contract according to which Schwind agrees to “return” Irene to Gundlach in exchange for his painting. The narrator warns Irene, however, and helps her escape from Gundlach’s clutches—with the painting. Some forty years later, he sees the painting by chance in a gallery in Sydney. He, Schwind, and Gundlach find out that Irene is living in Australia, and descend on her. While Schwind and Gundlach quarrel over who owns the painting, the narrator’s love for Irene is rekindled, and he is able to spend the final days with her—final, because she is dying of pancreatic cancer. It transpires that Irene became involved with West German terrorism, lying low in the GDR until fleeing Germany for Australia in 1990. Irene, to a considerable degree, is the victim of men who treat her like a business commodity. At the same time, she appears to identify with the roles allocated to her by the dominant males—whether as “trophy” (Gundlach), “in- 40 Bill Niven spiration” (Schwind), or “threatened princess” (lawyer-narrator) ( Frau 95)—and unable to find her own identity. She admits at one point that the unconditional careerism of Gundlach and Schwind (126) had attracted her. Her subsequent involvement in West German terrorism, although never fully explained, could be understood as a reaction to this male manipulation, and as an articulation of her longing for experience as a substitute for a weak sense of self. Her slide into the world of terrorism with its own set of absolute commitments appears, then, as another form of acting out a dependency, almost of thrill-seeking. That she sums up her life as resembling a shattered vase emphasises her perception of herself, later in life, as a now useless receptacle for the projections, wishes and demands of others. Gundlach seeks to remind her when he meets her in Australia that she had been keen to mix in wherever the present was “at its most intense” (143). He also reminds her of her “stubborn silence” when he asked her how this motto might have served her under Hitler or Stalin (142). Overall, Die Frau auf der Treppe aligns itself with Schlink’s critical take on the student movement—not just because it again addresses the issue of the descent into terrorism. Terrorism is a crime of the worst sort, yet those who commit the crime may still believe they are doing it for a purpose. If they are portrayed, as Irene is, as driven largely by mechanisms of psychological compensation, their violent deeds become devoid even of misguided ideology. 1968 and its aftermath appear as nothing but the performance of personality disorders—this, it seems, is how Schlink wishes us to understand it. Schlink’s lead 1968 characters either get ravaged by cancer—prostate in the case of Jörg, pancreatic in the case of Irene—or pretend they have cancer (i.e., Thomas, who is punished for his pretence by ending up in a wheelchair). In this context, cancer takes on a symbolic significance, becoming the manifestation of their inner moral disorder. Because Irene escapes the conflagration approaching her house by sliding into the water, we might imagine that she has been cleansed of her past and dies a “pure” death (purification by water is a theme we already encountered in Das Wochenende ). Before her watery demise, she seems to redeem herself by helping to make the lawyer-narrator understand the self-centered and self-destructive spiral in which, as a result of his careerism, he is caught up. The novel ends with the prospect of the narrator re-establishing contact with his estranged children, and establishing contact with Irene’s daughter. It is Irene, then, who reminds him of the need to protect the integrity of the family if he is to create the correct balance in his life—and, effectively, restore a healthy Bürgerlichkeit . For a former West German terrorist to complete her days giving family advice is a rather cosy inversion. Not only that: Irene also seems to have abandoned any hope that anything one does really matters. She tenderly chides the narrator for his naivety in this respect (and in others), Bernhard Schlink and the Legacies of 1968 41 simultaneously comparing him with Parsifal and Don Quichotte (223). If even his belief that fighting for his clients no longer matters, in her eyes, then what does this say about the fight of the 68ers? Here, her view that “eine Zeit [ist] an ihr Ende gekommen” (223) echoes that of Gundlach, for whom history, as for Francis Fukuyama, has come to an end now that fascism and communism have been conquered: all that is left, whether for industrialist or artist, is participation in the game of global capitalism ( Frau 158). Not that Schlink would want to celebrate global capitalism. But Die Frau auf der Treppe can be read as a confirmation of the status quo, imagining the future as an extension of the present, a future unthreatened by grand visions of alternative forms of political and social organisation. Schlink’s literary oeuvre has little that is charitable to say about 1968. Nor, for that matter, do his essays. In a 2001 essay, he chided the 1968 generation for insisting on the theme of Nazism and the Holocaust even when no one needed to be persuaded any more of the importance of memory. The result, according to Schlink, was a certain “Banalisierung,” a symptom of which, for Schlink, is the proliferation of days and sites of commemoration. 5 In 2003, he accused the Red-Green government of having failed to deliver, arguing that the 1968 generation was “erschöpft.” 6 On a number of occasions he has criticized the 1968 generation for its moralizing and self-righteous attitude. 7 The Holocaust and the Third Reich, he has claimed, must find its place in history for today’s young generation; for them, it cannot be “die Gegenwart,” as it was for his (“Epilog” 156). Arguably, Schlink also wishes to consign the 1968 generation to history. Because their moralizing attitude to Nazism supposedly prevents its historicization, and because the 68ers seek to hold down innocent generations by insisting on feelings of shame and guilt, Schlink is at pains in his literary texts to discredit them. Depicted by the author as psychologically ill-adapted, errant misfits in today’s world, they are figures of pity, not moral authority. Strictly speaking, of course, it is not the entire 1968 generation Schlink criticizes, but that rebellious part of it too often mistaken for the whole. Schlink actually portrays the triumph of one set of 1968ers over the other: of those, namely, who never really rebelled but made their way more conventionally and became good citizens, like Henner or Ulrich in Das Wochenende , or indeed like the author himself. In Schlink’s works, it is Bürgerlichkeit which wins the day. Quite what the passing of Nazism into “history” might mean in this context, Schlink never tells us. His works may help to clear away the old paths, but it is not quite clear where any new ones will lead. And in the end, his writing is no less moralizing in its criticism of his generational peers than the attitudes he criticizes (an objection one might also raise in the case of Aly and Sarrazin). All 68ers, then, have something in common. 42 Bill Niven Notes 1 See, for instance, Sarrazin, Der Neue Tugendterror � 2 The “Flakhelfer” have also been criticised for staying silent about, denying or playing down their part in Nazism. See Herwig, Die Flakhelfer � 3 See Walser, “Erfahrungen beim Verfassen einer Sonntagsrede” 13. 4 See Welzer, Täter � 5 See Schlink, “Epilog” 146-47. 6 Bernhard Schlink, “Die Erschöpfte Generation”. 7 See, for instance, “‘Ich denke einfach gern,’” an interview with Bernhard Schlink conducted by Petra Ahne and Steven Geyer for Mitteldeutsche Zeitung (7 April 2013. Web. 10 May 2015). Works Cited Aly, Götz. Unser Kampf 1968: Ein irritierter Blick zurück . Frankfurt a. M.: Fischer, 2008. Donahue, William Collins. Holocaust as Fiction: Bernhard Schlink’s “Nazi” Novels and Their Films . New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Herwig, Malte. Die Flakhelfer: Eine gebrochene Generation . Munich: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 2013. Sarrazin, Thilo. Der Neue Tugendterror: Über die Grenzen der Meinungsfreiheit in Deutschland . Munich: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 2014. Schlink, Bernhard. Der Vorleser . “Epilog: Die Gegenwart der Vergangenheit.” Vergangenheitsschuld und gegenwärtiges Recht. Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp: 2002. 145-56. ---. Der Spiegel 30 Dec. 2002: 134-35. ---. Die Frau auf der Treppe . Zurich: Diogenes, 2014. ---. Das Wochenende . Zurich: Diogenes, 2008. Walser, Martin, “Erfahrungen beim Verfassen einer Sonntagsrede.” Die Walser-Bubis- Debatte: Eine Dokumentation. Ed. Frank Schirrmacher . Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 1999. 7-17. Welzer, Harald, Täter: Wie aus ganz normalen Menschen Massenmörder werden . Frankfurt a. M.: Fischer, 2007. Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 43 Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader Brad Prager University of Missouri Abstract: This essay explores key differences between Bernhard Schlink’s novel The Reader and its 2008 film adaptation, directed by Stephen Daldry. It examines whether the film, unlike its literary source, clearly telegraphs that its depiction of the perpetrator’s trial is based on the Frankfurt Auschwitz trials, and whether it thus is meant to function as a critique of those proceedings. Both the film and the novel are concerned with establishing parallels between their protagonists, Hanna Schmitz and Michael Berg, and the film’s staging of the trial provides insight into how it means for us to perceive these characters’ behavior as well as the scope of their empathy with Holocaust victims and survivors. This essay is ultimately concerned with whether the film papers over major distinctions between its protagonists, tidying up the novel’s narrative. Keywords: trial, courtroom, Eichmann, Holocaust, Frankfurt Stephen Daldry’s 2008 adaptation of Bernhard Schlink’s 1995 novel Der Vorleser stages the trial of the fictional character Hanna Schmitz, a former SS perpetrator. The film’s courtroom strongly resembles the chamber in which Attorney General Fritz Bauer’s 1963-65 prosecution of twenty-two Auschwitz perpetrators, also known as the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trial, was conducted. Daldry’s staging diverges from the description in the novel: Schlink’s Hanna, in contrast to the one in the film, spends most of the trial with her back to the spectators, not in a dock off to the left. The identifying details in Schlink’s version are only loosely reported. The trial, we are told, takes place in an anonymous “other city” (Schlink 90), away from where the narrator Michael Berg attends law school. The filmed image of the courtroom, by contrast, takes its cues from history. The proportions of the room are the same as those in Frankfurt: risers lead to the de- 44 Brad Prager fendants’ dock on the left, there is a simple table at which witnesses were made to testify, and a large dark curtain falls behind the judges, framed by the chamber’s wood paneling. The similarities are undeniable. This is that courtroom. However, it would be a mistake to unreservedly identify the fictionalized trial in Schlink’s novel with the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trial; what we are reading and seeing is not based on fact. 1 Moreover, not one of the twenty-two perpetrators indicted by Bauer in Frankfurt was a woman. Yet the film’s use of mise-en-scène encourages us to feel that we are seeing a dramatization of historical reality, a recreation of a scene, rooted in a specific time and place. Fig. 1. The courtroom as depicted in The Reader (top) and the courtroom in Frankfurt. Top image from The Reader (2008, dir. Stephen Daldry). Bottom image from Strafsache 4 Ks 2 / 63 (1993, dir. Rolf Bickel and Dietrich Wagner). DVD stills � Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 45 The Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials have recently become objects of increased scrutiny. The proceedings were not filmed, apart from having been fleetingly captured for the sake of newsreel footage, but historian Rebecca Wittmann explains that the trial’s audio was preserved on tapes that ended up in the basement of the public prosecutor’s office in Frankfurt and remained there “until the Radio Broadcasting Company of Hesse began re-recording them onto more durable digital audiotapes in 1993.” Wittmann writes that the tapes had been “left to disintegrate” until then, and, “as a result there is much confusion and ignorance about the Auschwitz Trial” (4). She notes that the transcriptions of the tapes were first made public in coordination with the trial’s fortieth anniversary in 2004, when the Fritz Bauer Institute hosted an exhibition. The lion’s share of the renewed attention given to the trial came, in other words, after the 1995 publication of Schlink’s book and just prior to the production of Daldry’s film. It is little wonder that images of the trial, suddenly the subject of renewed public discussion, had an impact on the film’s conceptualization and design. Upon entering the courtroom, Marthe, one of the film’s fictional law students, gazes out over the proceedings and immediately concludes: “Wow, it’s a circus.” To look at the film, it would seem that Daldry agrees. Although the trial, as it is depicted, is mostly a calm affair, things degenerate just before the verdict is rendered. The court collapses into chaos, and the ostensibly ordinary Germans in the gallery begin angrily calling out that Hanna is a “Nazi whore.” Their jeers represent a somewhat free adaptation of the novel’s description, which tells us only that many observers “riefen Hanna zu, was sie von ihr hielten” (Schlink 157). The trial’s denouement is circus-like, and the prosecution is rife with error. We have come to know Hanna, both in the book and the film, as a victim of circumstance put in a difficult position by the cadre of obviously viler and unrepentant co-defendants seated near her in the dock, as well as by an entirely male panel of judges. We also know that the most significant piece of evidence against her—a misleading incident report—has been wrongly ascribed to her. Owing to her illiteracy, she could not have penned the key incriminating document. The trial is, therefore, a miscarriage of justice. But in depicting this, is the film disparaging the proceedings? The book and the film may mean to assert that Hanna is appropriately punished for having, in a general sense, participated in atrocities, yet as readers and viewers we are aware that the basis for the court’s verdict is faulty. She should be punished for her crimes, but the court’s findings do not correspond to the truth. Writing about Schlink’s novel, William Collins Donahue notes, “It is crucial to the storyline that Hanna’s conviction appear both deserved (for she has clearly been involved in some wrongdoing) and somehow fundamentally unjust” (80, emphasis in original). In the film and 46 Brad Prager in the novel justice founders, leaving us to wonder whether the authors involved—on the one hand, Schlink, who worked closely with David Hare on the screenplay, and on the other hand Daldry, whom we hold responsible for the film’s choice of mise-en-scène—believe that the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials were similarly flawed. 2 This parallel-universe-Frankfurt is not the only courtroom depicted in Daldry’s film. Because The Reader relies on flashbacks and flash-forwards, we are given insight early in the film into Michael’s fate, and we see that nearly thirty years after Hanna’s trial, the adult Michael has become a defense attorney. On this point as well, the film deviates from the novel, in which Schlink tells us that Michael has fled from courtroom work, choosing instead to become a legal historian (171-72). When the film fleetingly depicts Michael as a defense attorney, he is seated in front of a telltale glass booth—a so-called defendant’s cage. Although it is a fixture in courtrooms in many countries, for US and other Anglophone viewers such cages recall only Adolf Eichmann’s trial in Jerusalem. That trial was not generally derided as a circus, but Hannah Arendt, its most famous spectator, wrote about it in terms of spectacle and mise-en-scène. She famously reminded readers that whoever designed that Jerusalem courtroom conceptualized it as a theater, “complete with orchestra and gallery, with proscenium and stage.” Arendt adds, “Clearly, this courtroom is not a bad place for the show trial David Ben-Gurion […] had in mind when he decided to have Eichmann kidnapped in Argentina and brought to the District Court of Jerusalem to stand trial for his role in the ‘final solution of the Jewish question.’ And Ben-Gurion, rightly called the ‘architect of the state,’ remains the invisible stage manager of the proceedings” (4-5). As many spectators experience them, these defendants’ cages set the accused apart from the court, and Eichmann’s glass box contributed to presenting him to courtroom observers, both in Israel and on television screens around the world, as the monster they expected him to be. For many viewers, what served as a stage prop in Jerusalem underscored themes that were highlighted by the State’s prosecutor, Gideon Hausner: “Here stands before you the destroyer of a people, an enemy of mankind. He was born human, but he lived like a beast in the jungle. He committed atrocities so unspeakable that he who is guilty of such crimes no longer deserves to be called human. His crimes go beyond what we consider human. They go beyond what separates man from beast” (Hartouni 89). Eichmann, in his glass booth and separated from the galley, was placed before the court as a monstrous circus attraction. The use of the booth in The Reader ’s flash-forward reminds us, either deliberately or inadvertently, that from Schlink’s and Daldry’s perspective Hanna is not Eichmann, whose booth set him apart from the spectators as an enemy of mankind. The American journalist Martha Gellhorn, for example, saw Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 47 Eichmann this way, initiating her trial observations by listening to the sounds that were emanating from his glass cage. Channeling the spectator’s questions, she asks: “How is it possible? He looks like a human being, which is to say he is formed as other men. He breathes, eats, sleeps, reads, hears, sees. What goes on inside him? Who is he; who on God’s earth is he? How can he have been what he was, done what he did? ” (52). Hanna’s prosecution is not meant to resemble Eichmann’s. She comes across as unthreatening, even helpless—less a villainous beast than a version of Elizabeth Proctor, wrongly accused of witchcraft in Arthur Miller’s Crucible . She need not be separated from Michael and the audience of ordinary German spectators by a glass partition. Fig. 2. Michael Berg in a flash-forward, as an attorney whose client is behind a glass partition in The Reader. DVD still. The fictional Hanna’s illiteracy is, of course, anomalous. In a critical assessment of Schlink, Cynthia Ozick points out that the novel contradicts historical reality, leaving us to discuss an exceptional case rather than the generally acknowledged rule. She describes the book as, “a softly rhetorical work that deflects from the epitome,” adding that, “It was not the illiterates of Germany who ordered the burning of books” (118). Daldry and Schlink would prefer that we not view Hanna as an ogre. She is meant to be an “ordinary” perpetrator. Both the book and film ask: How could someone like Hanna have planned and coordinated a mass murder when she could not even read? Certainly, in contrast to her lying co-defendants, viewers and readers alike are meant to perceive Hanna as sincere, and, as Donahue writes, “having come clean early, [Hanna] gains our 48 Brad Prager trust and spares us the gory details” (74). Her motives could hardly be called ideological, yet being in the SS was a murderous business, and SS members who killed large numbers of Jews generally killed them because they were Jews. Hanna, as we come to know her, neither held nor maintains genocidal convictions. 3 Neither Schlink nor Daldry take up with any earnestness the question of whether Hanna might be or have been anti-Semitic. In the novel, Hanna’s acquired literacy ultimately brings her to a point at which she considers the victims’ feelings, and Michael tells us that while in prison she has read books by Primo Levi, Elie Wiesel, Jean Améry, and even Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem � This bibliography does not make it into the film. Many, like Arendt, chose to perceive Eichmann as ordinary, taking seriously his own claim that he was merely following orders. It was no coincidence that Stanley Milgram initiated his famous social psychology experiments in the wake of the Eichmann trial. Those experiments were undertaken to study how ordinary people can become agents in a murderous process, or how average people can commit atrocities when they are authorized to do so. Hanna does not read as ideologically anti-Semitic, but rather as an ideal Milgram subject; she had a job to do, and she did it. In general she appears as a sympathetic figure, yet we are provided with relatively little evidence that she has retrospectively second-guessed her own handling of the situation. In the film, Dr. Rohl, Michael’s law professor, philosophizes about the trial’s prosecution, noting that people who commit murder tend to know it is wrong. Hanna’s attitude, as depicted here, throws Rohl’s seemingly self-evident claim into question. Whether her illiteracy or the enforced culture of silence surrounding the past is to blame, the book and film each naturalize Hanna’s apparent failure to regret her decisions, even with two decades of hindsight. In the portrait of her presented by Michael, Hanna’s feelings of guilt about her role in the Holocaust do not take up nearly as much psychic space as her embarrassment over her illiteracy. Her deficiencies of conscience are at no point presented as sociopathic. Hanna’s defense that she and the other guards were responsible for their prisoners, and that she therefore had to let victims burn rather than go free, would have served her well in Frankfurt. In the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials, the prosecution was faced with certain legal constraints that compelled them to prosecute only the most monstrous acts. Consistent with German law, as opposed to comparable international courts, the perpetrators tried in Frankfurt had to know that their behavior was against German law at the time, which excluded those who committed murder as part of their assigned duties. According to Wittmann, the prosecution’s case, for this reason, had to center on those who behaved excessively, or “Exceßtäter” (6), and on persons guilty of extreme sadism (178). These included men such as SS Hauptsturmführer Wilhelm Bo- Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 49 ger, infamous for the invention of the “Boger swing,” designed to suspend its victims from the ceiling and make interrogations particularly punishing. The Frankfurt Trials were not about ordinary perpetrators, and their obligatory focus on horrific crimes may have led Bauer to the disappointing conclusion that they did not achieve their goal. According to Wittmann, Bauer “wanted the public to learn from the Auschwitz Trial. But in many ways the misrepresentation of Nazi crime that came out of the trial is the prevalent interpretation informing people’s understanding of the Holocaust to this day.” Wittmann adds, “such popular films as Schindler’s List and The Pianist —by far the most influential sources of public information—show either excessively cruel, drunken Nazis gleefully shooting Jews at random, or sophisticated, cultured, sympathetic middlemen who can no longer take part in the evil. Missing from these depictions are the real people who participated every day” (274). Unlike Amon Göth, the monstrous commandant of the Kraków-Płaszów concentration camp, who was depicted in Schindler’s List as an excessively cruel, drunken Nazi, gleefully shooting Jews at random, we come to know Hanna as comprehensible and sympathetic. She also benefits from the excuse that she was doing primarily what her position demanded of her. She is hardly akin to Boger, and her lack of education apparently contributed more to her behavior than any desire to participate in sadistic schemes. This character would most likely have not been included as one of Bauer’s defendants, which already brings matters far afield from Frankfurt, yet Daldry, following Schlink, goes an additional mile, taking pains to offer viewers an exonerating and improbable backstory. In encouraging us to understand and pity Hanna, the novel and the film place her and Michael on similar footing. As John MacKinnon argues, Schlink is “concerned with establishing parallels between Michael and Hanna, insinuating them into the narrative in such a way as to expose the fundamental sameness that underlies their dramatically different circumstances” (186). Their entanglement establishes a kind of resemblance with regard to their shared history, their ersatz familial bond, and their intertwined fate. Daldry underscores this point in his film where he crosscuts between the two protagonists on the morning of the verdict, a scene not found in the novel. 4 That morning, Michael awakens in his dormitory-style room, and Hanna starts the day in her cell, each of them naked. Michael approaches a mirror, putting on his necktie, and suddenly Hanna is before a mirror, tying a necktie as well. The images are seamlessly assembled under cover of the musical score. The camera that had been over Michael’s right shoulder, filming him in the mirror, is then positioned behind Hanna’s left ear, situating the viewer between the two of them, observing them get dressed sideby-side. Whether by design or not, the scene functions as a citation of a famous one in Schindler’s List , in which the redeemable protagonist Oskar Schindler is 50 Brad Prager similarly tied to the irredeemably evil Amon Göth. (The effect of this cinematic echo is redoubled owing to Ralph Fiennes’s prominent role in both films). In the latter sequence, which takes place on the morning of the liquidation of the Krakow ghetto, the protagonists each shave before a mirror, going through identical masculine rituals. Spielberg’s images are photographed like Daldry’s: one protagonist seen from the left and the other from the right. In the case of Schindler’s List , the film’s assertion is that Schindler and Göth are more alike than Schindler cares to imagine. Here, Daldry’s aim is to highlight the extent to which these protagonists are intertwined. Because she was his first lover, and because he has never gotten past the memory, the two continue to function as a couple, still together. If one of them is appointed with the hangman, so is the other. Later, when Michael prepares audiotapes for Hanna in prison, this same cinematic intertwinement is reinforced by a series of cross dissolves. Fig. 3. Michael and Hanna, before their mirrors, preparing to return to court for the verdict in The Reader. DVD stills. Fig. 4. A similar pair of interconnected shots featuring Liam Neeson and Ralph Fiennes (r.) in Schindler’s List (1993, dir. Steven Spielberg). DVD stills. These former lovers have never ceased being together, even during the time that they were physically apart. As a consequence of their intimacy, Michael has become Hanna’s deputy, experiencing an empathy for the victims that she cannot. At the trial he encounters survivors’ suffering, hearing and seeing their Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 51 testimony. Michael’s experience of the courtroom as a theater is here central to the film’s drama; the courtroom is a play within a play. As Donahue writes, “we watch the trial with Berg, or better, we often watch the impression the trial is having on him. His face—registering, by turns, astonishment, grief, and revulsion—commands our attention and constitutes the film’s central focus” (158, emphasis in original). Where Michael’s empathy is concerned, Daldry’s rack focus shots tell a story. When the survivors, Rose and Ilana Mather, come to testify, Michael looks not at Hanna, but at Ilana, the younger of the two survivors. 5 In the moment the judge says, “I want to thank you for coming to this country today to testify,” and in saying so highlights the difficult facts of the survivors’ enforced exile and their return journey, Daldry shifts focus from Michael’s face to Ilana’s. If his expression has thus far commanded the viewer’s attention, we now witness him finally attending to the Jewish victims. This adjustment also represents a break in his erotic fixation with Hanna; at least for a moment, another woman seems to have a genuine hold on him. Fig. 5. A rack focus shot in The Reader : Michael Berg gazes at Ilana Mather. DVD stills. 52 Brad Prager In the book and in the film, Michael then visits the site of a former concentration camp. Because neither the book nor the film are specific about the trial’s time and place, there is no mention of the fact that the court at Frankfurt went on a three-day fact-finding excursion to Auschwitz in December 1964. Devin Pendas notes that the court’s intention was “to pit brute physical reality against the torrent of ‘mere’ words in the trial.” He also remarks that the trip was one of the trial’s “most photogenic moments” (180). Because Michael epitomizes Germany in the mid-1960s, a representative of his generation sitting in judgment on perpetrators such as Hanna (were there such a thing as perpetrators such as Hanna), his excursion in the film represents both of these things: it is an effort to pit reality against the mere words of the testimonies, and it is an intensely photogenic moment, in which a representative of the postwar generation stages himself against the backdrop of the camp. In the book Michael is said to visit Natzweiler-Struthof, a former camp about 170 miles from Frankfurt. Without naming it, Daldry instead uses the death camp Majdanek as his set. 6 The film’s cool blue and gray color palette throughout contrasts with the warm reds of Hanna’s apartment—scenes, which, as Ozick describes their appearance in the book, are “tender and picturesque, as in a Dutch interior” (114). When Michael arrives, he grasps the barbed wire fence, and the rack focus shot shows his changing mindset. Looking at his hand, he may be thinking about those prisoners who longed for liberation. It is not clear whether this is the inner or outer fence at Majdanek, but it is likely that no prisoner would have touched that wire and lived. Regardless, viewers of the film would likely believe that Michael’s trip, coupled with the survivors’ testimony, is a turning point. His head hangs low as he stands by the crematorium ovens. Whether this posture connotes sorrow or shame, the film would have to work against its own images to say, as does the novel, that Michael was struggling to feel anything. 7 The novel’s narration emphasizes his numbness, his desire to feel something, yet these images, accompanied by no narrated monologue, suggest that he feels sadness and regret. 8 At first it seems that Michael has learned something from the trial, yet Schlink’s narrative subsequently undercuts that perception. Shortly after Hanna’s suicide, Michael travels to New York in furtherance of her plan for posthumous atonement. Ilana is now decades older, and she takes the opportunity to rebuke Michael, essentially explaining to him that he is a German who thinks the problems of the past can be solved with a gift, in this case some cash and a tea tin. Ursula Mahlendorf writes that this turn of events indicates that Schlink knows more than his naïve narrator, and that he was right to assign an “extraordinarily perceptive role as judge” to the survivor (471). Troublesome stereotypes underpin the scene insofar as this fabricated survivor happens to be a wealthy Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 53 New York Jew with a servant, but the encounter also allows a survivor to voice some important truths. The stylizations in the film, particularly the prolonged silences, and those moments at which the actors gaze directly into the camera, are meant to call into question what we have seen, and to present a challenge to the audience. Ilana informs Michael that the camps were not universities and that one did not go there to learn. She concludes: “What are you asking for? Forgiveness for [Hanna]? Or do you just want to feel better yourself ? My advice, go to the theater, if you want catharsis. Please. Go to literature. Don’t Fig. 6. A rack focus shot at Majdanek: Michael Berg reaches for the barbed wire in The Reader. DVD stills. 54 Brad Prager go to the camps. Nothing comes out of the camps. Nothing.” The screenplay’s soliloquy, a variation on the scene as it appears in the novel, seems inspired by Ruth Klüger, a survivor famous for her hard-hitting assertions about past and present German and Austrian anti-Semitism, whose autobiography was first published in 1992, and then made available in English in 2001. 9 In her rebuke, Ilana rejects what Michael might have believed he learned from the trial. She tells him “go to the theater if you want catharsis.” But hadn’t he, after all, spent hours being schooled in that German court? Was he wrong to believe he learned from his experiences? Had it ended there, the film would have been a tough pill to swallow. Michael’s confrontation with Ilana can be read as an accusation against even contemporary Germans who are inclined to fool themselves with their own good intentions. He hopes he can take steps toward reconciliation, but those steps are in his interest, not the survivor’s, and neither forgiveness nor reconciliation is forthcoming. In its harsh censure, a film with this ending would have resembled Christian Petzold’s Phoenix (2014), which is dedicated to Fritz Bauer and takes an unkind view toward postwar German attitudes. 10 That film, freely adapted from Hubert Monteilhet’s novel Le Retour des cendres (1961), deals with Germans’ willingness to exploit Jewish survivors after the war. Jews were hardly in the position of receiving too many apologies for their suffering, nor were they on the receiving ends of abundant acts of absolution. On the contrary; as Jean Améry wrote about it, they were more likely to be walking wounds, made to apologize for not “getting over it,” and prone to tactlessly reminding the Germans of what they had done. 11 Daldry’s film could have concluded with a provocation. The survivor is right: it is hardly enough to watch a trial and feel that one has processed the past. Yet in its drive for closure—what Donahue calls its “rage for order and closure” (185)—the film tidies things up. Michael and his daughter Julia, who are otherwise estranged from one another, begin, in the absence of outside influences, to work on improving their relationship. It appears that Michael aims to do better by his daughter, starting with taking her to church and coming clean about his secrets. In this way, his past, and perhaps Germany’s as well, can be exposed to the light of day. In centering on the father and daughter, Daldry’s ending is revealing: this Holocaust film is less about the victims’ experiences, than it is about the Germans’ need to talk to one another, or about German-German relations. As Mahlendorf observes, this is a story about “the psychodynamics of silence in family and society […]; the psychodynamics of the abuse and deformation of the children because of the silence; and the failed insight into some of the causes of the Holocaust by the post- WWII generation” (462). After Hanna is finally out of the picture, and after an ocean separates the Bergs from Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 55 any reproachful Jewish survivors, nothing remains but an all too comfortable conclusion, which suggests that Germans really need to converse more honestly with other Germans. Apart from that, anything else is only a circus. Notes 1 Juliane Köster posits that one of Schlink’s sources was the Majdanek trial in Düsseldorf from 1975 to 1981, in which the female camp guard Hermine Braunsteiner-Ryan, famous for stomping on women with her boots, was tried along with Hildegard Lächert, who was known as “Bloody Brigitte.” The Viennese Braunsteiner was known to have committed countless atrocities and was tried for her complicity in over 250,000 deaths. The German court, which convicted her on multiple counts, imposed a life sentence on June 30, 1981. If Braunsteiner-Ryan was one of Schlink’s sources, then he grossly diminished the dimensions of that perpetrator’s violence. Some have proposed that the trial of SS Unterscharführer Horst Czerwinski was a basis for Der Vorleser , but the links are weak, given that proceedings against Czerwinski began in 1976-77 and were halted many times owing to his ill health. Czerwinski was not sentenced until 1989. Also, Czerwinski is a man. 2 Ariel Kaminer reports that Schlink was assumed to be a part of the production “from beginning to end.” He was influential in the decision to film in English rather than German, and he toured “various locations in the novel” along with Daldry and Hare. 3 Bettina Stangneth argues convincingly that Eichmann was far more anti-Semitic than had been previously assumed. Based on the taped conversations known as the Sassen interviews, her portrait of Eichmann depicts him as someone who held on to his beliefs after the war and boasted at length about his decisive role in persecuting Jews. Stangneth’s book upends a number of Arendt’s conclusions. 4 The novel does not include this scene, although Michael reports that Hanna, on the day of the judgment, is oblivious to the fact that she is wearing a tie that calls to mind a camp guard’s uniform ( Der Vorleser 156-57). 5 This role is played by Alexandra Maria Lara who played Hitler’s secretary in Der Untergang (2004). Insofar as she is playing a Jewish survivor, and the Swiss actor Bruno Ganz, who played Hitler in that same film, plays the role of a philosophically minded law professor, Daldry’s film casts German-speaking actors best known in the Anglophone world for playing Hitler and his secretary in highly sympathetic roles. 6 The fact that the production goes to Majdanek may once again call to mind that Schlink attempted to draw parallels between his sympathetic protag- 56 Brad Prager onist and the notorious Braunsteiner-Ryan, who committed many of her crimes at that camp. After confirming that this was a parallel Schlink had in mind, Donahue rightly points out that, “pedagogues who recommend that their students deliberately reacquaint themselves with the Majdanek trial realize, to their credit, that the comparison quickly breaks down. Ryan was, after all, notorious for ripping children from their mothers’ arms, beating them and other prisoners bloody with a riding whip or kicking them with steel-capped boots” (107). 7 On the question of shame in the novel, see Niven. 8 With regard to the absence of narrated monologue, see Donahue 158. Donahue, using the term “narrated monologue” is drawing on Dorrit Cohn. 9 Donahue remarks on the similarity between Klüger’s text and the speech in the screenplay (180). For corresponding passages in Klüger, see Still Alive 65. 10 Petzold’s Phoenix , which challenges its German audiences to reflect on Germany’s treatment of Jews in the postwar era, sharply contrasts with Giulio Ricciarelli’s Im Labyrinth des Schweigens ( Labyrinth of Lies , 2014), a melodramatic film that attempts to stage the genesis of the Frankfurt Auschwitz trials. In an attempt to appeal to German viewers, Ricciarelli all but erases Fritz Bauer’s influence, centering the narrative chiefly on a young, dogged, and fictionalized non-Jewish German prosecutor, who acts as the prosecution’s lone advocate. 11 See Améry’s comments on survivors and their ostensible tactlessness in his chapter on “Resentment” ( At the Mind’s Limits , esp. 67-68). Works Cited Améry, Jean. At the Mind’s Limits: Contemplations by a Survivor on Auschwitz and Its Realities . Trans. Sidney Rosenfeld and Stella P. Rosenfeld. Bloomington: Indiana UP , 1980. Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil . New York: Penguin Books, 2006. Donahue, William Collins. Holocaust as Fiction: Bernhard Schlink’s “Nazi” Novels and Their Films . New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Gellhorn, Martha. “Eichmann and the Private Conscience.” Atlantic Monthly 29.2 (1962): 52-59. Hartouni, Valerie. Visualizing Atrocity: Arendt, Evil, and the Optics of Thoughtlessness � New York: NYU Press, 2012. Kaminer, Ariel. “Translating Love and the Unspeakable.” New York Times 5 Dec. 2008. Kluger, Ruth. Still Alive: A Holocaust Girlhood Remembered . New York: The Feminist Press at the City University of New York, 2001. Hanna in Frankfurt? : On Stephen Daldry’s Adaptation of The Reader 57 Köster, Juliane. Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser . Oldenbourg-Interpretationen. Vol. 98. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2000. MacKinnon, John E. “Law and Tenderness in Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader .” Law and Literature 16.2 (2004): 179-201. Mahlendorf, Ursula. “Trauma Narrated, Read, and Misunderstood: Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader : ‘… irrevocably complicit in their crimes …’” Monatshefte 95.3 (2003): 458-502. Niven, William. “Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser and the Problem of Shame.” Modern Language Review 98.2 (2003): 381-96. Ozick, Cynthia. Quarrel & Quandary: Essays . New York: Random House, 2000. Pendas, Devin O. The Frankfurt Auschwitz Trial, 1963-65: Genocide, History and the Limits of the Law . Cambridge / New York: Cambridge UP , 2006. Schlink, Bernhard. Der Vorleser . Zurich: Diogenes, 1997. Stangneth, Bettina. Eichmann vor Jerusalem: Das unbehelligte Leben eines Massenmörders . Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt, 2014. Wittmann, Rebecca. Beyond Justice: The Auschwitz Trial . Cambridge: Harvard UP , 2005. Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser: A Problem for Democracy 59 Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser: A Problem for Democracy Gary L. Baker Denison University Abstract: This article addresses deficiencies of affect and emotion in a novel that has been referred to by critics as a love story. The argument connects Schlink’s main characters, Michael Berg and Hanna Schmitz, to the phenomenon of German impassivity after the Second World War. Hannah Arendt and the Mitscherlichs observe this perplexing dearth of emotion after the devastation of war and warn of the effect it could have on Germany’s new democracy; in short, Germans were not in an emotional condition to support democratic institutions. This article shows that, what Schlink demonstrates in a fictitious relationship initially based on the lust for reading and physical contact, and maintained in separation throughout the tumultuous years of the student movement, is a depiction of that impassivity. The article demonstrates that Schlink depicts in Der Vorleser inadequate emotional development as an impediment to Germany’s emerging democratic society. Keywords: emotion, society, relationship, democracy, trial In his 1995 novel Der Vorleser, Bernhard Schlink proposes a vital connection between emotional health and its necessity for an enduring democratic society. He does so in the context of the failed emotional relationship between his main characters Michael Berg and Hanna Schmitz, as well as through an extended representation of emotional impairment in Michael Berg’s father. Schlink depicts the unlikely encounter of a teenage boy with a former female concentration camp guard who is illiterate and more than twice his age. Much of the discussion about this book has centered on the novelty of this relationship. This essay argues that this key relationship possesses a more social, political dimension than has thus far been understood. Specifically, Schlink deploys it to 60 Gary L. Baker demonstrate the potential of emotional regression to inhibit the development of a truly democratic society. Despite the marketing and reading of Schlink’s novel as a love story (Hall 465; Mahlendorf 458), there is a surprising lack of emotion in the novel. The pervasiveness in the novel of terms such as “Betäubung” (97, 99, 114, 155, and 160) or the repeated short sentence “ich fühlte nichts” (91, 96, and 155) throws into doubt the presence of emotion in the form of real love or compassion. 1 There is no depiction of a truly loving relationship beyond some moments of nurturing in the first third of the book. Instead, as Katharina Hall observes, the emphasis is rather on the function of power and the idea that the thirty-six-year-old Hanna Schmitz dominates the naive and submissive fifteen-year-old Michael Berg (459-60). This bond ultimately takes on the characteristics of a reciprocally beneficial exchange rather than an open, honest, and mutually loving relationship. Helmut Schmitz also speaks of a “Machtverhältnis” (303) in which Hanna plays the dominant role. Indeed, he describes it as a “Verhältnis der Objektmanipulation, in dem ein unbewegliches Subjekt totale Unterwerfung fordert” (303), accentuating the force with which Hanna Schmitz takes the young man into her life. Years later Michael encounters Hanna again, this time in a courtroom as a defendant being tried for her role as a concentration camp guard and her role as a guard on a subsequent death march toward the end of the war. Here Michael realizes his lack of emotional participation in the scene. However, his stark and unfitting emotionlessness seems to have no transitivity. It is not clear to which particular constituency it is directed, nor do we know which person evokes this disturbing lack of feeling; as William Donahue asks, “To whom and in what degree does it apply? ” (56). At a key moment in the trial, Hanna falsely admits the authorship of an incriminatory report, presumably to hide her illiteracy, and thus in the course of the proceedings she in a sense receives the promotion she always avoided, this time to become the lead perpetrator of the six guards in the courtroom, and ironically, as with the other promotions, it happens because she is assumed to be literate. At the conclusion of the trial, she receives a life sentence, the harshest sentence handed down. Michael Berg has a problem emotionally committing to anybody, yet years after Hanna’s disappearance from Michael’s teenage life and her reappearance in his law student days, he commits to Hanna longer-term. While Hanna is serving her prison term, Michael takes up their reading sessions via cassette tape, but with no other kind of communication with her. Michael’s generosity in this regard may be based on the guilt that he feels for becoming involved with a concentration camp guard in the first place; or it may derive from compassion for a victim of circumstance and for a recipient of a presumably undeserved life sentence. Whatever the case, there is a notable lack of feeling in the novel Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser: A Problem for Democracy 61 where one would expect compassion, empathy, or sympathy for the first victims of the Holocaust, or even outrage, disgust, indignation for the events that point to Hanna’s culpability and shame as a perpetrator. Another, very different Hannah, Hannah Arendt, in her first return trip to Germany after having been forced into exile in 1933, observed in an article published in 1950 that the Germans possessed “a general lack of emotion” and displayed a “heartlessness, sometimes covered over with cheap sentimentality,” which for Arendt was a “conspicuous outward symptom of a deep-rooted stubborn, and at times vicious refusal to face and come to terms with what really happened” (Arendt, “Aftermath” 342). Seventeen years later Alexander and Margarete Mitscherlich come to similar conclusions in their seminal book Die Unfähigkeit zu trauern , where they also observe a general lack of emotion regarding the devastating crimes and losses of the Second World War. The Mitscherlichs recognize the role of politics and economics in these trends and base their observations on thousands of interviews with patients who had lived through the war years. Here too, where they would have expected affect-filled responses to the past, they find impassivity. As has often been noted, they observe a successful mass staving-off of a debilitating melancholy that allowed for the vibrant energy and focus that was necessary for the West German “economic miracle.” The Mitscherlichs speak in unmistakable terms of “Sperrung gegen eine Gefühlsbeteiligung” for what occurred in the past (14) and note the general lack of “Schuld, Scham und Trauer” (30) on a collective level. The association of the novel with the Mitscherlichs’ theories furthermore invites the consideration of the concept of “cool conduct” discussed by Helmut Lethen. Taking the Weimar Republic as his historical focus, Lethen discusses the dominance of “cool conduct” in the time leading up to the Nazi years. With an emphasis on male socialization, he writes of the propensity to subdue feelings, noting that the “truly human qualities—which, arguably, necessarily involve personal vulnerability—atrophy inside an armored ego” (46). Lethen defines the “cool persona” (44) as a kind of “armoring” that “results from a civilizing process that links the idea of autonomy to the disciplining and ‘cooling’ of the affects” (47). These characteristics correspond to the many occurrences in the novel of words such as “Distanz” (98, 160) and “Betäubung” in relation to the main characters, Michael Berg and Hanna Schmitz, as well as to Michael Berg’s father. Despite the predominance of cool conduct and emotionlessness in Hanna’s persona, her need for stories gives rise to moments where she reveals human emotion and demonstrates that she is potentially capable of warming to the human condition. The young Michael Berg tells us: “Sie war eine aufmerksame Zuhörerin. Ihr Lachen, ihr verächtliches Schnauben und ihre empörten oder beifälligen Ausrufe ließen keinen Zweifel, daß sie der Handlung gespannt 62 Gary L. Baker folgte […]” (43). She listens “mit gespannter Anteilnahme” (56) on another occasion. The act of reading to Hanna brings out in her observable emotional participation in the lives and worlds of other, albeit fictitious, people. Granted, there is a certain selfish ritual to it: as the narrator explains, “Vorlesen, duschen, lieben und noch ein bißchen beieinanderliegen—das wurde das Ritual unserer Treffen” (43). The meetings possess an iterative nature; we know that, for the boy, these sessions become an exciting routine. Both also find advantage in the other’s favorite moment in their sessions together. In the intimate encounters of this couple, Schlink creates twin desires in sex and reading. Michael satisfies his adolescent sex drive, and Hanna gains a kind of participation in the lives of others. These emotive reactions and signs of participation emerge as Michael reads from canonical works in the school curriculum, such as Emilia Galotti and Aus dem Leben eines Taugenichts . In these works, the conflict between middle class and nobility as regards virtue and morality plays a central role. There are also conflicting ambiguities in relationships within families, in particular between fathers and their children. More generally, intimate human relations display competing desires and the suspense that accompanies them. There is enough information or context to get involved in characters’ motivations and decision-making processes; with clear plot points the reader recognizes their dilemmas and can follow their struggles. In other words, relationships between characters are couched in a level of detail so as to allow for empathy with them. Jochen Schulte-Sasse explains narrative empathy thus: “Der Begriff ‘Einfühlung’ impliziert, daß im Rezipienten, sofern sein ‘Einfühlungsvermögen’ nur weit genug entwickelt ist, durch das Kunstwerk ästhetische Wahrnehmungen freigesetzt werden, die ein unmittelbares ‘Verstehen’ ermöglichen […]” (28). In the context of Der Vorleser , Stuart Taberner observes in his introduction, “Empathy, it is implied, is a ‘skill’ learnt via exposure to books” (25). In order to show this empathy in the film version, Hanna is depicted crying as Michael finishes reading a death scene that ends with the words “He pressed her hands to his lips. She was dead. Past all help, or need of it” (Daldry). This is Nell Trent’s death in Charles Dickens’ The Old Curiosity Shop . In Schlink’s novel, Hanna cries only in the scene in which, seemingly reverting back to her more violent occupation as a camp guard, she strikes Michael with her belt causing his mouth to bleed. It is a curious moment because it couples brutality with an unexpected display of humanity and tenderness. Yet, her fundamental ability to emote as she relates to the pain (or joy) of another is clear to see in both the book and the film. At first, Michael reads to Hanna whatever literature he has in his school bag. Later, for the cassette tape readings, Michael seems to intuit her lack of emotion (and his? ) and thus chooses literature that he believes will trigger what Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser: A Problem for Democracy 63 Suzanne Keen calls “emotional contagion” (5-6), a response that characterized the emotional intensity of their earlier reading sessions: “Ich erinnere mich auch nicht, mir jemals die Frage gestellt zu haben, ob ich über Kafka, Frisch, Johnson, Bachmann und Lenz hinausgehen und experimentelle Literatur, Literatur, in der ich die Geschichte nicht erkenne und keine der Personen mag, vorlesen sollte” (176). His concern about an emotional connection to a text is perhaps warranted if he is thinking of texts by Alain Robbe-Grillet, Albert Camus, or Bertolt Brecht with his famous denial of an emotional connection to characters. Oddly, however, even the book about the camps and the fatal night in the burning church, the memoire by and about a victim who had stood in his physical presence in the courtroom, but also a book in which the perpetrators’ crimes are clearly detailed, leaves Michael cold. In his judgment of this text, he says, “das Buch selbst [schafft] Distanz. Es lädt nicht zur Identifikation ein und macht niemanden sympatisch, weder Mutter noch Tochter, noch die, mit denen beide in verschiedenen Lagern und schließlich in Auschwitz und bei Krakau das Schicksal geteilt haben” (114). He goes on to say that the camp personnel in the book do not gain “Gesicht und Gestalt […] [so] daß man sich zu ihnen verhalten, sie besser oder schlechter finden könnte” (114). Because Michael cannot put himself in the place of Hanna’s wartime victims, he, like Hanna, is not able to relate to the suffering and injustices outlined in this book. Importantly, Hanna is being read to in court—the trial itself functions as a kind of Vorleser—yet she does not participate in the performance of this text as she had with those read by Michael in the intimacy of her apartment. Back then, during the reading sessions with the teenage Michael, she displayed empathy and participated emotionally in the lives of fictitious characters, but now she exhibits no emotion for the persons who appear in the stories of the survivor in the courtroom. This book of nonfiction seems to take its place with the socalled experimental literature, about which Michael dismissingly asserts: “das brauchten weder Hanna noch ich” (176). In the trial the surviving Jewish daughter reveals that Hanna chose concentration camp inmates, typically the weaker and more vulnerable, to hold them under her protection for a short while as readers until they were sent away to their deaths. Those first meetings between Hanna and Michael would presumably not have taken place if Michael had not read to Hanna, which raises the question whether she, perhaps initially drawn to his weakness as a sick boy, assesses him as a potential reader from the start. It remains an open question for Michael in the book (153), but the film too suggests a connection when Michael states that they (he and Hanna) “have been together for four weeks now,” the same time span granted to his “predecessors” (the girl inmates who read to Hanna). 64 Gary L. Baker He notes at this point that “the thought” of being without her “kills him” (Daldry). From his safe seat in the courtroom, Michael desperately, if only silently, urges Hanna to declare this practice of arranging for young readers a sort of noble action: “Sag, daß du ihnen den letzten Monat erträglich machen wolltest” (113). This, however, would require a level of reflection, and a sense of empathy that we otherwise do not see in Hanna. If we take the words that the narrator uses to describe Hanna during their encounters in the first third of the book, we find “grob” (6), “schwerfällig” (17), “müde” (24, 61), “abweisend” (37), “unberührt und unbeteiligt” (49), “launisch und herrisch” (76), “unwirsch” (76), and later he recalls nightmares, in which “die harte, herrische, grausame Hanna” appears (142). These adjectives do not signal an empathic character. Later, too, we see evidence of Lethen’s “cool conduct.” During the trial Michael characterizes his own feelings as “innerlich nicht beteiligt” (97) and Hanna sits in the courtroom “wie gefroren” (96). For these two people there is a barrier against any sense of pain or remorse vis-à-vis Holocaust victims. This “coolness” continues in the protagonist’s post-trial phase of university study that is supposed to be fun and full of student camaraderie. On a ski trip soon after the trial, Michael skies without a coat or sweater because he claims not to be cold, which eventually lays him up in the hospital with a fever. His statement, “Mir war nie kalt” (159), is evidence that Michael’s inner temperature corresponds to the wintry chill of the outside temperature: both he and Hanna display independently their emotional frigidity in the public sphere. One hides her handicap, and the other hides his relationship with the camp guard at the center of the trial. It becomes obvious that Hanna’s emotional state has a clear parallel in Michael Berg, as he uses similar words to describe their respective relationship to the past. He says of Hanna: “Das alles erzählte sie als sei es nicht ihr Leben, sondern das Leben eines anderen, den sie nicht gut kennt und der sie nichts angeht” (40). Regarding his own condition, he comments: “Die Betäubung wirkte nicht nur im Gerichtssaal und nicht nur so, daß ich Hanna erleben konnte, als sei es ein anderer, der sie geliebt und begehrt hatte, jemand, den ich gut kannte, der aber nicht ich war” (97). This is where the Mitscherlichs’ theories prove to be most pertinent. In their interpretations of Der Vorleser , scholars such as Helmut Schmitz, Joseph Metz, and others have effectively employed the Mitscherlichs’ diagnosis of West German society. Schmitz speaks in terms of the “Unfähigkeit der zweiten Generation, sich in die Opferperspektive einzufühlen” (307) while Metz comments that “[b]oth Michael und Mitscherlichs’ perpetrators experience profound libidinal investment in an overpowering Nazi ‘love object’” (304). To distance oneself from one’s past is to situate it such that one can choose or not choose to acknowledge it. As the Mitscherlichs express it, the person “dere- Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser: A Problem for Democracy 65 alizes”—their verbs are “derealisieren” and “entwirklichen” (37)—an undesirable past, to make it a sort of personal or even personalized fiction, which obstructs self-reflection and thus occludes feelings of empathy for the victims of tragic, violent events. In discussing the Mitscherlichs’ 1967 essay, scholars often overlook the fact that the authors address the political and economic implications of the lack of emotion where the German past is concerned. For the Mitscherlichs, the impassivity toward the past that they detect in West German society represents a threat to Germany’s nascent democracy. Their conclusion derives both from their experience during the Nazi years in the university clinic at Heidelberg and from abundant evidence given in thousands of post-war interviews (46). The Mitscherlichs’ analysis is supported by a myriad of studies and publications from the 1940s that attempt to address the German turn from humanity to a predilection for emotional codes of stoicism and general lack of compassion where identifying a national value system is concerned. The titles help us grasp the tenor of these studies, which include Dorothy Thompson’s Listen, Hans (1942), Emil Ludwig’s How To Treat the Germans (1943), Richard Brickner’s Is Germany Incurable? (1943), Louis Nizer’s What to do With Germany (1944), David Abrahamsen’s Men, Mind, and Power (1945), Leo Margolin’s Paper Bullets: A Brief History of Psychological Warfare in World War II (1946), David Rodnick’s Postwar Germans: An Anthropologist’s Account (1948), Bertram Schaffner’s Father Land: A Study of Authoritarianism in the German Family (1948), and the proceedings of the “Roundtable on Germany After the War” published in the American Journal of Orthopsychiatry (1945). Different as these studies are in their approach to the subject, they assert similar arguments. The Germans’ distinguishing cultural characteristics, these studies found, centered on aggressiveness. Germans, they claimed, placed value on extreme discipline and dogged dutifulness and obedience to authority; they demonstrated compulsions of status seeking and placed high value on industriousness and orderliness, but little value on relaxation. They furthermore determined that a defining factor of German society was acute paranoia involving feelings of persecution, victimization, and social hypersensitivity. They observed a society that aggressively suppressed individual feelings and desires in lieu of the collective, and then produced as a result individuals who could shift between obsequiousness and bullying, depending on where they stood in society’s hierarchy or the social context of the moment. In short, they observed a society of sycophants. These studies attempted to determine how Germans got along with the state and interacted with their fellow citizens. The broad conclusion of these studies is that the Germans of the 1930s and 40s were the perfect people for a totalitarian society. 2 66 Gary L. Baker When the narrator of Der Vorleser speaks of “das deutsche Schicksal” (163), metonymically represented in his relationship with Hanna (and his father), we see that the national fate also lies in not being capable of shedding these anti-democratic propensities that marked German social interactions. The concern of the Mitscherlichs and the studies mentioned here is that democratic institutions would not flourish in Germany without democratically inclined feelings to nurture them. The studies mentioned above represent, then, a discussion of the cultural substratum that lies beneath the generational interactions of Der Vorleser and reflects in its characters the massive deficiency in persons who could, emotionally and psychologically, sustain a democratic society in the first decades of the Federal Republic of Germany. If Hanna Schmitz, as Donahue points out, has “become the ‘Jane Doe’ of the second-tier perpetrators” (55), this means too that she may reflect the emotional and psychological composition of this larger group, and more broadly, of Germans in her generation. The connection between what we might call sound emotional development and the requirements of a democratic society comes more clearly into view when Schlink states in one of his Cambridge lectures, “I understand the desire for a world where those who commit monstrous crimes are always monsters” (“Stories” 127). Hannah Arendt already established in her Eichmann book the puzzling yet disturbing reality that monsters are not necessary to commit monstrous crimes (54). As we have established, in Schlink’s novel, the act of reading, or being read to, provides evidence that Hanna is not a monster. Her capacity to involve herself with the problems of others through reading indicates as much. But these other people remain entirely fictional. One can say, further, that Michael Berg is the product of his emotional role models, namely of Hanna and his father: “Mein Vater war verschlossen, konnte weder uns Kindern seine Gefühle mitteilen noch etwas mit den Gefühlen anfangen, […]” (134). Together, both the first and second generations possess an emotional armor, which they donned in the past, and which seems to leave them cold in the present. For the Mitscherlichs this propensity was the single most daunting factor in the establishment of a true democratic society in the Federal Republic of Germany, something they refer to as a debilitating condition, a genuine mental health issue: “Wegen der Fortdauer dieser autistischen Haltung ist es einer großen Zahl, wenn nicht der Mehrheit der Bewohner unseres Staates nicht gelungen, sich in unserer demokratischen Gesellschaft mit mehr als ihrem Wirtschaftssystem zu identifizieren” (41). Schlink demonstrates through depictions of father and son, Hanna and Michael, the concern that both the first and second generations may not be emotionally equipped to support the democracy in which they live. Hanna Schmitz is capable of sending concentration camp inmates to their death or keeping them locked in a burning church because of the chaos their release Emotional Detachment in Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser: A Problem for Democracy 67 would cause. However, she cannot bear to return to West German society as a productive, literate citizen after she has gained her freedom. She evades her new status by committing suicide. Michael can neither commit to a long-standing relationship nor be a decent father. Moreover, he decides not to become a trial lawyer because he feels himself to be emotionally unsuited for the task; he too cannot work with others within a democratic society as a key practitioner upholding its laws (171-72). Schlink makes a direct connection between emotional and psychological health and a thriving democracy when he states that “a generation that does not acquire openness, trust, and individuality in the family will founder in its attempts to achieve such qualities in society. These are not just relational qualities but skills upon which democracy depends” (“Mastering the Past” 54). Michael Berg and Hanna Schmitz—as I have argued—are fictitious renderings of this very warning. Notes 1 Page numbers refer to Schlink, Der Vorleser. Whenever the context makes clear that reference is being made to the novel—as is here the case—I will omit reiterating that fact in the parenthetical citation. 2 For a more detailed discussion of these works see Baker. Works Cited Abrahamsen, David. Men, Mind and Power . New York: Columbia UP , 1945. Arendt, Hannah. “The Aftermath of Nazi Rule. Report from Germany.” Commentary 10 (1950): 342-53. ---. Eichmann in Jerusalem. A Report on the Banality of Evil . New York: Penguin, 1977. Baker, Gary L. “German National Character and the Relaxing American.” Germanic Review 80.2 (2005): 124-42. Brickner, Richard. Is Germany Incurable? Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1943. Donahue, William Collins. Holocaust as Fiction. Bernhard Schlink’s “Nazi” Novels and Their Films . New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. “Germany After the War.” American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 15 (1945): 381-441. Hall, Katharina. “The Author, the Novel, The Reader and the Perils of ‘Neue Lesbarkeit’: A Comparative Analysis of Bernhard Schlink’s Selbs Justiz and Der Vorleser .” German Life and Letters 59.3 (2006): 446-67. Keen, Suzanne. Empathy and the Novel . New York: Oxford UP , 2007� Lethen, Helmut. Cool Conduct. The Culture of Distance in Weimar Germany . Trans. Don Reneau. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002. Ludwig, Emil. How to Treat the Germans . New York: Willard Publishing, 1943. 68 Gary L. Baker Mahlendorf, Ursula. “Trauma Narrated, Read and (Mis)understood: Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader : ‘… irrevocably complicit in their crimes …’” Monatshefte 95.3 (2003): 458-81. Margolin, Leo T. Paper Bullets: A Brief Story of Psychological Warfare in World War II � New York: Froben Press, 1946. Metz, Joseph. “‘Truth is a Woman’: Post-Holocaust Narrative, Postmodernism, and the Gender of Fascism in Der Vorleser .” The German Quarterly 77.3 (2004): 300-23. Mitscherlich, Alexander, and Margarete. Die Unfähigkeit zu trauern. Grundlagen kollektiven Verhaltens � Gesammelte Schriften IV . Ed. Helga Haase. Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 1983. Nizer, Louis. What To Do With Germany . Chicago: Ziff Davis, 1944. The Reader . Dir. Stephen Daldry. Perf. Kate Winslet, Ralph Fiennes, and David Kross. The Weinstein Company, 2009. Rodnick, David. Postwar Germans: An Anthropologist’s Account . New Haven: Yale UP , 1948. Schaffner, Bertram. Father Land: A Study of Authoritarianism in the German Family � New York: Columbia UP , 1948. Schlink, Bernhard. “Mastering the Past Through Law.” Guilt about the Past . Toronto: Anansi Press, 2010. 43-66. ---. “Stories about the Past.” Guilt about the Past . Toronto: Anansi Press, 2010. 117-40. ---. Der Vorleser . Zurich: Diogenes, 1997. Schmitz, Helmut. “Malen nach Zahlen? Bernhard Schlinks Der Vorleser und die Unfähigkeit zu Trauern”. German Life and Letters 55.3 (2002): 296-311. Schulte-Sasse, Jochen, and Renate Werner. Einführung in die Literaturwissenschaft � Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 1977. Taberner, Stuart. “Introduction.” Schlink: Der Vorleser . Ed. Stuart Taberner. London: Bristol Classic Press, 2002. 7-40. Thompson, Dorothy. Listen, Hans. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1942. Dem Unaussprechlichen begegnen Claudia Rusch Abstract: Das Thema von Schlinks Der Vorleser ist nicht die Shoa oder das Bewerten, gar Relativieren von Hannas Taten. Der Vorleser handelt von einem Generationenproblem: dem oft übersehenen Drama der Nachgeborenen. Dem schwierigen Umgang mit der Schuld unserer Eltern, Großeltern, Urgroßeltern, all jenen, die wir lieben und die Zeugen oder sogar Täter dieser dunkelsten deutschen Zeit waren. Die (zwangsläufige) Hilflosigkeit, nicht auf der juristischen oder moralischen, sondern auf der emotionalen Ebene, zu beschreiben ist die herausragende Leistung dieses Buches. Schlink bietet keine Lösung dafür an, sondern er zeigt die Ohnmacht und stellt Fragen. Schmerzhafte Fragen, auf die es keine Antwort gibt. Damit hat er eine Lücke in der deutschen Literatur geschlossen. Keywords: Täter, Hilflosigkeit, Schuld, Generation, Nachgeborenen Vor einigen Jahren hatte ich beim Literaturfestival in Mantova Gelegenheit, Amos Oz auf der Bühne zu erleben. An diesem Abend sagte er etwas, das ich seitdem immer wieder gern zitiere. Zwar ist jedem Schriftsteller das nämliche Problem bekannt, aber Amos Oz hat es einfach so schön auf den Punkt gebracht. Von jedem Buch, sagte er, gäbe es drei Fassungen. Die Fassung, die die Leser lesen. Die Fassung, die der Autor geschrieben hat. Und die Fassung, die er gern geschrieben hätte, wenn es ihm möglich gewesen wäre. Die interessanteste ist natürlich stets die dritte, aber um die soll es hier nicht gehen. Diese Worte von Amos Oz jedenfalls kamen mir in den Sinn, als ich im vergangenen Winter in North Carolina in meinem Hotelzimmer saß und über Bernhard Schlinks Der Vorleser nachdachte. Wir hatten auf dem Nachhauseweg im Auto geplaudert und waren dabei auf diesen Roman gekommen. Ich mag das Buch sehr, deshalb lobte ich es. Wohl etwas zu überschwänglich. Wie ich denn zu den üblichen Einwänden gegen den Text stünde, wurde ich daraufhin gefragt. Welche üblichen Einwände, fragte ich überrascht zurück… Nachdem wir uns verabschiedet hatten, griff ich im Hotelzimmer zum Computer und recherchierte. Ich fand archivierte Zeitungsartikel, deutsche und 70 Claudia Rusch englischsprachige Rezensionen, ja selbst die Aufzeichnung des diesbezüglichen “Literarischen Quartetts” vom Dezember 1995. Viele der Argumente, denen ich dabei immer wieder begegnete, lösten bei mir, vorsichtig formuliert, Ratlosigkeit aus. “Verharmlosung von NS -Verbrechen” wurde gerufen, “Geschichtsfälschung”, der rein äußerliche Blick auf die Täterin (die ja selbst wortlos bleibt) sei naiv, wenn nicht feige, überhaupt das Sympathisieren mit den Tätern, der Text rede am eigentlichen Thema nur vorbei und so weiter. Was für Vorwürfe! Danach war meine Verwirrung komplett. Keine dieser Bezichtigungen verstand ich. Feige oder verharmlosend war mir Der Vorleser niemals erschienen. Im Gegenteil, ich hatte immer gefunden, dass es ein außerordentlich kluges, genaues und aufwühlendes Buch sei. Und auch keineswegs am Thema vorbei, sondern genau mittendrin. Mit dem Finger auf der Wunde. Was, wie mir bald klar wurde, daran lag, dass ich das Thema des Romans offenbar an ganz anderer Stelle sah. Also nahm ich das Buch noch mal zur Hand und las es sehr aufmerksam. Vielleicht war ich ja damals zu unkritisch. Oder zu jung. Sowas kommt vor. Aber auch dieses Mal, den Aspekt einer möglichen Verharmlosung stets in Gedanken, konnte ich keine der benannten Zuschreibungen bestätigt finden. Nein, die neuerliche Lektüre hat meinen Blick auf diesen Text sogar bestärkt. In meinen Augen ist Der Vorleser von Bernhard Schlink ein wirklich großartiges Buch über die Hilflosigkeit und Scham der Kinder mit der Schuld umzugehen, die ihre Eltern als Angehörige der “Generation der Täter, Zu- und Wegseher, Tolerierer und Akzeptierer” (Schlink 162) auf sich geladen haben. Und zwar nicht moralisch oder juristisch - wie auf diesen Ebenen zu verfahren sei, daran lässt Schlink ja keinerlei Zweifel - sondern auf der schwierigsten aller Ebenen. Auf der, wo einem weder Rationalität, ethische Grundsätze, richterliche Urteile geschweige denn Selbstgerechtigkeit weiterhelfen: der emotionalen Ebene. Ich mag mit dem nächsten Satz viele kluge Menschen vor den Kopf stoßen und ganze Scharen an Literaturkritikern gegen mich aufbringen, aber ich muss es doch aussprechen: Es ist mir beim besten Willen schlicht unerklärlich, wie überlesen werden kann, worum es in diesem Buch eigentlich geht. Das Thema ist nicht die Shoa, nicht das Bewerten oder, schlimmer noch, Relativieren von Hannas Taten (ihr Anteil an den NS -Verbrechen ist ein unumstößlicher Fakt, Analphabetin hin oder her). 1 Es geht in Der Vorleser darum, wie Michael seine tiefen Gefühle zur Täterin Hanna bewältigen soll, wie er seine Emotionen einordnen und mit ihnen zurechtkommen kann, nachdem er erfährt, wessen Hanna sich schuldig gemacht hat. Schlink arbeitet sich nicht an dem Gedanken ab, wie es sein kann, dass ein geliebter Mensch solcher Gräuel fähig ist (das setzt er als gegeben voraus); der Dem Unaussprechlichen begegnen 71 Roman dreht sich und mäandert zweihundert Seiten lang um das Problem, wie man damit umgeht, dass ein geliebter Mensch ein Täter ist. Der Vorleser handelt von einem Generationenproblem und vom oft übersehenen Drama der Nachgeborenen. Das ist eine grundsätzlich andere Fragestellung. Alles andere bewegt sich gedanklich an diesem Text völlig vorbei. Tut mir leid. Nur, um Missverständnissen aus dem Weg zu gehen: Ich finde, dass jeder einen literarischen Text lesen und verstehen darf, wie er möchte. Zulange hab ich in der DDR selbst Bücher lesen müssen, in denen man mir vorgeschrieben hat, was ich zu denken habe. Der mündige Leser ist für mich keine Floskel. Zumal Literatur immer weit über das hinausgeht, was die vordergründige Geschichte erzählt. Oder anders ausgedrückt: Ein gutes Buch ist größer als sein Autor und öffnet den Raum für vieles. Eine Spiegelfläche voller Möglichkeiten. Aber es ist abwegig, einem Text diesen Umstand vorzuwerfen. Schriftsteller sind lediglich für das zu belangen, was sie aufgeschrieben haben, nicht für das, was andere darin zu sehen meinen. Zumal Schlink, ganz und gar Jurist wie sein Protagonist, immer wieder dezidiert nachhakt, beschreibt und dann seiner Hilflosigkeit, seiner Bestürzung und Antwortlosigkeit Ausdruck verleiht. Keineswegs subtil, in Metaphern versteckt, sondern stets in aller Deutlichkeit. Häufig gleich in Form direkt gestellter Fragen: “Was sollte und soll meine Generation der Nachlebenden eigentlich mit den Informationen über die Furchtbarkeiten der Vernichtung der Juden anfangen? ” (Schlink 99). Hanna, die nicht zufällig im Alter von Michaels Mutter ist, darf bedenkenlos als Symbol für die ganze Eltern-Täter-Generation verstanden werden. Auch hier interpretiere ich nicht, das führt Schlink selbst so aus: “ Wie sollte es ein Trost sein, dass mein Leiden an meiner Liebe zu Hanna in gewisser Weise das Schicksal meiner Generation, das deutsche Schicksal war, dem ich mich nur schlechter entziehen, das ich nur schlechter überspielen konnte als die anderen “ (166). “Das deutsche Schicksal”, wie er es nennt, ist der Angelpunkt dieses Romans. Was tun wir Nachgeborenen mit diesem Wissen und wen macht das aus uns? Ich habe den Roman Der Vorleser sehr persönlich gelesen. Denn obwohl ich knapp dreißig Jahre jünger bin als Bernhard Schlink, obwohl selbst meine Großeltern noch Teenager waren, als diese dunkelste deutsche Zeit endlich ihr Ende fand, bin auch ich eine Nachgeborene. Das Thema meiner Texte ist ebenfalls immer wieder die Überwindung einer Diktatur, wenn auch einer anderen. Ich weiß genau, wie schwer Kollektivschuld und der Umgang damit aufzuarbeiten sind. Literarisch wie im richtigen Leben. Und machen wir uns nichts vor: Im Alltag meines Landes spielt das noch immer eine nicht zu unterschätzende Rolle. Nur redet davon kaum jemand. Weil es nicht schillert, weil es nicht angenehm 72 Claudia Rusch ist. Wie Michael wollen wir uns bis heute am liebsten um eine Konfrontation drücken. Natürlich nicht im großen Rahmen, da ist es leicht. Da wissen wir nur zu gut, was richtig und was falsch ist, wie zu verfahren sei, wie wir uns verhalten müssen, wie wir dem Bösen entgegenzutreten haben. Aber hehre Reden sind etwas anderes als ihre Inhalte tatsächlich umzusetzen. Genau das muss Michael schmerzhaft erleben. Der ganze Anfang des zweiten Teils des Romans ist bestimmt von seinem Willen, reinen Tisch zu machen mit den Tätern. Doch der Elan und die Bedingungslosigkeit, mit der die Studenten sich als “Avantgarde der Aufarbeitung” (Schlink 87) verstehen, fallen für Michael in sich zusammen als er, der Rächer, der Fensteraufreißer, Frischlufthereinlasser, vor Gericht plötzlich in einer der Täterinnen seine Geliebte erkennt. Sowas nennt man Konfrontation von Theorie und Praxis. Ich halte das für einen großen literarischen Schachzug. Denn in diesen Momenten offenbart sich die ewige Wahrheit des Lebens: Dass die Dinge eben nicht so einfach sind, wie wir sie gerne hätten. Und wie damals die Kinder und wie heute noch die Enkel (ich erinnere nur an Harald Welzers Buch Opa war kein Nazi 2 ), so versucht auch Michael sich aus der wortwörtlichen Affäre zu ziehen. Jedenfalls im Privaten, da wo es ihn eigentlich konkret persönlich anginge. “Ich merkte, dass ich Hannas Haft als natürlich und richtig empfunden hatte. Nicht wegen der Anklage, der Schwere des Vorwurfs und der Stärke des Verdachts, wovon ich noch gar nichts Genaues wusste, sondern weil sie in der Zelle raus aus meiner Welt, aus meinem Leben war. Ich wollte sie weit weg von mir haben, so unerreichbar, dass sie die bloße Erinnerung bleiben konnte, die sie in den vergangenen Jahren für mich geworden und gewesen war” (Schlink 93). Das ist feige (deshalb hat er auch ein schlechtes Gewissen) - aber es ist auch menschlich. Denn niemand hat eine Antwort darauf, wie diejenigen, die Täter lieben, mit dieser Liebe, dieser Schuld, dieser Scham umgehen können. Wie bitte soll man denn der Monstrosität der Shoa als Täterkind auch begegnen? Wieder meine ich hier nicht die historische und moralische Verantwortung, die wir heute tragen und von der ich überzeugt bin, dass die meisten meiner Generation sie selbstverständlich angenommen haben, sondern ich meine unsere verwundeten Herzen. Ganz ehrlich, ich war immer froh, keinen meiner Vorfahren kennengelernt zu haben, der diese Zeit als Erwachsener erlebt hat. Ich hatte schon schwer genug daran zu schlucken, dass meine über alles geliebte Großmutter als kleines Mädchen mit dem BDM auf Wandertouren gegangen ist. Als Heranwachsende habe ich sie oft harsch angegriffen deswegen. Wie sie, obgleich nur ein Kind, nichts von dem hatte merken können, was damals um sie herum geschah. Warum sie nichts getan hat. Ich hab mich dafür nie bei ihr Dem Unaussprechlichen begegnen 73 entschuldigt, aber ich glaube, das hat sie auch nicht erwartet. Ich bin überzeugt, sie hat sich diese Fragen selbst gestellt. Vermutlich öfter als ich ihr. Der Umgang mit der Schuld der anderen, derer, die wir lieben, ist sehr schwer. Keiner hat dafür ein Patentrezept. Auch nicht Bernhard Schlink. Und ich finde, gerade das ist die herausragende Leistung dieses Buches. Dass Schlink keine Antworten gibt und auch nicht so tut, als ob er welche hätte. Dass er stattdessen seine, unser aller Hilflosigkeit in Worte gefasst hat. Er hat damit eine Lücke in der deutschen Literatur geschlossen. Wie kann das unlauter oder feige sein? Darf das nicht ausgedrückt werden? Ich persönlich fand immer, wenn man der Geschichte von Michael Berg und Hanna Schmitz überhaupt etwas vorwerfen könne, dann die etwas sehr arg an die feuchten Träume heranwachsender Jungen erinnernde Grundkonstellation. Erfahrene Frau trifft sexuell Erwachenden und führt ihn ein in die Freuden der körperliche Liebe. Zudem hierzulande bedenklich erinnernd an einen äußerst populären Schlager von Peter Maffay aus dem Jahre 1976: “Ich war 16 und sie 31 und über Liebe wusste ich nicht viel, sie wusste alles und sie ließ mich spüren, ich war kein Kind mehr…” (Maffay). Um die Intensität des zweiten und dritten Teils zu erreichen, Michaels tiefe Gefühle zu Hanna Schmitz glaubhaft zu belegen, hätte es dessen nicht bedurft. Man muss nicht miteinander schlafen, um emotional verstrickt zu sein. Aber das ist nun wirklich ein ganz anderes Thema. Es gibt eine Szene im zweiten Teil, in der Michael seinen Vater um Rat bittet, weil er erwägt dem Richter zu eröffnen, dass Hanna Analphabetin ist, mithin zwar schuldig, aber doch nicht die Anführerin, als die man sie beschuldigt. Professor Berg sagt: “Bei Erwachsenen sehe ich schlechterdings keinerlei Rechtfertigung dafür, das, was ein anderer für sie für gut hält, über das zu setzen, was sie selbst für sich für gut halten.” “Auch nicht, wenn sie später selbst glücklich damit sind? ” fragt sein Sohn verunsichert nach. “Wir reden nicht über Glück, sondern über Würde und Freiheit” lautet die weise Erklärung des Professors (Schlink 136). Das trifft auf sehr vieles zu. Wir alle hätten gern eine einfache Lösung, aber es gibt sie meistens nicht. Oft stehen wir verzweifelt vor den Unwägbarkeiten, den Problemen und Wegzweigen unseres Lebens und wissen nicht weiter - egal, wie gut wir uns vorbereitet haben; egal, wie viel wir studiert und verstanden zu haben glauben; egal, wie sehr wir uns moralisch überlegen fühlen. Diese Ohnmacht in einem Roman darzustellen, ist weder naiv noch feige, sondern mutig. Ich glaube, ein gutes Buch hat keine Antworten. Ein gutes Buch stellt die richtigen Fragen. Dieses Buch tut es. Nach den Antworten müssen wir schon selbst suchen. Das kann uns niemand abnehmen. 74 Claudia Rusch Notes 1 Auf den Analphabetismus von Hanna möchte ich hier nicht gesondert eingehen. Er spielt für den Fortlauf der Handlung ein wichtige Rolle, zudem hat Bernhard Schlink meine ganze kollegiale Solidarität, sind doch fiktionale Figuren so wie sie sind und man kann sie als Schriftsteller längst nicht derart beliebig verändern, wie sich Nicht-Schriftsteller das gern vorstellen. Und doch sehe auch ich, dass Hannas Analphabetismus ein, wie die Schwaben es nennen, “Gschmäckle” hat. Zu leicht lässt er sich symbolisch als Unmündigkeit lesen. Ich weiß nicht, ob Schlink das unterschätzt hat oder ob es ihm gar entgangen ist. Ich weiß nur, dass die Entlastung von NS -Tätern nie sein literarisches Thema war. Ganz im Gegenteil. Ihm deshalb über die Figur der Hanna NS-Verharmlosung vorzuwerfen, finde ich, vorsichtig formuliert, ein wenig wohlfeil. 2 Harald Welzer, Sabine Moller, and Karoline Tschuggnall. “Opa war kein Nazi”: Nationalsozialismus und Holocaust im Familiengedächtnis . Frankfurt a. M.: Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 2002. Works Cited Maffay, Peter. Und es war Sommer . Teldec, 1976. LP � Schlink, Bernhard. Der Vorleser . Zurich: Diogenes, 1997. Der Vorleser and Bernhard Schlink in the Classroom Denise M. Della Rossa University of Notre Dame Abstract: This chapter explores reasons for teaching Der Vorleser and why it remains relevant to today’s college student. I chose this novel as a way to access German cultural history related to the legacy of the Holocaust. Over the years, the novel has remained appropriate and timely, above all in discussions having to do with taking responsibility for one’s guilt and the theme of moral guilt versus legal guilt. While the novel itself has been faulted on the grounds of “inauthenticity” in regards to the teaching of content knowledge, my pedagogical goals extend beyond this aspect and use the novel as a catalyst for other debates. One significant conversation the novel opens up for the American college classroom is the debate around the memorialization and musealization of the Holocaust. Finally, I believe the subject matter has the potential to foster empathy, care, insight and awareness in students about their world today. Keywords: student, German, history, literature, classroom, teaching My intent in this chapter is not to provide a comprehensive lesson plan with classroom activities and sample essay assignments related to the novel, though I will discuss some syllabus details in context. All of these elements can be found in a variety of teacher’s guides written in German and English for both the high school curriculum and the college classroom. Rather, my intent is to give an impression of why I choose to teach the novel, why it remains relevant to today’s college student, and what the novel’s big idea(s) might be. In the context of a special issue on Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser twenty years after its first publication, this chapter is meant to reflect upon the value and benefit of teaching the novel. Perhaps too often today, such reflections are discussed only in relation to the larger questions of “Why teach literature? ” and “What is its value to undergraduate education? ” 76 Denise M. Della Rossa I first taught Der Vorleser during spring semester 2007 in a college-level survey course on German cultural history. Taught in German, the course is designed as an interdisciplinary cultural studies course to introduce students to various textual genres as well as film, the visual arts and the current research on it. The main goal is for students to become familiar with the basic techniques of approaching and interpreting cultural “artifacts” (literary texts, film, architecture, etc.) within their social, historical, cultural and intellectual contexts, which will prepare them for a wider range of more specialized courses in the department. I often teach the course chronologically backwards with the rationale that the language and historical content of contemporary texts may be more accessible than that of older texts covered over the semester. This means that Der Vorleser has been consistently the first text I teach in the course. Students come to this course generally in their fifth or sixth semester of German and are or intend to be a declared major and minor in our department. Therefore, I assume the students have basic, though often incomplete, historical knowledge about World War II and the Holocaust before they enroll in the class. I spend one class period filling in any gaps they may have in this general knowledge before we begin the novel. Classroom discussion of the novel takes seven class meetings with one class devoted to introductory material, four devoted to the novel, and two follow-up sessions. Other materials we read and discuss include the May 2005 Spiegel article “Vergangenheitsbewältigung: Der Buchhalter von Auschwitz”; a book review by Michael Stolleis in the Frankfurter Allgemeine from 1995 when the novel first came out; and a second Spiegel article from 1999 after Schlink appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show and the novel topped the New York Times bestseller list. Over the years, the Spiegel interview with Oskar Gröning, the former SS officer and so-called “bookkeeper of Auschwitz,” has remained appropriate and timely, above all in discussions having to do with taking responsibility for one’s guilt and the theme of moral guilt versus legal guilt. The inclusion of this interview on the syllabus was particularly topical during the fall 2014 semester when Oskar Gröning was indicted under a new line of German juridical construction allowing that anyone who helped in a death camp function can be accused of being an accessory to murder without evidence of participation in a specific crime. One of the student assignments I require is to write a letter to the editor in response to the original Spiegel interview. Some students choose to respond in the persona of a German, thus demonstrating their understanding of the complexities of contemporary German culture and history from their perspective. Other students, however, respond as themselves, as a young adult American. Both approaches, after all, are the perspectives from which we discuss the legacy of the Holocaust and struggle with the main ideas of the novel. Der Vorleser and Bernhard Schlink in the Classroom 77 Therefore, both approaches are valid, and I find that students who write from their American perspective tend to exhibit more empathy toward Gröning than those who write from the German perspective. Perhaps this has to do with a certain amount of emotional distance the students feel from the subject matter as Americans and the indifference they hope to display toward Gröning as they think a German would. I chose this novel for my survey course on German literature and culture as a way to access German cultural history having to do with the legacy of the Holocaust. Schlink envisioned a scenario where an accomplice would be tried and convicted years after the end of the war. To a certain extent, both the fictional case of Hanna Schmitz and the factual case of Oskar Gröning engage in the nuances of moral versus legal guilt. For Hanna, her illiteracy is a moral failing, one that transcends in her mind the culpability of her actions. Only after her conviction does she understand the full extent of her legal guilt. Learning to read allows Hanna to understand fully her culpability. Gröning obfuscated his legal guilt by focusing on his moral guilt and relied upon the law’s inability to prosecute him for being a “Schreibtischtäter.” It is the change in the law that allows his prosecution and conviction. I also have students consider the issue of Hanna’s illiteracy because it is what drives the major decisions in her life—the decision to take the job with the SS rather than at Siemens; to refuse the promotion with the streetcar company and leave town, thus abandoning the relationship with Michael; and finally, the decision to admit falsely to writing the final report that condemns her. I ask students to consider that for Hanna illiteracy is a greater shame than having been an SS guard and why that might be so. I also ask them to consider what they would have done with the information regarding Hanna’s illiteracy if they were Michael and what the accompanying moral obligations might be in this case. A further, and perhaps more significant conversation that the novel opens up for classroom discussion for the American reader is the debate around the memorialization and musealization of the Holocaust. Reviews and critical work on the novel mostly skip over the plot line that takes Michael to the lesser-known concentration camp Struthof-Natzweiler in Alsace. At this point in the trial proceedings, Michael seeks “reality” in the form of “first-hand knowledge” by visiting the concentration camp in the hope of replacing the “clichés” created by books, photographs, and films his generation had internalized about the Holocaust. Ultimately, he fails in this endeavor of discovering the truth he is looking for. This plot line opens up conversations beyond the novel that have to do with how collective memory and the collective imagination are created and what they do and do not represent. It is indeed unfathomable how contemporary these discussions remain, when each time I teach the novel something new 78 Denise M. Della Rossa and relevant to these discussions is in the news. For example, in 2005 and 2015, the sixtieth and seventieth anniversaries of the liberation of Auschwitz elicited numerous articles in both the American and German popular press having to do with the role of authenticity in relationship to preservation and conservation of Germany’s National Socialist past. Similarly, the theft in 2009 of Auschwitz’s infamous sign, “Arbeit macht frei,” which was later recovered in three pieces, evoked further debate in this realm (see Connelly 2015 and Kolbert). The sign was rewelded in place, but showed the scars of the weld, and museum authorities believed this new history overwhelmed the sign’s initial meaning. Therefore, they decided to replace the original sign with a replica which set off a debate regarding to what extent authenticity trumps representation of “how it was.” I randomly assigned students to the two sides of the debate and had them defend their point of view. Clearly, this issue is not one addressed in the novel, but one relevant to the larger conversation of the Holocaust legacy. While the novel itself has been faulted on the grounds of “inauthenticity” in regards to the teaching of content knowledge about the Holocaust and the implausibility of a Hanna Schmidt, my pedagogical goals extend beyond this aspect and use the novel as a catalyst for other debates. Other topics of interest to students related to the fictional Michael’s visit to Struthof-Natzweiler have questioned what we think about a city or village making money from what has become Nazi tourism or why one would visit a site of trauma. We ask ourselves: Where does education end and tourism begin? Why does it matter? What are a visitor’s expectations and what effect does such a visit have on the viewer? The examples above illustrate just two of the larger discussions that have emerged in my classroom from teaching Schlink’s novel, but that reach beyond the scope of second-generation German guilt. Through such exercises I hope that my students are not, to use Michael’s word, “numb” to the images of the past but are able to engage with similar ideas, debates, and questions relevant to their own lives. In April 2011 Schlink was invited by the university’s Nanovic Institute for European Studies to be the inaugural speaker for the Nanovic Forum. This three-day event was heavily promoted across campus and in the local community. It included a reading from Schlink’s then recent novel, The Weekend (2010), a screening of the film The Reader (2008) at the campus movie theater introduced by Schlink, two classroom visits, and a lecture at the Notre Dame Law School titled, “Proportionality in Constitutional Law: Why Everywhere but Here? ” Clearly, the goal was to reach as broad an audience as possible from across campus and beyond. The Nanovic Institute’s website states that the Forum was established to “deepen Notre Dame’s rich tradition of connections to Europe by bringing prominent figures to campus in a wide range of fields to explore, discuss, and debate the most pressing questions about Europe today.” Other Forum invitees since 2011 have been Lord Patten of Barnes, Chancellor of the University of Oxford; Horst Koehler, former President of the Federal Republic of Germany; Wolfgang Herrmann, President of the Technical University of Munich; and Hanna Suchocka, former Prime Minister of Poland and former Ambassador of Poland to the Holy See. The inclusion of Schlink among these academics and politicians who write and speak to a larger audience than their professional colleagues says something about his public stature beyond that of bestselling fiction writer and why I continue to include his novel on my syllabus. As is often repeated in essays, news releases, and publicity materials about Schlink, he began his career as a professor of public law and legal philosophy and served as a judge at a German constitutional law court before publishing his first detective novels in the late 1980s. He has retired from Humboldt University in Berlin, is a visiting professor at the Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law in New York City and continues to publish both scholarly and belletristic work. No doubt, his fiction is shaped noticeably by having lived in the world of jurisprudence and its mentality; furthermore, these experiences give credence to his public lectures as well as to the subject matter of his fiction. Ultimately, the inclusion of Schlink among the Nanovic Forum speakers tells us Schlink’s training and professional appointments situate him as an important voice for his country and his generation. I would argue that his activities as writer and public speaker also give others, Germans and non-Germans alike, access to a place to talk about what Germans face because of their specific history. The spring semester Schlink was on campus, a colleague teaching a lecture course on modern German history invited him to her class for an informal question and answer session. As preparation, she had the students read his Guilt About the Past (2009), a collection of essays based upon lectures he held at Oxford University in 2008. This colleague in the history department described the classroom visit as an opportunity for the students to interact with a person who had been discussed as a historical figure, as an eyewitness to the second-generation experience. It was different from a video or interacting with the historical documents. It was a historical activity in which the source responded to student inquiry and gave candid responses. In other words, there was an immediacy to the experience that is rarely achieved in the classroom. In reply to my question about what she thought the takeaway was for her students, my colleague believed the students wanted to understand what it is like to be a German today and wanted to empathize with what it must be like to actively care for a past Schlink’s generation had nothing to do with. I was struck particularly by my colleague’s choice of words, “to actively care for a past”; immediately, the terms “Vergangenheitsbewältigung” and “Vergangenheitsaufarbeitung” came to mind. Der Vorleser and Bernhard Schlink in the Classroom 79 80 Denise M. Della Rossa Historians and Germanists alike struggle with how to best translate these terms into English, and whether one chooses “mastering,” “overcoming,” “coming to terms with,” or “working through” the past, or any of its related connotations, there always seems to be something missing that doesn’t quite represent the nuance of the original German. I believe my colleague and her students have discovered another fitting translation that embraces the dynamic nature of Germans’ relationship to their history, and they were able to do so through their encounters with a text and with its author in person. Another related and valuable teaching opportunity came during spring semester 2015 when I arranged a campus screening of Olivier Morel’s film documentary, Germany as told by writers Christoph Hein, Wladimir Kaminer, Emine Sevgi Özdamar, & Bernhard Schlink ( ARTE France, 2014). 1 I was teaching Kaminer and Ӧzdamar in a seminar that semester and had taught Der Vorleser in the prior semester. As the promotional materials state, “Morel’s film focuses on how renowned contemporary writers living in Germany and writing in German are interacting with the country’s history in their personal, public, and creative lives.” The four authors interviewed for the documentary come from very different backgrounds (East Germany, Russia, Turkey, and West Germany) and “bear witness to a new way of depicting Germany’s trauma in modern literature and culture” in different ways. To this end, the director retreats completely into the background and allows the authors to speak for themselves about the role of their art. In the film, Schlink states that, “the role of literature is to help us to handle the horror, the pain, the grief that in their formless nature can be overwhelming. It can give them form and make them more bearable. More bearable because they have a form that we can confront and come to grips with, to which we can react.” I would argue that the teaching of literature further fulfills such goals. For the opening shot for the documentary, Morel chose Berlin’s U-Bahn stop Savignyplatz at night with a voice-over of Schlink reading from Der Vorleser � The selection Schlink reads describes how and why the main character, Michael Berg, began to record his reading aloud of the literary classics on a cassette tape recorder for Hanna. As the voice-over continues, the scene switches from Savignyplatz to a close-up of a cassette recorder circa 1970. As Schlink reads the following closing line to the chapter, “When the text was finished, I waited a moment, closed the book, and pressed the stop button,” the film viewer sees a finger press the “stop” button on the cassette recorder, then Schlink snaps his novel shut. This is an effective establishing shot that was not lost on my students who had read the novel. One student commented in his written response in German to the film that he felt this opening sequence “elevated the discourse immediately to a higher level because the sequence transcended the standard conversation [about the role of literature] and grasped more important questions about how literature can be an archive of the past.” The student further explained, “this documentary also becomes an archive of the past and is represented metaphorically by the cassette recorder of the opening shots.” The same student went on to say that he understood the documentary to be about more than literature or history, or literature and history; it seemed to him that Germans can engage with their past, but they cannot resolve it nor extinguish it. This comment echoes the remarks made by the students in the history class as they struggled to empathize with Schlink’s generation. I have found that the issues and discussions raised by Der Vorleser are quite compelling for the students if they are guided through the complexities of the historical background. In this chapter I have tried to argue for the value of not just reading, but also thinking, discussing, and writing about one novel. Often enough, the study of literature in today’s college curriculum is questioned. The most common response has something to do with how it fosters critical thinking skills. But what do we mean when we give that “easy” answer? I think it has to do with engaging students in a time and place not theirs. If students can learn to think critically about the events and characters in a novel, the themes it presents, the author’s purpose in writing it, and the ways it fits into a certain time period, then they may be able to understand existing and potential problems and solutions in their own time and place. In other words, what they learn is transferrable and they can also analyze an event’s impact on society and the ways it compares and contrasts with other contexts. As a class we can bring the questions we raise into our lives and relate the intent of a text to our own lives. Recently, as events in U. S. cities like Ferguson, Baltimore, and Charleston have exploded, I have envied my colleagues in History, American Studies, and Africana Studies who seemingly have easier access through their discipline to conversations with their students about ways in which Americans can and should take responsibility for our past. I ask myself, how can I engage with my students about these events as they dominate the headlines? If I am doing my job as an educator, the discussions I foster in the classroom will inspire my students to reflect upon the ways in which our conversations relate to their own lives. Teaching a novel such as Der Vorleser , a text that presents the ambiguities, debates, and polemics of history and culture in one particular context, can provide that access. Consequently, the inherent cultural and historical distance of the students to the subject matter has the potential to foster empathy, care, insight and awareness in them today. Der Vorleser and Bernhard Schlink in the Classroom 81 82 Denise M. Della Rossa Notes 1 The film premiered on the European television channel ARTE on October 6, 2014, and I have the great fortune to count Olivier Morel among my colleagues in the Department of Film, Television and Theater at the University of Notre Dame. Works Cited Connelly, Kate. “Former Auschwitz guard Oskar Gröning jailed over mass murder.” The Guardian 15 July 2015. ---. “Poland declares state of emergency after ‘Arbeit macht frei’ stolen from Auschwitz.” The Guardian 18 Dec. 2009. Geyer, Matthias. “Vergangenheitsbewältigung. Der Buchhalter von Auschwitz.” Der Spiegel 5 Sep. 2005: 154-60. Hage, Volker. “Gewicht der Wahrheit.” Der Spiegel 29 March 1999: 242-43. Kolbert, Elizabeth. “Last Trial. A Great-grandmother, Auschwitz, and the Arc of Justice.” The New Yorker 16 Feb. 2015: 24-31. Stolleis, Michael. “Die Schaffnerin. Bernhard Schlink läßt vorlesen.” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung 9 Sept. 1995. Immer wieder Schlink? Der Vorleser und seine literaturdidaktischen Chancen und Grenzen im Spiegel schulischer Praxis in Deutschland Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Justus-Liebig-Universität Gießen Abstract: Ausgehend von der Beobachtung, dass Bernhard Schlinks “Der Vorleser” in den vergangenen beiden Jahrzehnten zu einem Klassiker des schulischen Kanons geworden ist, verfolgt der Beitrag das Ziel, die unterrichtliche Praxis noch genauer in den Blick zu nehmen. Dabei soll, nachdem die curricularen Rahmenbedingungen betrachtet wurden, im Folgenden gezeigt werden, wie zwei ausgewählte Schulbücher, die eine Auseinandersetzung mit dem Roman ermöglichen, mit dem durch die erzählte Geschichte aufgestoßenen Spannungsfeld aus historischem Wissen, literarischer Bildung textvermittelter Sinnstiftung literaturdidaktisch verfahren. In einem abschließenden Fazit soll nochmals eine Evaluierung des literaturdidaktischen Potenzials des Romans vorgenommen werden, die von der Prämisse ausgeht, dass die komplexe narrative Strukturierung der Geschichte um Michael Berg vor allem dazu dienen kann, historische Fragehorizonte zu eröffnen, nicht jedoch vermeintlich klare und historisch wahre Antworten zu geben. Keywords: Schüler, Geschichte, Aufgabenstellung, Analyse, Lernen In unregelmäßigen Abständen bestreiten deutsche überregionale Qualitätszeitungen wie Der Spiegel oder Die Zeit einen mutmaßlich notwendigen ‘Kanon-Feldzug’ zur Rettung des seit jeher bedrohten Literaturunterrichts. Getragen von der allgemein akzeptierten Vorstellung, dass Schülerinnen und Schüler am Ende ihrer Schullaufbahn über ein Mindestmaß an literarisch wertvoller Bildung verfügen müssten, fordern einflussreiche Literaturkritiker/ -innen immer wieder literarische Standortbestimmungen der für den Unterricht Verantwortlichen ein. Naturgemäß gehen dabei aber die Vorstellungen darüber, 84 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann was (noch) gelesen werden muss, sehr weit auseinander. Texte der Gegenwartsliteratur und vermeintliche Klassiker eines häufig nicht näher umrissenen vermeintlichen Schulkanons werden gegeneinander abgewogen. Einig sind sich die professionellen Kritiker jedoch zumeist in der apodiktischen Trennung zwischen der erwünschten E- und der in unterrichtlichen Zusammenhängen eher weniger geschätzten U-Literatur. Äußerst erstaunlich mutet es nun in diesem Zusammenhang an, dass ausgerechnet Bernhard Schlinks Der Vorleser , welcher sich - wie der Autor höchstselbst 1 betont - der Kategorisierung in E- und U-Literatur merklich verweigert, aus dem Deutschunterricht der höheren Jahrgangsstufen (ab Jahrgangsstufe 10) schon kurz nach dem Erscheinen nicht mehr wegzudenken war: Nur fünf Jahre nach der Erstauflage prognostizierten etwa Kammler / Surmann auf der Basis einer fragebogengestützten Lehrerbefragung bereits einen solchen Trend zur Kanonisierung in der Sekundarstufe II � Der vorliegende Beitrag nähert sich dem Werk in drei aufeinander aufbauenden Schritten. In einem ersten Zugang soll ein Blick in die bundesdeutschen Curricula klären, wo und unter welchen Überschriften Der Vorleser als Lektüre vorgeschlagen wird. In einem zweiten Schritt soll wenigstens exemplarisch mittels einer Analyse zweier Lesebücher eruiert werden, unter welchen Gesichtspunkten der Roman im Deutschunterricht momentan betrachtet wird, ehe es in einem letzten Schritt darum gehen wird, das literaturdidaktische Potential des Vorlesers - auch in Abgrenzung bzw. Ergänzung der ermittelten schulischen Praxis - herauszustellen. Dabei sollen ausgehend von der These, dass dem Literaturunterricht in der Verbindung von historischem Wissen, literarischer Bildung und textvermittelter Sinnstiftung (vgl. Birkmeyer) eine enorme Bedeutung zuwächst, um stabile kulturelle Identitäten herauszubilden, noch einmal die literaturdidaktischen Chancen und Grenzen des schulischen Umgangs mit dem Roman erörtert werden. Curriculare Richtlinien. Eine kurze Bestandsaufnahme Möchte man, wie es sich dieser Beitrag auch zur Aufgabe macht, einen Überblick über die gegenwärtige Praxis des Literaturunterrichts zu Bernhard Schlinks Der Vorleser leisten, so setzt dies zunächst einen vergleichenden Blick in die curricularen Vorgaben der einzelnen deutschen Bundesländer 2 voraus, da diese die unterrichtenden Lehrkräfte rechtlich binden. Jene Rahmen- oder Bildungspläne beinhalten bekanntlich Anmerkungen zum Grundverständnis des Faches, Angaben über die zu erreichenden Bildungsziele oder Kompetenzen sowie in vielen Fällen Lektüreempfehlungen, auf die sich die folgenden Ausführungen hauptsächlich stützen. Im Rahmen der Analyse wurde zwischen den Schulfor- Immer wieder Schlink? 85 men, die zum mittleren Abschluss bzw. zur allgemeinen Hochschulreife führen, kein signifikanter Unterschied gemacht. Um das konzeptionelle Vorgehen der Untersuchung transparent zu machen, soll vorab ein genauerer, exemplarischer Blick auf die hessischen Lehrplanvorgaben der gymnasialen Oberstufe gerichtet werden. Anschließend werden die Ergebnisse dieser Analyse der Gesamtheit der bundesdeutschen Curricula ab der Jahrgangsstufe 10 gegenübergestellt, um belastbare Hypothesen zum gegenwärtigen Stellenwert des Vorlesers in der schulischen Praxis zu entwickeln. Das Beispiel Hessen Das Leistungsprofil der gymnasialen Oberstufe in Hessen ist nach Kurshalbjahren gegliedert, denen verbindliche Themen ( Lehrplan Deutsch , Hessisches Kultusministerium 60) zugeordnet werden. Diese weit gefassten Themenschwerpunkte werden zur besseren Handhabbarkeit durch Stichworte konkretisiert und mit Textanregungen versehen. In der Einführungsphase wird für das erste Halbjahr (E1) der Themenkomplex “Identitätsfindung” vorgeschlagen, in dessen Rahmen die Teilaspekte “Sozialisation und Erziehung”, “Liebe”, “Vorurteile” sowie “Nähe und Ferne / Begegnung mit unterschiedlichen Welten” beleuchtet werden. Im zweiten Halbjahr (E2) befassen sich die Lernenden mit dem weiter gefassten Thema der “Lebensentwürfe”. Wenngleich festgelegt wird, dass literarische Texte aus dem 20. Jahrhundert diskutiert, mit aktuellen und historischen Bezügen ausgestattet und zu den jeweiligen Halbjahresthemen in Bezug gesetzt werden sollen, fehlt in den Lektüreempfehlungen für diese Phase (noch) der Verweis auf Schlinks Werk. Die an die Einführungsphase sich anschließende sogenannte Qualifikationsphase erstreckt sich über vier Halbjahre (Q1 bis Q4). Dem ersten Halbjahr ist der Themenschwerpunkt “Das Individuum im Spannungsfeld zwischen Ideal und Wirklichkeit” zugeordnet, in dem die Beschäftigung mit den Epochen der Weimarer Klassik und der Romantik im Zentrum steht. Im zweiten Halbjahr (Q2) hingegen, das sich dem Verhältnis des Individuums zur Gesellschaft widmet, ist Der Vorleser unter den beiden Stichworten “Leben in der Gesellschaft” und “Beziehungen zwischen Mann und Frau” zu finden ( Lehrplan Deutsch 62) Während das dritte Halbjahr (Q3) unter dem Themenfeld “Weltentwürfe” einen anderen Schwerpunkt setzt, findet sich im letzten Schulhalbjahr, im Zusammenhang mit Fragen der literarischen Wertung (Q4: Wirkungszusammenhänge von Literatur) an prominenter Stelle erneut der Verweis auf den Roman. 86 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Die Lehrplanvorgaben der Bundesländer im Vergleich: Ein Überblick Die 28 untersuchten Lehrplanvorgaben der Jahrgänge 10-13 sind in ihrer Gestaltung recht unterschiedlich. 3 Einige Bundesländer haben die Wende von rein input-orientierten Lehrplänen zu tendenziell output-orientierten Standards bereits vollzogen und demnach die inhaltlichen Vorgaben der Kultusministerien auf einen von den Einzelschulen mit Lektüreempfehlungen zu füllenden Rahmen reduziert, so dass eine Aussage über die schulische Kanonzugehörigkeit des Vorlesers in diesen Bundesländern (z. B. in Bremen, Berlin, Brandenburg oder Mecklenburg-Vorpommern) nicht ohne weiteres zu treffen ist. Andere Bundesländer hingegen behalten bei gleichzeitiger Umstellung auf Kompetenzen die bisher gängige Praxis der Lektüreempfehlungen bei, manche unter ihnen in einer sehr umfassenden Form, z. B. Niedersachsen ( Kerncurriculum für das Gymnasium, Niedersächsisches Kultusministerium) oder Baden-Württemberg ( Bildungsplan 2004 , Ministerium für Kultus, Jugend und Sport). Betrachtet man all diese Rahmenlehrpläne genauer, so ergibt sich mit Blick auf den Einsatz des Vorlesers ein sehr aussagekräftiges Bild, welches zudem recht unabhängig von dem zu erreichenden Bildungsabschluss ist: In mehr als 60 Prozent der curricularen Lektüreempfehlungen finden sich Verweise auf dessen Behandlung im Unterricht, in einigen Bundesländern ist die Lektüre sogar als Prüfungsstoff verbindlich vorgeschrieben. Im Freistaat Sachsen beispielsweise beziehen sich die schriftlichen Abschlussprüfungen zur Erreichung des mittleren Abschlusses auf den Roman. Auffällig sind neben der relativen Häufigkeit auch die in den curricularen Richtlinien vorgeschlagenen Unterrichtskontexte, in denen Der Vorleser thematisiert werden soll. Hier zeigt sich nunmehr, dass die aus den Lehrplanvorgaben ablesbare Kanonisierungstendenz nicht unbedingt mit einer konsensualen Lesart des Romans korrespondiert. Allerdings sind Epochenzuordnungen, in deren Kontext Der Vorleser empfohlen wird, wie etwa “Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts” (Saarland, Baden-Württemberg) bzw. “Literatur von 1945 bis zur Gegenwart” (Bayern) auch nur sehr bedingt geeignet, um eine schlüssige didaktische Perspektive zu eröffnen. Überzeugender sind hier die niedersächsischen und die bereits beschriebenen hessischen Vorschläge, da sie den Text nicht primär in einen zeitlichen Zusammenhang, sondern in einen stoffgeschichtlich-inhaltlichen Kontext einzuordnen versuchen. In Niedersachsen wird der Roman im Rahmen eines Wahlpflichtmoduls “Auseinandersetzung mit Krieg, Verfolgung und Vernichtung im Nationalsozialismus” und damit (auch) zum historischen Lernen empfohlen. Orientiert man sich an den weiteren thematischen Vorgaben, geht es eindeutig darum, mithilfe des Textes Fragen von Schuld und Verantwortung im Immer wieder Schlink? 87 gesellschaftlichen Erinnerungsdiskurs (vgl. Kerncurriculum für das Gymnasium, Niedersächsisches Kultusministerium 42) zu erörtern. Der Vorleser in aktuellen deutschsprachigen Schulbüchern: Eine Evaluation Nachdem anhand der Lehrplananalysen der von Kammler / Surmann vermutete Kanonisierungsprozess klar bestätigt werden konnte, wollen wir uns exemplarisch der gegenwärtigen schulischen Praxis unter Zuhilfenahme zweier Schulbücher nähern. Eine einschränkende Bemerkung sei jedoch vorab erlaubt: Natürlich kann die Untersuchung von Schulbüchern keinen wirklich umfassenden Einblick in das tatsächliche alltägliche Unterrichtsgeschehen geben, da Lehrende ihre didaktischen Entscheidungen eigenständig treffen. Dennoch kann man festhalten, dass Bildungsmedien in der Planung und Durchführung von Unterricht in aller Regel einen sehr großen Stellenwert haben. Es ist daher davon auszugehen, dass vor allem Schulbzw. Lesebücher, die zumeist einem Genehmigungsverfahren durch die Kultusministerien unterliegen, von Lehrerinnen und Lehrern in verschiedenen Phasen des Lehr-Lern-Prozesses, häufig in der Erarbeitung, Sicherung und Anwendung des Gelernten, genutzt werden, so dass auch Aufgabenstellungen zum Teil unmittelbar übernommen werden. Eine wie hier vorgenommene Analyse der Aufgabenstellungen muss aus diesem Grund versuchen, didaktische Akzentuierungen herauszuarbeiten und prüfen, ob und wie sich die eingangs formulierte Zielvorstellung des Literaturunterrichts, nämlich die Vermittlung von historischem Wissen, literarischer Bildung und textvermittelter Sinnstiftung, in der konzeptionellen Gestaltung der Schulbuchkapitel widerspiegelt. Deutsch in der Oberstufe (Schöningh-Verlag) Das untersuchte Teilkapitel mit dem Titel “Bernhard Schlink: Der Vorleser - Roman eines zeitgenössischen deutschen Erzählers” (S. 291-300) ist verhältnismäßig knapp gehalten; neben einem großformatigen Foto des Autors auf der Einstiegsseite beinhalten die folgenden neun Seiten Informationen zu Leben und Werk des Autors, eine inhaltliche und chronologische Rekonstruktion der Handlung, zwei zentrale Auszüge aus dem Romantext und eine Auswahl verschiedener “kontroverse[r] Stimmen zum Buch”. Der Aufbau des Kapitels setzt die Lektüre des gesamten Romans nicht explizit voraus. Die Anmerkungen zum inhaltlichen Verlauf, die die zentralen Motive und Themen erläutern, sowie die Informationen zur Chronologie der Ereignisse 88 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann erwecken vor dem Hintergrund der noch folgenden Aufgaben im Gegenteil den problematischen Eindruck, als genüge die Zusammenfassung des Plots, um die moralisch komplexen (Be-)Deutungsebenen sinnstiftend erschließen zu können. 4 Nach dem Einleitungsteil folgt eine längere Textpassage aus dem ersten Teil des Romans, die wiederum aus zwei eigentlich im Handlungsverlauf isolierten Abschnitten zusammengesetzt ist. Nachdem Michael im ersten Abschnitt von dem Streit und dem Gewaltausbruch Hannas in Amorbach ( D. V. Kap. 11) 5 erzählt (vgl. S. 293 f., Z. 1-57), folgen ohne signifikante typografische Trennung - etwa einen größeren Absatz - Michaels Erinnerungen ( D. V. Kap. 15) an die Schwimmbadnachmittage mit seinen Schulkameraden (vgl. S. 294, Z. 58-150). Der letzte Satz der Passage ist gleichzeitig der erste Satz von Kapitel 16 des Romans, in dem Michael das Verschwinden Hannas konstatiert. Wenngleich die typografische Realisierung nicht optimal gelöst ist, überzeugt die Auswahl der Textpassagen durch die Darstellung der Ambivalenz Hannas als Figur, die sich nach körperlicher Nähe sehnt, emotionale Nähe aber kaum zulässt und ohne erkennbaren Grund vorerst aus dem Leben des Protagonisten verschwindet. Folgerichtig beschäftigt sich auch die textanalytische Aufgabenstellung zunächst mit der Beziehung Michaels zu Hanna, um schließlich - dem Arrangement der Ausschnitte entsprechend - in einem nächsten Schritt auch Michaels Verhältnis zu Sophie und den anderen Klassenkameraden zu beleuchten. Der in der didaktisch fruchtbaren Montage der beiden Abschnitte angedeutete Rollenkonflikt Michaels als Liebhaber einer deutlich älteren Frau und als Jugendlicher in seiner Peer-Group wird durch die Aufgabenstellung, den von Michael angenommenen “Verrat” an Hanna zu erklären, nachvollziehbar verdeutlicht. Unmittelbar anschließend findet sich dann die folgende Aufgabenstellung, die Michael nicht primär als Handelnden, sondern als Erzählenden (s)einer Geschichte in den Blick nimmt: “Beschreiben Sie Erzählerfigur und Erzählergegenwart / Erinnerungsperspektive des Erzählers sowie die Wirkung auf den Leser. Erläutern Sie, wie sich diese Wirkung unterscheiden würde, wenn der Verfasser einen allwissenden Erzähler gewählt hätte” (S. 295). Nimmt man, so wie wir das auch nachfolgend tun, an, dass der Analyse der erzählerischen Vermittlung eine zentrale Bedeutung zukommen muss, um den Roman tatsächlich zu verstehen, so scheint die Aufgabenstellung besonders geeignet, den Erzähler in seiner Rolle als “inadäquaten Erzähler” zu charakterisieren. Ebenso bedeutsam für das Verständnis des Romans ist die in der Aufgabenstellung angedeutete Umkehrung der narrativen Handlungslogik. Durch diesen didaktischen Kniff ergibt sich die Möglichkeit, literarisches Lernen zu initiieren: Durch die Ich-Perspektive bewusst gesetzte Leerstellen werden hier als Literarisierungsstrategien offenbar, auch damit zusammenhängende Momente der Immer wieder Schlink? 89 Spannungserzeugung können identifiziert und auf ihre Funktion für den weiteren Handlungsverlauf diskutiert werden. Freilich wird man hier einschränken müssen: Didaktisch fruchtbar wird diese Aufgabenstellung natürlich allerdings erst dann, wenn der Roman in Gänze bekannt ist. Der zweite im Kapitel befindliche Auszug stammt aus dem zweiten Teil des Romans und bezieht sich erneut auf mehrere didaktisch reduzierte Textpassagen. Michael erkennt hier etwa, dass Hanna weder lesen noch schreiben kann, er stellt Mutmaßungen über ihre Rolle als Täterin und seine eigene (Mit-) Schuld an, die er aber deutlich relativiert. Der Auszug endet mit dem Richterspruch ( D. V. Kap. 17). Die Arbeitsanregungen zu diesen zentralen Abschnitten fokussieren die Schuldgefühle Michaels und seinen inneren Konflikt, ohne diesen jedoch anhand sprachlicher Auffälligkeiten - z. B. die häufige Verwendung rhetorischer Fragen - zu belegen bzw. genauer zu diskutieren. 6 Hier verschenkt die Aufgabenstellung die Möglichkeit, den offensichtlichen Zusammenhang zwischen Inhalt und Form aufzuzeigen. Die weiteren vertiefenden Arbeitsanregungen zielen darauf ab, erste eigene literarische Wertungen vorzunehmen. Ausgehend von dem oben skizzierten Textauszug sollen die Lernenden erläutern, “inwieweit der Analphabetismus Hannas die ‘Täterin’ zugleich auch als ‘Opfer’, zumindest als Opfer zweiter Ordnung, erscheinen lässt” (S. 296). Problematisch ist hier zweierlei: Auf der Ebene der konkret formulierten Aufgabenstellung ist äußerst fragwürdig, wieso Hannas eindeutige Täterschaft durch den Einsatz von Anführungszeichen eingeschränkt und damit relativiert wird. Verstärkt wird dieser Eindruck noch durch die auf der inhaltlichen Ebene suggerierte Gleichsetzung von individueller Täterschaft mit dem vermeintlich gesellschaftlich bedingten Opfer-Sein der Analphabetin Hanna Schmitz. Die sich anschließende Gesprächsanregung, die Relativierung der Schuld kritisch zu sehen, vermag die vorherigen problematischen Setzungen aber nur noch bedingt auszugleichen. 7 Didaktisch wenig ergiebig scheint die auszugsweise und sehr knappe Beschäftigung mit dem Romaninhalt im weiteren Verlauf vor allem aber vor dem Hintergrund des Umgangs mit der Rezeptionsgeschichte (vgl. S. 297 f.). Zwar deutet die bereits erwähnte Überschrift “Kontroverse Stimmen zum Buch Der Vorleser ” bereits an, dass sowohl relevante Auszüge aus affirmativen als auch aus kritischen Rezensionen gegenübergestellt werden, so dass ein breites Feld literarischer Deutungen eröffnet wird. Jedoch müssen die von den Schülern eingeforderten wertenden Stellungnahmen unweigerlich an der (Text-) Oberfläche bleiben, da die Lernenden aufgrund der bisherigen Arbeitsanregungen nicht über eine umfassende Textkenntnis verfügen (können): Ein dem literarischen Lernen gerecht werdender Umgang (etwa durch einen differenzierten Abgleich 90 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann des Gesamttextes mit den so unterschiedlichen Argumentationsschemata der Rezensenten) ist daher für Schülerinnen und Schüler kaum möglich. Nicht unwesentlich ist hierbei auch, dass die historischen Hintergründe, auf die sich die Rezensenten ansatzweise beziehen, nicht durch Recherche-Aufträge oder sonstige Arbeitsanweisungen erarbeitet und vertieft werden. Das anzustellende Fazit für dieses Lesebuch ist daher auch einigermaßen ernüchternd: Folgt der Unterricht ausschließlich den Vorgaben der nur wenig aufeinander aufbauenden Aufgabenstellungen, so findet eine spürbare thematische Verengung statt, die der im Roman angelegten Vielfalt möglicher Sinnbildungsprozesse ernsthaft zuwiderläuft. Auch die Relativierung der Täterschaft Hannas scheint hier zumindest möglich, ebenso eine Übertragung auf reale Täter, was historisch mehr als fragwürdig ist. Praxis Sprache 10: Sachsen (Westermann-Verlag) Das zweite untersuchte Kapitel stammt aus dem Band Praxis Sprache 10 , der von Westermann für den Unterricht an sächsischen Schulen konzipiert worden ist und sich daher konsequent an den Vorgaben des sächsischen Kultusministeriums zur Erreichung des mittleren Abschlusses orientiert. Es handelt sich um ein sehr umfängliches Kapitel (S. 270-89), mit dessen Hilfe eine selbstgesteuerte Vorbereitung auf die zentrale Abschlussprüfung ermöglicht werden soll. Die schlüssige kompetenzorientierte Ausrichtung spiegelt sich in den vielfältigen analytischen Aufgabenstellungen wider; auch setzt die Konzeption des Kapitels die Lektüre der Ganzschrift ab einem gewissen Zeitpunkt zwingend voraus, um u. a. die Raum- und Zeitgestaltung (S. 272), die Figurenkomposition (S. 273, 274 ff., 284-87) und die zentralen Handlungsmotive (S. 278 ff.) zu analysieren. Abschließend beschäftigt sich das Kapitel zunächst mit der Wertung des Romans, um letztlich in einem Exkurs den Autor vorzustellen und auf Bezüge zwischen Leben und Werk zu verweisen (S. 289). Die didaktische Strukturierung bildet in aller Regel die narrative Handlungslogik ab; die gewählten Überschriften der jeweiligen Teilkapitel formulieren die ihnen zugrundeliegenden literarischen Kompetenzen (z. B.: “Figuren- und Konfliktanlage untersuchen”, “Handlungsmotive literarischer Figuren nachvollziehen”, “Erzählperspektiven und Erzählweisen erkennen”), so dass der Kompetenzerwerb nach der eigenständigen und sorgfältigen Bearbeitung der Aufgaben transparent wird. Noch bevor im Kapitelzusammenhang darauf verwiesen wird, dass die Lernenden Schlinks Roman aufmerksam gelesen haben sollten (vgl. S. 271), erfolgt der Einstieg in die Sequenz über die Betrachtung der Paratexte. Abgedruckt wurden hierzu einige Pressestimmen sowie das Cover der Originalausgabe. Immer wieder Schlink? 91 Die zugehörige Aufgabe fordert die Lernenden auf, vor dem Hintergrund ihrer Beobachtungen “Gedanken und Fragen zum Inhalt zu formulieren” (S. 270), so dass zu diesem Zeitpunkt eine Hypothesenbildung der Lernenden über das noch zu Lesende angeregt wird. Vor dem Hintergrund des Umfanges und der für Schülerinnen und Schüler häufig als komplex empfundenen Erzählstruktur des Romans ist die Vorbereitung einer entsprechenden (impliziten) Lesehaltung eminent wichtig. Diese didaktische Sensibilität wird auch an der nächsten Aufgabenstellung deutlich, die ebenfalls noch der Vorbereitung der Lektürephase dient. Hier findet sich nämlich bereits der erste kurze Romanauszug, in dem Michael das titelgebende Motiv und Ritual des Vorlesens ( D.V . Kap. 14) erläutert. Die zugehörige Aufgabenstellung, die nach dem ersten Eindruck und dem Verhältnis der beiden Hauptfiguren fragt (vgl. S. 271), erscheint geeignet, das für die Romanhandlung konstitutive Element der Liebesgeschichte für die Lektürephase vorzuentlasten. Dies ist auch aus dem Grund wichtig, da Jugendliche, die sich in einem ähnlichen Alter befinden wie Michael, einen großen Altersunterschied in einer Liebesbeziehung häufig als befremdlich wahrnehmen und dadurch Gefahr laufen können, sich der erzählten Geschichte zu verweigern. Anders als im zuvor untersuchten Lehrwerk zeigt sich auch im weiteren Verlauf, dass der inhaltlichen Arbeit an und mit Der Vorleser , ergo dem literarischen Lernen und der textvermittelten Sinnstiftung, ein deutlich größeres Gewicht beigemessen wird. Belege hierzu sind die vielfach vorhandenen, den Lektüre- und Arbeitsprozess begleitenden Arbeitsanregungen, wie etwa das Anfertigen von Figurenkarten (S. 276), die häufigen Rückverweise auf längere Textstellen, die zur Bearbeitung der Aufgaben nochmals zu lesen sind, oder die den primären Leseprozess begleitende Erarbeitung einer umfassenden Handlungsübersicht, die auch die Benennung der Handlungszeit und der jeweiligen Handlungsräume einschließt. Sinnvollerweise vertiefen die sich hiernach unmittelbar anschließenden Aufgaben immer wieder die Ergebnisse dieses Konspekts; etwa wenn es darum geht, das Verhältnis zwischen Erzählzeit und erzählter Zeit zu bestimmen (S. 271) oder die Raumstruktur des Erzählten nachzuvollziehen. Sowohl zur Zeitgestaltung als auch zur Struktur der Handlungsräume finden sich zudem Merkkästen mit instruktiven Ausführungen, die das literarische Handlungswissen der Lernenden zweckmäßig vertiefen und den sicheren Umgang mit fachsprachlichen Konzepten unterstützen. 8 Beispielhaft für den erfreulich häufigen und sinnvollen Einsatz dieser Merkkästen mag das Teilkapitel zur Analyse der Konfliktlage stehen. Nachdem vorab die Figurenkonstellation - erneut mit dem Hinweis, auf den Konspekt zurückzugreifen - erarbeitet worden ist (S. 273), definiert der erste Merkkasten den Begriff des Konflikts als “Kampf von Gegensätzen, die in einer Person / Figur oder zwischen zwei Personen / Figuren existieren. Gegensätzliche Kräfte und Willensrichtungen, 92 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Ideen, Vorstellungen und Erwartungen treffen aufeinander, spitzen sich zu und erfordern eine Lösung” (S. 273). Daran anschließend finden sich drei Auszüge aus dem ersten Teil und ein weiterer aus dem zweiten Teil des Romans, die die Lernenden vor dem Hintergrund der gegebenen Definition zu inneren und äußeren Konflikten untersuchen sollen. Die vorgeschlagene Visualisierung der Arbeitsergebnisse in Tabellenform ist darüber hinaus geeignet, das Gegenüber von inneren und äußeren Konflikten nochmals zu verdeutlichen, so dass das Einfühlen in die Figur erleichtert wird. Die Auszüge sind zudem äußerst funktional gewählt, da sie einerseits geeignet sind, die Konfliktlage, in der sich Michael befindet, zu veranschaulichen und andererseits eine erste Bezugnahme auf charakteristische Figurenmerkmale, wie in einer weiteren Arbeitsanregung (S. 274, Aufgabe 4) gefordert, ermöglichen. 9 In einem weiteren die Figurenkomposition vertiefenden Schritt beleuchten die Autoren auch die sprachliche Gestaltung des Romans anhand der bekannten Auszüge der vorherigen Seiten, so dass ein Textverständnis, das Inhalt und Form zueinander in Beziehung setzt, angebahnt wird. Die grafische Übersicht (S. 276) konzentriert sich dabei auf wesentliche rhetorische Figuren (Antithese, Vergleich, rhetorische Frage, Wiederholung, Personifikation), die anhand von Zitaten belegt und anschließend kurz gedeutet werden, so dass die Schülerinnen und Schüler diesen interpretatorischen Dreischritt kennenlernen und auf die bekannten Textauszüge anwenden können. In einem weiteren kurzen Einschub zur Analyse der Erzählhaltung (S. 277) beziehen sich die Autoren auf das Modell von Franz K. Stanzel, das den Lernenden mithilfe eines Merkkastens vorgestellt wird. Die Aufgabenstellung, die Erzählperspektive zu bestimmen, stellt sicherlich keine größere Herausforderung dar. Allerdings wäre die im Kontext der Analyse des Schöningh-Kapitels angedeutete Herangehensweise der Umkehrung der Erzählstruktur an dieser Stelle deutlich anspruchsvoller und auch gewinnbringender, da so die inhaltlichen und formalen Konsequenzen einer alternativen Erzählperspektive aufgezeigt würden. Auch die Limitierungen der Ich-Erzählperspektive würden so deutlicher herausgearbeitet - und damit auch die Abhängigkeit des gesamten Erzählkonstrukts und seiner dadurch ausgelösten Fragen von dieser Perspektive. In den folgenden Abschnitten, die sich den Handlungsmotiven der literarischen Figuren widmen, geht es hauptsächlich darum, die Entwicklung der (Beziehung der) Protagonisten anhand verschiedener Ausschnitte aus dem zweiten Teil des Romans zu erläutern. Zunächst sollen die Motive, die den Beginn der Beziehung kennzeichnen, herausgearbeitet und verglichen werden. Hierzu verweist die Aufgabenstellung (S. 278) die Lernenden auf einzelne Romankapitel, die unter der obigen Fragestellung nochmals nachzulesen sind. Die weiteren im Kapitelverlauf zu findenden ausführlichen Rückverweise und die Immer wieder Schlink? 93 gezielten Arbeitsanregungen sprechen für die konsequente Arbeit an und mit dem Primärtext. Einen Eindruck hiervon kann nachfolgende Aufgabenstellung geben, die sich am Ende dieses Teilkapitels befindet: Beschreibt zusammenfassend die Entwicklung der Beziehung von Hanna und Michael. Denkt dabei an folgende Aspekte: die Art der Beziehung zwischen den beiden, das Verbindende und Trennende dabei, die Veränderungen in ihrer Beziehung vor und nach der Zeit des Prozesses, die erzählerischen und sprachlichen Gestaltungsmittel, Fragen, die für euch als Leser offenbleiben, eure abschließende Wertung der Beziehung. (S. 280) Durch die Erwähnung der bisherigen Arbeitsergebnisse (“Art der Beziehung zwischen den beiden, das Verbindende und Trennende” etc.), die für den Analyseaufsatz gleichsam als Schreibkriterien produktiv gemacht werden, wird auf einer inhaltlichen Ebene nochmals spürbar illustriert, wie komplex die Figurengestaltung im Roman ist. Das wichtige und für den Ich-Erzähler zentrale Handlungsmotiv Hannas, ihr Analphabetismus, wird - in Anlehnung an die Handlungslogik des Romans - auch in der Rückschau erarbeitet. Um “Hannas Vertuschungsstrategien während ihrer Beziehung zu Michael” (S. 281) zusammenzustellen und anschließend mit Blick auf die Konsequenzen dieses Verhaltens (Gewaltausbruch in Amorbach oder ihr Verhalten vor Gericht) kritisch zu diskutieren, verweist die Aufgabenstellung erneut auf die entsprechenden Seiten der Romanausgabe. Die Diskussionsimpulse sind erfreulich offen formuliert, so dass der sich anschließenden Auseinandersetzung mit der Schuldfrage Hannas nicht vorgegriffen wird. Die Thematisierung der Schuld Hannas ist notwendigerweise multiperspektivisch angelegt. Zunächst regt ein Merkkasten (S. 283) dazu an, die eigene Schulddefinition mit der juristischen sowie der ethisch-moralischen Definition abzugleichen. Daran anknüpfend geht es darum, die historische Rolle von KZ -Aufseherinnen zu recherchieren, um schließlich vor dem Hintergrund dieser Erkenntnisse Hannas Rolle und Verhalten vor Gericht zu analysieren, so dass die Schülerinnen und Schüler auf der Grundlage ihrer Arbeitsergebnisse tatsächlich beurteilen können, “inwieweit man bei Hanna von Schuld sprechen muss” (S. 283). Gleichzeitig wird mit dem Vergleich zu historischen Täterinnen zumindest ermöglicht, auch den Konstruktcharakter der Figur Hannas zu erkennen und zu reflektieren. Didaktisch stringent steuert so der Aufbau des Kapitels letztlich auch auf die bedeutsame Frage der literarischen Wertung zu. Ausgehend von einer eigenständigen Recherche verschiedener Rezensionen sollen die Lernenden zusammenfassen, “welche Grundeinstellungen gegenüber dem Roman deutlich werden” (S. 288), so dass davon auszugehen ist, dass sich die kontroverse Rezeption in den Arbeitsergebnissen abbildet. 94 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Noch bevor die Schülerinnen und Schüler sodann eine eigene Rezension verfassen sollen, die durch entsprechende Schreibkriterien adäquat entlastet wird, setzen sich die Lernenden mit einer abgedruckten Rezension (vgl. S. 288) auseinander, die in ihrer affirmativen Tendenz exemplarisch für die erste Periode der Rezeptionsgeschichte des Vorlesers steht. Das anzustellende Fazit für dieses Lehrwerk ist deutlich erfreulicher: Das Kapitel basiert auf einer klaren didaktischen Konzeption, die das literarische Lernen durch abwechslungsreiche Aufgabenstellungen mit entsprechenden Perspektivwechseln nachhaltig fördert. Die Arbeitsanregungen bauen zweckmäßig aufeinander auf und helfen dabei, die narrative Handlungslogik des Romans zu verstehen. Insofern zentrale Aspekte (Figurenkonstellation, Konfliktlage und Schuldfrage) so vermittelt wurden, dass das Gelesene potentiell mit einem subjektiven Sinn versehen werden kann, ohne dabei historische Aspekte, die zur Beurteilung der Schuldfrage (nicht nur der Figur) potentiell notwendig sind, zu vernachlässigen, stellt das analysierte Kapitel einen äußerst gelungenen Versuch dar, der Komplexität des Werks und den Voraussetzungen der Schülerinnen und Schüler gerecht zu werden. Kein Roman über den Holocaust: Literaturdidaktische Perspektiven, Chancen und Grenzen Nach dieser (kursorischen) Bestandsaufnahme des gegenwärtigen Stellenwertes des Vorlesers in der bundesdeutschen Schulpraxis sollen abschließend noch einmal die literaturdidaktischen Chancen und Grenzen des Romans zugespitzt dargestellt werden. Vielleicht beginnt man eine solche Auseinandersetzung am besten mit der Feststellung, was Der Vorleser nicht ist, trotz gegenteiliger Einordnungen in manchen Lektürehilfen und Curricula (etwa Niedersachsen) - nämlich ein Roman über den Holocaust. 10 Immer wieder wurde er als solcher verstanden und interpretiert. Dabei liegt es schon bei einer oberflächlichen Lektüre auf der Hand: Der Roman erzählt nichts, was den Leser verstehen lassen würde, wie der Holocaust wirklich zustande kam oder organisiert wurde. Er erzählt nicht einmal etwas über eine tatsächliche oder glaubwürdige Täterfigur: Eine Analphabetin hätte schlichtweg nicht die - wenn auch nur kurze - Ausbildung zur Aufseherin in einem Konzentrationslager absolvieren können, sie wäre vermutlich noch nicht einmal soweit gekommen. Von den etwa 3500 Angehörigen des so genannten “ SS -Gefolges”, die bis 1945 Dienst in den verschiedenen Frauenlagern taten, “gerieten” auch die wenigsten in diesen “Beruf ”, etwa über Dienstverpflichtungen: Die allermeisten meldeten sich freiwillig, reagierten auf Anzeigen des Arbeitsamtes oder entsprechende Angebote. 11 Immer wieder Schlink? 95 Um es noch einmal deutlich zu sagen: Mit der Figur Hanna Schmitz erfahren wir also weder etwas über Auschwitz, noch über die Motivationen von realen Täter(inne)n. Allerdings, und das ist eine wichtige Feststellung, kann der Roman sehr wohl etwas erzählen zur Geschichte der (auch literarischen) “Vergangenheitsbewältigung”. Darüber hinaus bleibt selbstverständlich - wie mit jedem anderen Roman auch - literarisches Lernen ganz allgemein möglich, wie auch die Analyse der Lesebücher im vorherigen Abschnitt gezeigt hat. Der Vorleser hat also sehr wohl das Potential, Gegenstand eines guten Literaturunterrichts zu sein, der schließlich immer ein Lernen mit und über Literatur ermöglicht. Wir wollen das nachstehend wenigstens beispielhaft verdeutlichen und unterstützen, wenngleich sich auch die Akzente im Vergleich zu den analysierten Lehrwerken und einigen curricularen Vorgaben deutlich verschieben. Die Erzählperspektive Wie entscheidend die genaue Analyse der Erzählperspektive bzw. des Erzählertyps prinzipiell bei einem Roman ist, dürfte Schülerinnen und Schülern gerade mit dem Vorleser sehr deutlich werden. Der Roman kann seine ganze Wirkung überhaupt nur entfalten, weil wir es mit einem Ich-Erzähler zu tun haben, der seine Sicht der Geschichte, seine Interpretation der Ereignisse vorlegt und dem Leser zur ‘Prüfung’ übergibt. Und natürlich ist dieser Michael Berg nicht nur wie alle Ich-Erzähler ‘befangen’ und in seiner Fähigkeit, die Motivationen, Gedanken und Gefühle anderer Figuren einzuschätzen, eingeschränkt; er will und muss mit seiner Erzählung auch noch das Trauma seines Lebens bewältigen: Immerhin hat er eine Frau geliebt, die in Auschwitz tätig war. Hanna ist und bleibt eine Mörderin - und Michael muss damit zurechtkommen, dass er sie eine Zeitlang zum Zentrum seines Lebens gemacht hat. 12 Dass Berg deshalb auch mit seiner Erzählung ringt, immer wieder neue Anläufe unternimmt, teilt er selbst mit, zwar erst fast am Ende, aber es ist eine Stelle, die dem Leser klarmacht, dass Michael Berg ein “inadäquater Erzähler” ist, also einer, der seiner eigenen Geschichte recht eigentlich nicht gewachsen ist: 13 Den Vorsatz, Hannas und meine Geschichte zu schreiben, habe ich bald nach ihrem Tod gefaßt. Seitdem hat sich unsere Geschichte in meinem Kopf viele Male geschrieben, immer wieder ein bißchen anders, immer wieder mit neuen Bildern, Handlungs- und Gedankenfetzen. So gibt es neben der Version, die ich geschrieben habe, viele andere. Die Gewähr dafür, dass die geschriebene die richtige ist, liegt darin, daß ich sie geschrieben und die anderen Versionen nicht geschrieben habe. Die geschriebene Version wollte geschrieben werden, die vielen anderen wollten es nicht. 96 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Zuerst wollte ich unsere Geschichte schreiben, um sie loszuwerden. Aber zu diesem Zweck haben sich die Erinnerungen nicht eingestellt. Dann merkte ich, wie unsere Geschichte mir entglitt, und wollte sie durchs Schreiben zurückholen, aber auch das hat die Erinnerung nicht hervorgelockt. Seit einigen Jahren lasse ich unsere Geschichte in Ruhe. Ich habe meinen Frieden mit ihr gemacht. Und sie ist zurückgekommen, Detail um Detail und in einer Weise rund, geschlossen und gerichtet, daß sie mich nicht mehr traurig macht. ( D. V. S. 205 f.) Man wird mit Schülerinnen und Schülern diese bedeutsame Stelle sehr ausführlich besprechen und ihre Konsequenzen verdeutlichen müssen. Sie kann dazu dienen, um an einem extremen Beispiel klar zu machen, warum ein Ich-Erzähler auf der einen Seite die “epische Distanz” maximal verringert - er steht ja mitten im Geschehen -, gleichzeitig aber sein Blickfeld extrem eng ist und er seine Geschichte nur im Hinblick auf sich selbst erzählen kann. Und diese Stelle illustriert auch Wesentliches zum Erzählen allgemein: Denn wir alle erzählen unsere (Lebens-)Geschichten in der Regel so, dass sie unser Ich stabilisieren, dass sie uns, um es einmal drastisch zu sagen, überleben lassen. Es bedarf einer gezielten didaktischen Entscheidung, ob man diese Stelle sogar zum Ausgangspunkt der Auseinandersetzung mit dem Vorleser macht oder der Chronologie des Romans folgt und sie erst am Ende bespricht und damit noch einmal alle bis dahin getroffenen Urteile einer kritischen Prüfung unterzieht. Auf jeden Fall macht dieser metanarrative Kommentar des Ich-Erzählers, der an einer sehr exponierten Stelle, nämlich an einem der Ränder der Erzählung, steht, deutlich, dass dies ein Roman über Michael ist, über seine Urteile, seine “(Nicht-)Bewältigung” der Vergangenheit. Damit wird auch der Titel noch einmal klar, der auf den ersten Blick auch ‘falsch’ wirken kann: Es geht eben nicht um “die Analphabetin” oder “die Täterin”, es geht hauptsächlich um den Vorleser , um Michael Berg. Mit dieser Erkenntnis lesen sich Bergs Urteile über Hanna oder über Täter allgemein aber anders. Man wird versucht sein, seine mehrfach wiederholten und dadurch narrativ stark privilegierten Aussagen zum Auseinanderfallen von Entscheiden und Handeln noch deutlicher zurückzuweisen, als man es vielleicht schon getan hat: Ich denke, komme zu einem Ergebnis, halte das Ergebnis fest und erfahre, daß das Handeln eine Sache für sich ist und der Entscheidung folgen kann, aber nicht folgen muß. Oft genug habe ich im Laufe meines Lebens getan, wofür ich mich nicht entschieden hatte. Es, was immer es sein mag, handelt; es fährt zu der Frau, die ich nicht mehr sehen will, macht gegenüber dem Vorgesetzten eine Bemerkung, mit der ich mich um Kopf und Kragen rede, raucht weiter, obwohl ich mich entschlossen habe, das Rauchen aufzugeben, und gibt das Rauchen auf, nachdem ich eingesehen habe, daß ich Raucher bin und bleiben werde. Ich meine nicht, daß Denken und Entscheiden Immer wieder Schlink? 97 keinen Einfluß auf das Handeln hätten. Aber das Handeln vollzieht nicht einfach, was davor gedacht und entschieden wurde. Es hat seine eigenständige Quelle und ist auf ebenso eigenständige Weise mein Handeln, wie mein Denken mein Denken ist, und mein Entscheiden mein Entscheiden. ( D. V. S. 21 f.) Man versteht, warum Michael Berg dieses Erklärungsmuster entwickelt, warum er unbedingt begründen muss, dass Hanna den Dienst im KZ nicht gewollt hat, sich nicht für ihn entschieden hat - denn damit wäre auch er aus dem Schneider, seine Liebe zu ihr wäre dann nicht mehr das Produkt eines furchtbar verirrten Gefühls. Er hätte sich nicht hingezogen gefühlt zu einer gewalttätigen Mörderin, zu einer, die über Leben und Tod zu entscheiden vermochte. Für Michael Bergs Aussage, seine Geschichte habe sich für ihn gerundet, sie mache ihn nicht mehr traurig, kennt man nun den Preis: Er muss eine scheinbare anthropologische Konstante finden, die ihm erklärt, warum Hanna offenbar aus freien Stücken nach Auschwitz ging, ohne es doch gewollt zu haben. Ebenso ohne es zu wollen, gibt der Erzähler freilich im Laufe seiner Geschichte preis, dass diese Erklärung nicht so ganz stimmen kann. Hanna hat ganz offensichtlich etwas Gewalttätiges an sich, etwas Unkontrollierbares - und das erfährt auch Michael Berg buchstäblich am eigenen Leibe, als sie ihn nach ihrem bereits thematisierten Wutanfall ( D.V . Kap. 11) züchtigt. Dass auch dafür - in Michaels Verständnis - ihre Furcht vor der Entdeckung als Analphabetin verantwortlich ist, ändert nichts an der (fiktiven) Tatsache, dass sie unkontrolliert und brutal zuschlägt. Auch der Beginn der Erzählung und damit auch der Beginn der Beziehung zwischen Hanna und Michael hält einen Hinweis für den Leser bereit, dass das Verhältnis zwischen beiden nicht gesund, nicht “normal” ist: Schon in den ersten Sätzen berichtet Michael, dass sich Hanna ihm, der an Gelbsucht litt, “fast grob” zuwandte. Nach der Interpretation des metanarrativen Kommentars werden auch Schülerinnen und Schüler diese Zeichen besser verstehen und deuten können. Genau das aber ist das Ziel guten Literaturunterrichts: Literarisches Lernen heißt u. a., zu verstehen, wie Literatur funktioniert, wie sie ihre Wirkungen erzielt. Dabei kommt der Analyse der erzählerischen Vermittlung eine entscheidende Bedeutung zu: Schülerinnen und Schüler sollen eine (grundsätzlich empathische) Beziehung zum Erzählten aufbauen, aber dabei auch kritisch bleiben und Mitgeteiltes immer auch auf seine Stichhaltigkeit hin überprüfen. Schließlich lesen wir auch die Werke Goethes nicht, um uns kritiklos mit den durch die literarische Inszenierung privilegierten Positionen seiner Figuren zu identifizieren. Stattdessen geht es darum, Schülerinnen und Schüler auch literarisch urteilsfähig zu machen. 98 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Von dort ausgehend begreifen sie auch, dass ein Roman immer auch einen Kontext hat, dass er mitunter auf bestimmte Interpretationen und Lesarten verkürzt wird, dass er gewisse Leserinteressen bedienen kann, etc. Das wiederum führt uns zu einem zweiten, literaturdidaktisch fruchtbaren Feld, das mit dem Vorleser bestellt werden kann. Die Analyse von Rezeptionsprozessen Es ist mittlerweile hinlänglich bekannt, dass der Vorleser eigentlich zwei Rezeptionen erfuhr: Unmittelbar nach seinem Erscheinen 1995 waren die Besprechungen ganz überwiegend positiv; sie strichen vor allem die erzählerische Konstruktion heraus, lobten aber auch besonders die Darstellung der Täterfigur Hanna. Durch sie sahen viele Rezensenten die “Aufrichtigkeit” des Romans sichergestellt, der, wie Rainer Moritz in seiner überschwänglichen Kritik in der Weltwoche schrieb, angeblich “die bequemen Ausflüchte all derer hinfort [fegt], die einem ‘Aufarbeiten der Vergangenheit’ eilfertig das Wort reden.” Man fand allgemein, dass Schlink mit Hanna eine entdämonisierte Täterfigur entworfen habe und somit auch den realen Tätern, die in den wenigsten Fällen unmenschliche Psychopathen und damit auf wohltuende Weise unverständlich waren, nahegekommen sei. Dabei wurde gerade die von Michael Berg gelieferte Begründung für Hannas Täterschaft, ihr Analphabetismus, als Ausdruck einer - im Sinne Hannah Arendts - “banalen” Täterschaft akzeptiert. 50 Jahre nach Kriegsende schien dieses Täterbild also offenbar - nicht nur in Deutschland - konsensfähig zu sein. Hat man mit Schülerinnen und Schülern die Erzählperspektive, deren Folgen und Bedingungen aber klar analysiert und auch die vom Erzähler gleichsam unbewusst mitgelieferten Zeichen, die belegen, dass seine Erklärungen nicht stimmen können, dann wird bei der Diskussion einzelner Rezensionen aus der ersten Rezeptionsphase jedoch fast automatisch die Frage entstehen, wie es zu dieser Akzeptanz kommen konnte. Abgesehen von den - ob nun absichtlich oder unabsichtlich vom Autor - mitgelieferten Widersprüchen im Roman wird die Lernenden sicher die Frage beschäftigen, wie es den Rezensenten gelingen konnte, Bergs (weiter oben bereits zitierte) Positionen zum Auseinanderfallen von Entscheiden und Handeln so ohne Weiteres anzunehmen. Denkt man diese schließlich konsequent zu Ende, dann wäre auch unser allgemeines Verständnis von Täterschaft und vor allem von Rechtsprechung in Gefahr: Wenn letztlich keiner für das Es , das da in ihm handelt, verantwortlich ist, kann es eigentlich auch für keine Form des Verbrechens eine Bestrafung geben. Für die Schülerinnen und Schüler wird durch eine Analyse dieser ersten Rezeptionsphase verständlich, warum es eine zweite - ab 2002 - gab oder bes- Immer wieder Schlink? 99 ser: geben musste, die den Roman nunmehr heftig kritisierte. Willi Winkler bezeichnet den Roman in der Süddeutschen Zeitung gar als “Holo-Kitsch” und machte sein hartes Urteil erneut an der Täterfigur Hanna fest: Auf seine wenig subtile Art variiert Schlink das Klischee vom schäferhundliebenden und abends geigespielenden KZ -Kommandanten, indem er seine Hanna wenigstens nachträglich in das Reich der Dichter & Denker beruft. Die ehemalige Lageraufseherin ist nämlich Analphabetin, deshalb braucht sie den Vorleser. Weil sie nicht lesen konnte, und die Entdeckung fürchtete, hat Hanna, armes Ding, ihre Laufbahn bei Siemens aufgeben müssen und bei der SS Unterschlupf gefunden, wo ihre Leseschwäche nicht weiter auffiel. Auch die mitgelieferten Erklärungen Bergs wurden nun hart zurückgewiesen - allerdings geriet jetzt vor allem auch der Autor Bernhard Schlink in die Kritik. Die Ebenen Autor / Erzähler wurden konsequent vermischt, die erzählerische Vermittlung, ihre Bedingungen und Möglichkeiten, wurden kaum noch beachtet. Auch hier ist literarisches Lernen mit den Schülerinnen und Schülern sehr gut möglich: Zum einen können sie selbst noch einmal überprüfen, wo eine Trennung von Autor und Erzähler dringend geboten erscheint und wo man sie gegebenenfalls sinnvollerweise aufheben kann. Darüber hinaus lernen sie an der Auseinandersetzung mit den Rezeptionsphasen auch eine Menge über den aktuellen Literaturbetrieb und seine Aktanten. Das Arbeitsfeld “Wirkungszusammenhänge von Literatur” (wie es im hessischen Lehrplan etwa vorgesehen ist) wird an dem nachgerade spektakulären Fall des Vorlesers sehr transparent. Gleichzeitig lässt sich, wie bereits angedeutet, trefflich diskutieren, warum sieben Jahre vergehen mussten, ehe sich der sehr affirmativen Lesart, die sich ja nicht nur im Gedenkjahr an das Kriegsende, sondern auch nur zwei bzw. drei Jahre nach den rechtsradikalen Ausschreitungen und Gewalttaten von Hoyerswerda, Rostock, Mölln und Solingen entwickelte, eine - bisweilen über das Ziel hinausschießende - relativierende Interpretation des Vorlesers entgegenstellte. Das wäre eine Ebene des historischen Lernens mit dem Roman, die sehr wohl auch möglich ist: Nämlich nicht über die Geschichte des Holocaust, sondern über den gesellschaftlichen Umgang mit ihm und mit Täterschaft allgemein, wie er an der Rezeption eines literarischen Werks vor zwanzig bzw. dreizehn Jahren hervortritt. Ein Fazit Der vorliegende Aufsatz hat versucht, exemplarisch Aufschluss darüber zu geben, welcher Stellenwert dem Vorleser noch immer in der bundesdeutschen 100 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Schulpraxis zukommt. Zum einen konnte gezeigt werden, dass der Roman noch immer curricular fest verankert ist, zum anderen wurde mithilfe der kritischen Analyse zweier erst vor Kurzem erschienenen Lehrwerke gezeigt, dass und unter welchen Voraussetzungen literarisches Lernen mit ihm möglich ist. Deutlich wurde, dass die Verkürzung des Romaninhalts auf die historische Schuldproblematik didaktisch überaus fraglich ist. Eine angemessene Auseinandersetzung kann dagegen gelingen, wenn die erzählerische Komplexität des Vorlesers transparent und zum Ausgang weiterer Überlegungen gemacht wird. In einem weiteren Schritt wollten wir zeigen, dass sich die Auseinandersetzung mit dem Roman dann noch immer lohnt, wenn man das literarische Lernen (vor allem zur erzählerischen Vermittlung) koppelt mit einem wohlverstandenen historischen Lernen: nicht über den Holocaust selbst, sondern über Rezeptionsprozesse und deren Umfeld und Ursachen. Notes 1 So äußert sich Schlink etwa in einem Interview mit Tilman Krause: “[…] mein Traum war immer, dass meine Bücher in den Bahnhofsbuchhandlungen ausliegen.” 2 Die Rechtseinheit im Bildungsbereich wird durch die bildungsföderale Ausrichtung Deutschlands verhindert, so dass die einzelnen Bundesländer ihre inhaltlichen Zielvorgaben souverän bestimmen können. Gleichwohl wird es nach Beschluss der Kultusministerkonferenz eine Vereinheitlichung der Schulabschlüsse geben; ab dem Jahr 2017 gelten bundesweit einheitliche Richtlinien zur Erlangung der allgemeinen Hochschulreife, dem höchsten Schulabschluss in Deutschland. 3 Trotz ihrer Unterschiedlichkeit haben die Richtlinien gemein, dass sie auf vergleichbare literarische Kompetenzen abzielen: Schülerinnen und Schüler sollen im Kern mithilfe geeigneter Texte lernen, mit Fiktionalität und sprachlichen Bildern umzugehen sowie narrative Handlungslogiken und Perspektiven literarischer Figuren nachzuvollziehen. 4 Diesen Eindruck bestätigt auch die folgende Aufgabenstellung (S. 295): “Untersuchen Sie die Beziehung zwischen Hanna und Michael und zwischen Michael und Sophie und den anderen Klassenkameraden. Orientieren sie sich während oder nach der Lektüre auch an der Inhaltsangabe (S. 291 f.) und der Auflistung zur Chronologie der Ereignisse (S. 292 f.).” 5 Im Folgenden werden zur besseren Orientierung für die Verweise auf den Vorleser die Siglen D. V. verwendet. Sie beziehen sich auf die im deutschen Markt befindliche Diogenes Taschenbuchausgabe (1997). Immer wieder Schlink? 101 6 Die Aufgabenstellung lautet etwa: “Erschließen Sie durch markierendes, selektives Lesen den Text: Zu welchen Überlegungen und Einsichten kommt Michael, als er erkennt, dass Hanna Analphabetin ist? Welche Konflikte und Schuldgefühle bedrängen ihn? ” (S. 296). 7 “Diskutieren Sie, inwiefern die Absicht des Verfassers, ‘die Monster’ als Menschen zu zeigen, vom Leser auch als eine Relativierung ihrer Schuld gedeutet werden könnte” (S. 296). 8 In dem erfreulich häufigen Einsatz dieser Merkkästen als Instrument des literarischen Lernens offenbart sich eine der großen Stärken des konzeptionellen Vorgehens. 9 Die typografisch sauber getrennten Auszüge beschäftigen sich u. a. mit Michaels Scham, als er Hanna erstmals in Unterwäsche sieht (S. 15 ff.), mit Michaels Eingeständnis des Schulschwänzens und Hannas Verärgerung darüber (S. 35 f.), mit Hannas Gewaltsausbruch in Amorbach (S. 54 f.) und dem von Michael beschriebenen Gefühl der Betäubung während der Gerichtsverhandlung (S. 96 f.). 10 Vgl. hierzu besonders Donahue. 11 Anders als es oft kolportiert wird, gab es keine weiblichen Mitglieder der SS . Die Aufseherinnen in den Konzentrationslagern waren Mitglieder des “ SS -Gefolges” und - trotz ihrer Uniformen - zivile Angestellte der SS . Vgl. hierzu Erpel. 12 Dieses Trauma formuliert Michael selbst sehr deutlich (S. 128). 13 Das Konzept stammt von dem britischen Literaturwissenschaftler John Mullan, der damit eigentlich einen Ich-Erzähler meint, “that requires the reader to supply what the narrator cannot understand” (S. 50). Mullan erläutert dies an dem autistischen Ich-Erzähler Christopher in Mark Haddons The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time , der selbst um seine Schwierigkeiten nicht weiß. Wir möchten die Bezeichnung hier ausdehnen auch auf jene Ich-Erzähler, denen - auf die eine oder andere Weise - bewusst ist, dass sie mit ihrer Geschichte überfordert sind. Works Cited Birkmeyer, Jens. “Erinnerung als didaktische Kategorie? Ethische Zugänge im Literaturunterricht.” Holocaust-Literatur und Deutschunterricht. Perspektiven schulischer Erinnerungsarbeit . Hohengehren: Schneider Verlag 2007. 61-78. Bildungsplan 2004. Allgemein bildendes Gymnasium. Ed. Ministerium für Kultus, Jugend und Sport Baden-Württemberg, 2005. Web. 27 May 2015. Deutsch in der Oberstufe. Ein Arbeits- und Methodenbuch. Ed. Peter Kohrs. Paderborn: Schöningh, 2011. 102 Sascha Feuchert und Björn Bergmann Donahue, William Collins. Holocaust Lite: Bernhard Schlinks “ NS -Romane” und ihre Verfilmungen . Bielefeld: Aisthesis, 2011. Erpel, Simone, et al., eds. Im Gefolge der SS : Aufseherinnen des Frauen- KZ Ravensbrück : Begleitband zur Ausstellung . Berlin: Metropol, 2007. Haddon, Mark. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time . London: Vintage, 2003� Kerncurriculum für das Gymnasium - gymnasiale Oberstufe / die Gesamtschule - gymnasiale Oberstufe / das Fachgymnasium / das Abendgymnasium / das Kolleg. Deutsch � Ed. Niedersächsisches Kultusministerium, 2009. Web. 27 May 2015. Lehrplan Deutsch. Gymnasialer Bildungsgang. Jahrgangsstufen 5G bis 9G und gymnasiale Oberstufe . Ed. Hessisches Kultusministerium, 2010. Web. 10 May 2015. Moritz, Rainer. “Die Liebe zur Aufseherin.” Die Weltwoche 23 Nov. 1995. Mullan, John. How Novels Work . Oxford: Oxford UP , 2006. Praxis Sprache 10: Sachsen . Ed. Wolfgang Menzel. Braunschweig: Westermann, 2015. Schlink, Bernhard. “Gegen die Verlorenheit an sich selbst.” Interview by Tilmann Krause. Die Welt 3 April 1999. Stanzel, Franz K. Theorie des Erzählens. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995. Winkler, Willi. “Vorlesen, Duschen, Durcharbeiten.” Süddeutsche Zeitung 30 March 2002, Literatur: 16. The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 103 The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority William Collins Donahue University of Notre Dame Abstract: Taking the articles published in this special issue as its point of departure, this essay explores the enduring appeal of Schlink’s Der Vorleser / The Reader , offering a broad, synthetic overview of recurrent controversies in Schlink scholarship . Two issues are central: the use of history and the status of the narrator. Critics—including those published here—have proposed conflicting perspectives on these key matters, often with an eye to invalidating (rather than engaging with) the approaches of their opponents, and sometimes in ways that unwittingly diminish their own agenda. The depiction of the perpetrator Hanna is an equally salient issue, one that is intimately bound up with the other two. This essay concludes by viewing the notably “weak” portrayal of Hanna as a principle reason for the novel’s (and even more so, the film’s) broad cultural resonance. Keywords: Holocaust, German, generation, perpetrator, suffering “I even feel sorry for the young Germans because to be maybe sons or daughters of killers is different than to be sons and daughters of the victims. And I felt sorry for them. I still do. […] [But] the Holocaust is not a cheap soap opera. The Holocaust is not a romantic novel. It is something else.” —Elie Wiesel (1988) This year Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader (1997; Der Vorleser, 1995) turns twenty-one, a milestone in a cultural trajectory that shows no sign of weakening or waning. In these pages The Reader is examined as a specimen of phenomenally successful “global literature” (Ryan), considered as a symptom of arrested postwar political development (Baker); and as an exemplar of the “compet- 104 William Collins Donahue ing victimhood” discourse, which while rooted in the specifics of post-unification Germany, possesses wider-ranging implications (Holub). This accessibly written novel—often cited as a representative of the “new readability” (“neue Lesbarkeit”)—is firmly entrenched in the German school curriculum (Feuchert and Bergmann); has spawned a lengthy (and growing) roster of publications, including a daunting list of teacher and study guides in Germany (Madden); and has inspired a film that is only now beginning to be contextualized within the broader scope of Holocaust-themed cinema (Prager). Niven widens the aperture even further by linking the novel to prominent debates on the legacy of the student movement and that of the so-called 1968ers, while Della Rossa’s pedagogical engagement with The Reader illustrates the enthusiasm with which Schlink has been adopted throughout German Studies curricula in North American higher education. Finally, Claudia Rusch’s full-throated encomium illuminates, I would argue, the manner in which The Reader continues to speak not only to Schlink’s own “second generation,” but also to the “Nachborenen” (those born after) more generally. Collectively, the diverse contributions gathered in this issue confirm nothing if not the irrefutable fact of Schlink’s continuing relevance. This in itself is worthy of notice. For this special issue is not a top-down affair that creates the very trend it then purports to examine. We are by no means a partisan literary guild (the “Schlink-Gesellschaft,” if you will) that in marking an anniversary seeks to enshrine or promote its pet author. On the contrary, Schlink—and The Reader in particular—are part and parcel of a powerful popular culture phenomenon (illustrated most memorably by the author’s appearance on the Oprah Winfrey Show) that operates within but also far beyond the bounds of academic discourse. It is worth keeping this fact in mind as we ponder The Reader at twenty-one, because a large part of our task must surely be to take stock of a cultural event, rather than merely to offer additional individual “readings” of our own. Or, if we do the latter, we ought to do so in light of the former. It is for this reason that I advocate a broadly phenomenological approach as articulated by Rita Felski in The Uses of Literature , namely one that does not check hermeneutic credos at the door, but rather takes account, to the extent possible, of the full extent of readerly experience. 1 We need to ask not only, how should the novel be read, but also how is it being received and why? Does this vary from place to place and time to time? The approach I am recommending is a manner of critique in dialogue with reception criticism, capaciously conceived. In the spirit of the 2014 MLA panel that gave birth to this special issue, I will confine myself essentially to the role of respondent to the work of others. Rather than provide a full précis and response to each piece, I have, as a rule, The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 105 chosen topics that cut across a number of articles, providing a more synoptic and comprehensive treatment of salient issues that might interest anyone currently engaged with Schlink and The Reader . One consequence of this is that I will leave many good things unaddressed, on the assumption that readers will be more interested in a divergent point of view and a contest of ideas than in me repeating points with which I already agree. I should confess to a certain “history” with Schlink and The Reader. With publications stretching back to 2001, and culminating in a book with the impertinent title Holocaust Lite: Schlinks “ NS -Romane” und ihre Verfilmungen (2011), I have been a vocal and persistent critic. I cannot summarize here what has taken me far too many pages to argue elsewhere. 2 However, one way of expressing a core concern that animates many others would be this: Like Claudia Rusch, I fully endorse Schlink’s stated effort to give voice to the second generation’s pain and suffering that derives from having loved Nazi perpetrators. That is indeed a profound dilemma that has both historical and supra-historical (dare I say universal? ) dimensions. And perhaps one should simply pause here to credit the novel for its soaring ambition, generous posture, and gutsy gamble. For the mere articulation of that problem in the mid-1990s, when the public commemoration of the Holocaust was approaching its crescendo, is itself an accomplishment one can celebrate. I take issue, rather, with the execution of a plan that in the end actually sells the second generation short. Because of the numerous ways in which The Reader obscures, shrouds and diminishes the Holocaust, and even seeks to explain away the careers of certain Nazi perpetrators, we cannot fully appreciate the pain of second-generation Germans who loved actual perpetrators. To have loved an air-brushed, second-tier, once-removed, and obviously handicapped Hanna is thus, as Feuchert and Bergmann argue (and recall they are determined promoters of the novel! ), to have been infatuated with a fictional persona who bears little resemblance to any of the historical actors in the Nazi genocide. Hanna is indeed so “cleaned up” that teachers bent on teaching this book under the rubric of “Zeitgeschichte” (contemporary history)—a justification frequently given for including it in the school curriculum—immediately run into problems; for students will quickly discover that this fictional figure has little to do with any of the historical female defendants in war crimes trials. In this context, Wiesel’s term, “the embellishment of the tragedy” (which he contrasts with “the denial of tragedy”), comes to mind. 3 An upgraded, or “embellished” Hanna, whose guilt is systematically mitigated, moderated, and mystified, simply cannot adequately sponsor the second generation’s real and undisputed agony of having loved an unvarnished perpetrator. 106 William Collins Donahue And yet the very same reception data I otherwise find so compelling poses a problem for my own hypothesis. What are we then to make of the ongoing investment of secondand third-generation Germans—here illustrated by Claudia Rusch’s very personal essay—in the novel? I can posit the novel’s inadequate answer to its own question all I want, but I still need to account for the documented affirmation and resonance experienced by so many (German) readers. I try to do just that in my response to Rusch, below, by reflecting on the way in which an “embellished” perpetrator figure such as Hanna precisely suits the needs of those who believe—or want to believe—that their beloved culprit was never much of one in the first place. Like no other author I know of, Schlink really does allow us to have it both ways; indeed this bimodal quality structures the entire novel. 4 And what if we take the “pain of loving a perpetrator” theme metaphorically, as Schlink has urged us to do, particular in the aftermath of the novel’s international success and its transformation into a Hollywood film? Leaving aside the specifics of Nazi Germany, as Ryan rightly suspects many younger and non-German readers will do, we are perhaps liberated from the stern claims of history that have bedeviled the reception of this book, and that I too will treat once more below. Yet even if we for the time being agree to unfetter the novel from its historical moorings, we may find ourselves dissatisfied. For the novel’s premise is only dulled—also on the metaphorical reading—if the perpetrator is muted and the crime is muffled. The ongoing attraction of the theme itself, however, is undeniable. For we clearly remain fascinated by the possibility of deep emotional attachment (whether our own or someone else’s) to unadorned criminals, as is clear—to give just two examples—from the critically-acclaimed film Dead Man Walking (1995) , or the phenomenally popular HBO series The Sopranos (1999-2007). When, however, a perpetrator’s agency is repeatedly questioned, her de facto responsibility diluted by the patent criminality of others, and the proximity of victims is diminished or downplayed, then one might begin to ask if the premise has been properly formulated in the first place. Maybe it is not, after all, so much about loving an undisputed criminal as it is about ratcheting down the criminality to a more loveable level. Hanna’s function would thus be to denote the culprit (an Auschwitz guard) while systematically draining that signifier of its murderous sting. She can in this way embody a distinctly less “willing” accessory to murder—to echo Goldhagen’s controversial study—while rendering the bulk of the parent generation much less guilty in comparison. For if she can stand as a credible concentration camp guard, as the novel’s exposition requires, the other mere “Mitläufer” (fellow travelers) who played no such particular roles look a lot better in contrast. As a nominal, and yet undisputed criminal, Hanna adds a new twist to the “lov- The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 107 ing the perpetrator” trope, one that draws the reader’s attention away from the beloved and focuses it instead upon the lover. This systematic diversion of attention away from the criminal and the crime means that the competing victimhood to which Robert Holub refers—the proximate depiction of German and Jewish victims of wartime suffering—never really comes to the fore in The Reader . As Omer Bartov pointed out long ago, Jews make a very meager appearance in the novel in the first place, and when they do, it is only to serve as an occasion for depicting the suffering of Germans. What is more, the particular pain of Michael and Hanna has little to do with the wartime misery and death occasioned by Allied bombing and the Soviet advance from the east, which is what we normally mean by German wartime suffering. Not to belittle Michael’s genuine woes, but second-generation discomfort, or even psychological deformation, was never part of the “competing victimhood” debate. Holub is right to point out, however, that it is not the depiction of Germans as victims per se that is new in the mid-1990s, but rather the bold juxtaposition of German and Jewish suffering. The issue is, as Holub says, very much one of proximity and juxtaposition. But what does this mean practically? I don’t think the other examples he gives (Ransmayr and Wilkormirski) make the point: the former is a patently allohistorical revenge fantasy (as Gavriel Rosenfeld would say) in which Germans (or Austrians in this case) are punished for the Holocaust. But this is an invented fiction—like Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds— that every reader recognizes as such. And the latter is in any case a book about Jewish suffering—however fraudulent it may have turned out to be under the rubric of memoir. The pain experienced by Grosjean (the author’s real name) as a postwar displaced person emerges only much later once the book is proven to be counterfeit, and is in any case never seriously pitted against the suffering of the Jews within the diegesis. The challenge Holub faces in illustrating the point is, however, itself telling. I would suggest that the “proximity” at issue was rarely given within a single work of art after all, and much more an attribute of public discourse and debate. At any rate, The Reader proves the opposite point. It is an exemplar of the inverse relationship of proximate German and Jewish wartime suffering: one of the two, I contend, is typically held to a minimum, so that the other can make its case. Jewish suffering is muted—not out of ill will, we can safely assume— but because it would be difficult, if not impossible, to properly frame Michael’s pain if it were depicted cheek by jowl with a vivid, thick description of beatings and murders of Jewish inmates. He would look like a whiner. Schlink is simply caught between the Scylla and Charybdis of victimhood writing in Germany in the mid-1990s. His good will is surely not at issue. 108 William Collins Donahue Yet some have acted as if it were. Or more precisely, in order to ward off any criticism of the novel along the lines that it perhaps evokes the Holocaust only to skirt it, or gloss over it, some critics rush in to assure us that such a reading of the novel is ipso facto impossible because of the impeccable credentials of its author. Schlink himself responded this way to me once in an email after having read some of my publications. He referred me to his legal scholarship and to his essays written as a public intellectual: there I would find incontrovertible proof, he averred, of his actual sentiments with regard to “Vergangenheitsbewältigung” (confronting the Nazi past). Yet as Wimsatt and Beardsley argued many years ago in “The Intentional Fallacy,” works of art, no matter how “rooted” within the consciousness of a particular author, or embedded in a particular historical context, take on a life of their own. And given the multiple, proliferating contexts of global literature, this is all the more likely to be true. To be fair, a novel’s reception can both realize and distort the work. The point, however, is that these are typically complicated, tangled matters that need to be argued , and cannot be settled merely by vouching for the author’s good character. Yet while critics are quick to cry foul when Schlink is too easily identified with Berg (I shall return to the author / narrator distinction below), they don’t always object to citing the master to rule certain kinds of criticisms out of court. We encounter this ploy in an endnote to Rusch’s essay, where she admits to some misgivings about the characterization of Hanna as illiterate—a critique, by the way, that prominent American Jews lodged forcefully following the U. S. publication of the novel in 1997. Trying to square the circle, Rusch concludes: “Ich weiß nicht, ob Schlink das unterschätzt hat oder ob es ihm gar entgangen ist. Ich weiß nur, dass die Entlastung von NS -Tätern nie sein literarisches Thema war. Ganz im Gegenteil. Ihm deshalb über die Figur der Hanna NS -Verharmlosung vorzuwerfen, finde ich, vorsichtig formuliert, ein wenig wohlfeil.” What requires more careful formulation, I would submit, is the short-circuited attribution of criticism to the author rather than to the work. In concluding her essay, Rusch imagines a group of benighted critics who only seek simple answers from the novel—critics, in other words, who not only misread The Reader, but literature in general. “Ich glaube,” she writes, “ein gutes Buch hat keine Antworten. Ein gutes Buch stellt die richtigen Fragen. Dieses Buch tut es. Nach den Antworten müssen wir schon selbst suchen. Das kann uns niemand abnehmen.” But this is surely to misstate the problem, for the issue is rather the freedom of critics to raise “richtige Fragen” without immediately reducing this to a question of the author’s character or political sentiments. For to claim that rendering Hanna illiterate is problematic—with all that that entails regarding mitigating circumstances and impaired judgment—is clearly at least an argu- The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 109 able point that deserves a thoughtful response, rather than an ad hominem rebuke. In the abstract, none of these literary-critical issues seems very controversial. Though we might find it a bit too dogmatically stated (for clearly an author’s biography matters in some way), who would seriously dispute the New Critics’ fundamental objection to the overreliance on authorial intention? But when it comes to the Holocaust, things can heat up rather quickly. Even after the air has largely gone out of the Holocaust “bubble,” that emotionally charged two decades of discourse that followed upon German Unification, 5 the issue retains its power to inflame and outrage, such that a criticism of a novel for its wan treatment of the Holocaust can very much feel like an indictment of the author. It would be naïve to dismiss this phenomenon on the grounds that it simply shouldn’t be the case—that would be to mistake “is” for “should.” How do we move forward? One way of dealing with this whole assemblage of critique centering on the novel’s depiction of the Holocaust is simply to deny that it is a Holocaust novel in the first place. Feuchert and Bergmann do just this. It is both a strikingly economical and breathtaking dismissal: Vielleicht beginnt man eine solche Auseinandersetzung am besten mit der Feststellung, was Der Vorleser nicht ist, trotz gegenteiliger Einordnungen in manchen Lektürehilfen und Curricula (etwa Niedersachsen): nämlich ein Roman über den Holocaust. Dabei liegt es schon bei einer oberflächlichen Lektüre auf der Hand: Der Roman erzählt nichts, was den Leser verstehen lassen würde, wie der Holocaust wirklich zustande kam oder organisiert wurde, er erzählt nicht einmal etwas über eine tatsächliche oder glaubwürdige Täterfigur: Eine Analphabetin hätte schlichtweg nicht die - wenn auch nur kurze - Ausbildung zur Aufseherin in einem Konzentrationslager absolvieren können, sie wäre vermutlich noch nicht einmal soweit gekommen. If this strikes one as reasonable, it is because it is mostly true: the novel doesn’t explain either the genesis or the execution of the Holocaust, and neither does it provide a credible perpetrator figure in the persona of Hanna Schmitz. But is the conclusion justified? Are these valid criteria for Holocaust literature or more apposite of Holocaust historiography? Are they theoretically rigorous criteria for any genre? One could go through a catalogue of Holocaust “classics” and disqualify one after the other based on this dubious measuring stick. The Diary of Anne Frank would be the first to go, and Ruth Klüger’s weiter leben would be soon to follow, as it does not meet all of these standards. 6 If we restrict ourselves to non-documentary literature, Sophie’s Choice would not pass muster, and neither would George Tabori’s controversial The Cannibals be admissible despite 110 William Collins Donahue the fact that it is frequently taken to be an “Auschwitz play”. Even Elie Wiesel’s classic Night does not meet these criteria. 7 The “utility” of this broadly dismissive gesture is suspicious: soon there is hardly a book left standing, save, perhaps, Peter Weiss’s Die Ermittlung— but even it fails to satisfy critics on the matter of the Holocaust’s genesis. With one fell swoop, then, the field is cleared of any challenge that arises out of a concern for the quality and scope of such literature, because it simply doesn’t exist in the first place. But do we really want to agree to this? Shall we in fact assent to the exclusion of The Reader from the realm of Holocaust literature—a novel that features an Auschwitz camp guard, places her trial at its center, presents a death march at a key point in the narration, has the young protagonist visit a former camp, and deploys Jewish survivors, albeit sparsely? To understand the extent to which this claim is in fact a wholesale dismissal of critical responses to The Reader, one needs to recall that the principal objection throughout has been made precisely on these grounds: it falls short, even by its own internal standards, in its depiction of the Holocaust. Admittedly, one can in response raise a host of questions: How shall we define the novel’s “internal standards,” and who is to decide the proper depiction of the Holocaust? Is the critic preempting the novelist’s freedom by expressing prescriptive criteria, by “imposing” them from without? All these are legitimate ways to initiate a debate that would of course elicit a chain of further responses and objections. This is in fact exactly the debate that has been carried out in much of the secondary literature. What is not acceptable, I would argue, is to set aside the discussion entirely, to declare it out of bounds and inadmissible—the result of a careless reading of the novel. It is surprising that the pedagogues Feuchert and Bergmann should make such an argument because one of the leading reasons teachers recommend The Reader for inclusion in the school curriculum in the first place is that it offers an effective vehicle for teaching about the Nazi period, and makes possible for young Germans a less fraught relationship to their very troubled past. Such are the stated justifications one finds in not a few of the teaching guides (Lehrwerke) that Feuchert and Bergmann treat otherwise so fastidiously. In abandoning this rationale, they are left with only a wan notion of “literarisches Lernen” (literary learning), a set of close reading and narratological skills which, while valuable as a school lesson, could be easily gleaned from virtually any piece of literature. They don’t answer the question, why The Reader? Underlying many of the articles in this volume—and many more again in the secondary literature—is a pervasive unease about Hanna, significantly greater, I would say, than about Michael. 8 Even Feuchert and Bergmann pause to chide one of the teaching guides they examine for minimalizing Hanna’s guilt and The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 111 trivializing her role as a perpetrator. But what does it matter, if the novel is, as they say, so evidently not a Holocaust novel? What is more, when the authors focus on Michael’s trauma, we observe a renewed (and unavoidable) interest in Hanna precisely in her historical role as a camp guard at Auschwitz: “Er will und muss mit seiner Erzählung auch noch das Trauma seines Lebens bewältigen: Immerhin hat er eine Frau geliebt, die in Auschwitz tätig war. Hanna ist und bleibt eine Mörderin—und Michael muss damit zurechtkommen, dass er sie eine Zeitlang zum Zentrum seines Lebens gemacht hat.” For Rusch as well, Hanna matters in her function as a “Täterin,” but really only insofar as she explains Michael’s emotional challenges. Beyond this role as his antagonist we are not permitted to inquire—or to critique: “Alles andere bewegt sich gedanklich an diesem Text völlig vorbei. Tut mir leid.” Thus does Rush disallow further discussion. On closer inspection, we observe in both cases a fundamental ambivalence about history: up to a point permissible, even necessary, but then no further. The Holocaust may be used as exposition, as a way of “motivating” the protagonist’s dilemma; but when critics come with unwelcome questions about the nature and quality of that Holocaust depiction, the discussion is summarily shut down and ruled irrelevant. Does The Reader deploy a questionable instrumentalization of the Holocaust, as I have suggested? The question deserves a hearing, even—or especially—if the larger question of fiction’s relationship to history remains a difficult and contested matter that can probably not be decided in the abstract. Declaring The Reader not a Holocaust novel, however, simply cuts it off from some of the richest criticism the novel has ever generated—most of it very positive, by the way. And it is a dubious strategy, intended or not, for disengaging from some of the most compelling arguments in favor of its deployment in the schools. Yet the anxiety about Hanna persists. And one way of explaining (away) her questionable characterization is to say that Michael Berg—our narrator and fictional memoirist—is getting things wrong all along because he is after all an “inadequate narrator” (“inadäquater Erzähler,” as Feuchert and Bergmann phrase it). Ryan thinks that an appreciation of Berg as an “unreliable” narrator opens up the novel to higher levels of contemplation, and she may be right. Schlink himself has staked out a similar position about his narrator, emphasizing, particularly in light of pointed critique of the novel, that we are after all meant to be critical of Berg, not his witless ally. All well and good, as far as it goes. However, there is a way in which this observation about narrative perspective, a fundamental point, after all, becomes a plenipotentiary instrument for preemptively ridding the novel of virtually any criticism. Everything we learn stems from the consciousness of our fictional memoirist, so once we “discover” his limitations, we can chalk up the respective blemish to his misperception. 112 William Collins Donahue Poor Michael Berg has been so traumatized by Hanna that he really doesn’t know which end is up. The “unreliable narrator” argument has indeed proven remarkably useful in the armory of those who wish to defend the novel against all comers. For the answer is always the same; one needn’t even consider the objection for very long: the narrator, not the novelist, got it wrong! Feuchert and Bergmann even deploy this point to explain the novel’s entire reception history: early critics were too enthusiastic because they simply didn’t appreciate Berg’s “inadequacy,” and later critics were far too negative because (in another twist of the same argument) they confused Berg with Schlink—in other words, they now recognized the narrator’s flaws, but mistakenly equated them with those of the author. Unfortunately, this is a version of the novel’s reception history that holds no water—unless, of course, one wishes to believe that a critic as astute as George Steiner liked the novel because he didn’t realize that the narrator is somewhat blinkered by his distressing experiences. First, Hanna cannot be explained away by a troubled Berg. Her controversial conception as illiterate stems from the author, and is not attributable to the narrator’s perceptual distortion. And we might note in passing that the concern about Berg systematically soft-pedalling Hanna’s Nazi past also runs into a limit: the central court scene, for example, introduces an array of data that we simply cannot dismiss at will, as if Berg were perhaps hallucinating. A careful weighing of perspective is surely crucial throughout, but when we are told that Hanna is certainly “much worse” than she appears to Berg (as Feuchert and Bergmann contend), then we can only turn to history to provide the corrective to Berg’s jaundiced perspective. (How else would we know she is worse? No other character in the novel can do it, because the entire work is filtered through his consciousness, and thus susceptible to the same “modifications” in perspective.) In other words, the novel is asking—even requiring—the reader to assess its central figure against the backdrop of the historical record of Nazism and the Holocaust. History is back. Second, and more fundamentally, an unreliable narrator is not the simple or monolithic thing many critics take it to be. As Rita Felski has recently argued (in both The Limits of Critique and Uses of Literature ), reliability and identification are far more complex phenomena than we have taken them to be. Allying ourselves with fictional figures is, she argues, much more provisional, intermittent, and context-dependent. 9 Contradictions, limitations, and outright flaws do not ipso facto render a character unreliable. On the contrary, these very weaknesses may render him / her more endearing and in a sense more trustworthy, especially when the figure (like Michael Berg) is so incessantly self-aware and confesses them to us so obsessively. Perspectivized narration is a fact of literary life. But it is rarely the simple catch-all answer that some defenders of The Reader have The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 113 taken it to be. Noticing perspective is the beginning—not the culmination—of the work of interpretation. So let us begin by looking at three examples taken from the contributors to this volume, all sophisticated readers who, I think we can assume, are wellversed in the basics of narratology. The first, Judith Ryan, may seem counter-intuitive in this context, because in suggesting a bimodal reading of the novel (dividing up readers into the less-critical “absorptive” and more reflective “critical” groups), she advances the “unreliable narrator” as the key to a higher-level appreciation of the novel—sounding on this point very much like Feuchert and Bergmann. Her notion of a novel with ascending levels of difficulty begins with a simple love story (level one), and continues in level two as a kind of detective story; both are popular genres. At these relatively simple stages (which constitute the majority of the novel! ), she seems willing to accept the fact that Berg functions as a consonant narrator, that is, we tend to “absorb” his point of view. 10 At any rate, she approvingly quotes Joseph Metz, who comments upon The Reader ’s “smoothly accessible realist prose, stereotypical scenarios, and power to seduce readers into passively accepting the values and viewpoints of the hypnotic narrator [Michael] Berg.” The portal to the third level is the appreciation of Berg as unreliable; and here properly alert readers, we are told, engage in the critical distancing necessary for the appreciation of abstract issues that make their appearance in this final section. Ryan selects two incidents that allegedly highlight our need to “take an increasingly skeptical position toward what Michael writes.” They are the shoplifting scene (when as a fifteen-year-old he pilfers a negligee to impress Hanna), and the moment a few years later when, as a young law student, he fails to reveal Hanna’s illiteracy to the judge. 11 But do these events necessarily undermine his trustworthiness? I would venture that most readers do not even recall the shoplifting episode, and that those who do are willing to chalk it up as a youthful indiscretion, or to place the responsibility for this entire phase of the relationship on the much older Hanna. And as for his moral “failure” to speak openly to the judge in the war crimes trial: however much we may want him to be a hero, do we really judge him for this—especially when his (philosophy professor) father instructs him, drawing upon the authority of Kant, that it would actually be wrong to do so? That doing so would violate Hanna’s agency, freedom, and dignity? Is it not in fact possible that these errors of judgment, especially when they are openly admitted and accompanied by much breast-beating, actually endear the narrator to the reader even more? And insofar as these very failures are portrayed as the price he has paid for his ill-fated love affair, is it not possible that he emerges with his authority not only intact but perhaps enhanced? 114 William Collins Donahue Robert Holub seems to think so. Speaking of the way in which both Michael and Hanna are figured as victims, he observes: “As readers we are drawn into identification with the unfortunate fate of Michael and Hanna, made to feel empathy with their suffering and misfortune. They are flawed protagonists, to be sure, but they are therefore all the more human for their deficiencies.” The empathy of which Holub speaks saturates the narrative, one could argue, neutralizing our urge to correct, judge, or condemn. Proximity and consonance predominate over moments of outrage and distance. But one needn’t see this exclusively through the lens of the Frankfurt School—e.g., that it is sleek realism or cheap emotionalism that dupes its readers into unthinking narrative alliances. On the contrary, Berg is a highly reflective and self-accusing narrator who guides us through the labyrinthine struggles of second-generation Germans. Ryan herself observes: “Michael’s reflections on law and its place in society are shown through a widened aperture that allows for complex historical and moral considerations. Michael is acutely aware of the ambiguities that arise in such reflections, and through them, the reader is brought to a third level of abstraction.” Here we see that the obverse of Ryan’s initial contention is also true: an opening to the novel’s complexity not by way of distancing ourselves from the narrator, but by following his very lead. As a writer of fiction and memoir herself, Claudia Rusch clearly needs no lessons on the distinction between author and narrator. It is nevertheless instructive to see how readily she merges the person of narrator and author in order to enhance the former’s authority. In an attempt to demonstrate that Hanna serves as an indisputable exemplar of the perpetrator generation (a debatable claim, to be sure), Rusch exuberantly asserts: “Auch hier interpretiere ich nicht, das führt Schlink selbst so aus: ‘Wie sollte es ein Trost sein, dass mein Leiden an meiner Liebe zu Hanna in gewisser Weise das Schicksal meiner Generation, das deutsche Schicksal war, dem ich mich nur schlechter entziehen, das ich nur schlechter überspielen konnte als die anderen.’ Das deutsche Schicksal , wie er es nennt, ist der Angelpunkt dieses Romans.” Setting aside Rusch’s understanding of Hanna for the time being, I would note that in the preceding sentence she employs the word “er” to refer both to Michael and Schlink. Not only do we miss the critical distancing that an unreliable narrator would seem to call for; on the contrary, the narrator’s reliability is placed beyond question: “[…] hier interpretiere ich nicht, das führt Schlink selbst so aus”! If a student in a literature course were to offer this defense, we might raise our eyebrows. Yet the honest sentiment is compelling and clearly central to our concern. An accomplished young author who has taken the time to read Schlink’s novel twice trumpets her conviction that the book’s central theme is the plight of the children and grandchildren of those complicit in Nazism: “In meinen Au- The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 115 gen ist Der Vorleser […] ein wirklich großartiges Buch über die Hilflosigkeit und Scham der Kinder mit der Schuld umzugehen, die ihre Eltern als Angehörige der ‘Generation der Täter, Zu- und Wegseher, Tolerierer und Akzeptierer’ auf sich geladen haben.” In focusing so relentlessly upon the “Nachgeborenen,” Rusch echoes the warm and enthusiastic welcome the book received in the German press after its initial publication. Numerous critics—presumably not all benighted in matters of narratology—sided unabashedly with Michael as spokesman for their generation, as representative of their pain. And they did it not because they had no other differences with Michael. I assume that they don’t endorse shoplifting, that their better selves would speak up for an illiterate in a more timely fashion, and that they would want the protagonist to do the same. The point, rather, is that when novels create distances from their narrator, they do so in all kinds of ways, many of which have local and particular consequences for the narration, while others are more global. Clearly, The Reader is no exception. Michael himself is his own most intense critic—and in some this might incite distrust and distance, whereas others will find it admirably circumspect. These moments have to be identified, worked out, weighed one against another—in other words, interpreted . What is not persuasive is to cite narratology in the abstract, as a kind of metacritique that prophylactically invalidates any objection that might be lodged against the novel. 12 What is more: the novel’s form needs to be considered in this discussion. While Feuchert and Bergmann rightly draw our attention to Michael’s rhetorical misgivings about his writing, they don’t attend to the fact that he has achieved what he once doubted was possible: the completion of a rounded, meditative, self-critical memoir. The voice that introduces the book is that of the thoughtful fifty-something jurist who is clearly no longer the hormone-driven teen and young man guilty of various missteps and misjudgments. While perhaps scarred for life in certain ways, he has also come of age and expresses confidence in his story. The memoir itself, the very act of coherent narration is coded as a sign of healing. This of course doesn’t mean that readers will, or should, read with Michael in every instance. But first, we will want to identify which Michael is speaking, and from what perspective. The larger point remains this: narratology needs to be applied both holistically and differentially, that is, to the myriad textual features that create authority, as well as to those that undermine it. It cannot be evoked in lieu of the hard work of interpretation. That this has not been the case in the history of The Reader is due to the fact that the “unreliable narrator” thesis was polemically charged from the outset. It has been championed by Schlink himself, as I’ve noted, and not coincidentally invoked widely in the wake of the second wave of largely negative criticism to which Feuchert and Bergmann refer at the close of their article. 13 In other words, 116 William Collins Donahue the suspicious “discovery” of Michael as inadequate or unreliable was from the beginning—with some exceptions, to be sure—a way of defending Schlink and the novel against strong criticism of Hanna; of justifying the novel’s soft-pedaling of the Holocaust; and of explaining Berg’s one-sided dismissal of the socalled ’68ers. But this polemic is by no means necessary. Paying close attention to narrative voice, reliability, and identification should not be the province of any one particular critical camp. All readers need to do so. One of the most powerful and lasting ways of effectively merging The Reader ’s author and narrator, even if it flies in the face of narratological niceties, has been to show how the two think alike. On a number of diverse issues, the jurists have remarkably similar views, and perhaps nowhere more strikingly than on the topic of so-called ’68ers, those activist students who so angrily rejected their Nazi fathers. In his contribution to this issue, Bill Niven argues that “Schlink’s oeuvre […] needs to be understood as a deconstruction and indeed discrediting of 1968 and its representatives, and as preparing the way for an approach to the Nazi past freed from what is clearly perceived as a moral censure,” noting in particular the manner in which Schlink and Michael Berg are of one mind on this matter. 14 Niven carefully works out Schlink’s consistently critical attitude toward “1968” as it appears in a number of fictional and non-fictional texts over the years. 15 Readers can hardly avoid the conclusion that Michael Berg, who in a central passage of The Reader memorably denounces the ’68ers for their undifferentiated condemnation of the parent generation, functions himself as a kind of de facto mouthpiece for the author. 16 If this results in shoring up Michael Berg as an authority figure, rather than a patently unreliable narrator, we should not be surprised. But there is more to suggest that Berg’s trajectory may be one toward greater maturity and perhaps even wisdom. Gary Baker makes an intriguing connection between the characters’ notable “coolness” and the requirements for a successful democracy: drawing on the work of the Mitscherlichs, Helmut Lethen, Hannah Arendt and others, he moves the discussion as no one yet has into the realm of postwar German politics. Baker discusses the period of the Economic Miracle as a time of stunted emotional expression that inhibits the development of character traits necessary to the unfolding of a true democracy: “The national fate,” he observes, “lies in not being capable of shedding these anti-democratic propensities that marked German social interactions.” Baker’s argument possesses cogency for the period of the 1950s, 1960s, and perhaps well into the 1970s when many prominent leftists were skeptical as to the quality of West German democracy. But when one reflects on the fact that Germany—certainly by the time of the novel’s publication in 1995—had since emerged as a model European democracy, one can only conclude that the malady of emotional ar- The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 117 rested development that Baker diagnoses has, accordingly, also somehow been overcome. The perhaps inadvertent implication of Baker’s argument is thus to focus our attention upon the Michael Berg of the mid-1990s, an accomplished man now in his mid-fifties, the narrator of the frame narrative who, scarred though he may still be, has nevertheless substantially surmounted the challenges of his harrowing youth. He may not be emotionally effusive, but he is clearly emotionally engaged, a point the film pursues to perhaps kitschy ends. 17 Ironically, there was a time when allying Schlink with his narrator was good business. During the initial phase of the book’s phenomenal success (and, to be honest, long thereafter), one found frequent references to the striking parallels in the biographies of the two: both jurists, both members of the second generation, both deeply pained by attachments to the perpetrator generation. And both involved in some kind of steamy youthful affair with an ex-Nazi? Not alone among interviewers, Oprah Winfrey did not hesitate to pose the question (from which, however, Schlink coyly demurred). Paratextual materials, marketing strategies, talk-show appearances, teachers’ guides—all of these have played a huge role in elevating the novel to a global success, and in framing the terms of its reception. And one common thread throughout has been the often explicit assertion that Michael Berg is the author’s benevolent alter ego. If we wish to understand these broad social meanings, which of course do not respect all the rigors of narratology, we will want to augment our strictly textual and normative readings with data from this larger realm. The “Schlink phenomenon” has the The Reader at its core, but it is surely larger than the novel itself. “Hanna in Frankfurt? ”, Brad Prager’s provocative article on Daldry’s (and Schlink’s) film The Reader is a welcome release from the prison-house of structuralist textual inquiry into the unruly, rich world of visual studies. We know that Schlink altered Hanna for the film—making her prettier, less threatening, and far less violent. While Prager attends to the relationship of book to film, his principal focus remains on the visuals, and like other scholars considered above (and like so much of the secondary literature) he is intrigued by the figure of Hanna. If it is somehow necessary (or useful) to deploy an anodyne, fictional evocation of the Holocaust in order to portray the genuine suffering of second-generation Germans, as I have argued, Prager helps us understand how the film furthers this agenda. Hanna is visually “softened” not only in obvious ways (such as casting), but also more subtly, e.g., by placing her in settings that evoke the horrors of both the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials and the Eichmann trial. These evocative sets draw a contrastive image of Hanna, for she so little resembles the infamous “Excesstäter” of these trials. “She comes across,” Prager says, “as unthreatening, even helpless—less a villainous beast 118 William Collins Donahue than a version of Elizabeth Proctor, wrongly accused of witchcraft in Arthur Miller’s Crucible .” Another technique identified by Prager—perhaps an allusion to Stephen Spielberg’s Schindler’s List —is a protracted visual parallel of Hanna and Michael on the morning of her sentencing, suggesting in a way that the novel cannot how their lives are intertwined and analogous. Their parallel and interdependent victimhood, firmly rooted in the novel, but not yet fully realized there, now comes into clearer view: “In encouraging us to understand and pity Hanna, the novel and the film place her and Michael on similar footing.” Prager’s piece reminds us of the rich fund of allusive material associated with Holocaust representation, and in this way serves as a corrective to more blinkered discussions of the novel (my own included) that fail to consider the many unexpected and perhaps unintended “intertexts” that impinge upon a novel of this kind. His analysis exemplifies the insight that comparative criticism can bring to bear on an otherwise fairly simple novel and formula film. We have noted the fact of Schlink’s durative presence, and we have discussed how and why he is taught in the schools and elsewhere. But why should The Reader persist? We cannot mark this twenty-first anniversary without posing this question of value. Of all the pieces gathered in this volume, I find that Denise M. Della Rossa and Claudia Rusch answer this question most compellingly. In the hands of Della Rossa, the novel proves an effective vehicle for inculcating social-critical thinking among her students at the University of Notre Dame. For Rusch, it already possesses an intriguing metaphorical quality: the quintessential novel about second-generation children coping with their parents’ complicity or passivity in the Nazi era proves amazingly adaptable to the context of the demise of the German Democratic Republic almost forty-five years later: “Ich weiß genau, wie schwer Kollektivschuld und der Umgang damit aufzuarbeiten sind. Literarisch wie im richtigen Leben. Und machen wir uns nichts vor: Im Alltag meines Landes spielt das noch immer eine nicht zu unterschätzende Rolle. Nur redet davon kaum jemand. Weil es nicht schillert, weil es nicht angenehm ist. Wie Michael wollen wir uns bis heute am liebsten um eine Konfrontation drücken.” Reading herself and her generation into the role of the wounded yet somehow perspicacious Michael, Rusch gives us a hint as to the novel’s staying power. Surely there is a no more emotionally intense passage in all the essays of this volume than that where Rusch unabashedly takes on Michael’s story as her own. The “counterpart” to Hanna in Rusch’s narrative is her grandmother, whose only sin was to have participated as a child in the activities of the Nazi Bund Deutscher Mädel ( BDM , League of German Girls). Rusch writes: “Ich hatte schon schwer genug daran zu schlucken, dass meine über alles geliebte The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 119 Großmutter als kleines Mädchen mit dem BDM auf Wandertouren gegangen ist. Als Heranwachsende habe ich sie oft harsch angegriffen deswegen. Wie sie, obgleich nur ein Kind, nichts von dem hatte merken können, was damals um sie herum geschah. Warum sie nichts getan hat.” This extremely personal outpouring is poignant; and it illuminates the particularly German resonance of this international bestseller. Beyond that, it reveals the way in which The Reader offers a powerful mirror for Rusch to understand her own family story. As I have said on more than one occasion, a more explicit (and perhaps more historically accurate) depiction of Hanna as perpetrator would very likely have pulled the focus of the novel away from Michael, obscuring his utility to readers like Rusch. Now, in light of Rusch’s story about her grandmother, it is possible for me to see in this a strength. For without such a wanly drawn perpetrator figure, Rusch could not have projected her own family history into Schlink’s fictive constellation. An enfeebled, childlike Hanna makes it possible for readers like Rusch to participate in this therapeutic psychodrama, without coming too close to the consuming fires of the Holocaust. The Reader has now reached the age of majority. But Hanna, in her illiteracy and incomprehension, must in a sense forever remain “unmündig,” weak, a bit of a child. For that is the secret of the novel’s success. Notes 1 Felski articulates a “neo-phenomenology that blends historical and phenomenological perspectives, that respects the intricacy and complexity of consciousness without shelving sociopolitical reflection” ( Uses 18). She specifies her approach as in consonance “with Ricoeur’s recasting of phenomenology as the interpretation of symbols rather than the intuition of essences,” agreeing with “his insistence that the self is always already another, formed at its core through the mediating forces of stories, metaphors, myths and images” (16). It is therefore “an impure or hybrid phenomenology that latches onto, rather than supersed[es], my historical commitments” (17). 2 As a consequence, I will refrain from documenting here what is already fully cited in those earlier works. Both the German and English editions of my monograph are indexed to allow easy access to more in-depth arguments, should that be desired. 3 The distinction is valuable, and applicable, I would argue, to The Reader. It should be noted, however, that it is one of degree, not kind; for both come under the rubric “false witnesses” (Wiesel). 4 See especially the introduction to the English-language version of my study (2010), entitled “Mighty Aphrodite,” where I argue that the novel is perme- 120 William Collins Donahue ated not so much by rich ambiguity, but rather by mutually interdependent antipodal notions of, for example, guilt and innocence. In any single reading, one is necessarily dominant and the other recessive, but both are available, allowing readers to assert Hanna’s guilt while enjoying her relative innocence—just as we might reasonably insist on Aphrodite’s chastity (noticing her undeniable gestures of modesty) while fully enjoying the exhibition of her almost full-body nudity. 5 See my article “‘Aber das ist alles Vergangenheitsbewältigung’: German Studies’ ‘Holocaust Bubble’ and Its Literary Aftermath,” where I set forth this development in some detail. 6 Alex Sagan argues that it is precisely the paucity of Holocaust depiction that made The Diary of Anne Frank (and particularly its stage version) so popular in Germany. The play gestures toward the Holocaust by alluding to Anne’s demise, but graciously keeps the horror off the stage, making it possible for the audience to affirm young Anne’s famous line about the essential goodness of humankind—a child’s declaration made long before her incarceration in Bergen-Belsen. 7 As Wiesel says in the context of his memoir, Night, “all the questions I had remain open. I really don’t believe that I found any answer to any one of the questions I had. I don’t know the meaning. I don’t know why it happened. I don’t know how it happened. I still don’t know anything, really” (Wiesel). 8 For example, in her contribution to this volume, Denise M. Della Rossa argues: “To a certain extent, both the fictional case of Hanna Schmitz and the factual case of Oskar Gröning engage in the nuances of moral versus legal guilt […].” This inaugurates a rather strained and essentially incommensurate analogy of a documented, historical perpetrator to a tenuous, fictional one. It is as well a case in which recourse to the historical record resurfaces as a way of making sense of the elusive, and in some ways insubstantially drawn, Hanna. 9 Felski distinguishes between “formal alignment ” and “experiential allegiance, ” arguing that the former does not reliably predict the latter. But the matter is yet more befuddled: “Among literary theorists,” she observes, “the usual language for explaining such sparks of affiliation is identification, a term that is, however, notoriously imprecise and elastic, blurring together distinct, even disparate, phenomena. […] The idiom of identification, in other words, is poorly equipped to distinguish between the variable epistemic and experiential registers of readerly involvement” ( Uses 34-35). For further discussion of issues regarding differential identification and varying modes of narrative sympathy, see Felski’s “Digging Down and Standing Back” in The Limits of Critique (52-84). The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 121 10 Yet even this assumption may be mistaken. Felski argues that “absorption” itself does not guarantee identification: “[…], while critics often assume that absorption is tied to the experience of identifying with fictional characters, the catalysts for such involvement turn out to be less predictable” ( Uses 62). 11 To be fair, I think Ryan is referring as much to Berg’s strategically delayed revelation to us as readers as to the judge within the diegesis. Is this move necessarily manipulative such that we must now judge Berg with a high degree of skepticism? Perhaps. But withholding Hanna’s illiteracy can equally well be seen as a necessary way of communicating the mindset of the younger Berg, who of course did not know of Hanna’s handicap. It is at any rate a standard gambit of childhood / youth autobiography, according to which an adult self adopts—sometimes selectively, sometimes more uniformly—the limited view of the experiencing youth. To do otherwise in this case would, as I’ve argued elsewhere, undermine Berg’s relentless case to depict himself as a victim of Hanna’s deceptions. For to have us learn too soon of Hanna’s verbal deficits could easily shift our sympathies to her at a time when Berg very much wants to direct the reader’s commiserations to himself. Schlink’s deployment of a frame narrator in his mid-fifties who adopts the voice of his younger self for most of the interior memoir is not in itself an exceptional or particularly objectionable narrative stratagem. 12 In fact, narrative theory appears to be moving in the opposite direction. For example, Katra Byram proposes that the “dynamic observer narratives” she studies—and Schlink’s novel certainly belongs to this group—“encourage readers’ tendency to equate narrator and author—that is, to blur the distinction between fact and fiction.” See the chapter “Structural and Historical Tensions in the Dynamic Observer Narrative” (43-64, here 63). 13 I do not quite agree, however, with this somewhat schematic and bifurcated rendition of reception history. Not only is the causality implausible (insofar as it attributes, respectively, a single kind of narrative naivety to both groups), as I’ve argued above, but the basic outline is itself wanting. The “two waves” thesis is simply not finely-grained enough to register, for example, the serious objections to the novel voiced already in 1997 and 1998. The second wave is firstly dated improperly, and secondly draws in its main objections upon the earlier work of American (or US -based) critics, e.g., Ozick, Hoffmann, Bartov, et al. For an extensive treatment of reception data for the early period, see my “Illusions of Subtlety”; for more recent phases, consult Hall. 14 Whether or not Niven mistakes the author for the narrator, or merely conflates the two because of their ideological similarities is of less consequence than the fact that he emphasizes their mental consonance from the per- 122 William Collins Donahue spective (as this can only be) of the adult Berg, who, despite those youthful indiscretions, has evidently matured to the level of the author. 15 Toward the end of his essay, Niven rightly identifies the ’68ers as a vocal but tiny minority of the second generation. This explains how it can be that Michael Berg has been frequently seen both as a benevolent representative of the second generation, and as a harsh critic of that, in his view, fanatical and boisterous generational subgroup. In fact, the revisionist view of ’68 (perhaps no longer as revisionist today as it was in the mid-1990s) is precisely what helps to credentialize him as a worthy generational spokesman. 16 While Niven concludes his essay by pointing out an apparent contradiction in Schlink’s thinking (namely his moralizing about ’68ers in the very process of disparaging moralizing in the context of the Holocaust), it is nevertheless true, I think, that Schlink’s tremendous social capital, and his stature as a social and political commentator, only serve to enhance the image of Michael Berg once the two have been linked in terms of their political sentiments on ’68. 17 One thinks here of the tears in Berg’s eyes as he receives the scolding from the Holocaust survivor and recalls Hanna’s “brutal” treatment of him. More formulaic still is the healing implicit in the scene when Berg visits the grave of Hanna with his daughter, thus repairing the rift between father and daughter by overcoming the emotional reserve that had begun with the ill-fated relationship with Hanna and continued into his years as young father. Daldry’s concluding scene to The Reader makes explicit what is already present in the novel, namely a firm linking of the ability to narrate with psychic healing. Works Cited Byram, Katra A. Ethics and the Dynamic Observer Narrator: Reckoning with Past and Present in German Literature. Columbus: The Ohio State UP , 2015. Donahue, William Collins. “‘Aber das ist alles Vergangenheitsbewältigung’: German Studies’ ‘Holocaust Bubble’ and Its Literary Aftermath.” The Persistent Legacy: The Holocaust and German Studies. Ed. Jennifer Kapczynski and Erin McGlothlin. Rochester, NY : Camden House, 2016. 80-104. ---. Holocaust as Fiction: Bernhard Schlink’s “Nazi” Novels and Their Films. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. ---. “Illusions of Subtlety: Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser and the Moral Limits of Holocaust Fiction.” German Life and Letters 54.1 (2001): 60-81. ---. “Revising ’68: Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser , Peter Schneider’s Vati and the Question of History.” Seminar 40.3 (2004): 293-311. Felski, Rita. The Limits of Critique. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2015. The Schlink Abides: The Reader Attains the Age of Majority 123 ---. Uses of Literature. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008. Hall, Katharina. “The Author, the Novel, the Reader and the Perils of ‘Neue Lesbarkeit’: A Comparative Analysis of Bernhard Schlink’s Selbs Justiz and Der Vorleser .” German Life and Letters 59.3 (2006): 446-67. Sagan, Alex. “An Optimistic Icon: Anne Frank’s Canonization in Postwar Culture.” German Politics and Society 13.3 (1995): 95-107. Wiesel, Elie. “Fresh Air Remembers Elie Wiesel, Holocaust Survivor and Nobel Peace Laureate.” Interview by Terri Gross. National Public Radio 8 July 2016. (Rebroadcast of 1988 interview). Web. 13 Aug. 2016. Wimsatt, William K., and Monroe C. Beardsley. “The Intentional Fallacy.” The Verbal Icon: Studies in the Meaning of Poetry . Lexington: U of Kentucky P, 1954. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 125 Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography Heidi Madden Duke University Introduction This bio-bibliography aims to present a comprehensive listing of Bernhard Schlink’s primary works to an audience of literary researchers. It will allow researchers to easily browse the variety of topics represented in Schlink’s legal, non-fiction, and literary works. Schlink has not only enjoyed a great deal of attention from the media, especially since 1999, when his novel Der Vorleser (1995) / The Reader (1997) was featured by Oprah’s bookclub; his work has also been considered in many scholarly articles and books. An introduction to the field of Schlink studies is provided by William Collins Donahue in Holocaust as Fiction: Bernhard Schlink’s “Nazi” Novels and Their Films (2010), translated into German as Holocaust Lite. Bernhard Schlinks “ NS -Romane” und ihre Verfilmungen (2011). An introduction to Holocaust Studies in general is provided by Agata Lisiak and Louise O. Vasvári in their “ Bibliography for Work in Holocaust Studies ” ( CLCW eb: Comparative Literature and Culture 11.1 (2009)). Researchers who desire a clean chronological list of Schlink’s formal legal publications are referred to the appendix of the Festschrift Die Verfassung als Aufgabe von Wissenschaft, Praxis und Öffentlichkeit. Freundesgabe für Bernhard Schlink zum 70 . Geburtstag (2014, ed. Jakob Nolte et al.). Since Schlink’s Der Vorleser / The Reader is now part of the canon of German literature taught in high schools and colleges in Germany and abroad, this bibliography includes a section on classroom guides and materials with a pedagogical approach to The Reader, aimed at helping teachers with lesson planning. A researcher new to the field of Schlink studies can gain a quick overview of scholarly treatments by using tips for efficient searching in the selected databases offered below. The Modern Language Association International Bibliography, MLA (mla.org), is the premier database for literary research; it offers comprehensive coverage of 126 Heidi Madden English-language sources and has become increasingly international in coverage since 1969. Under SELECT A FIELD (OPTIONAL) choose SA PRIMARY SUBJECT AUTHOR and enter “Schlink, Bernhard” to retrieve a clean, continually updated list of articles on Schlink (80 entries on 30 July 2015). Under SELECT A FIELD ( OPTIONAL ) choose PRIMARY SUBJECT WORK and enter the title of a work (for example: “The Reader”) to retrieve a clean, continually updated list of articles about the novel (71 entries on 30 July 2015). The Bibliographie der Deutschen Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft, BDSL (bdsl-online.de), is the most important database for research on German literature. Click on the word INHALT in the banner to get to the KLASSIFIKATION outline, i.e., the table of contents, choose 20. JAHRHUNDERT (1945-1989) > ZU EINZELNEN AUTOREN >SCHLINK, BERNHARD to retrieve a clean, continually updated list of materials about the author and his work (316 entries on 30 July 2015). The BDSL indexes more European sources than the MLA � The Kritisches Lexikon zur deutschsprachigen Gegenwartsliteratur, KLG (nachschlage.net), is a bio-bibliographic database that presents substantial biographical essays and coverage in a variety of popular media. Choose “Schlink, Bernhard” from the A-Z LISTE to retrieve: BIOGRAMM , PREISE , ESSAY , PRIMÄRLITERATUR, FILM, TONTRÄGER, SEKUNDÄRLITERATUR. The entries are updated at regular intervals. Note that the SEKUNDÄRLITERATUR specializes in analyzing news media content rather than scholarly books and articles. BDSL and KLG complete each other in terms of coverage of academic and popular sources. The Datenbank-Infosystem, DBIS (dbis.uni-regensburg.de), is a collaborative effort of German libraries to identify and annotate research databases, both subscription (for fee) and Open Access (free to user). DBIS has become a de facto registry for (fee-based and free) digital content in databases and scholarly online projects. Browse databases by discipline to identify indexes and digital libraries of interest. Contact your local library for information about local access to subscription databases. The website Germanistik im Netz (germanistik-im-netz.de) has preselected important databases for literary research in a list based on DBIS under the menu item DATENBANKEN � To find books by and about Bernhard Schlink, it is useful to know a variety of catalogs in addition to the local institutional catalog. Worldcat (worldcat.org) is the most important catalog for American researchers, because it serves as an efficient union catalog for Interlibrary Loan. Worldcat is also the best catalog to search for translations: enter the author and title, then limit the results to the desired language; for example: AU : SCHLINK — TI : VORLESER — LANGUAGE : ENGLISH . The Karlsruhe Virtual Catalog , KVK (kvk.bibliothek.kit.edu), offers a simultaneous search of important national and international union catalogs Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 127 and includes results from Open Access, Digital Libraries, and Used Books sites. The catalog of the German National Library, Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek , DNB (dnb.de), offers scanned tables of contents for new acquisitions and can be a great resource when the publisher does not provide a preview of a book on the Internet. The bibliographic entries for the collected essays below, for example, contain links to the table of contents. The German Archive for Literature, Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach , DLA (dla-marbach.de), has received the Schlink Vorlass (manuscripts and correspondence) and will be an important site for archival research in the future. Of particular interest are a number of substantial interviews on DVD that are not available elsewhere. Researching Bernhard Schlink in newspapers can be challenging. American and UK newspapers offer deep digital archives for subscription by libraries, but online access to German newspapers varies, especially for the years 1945 to the early nineties (see Association of College and Research Libraries / Western European Studies Section: wessweb.info). For example, Der Spiegel and Die Zeit offer a free online archive back to the mid-1940s; the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung FAZ offers a subscription-only archive. For the time period after about 1990 to the present, the most efficient way to search newspapers is to use news aggregator databases like the ones described below. LexisNexis Academic (lexisnexis.com / hottopics / lnacademic/ ) is a newspaper database that indexes media content starting around 1990 to the present. Click BROWSE in the banner and navigate to the COUNTRY of choice to retrieve plain text articles from major newspapers. To search one particular newspaper, click FIND in the banner and enter the title of the newspaper. For example, a Lexis- Nexis search in the title Die Welt retrieves close to 300 articles about Schlink, many of which cannot be found full-text at the website of the newspaper. Factiva (dowjones.com / products / factiva/ ) is a news aggregator like LexisNexis with a different source list. In Factiva, click SEARCH and then SEARCH BUILDER to explore news by world region. Bernhard Schlink has given many interviews and readings; internet searches on “Bernhard Schlink + Interview + Gespräch + Lesung + Reading” lead to many taped conversations and readings. A selection of interviews has been included in the bibliography of primary materials to show that there is a lot of primary material, interesting for research and teaching, in this format. Look for an updated electronic version of this bibliography in the future at the website of andererseits.Libary.duke.edu. 128 Heidi Madden Bernhard Schlink Biography 1944 July 6. Born in Großdornberg (Bielefeld) North-Rhine Westphalia, Germany. To Edmund Schlink (1903-1984), and Irmgard Ostwald (1914-2006). Raised in Heidelberg. Study of Law at University of Heidelberg and Freie Universität Berlin 1968 First State Exam 1972 Second State Exam ( J. D. equivalent) 1972 Doctoral Researcher in Heidelberg, Darmstadt, Bielefeld, and Freiburg 1975 Dissertation completed at University of Heidelberg (Dr. Phil.): Bernhard Schlink, Abwägung im Verfassungsrecht . Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1976 1981 Habilitation at the University of Freiburg (Habilitation Thesis for University Teaching Credential): Bernhard Schlink, Die Amtshilfe: Ein Beitrag zu einer Lehre von der Gewaltenteilung in der Verwaltung . Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1981 1982-1991 Professor of Public Law at the University of Bonn 1991-1992 Professor of Public Law, Labor and Social Law, and Philosophy of Law at the Goethe University Frankfurt (Frankfurt a. M.) 1987 Schlink, Bernhard, and Walter Popp, Selbs Justiz 1988 Schlink, Bernhard, Die Gordische Schleife 1987-2005 Judge at the Constitutional Court of North-Rhine Westphalia 1991 Film Adaptation for TV : Der Tod kam als Freund. Selbs Justiz . Dir. Hofmann, Nico, Ulli Stephan, Bernhard Schlink, et al. 1992- Present Professor of Public Law and Philosophy of Law at Humboldt University of Berlin; in semi-retirement (“emeritiert”) since 2009 1992 Schlink, Bernhard, Selbs Betrug 1994-1995 Dean of the Law School at Humboldt University of Berlin 1995 Schlink, Bernhard, Der Vorleser 2000 Schlink, Bernhard, Liebesfluchten: Geschichten 2001 Schlink, Bernhard, Selbs Mord 2006 Schlink, Bernhard, Die Heimkehr 2008 Schlink, Bernhard, Das Wochenende Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 129 2008 Film Adaptation: The Reader (Der Vorleser) . Dir. Daldry, Stephen, David Hare, and Bernhard Schlink 2008 Film Adaptation: The Other Man (Der Andere) . Dir. Eyre, Richard, Charles Wood, and Bernhard Schlink 2009 Vorlass (Literary Manuscripts and Correspondence) donated to Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach 2010 Schlink, Bernhard, Sommerlügen: Geschichten 2011 Film Adaptation: The Weekend (Das Wochenende). Dir. Grosse, Nina, and Bernhard Schlink. 2014 Schlink, Bernhard, Die Frau auf der Treppe Fellowships and Visiting Professorships 1974 Visiting Scholar, Stanford University, USA 1985 Université d’Aix en Provence, France 1990 Humboldt University (East Berlin), member of the Round Table “Transitional Constitution for East Germany” 2000 Cullmann Center for Writers and Scholars of the New York Public Library, USA 1993—Present Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law, Yeshiva University, USA 2009—Present Honorary Fellow, St. Anne’s College, Oxford, UK Other Completed training as professional masseur and goldsmith in the US Bernhard Schlink Primary Works Novels Schlink, Bernhard, and Walter Popp. Selbs Justiz. Zurich: Diogenes, 1987. Print. ---. Die Frau auf der Treppe. Zurich: Diogenes, 2014. Print. ---. Die Gordische Schleife. Zurich: Diogenes, 1988. Print. ---. Die Heimkehr. Zurich: Diogenes, 2006. Print. ---. Liebesfluchten: Geschichten. Zurich: Diogenes, 2000. Print. ---. Selbs Betrug. Zurich: Diogenes, 1992. Print. 130 Heidi Madden ---. Selbs Mord. Zurich: Diogenes, 2001. Print. ---. Sommerlügen: Geschichten. Zurich: Diogenes, 2010. Print. ---. Der Vorleser. Zurich: Diogenes, 1995. Print. ---. Das Wochenende. Zurich: Diogenes, 2008. Print. Collections of Essays The collected essays include a section Editorische Nachweise with citations to the original places of publication, and with the remark that footnotes contained in the original publications are not included in the reprint. The essays from the collections below are entered in the bibliography of non-fiction works with the original publication information when available; otherwise the citation of the essays goes to the collection. Schlink, Bernhard. Erkundungen zu Geschichte, Moral, Recht und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2015. Print. ---. Gedanken über das Schreiben. Heidelberger Poetikvorlesungen. Zurich: Diogenes, 2011. Print. ---. Vergangenheitsschuld und Gegenwärtiges Recht. Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 2002. Print. ---. Vergangenheitsschuld: Beiträge zu einem deutschen Thema. Zurich: Diogenes, 2007. Print. ---. Vergewisserungen: Über Recht, Politik, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. Print. Film Adaptations The Other Man (Der Andere). Dir. Eyre, Richard, Charles Wood, and Bernhard Schlink. Perf. Laura Linney, Liam Neeson, Antonio Banderas, et al. Rainmark Films / Togham Production / Koch Media, 2008. The Reader (Der Vorleser). Dir. Daldry, Stephen, David Hare, and Bernhard Schlink. Perf. Kate Winslet, Ralph Fiennes, David Kross, et al. Weinstein Co. Home Entertainment, 2008� Der Tod kam als Freund. Selbs Justiz. Dir. Hofmann, Nico, Ulli Stephan, Bernhard Schlink, et al. Perf. Joost Siedhoff, Werner Kreindl Martin Benrath, and Hannelore Elsner. ZDF , 1991. The Weekend (Das Wochenende). Dir. Grosse, Nina, and Bernhard Schlink. Perf. Katja Riemann, Sebastian Koch, Barbara Auer, et al. UFA Cinema / ZDF , 2011� Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 131 Non-Fiction Schlink, Bernhard. “Abenddämmerung oder Morgendämmerung. Zu Habermas’ Diskurstheorie des demokratischen Rechtsstaats.” Rechtshistorisches Journal 12 (1993): 57-69. Print. ---. “Das Abhör-Urteil des Bundesverfassungsgerichts.” Der Staat 12 (1973): 85-105. Print. ---. “Abschied von der Dogmatik. Verfassungsrechtsprechung und Verfassungsrechtswissenschaft im Wandel.” Merkur 60.692 (2006): 1125-35. Print. ---. Abwägung im Verfassungsrecht. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1976. Print. ---. “Acht Thesen zur Kodifizierung eines Grundrechts auf Ausbildung.” Recht der Jugend und des Bildungswesens 28 (1980): 209-16. Print. ---. “Der Advokat des Kanzlers.” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung , sec. Feuilleton: 38. 8 Sept. 2005. Web ( LexisNexis ). 10 July 2015. ---. “Aktuelle Fragen des pränatalen Lebensschutzes. Überarbeitete Fassung eines Vortrages gehalten vor der Juristischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin am 19. Dezember 2001.” Schriftenreihe der Juristischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin H. 172. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2002. Print. ---. “Am Ende war er nur noch er selbst: Bernhard Schlink über ein Gemälde von Edouard Manet.” Mein Porträt: Schriftsteller schreiben über ihr Lieblingsporträt � Ed� Siegfried Schiller. Munich: Droemer Knaur, 1997. 76-77. Print. ---. “Amtshilfe zwischen Staat und Kirche—Amtshilfe in der Kirche.” Evangelisches Staatslexikon. Ed. Hermann Kunst, Roman Herzog, and Siegfried Grundmann. Stuttgart: Kreuz-Verlag, 1987. 54-57. Print. ---. Die Amtshilfe: Ein Beitrag zu einer Lehre von der Gewaltenteilung in der Verwaltung � Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1982. Print. ---. “Die Angelegenheiten der Religionsgesellschaften.” Juristenzeitung 68.5 (2013): 209-18. Print. ---. “Are there Equal Standards for the Protection of Individual Rights and State Rights? The Case for the European Community.” Western Rights? Post-Communist Application. Ed. András Sajó. The Hague / Boston: Kluwer Law International, 1996. 317-23. Print. ---. “Art. 14 und die Eigentumsverhältnisse in der DDR .” Loccumer Protokolle 32 (1990): 106-10. Print. ---. “Bemerkungen zum Stand der Methodendiskussion in der Verfassungswissenschaft.” Der Staat 19 (1980): 73-107. Print. ---. “Die Berliner Republik ist keine Republik der politischen Lager. Die Dankesrede von Bernhard Schlink.” Die Welt 13 Nov. 1999. Web ( LexisNexis ). 21 July 2015. ---. “Bernhard Schlink: Der Herr der Wüste.” Du: Die Zeitschrift der Kultur 72.829 (2012): 28-29. Print. ---. “Besprechung des Buches von Rainer Eckertz: ‘Die Kriegsdienstverweigerung aus Gewissensgründen als Grenzproblem des Rechts. Zur Überwindung des Dezisionismus im demokratischen Rechtsstaat.’” Der Staat 28 (1989): 139-43. Print. 132 Heidi Madden ---. “Bewältigung der Vergangenheit durch Recht.” Vergangenheitsbewältigung am Ende des Zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts. Ed. Michael Kohlstruck, Helmut König, and Andreas Wöll. Opladen: Westdt. Verl., 1998. 433-51. Print. ---. “Die Bewältigung der wissenschaftlichen und technischen Entwicklungen durch das Verwaltungsrecht.” Berichte und Diskussionen auf der Tagung der Vereinigung der deutschen Staatsrechtslehrer in Hannover vom 4. bis 7. Oktober 1989. Veröffentlichungen der Vereinigung der deutschen Staatsrechtslehrer 48 (1990): 235-64. Print. ---. “Brief on Behalf of Appellee. Germany.” Cardozo Law Review 18 (1997): 1785-2105. Print. ---. “Der Bürger als Datenobjekt.” Datenschutz; Juristische Grundsatzfragen beim Einsatz elektronischer Datenverarbeitungsanlagen in Wirtschaft und Verwaltung. Ed. Wolfgang Kilian, Klaus Lenk, and Wilhelm Steinmüller. Frankfurt a. M.: Athenäum-Verlag, 1973. 155-72. Print. ---. “ BV erwG: Großkundgebung auf der Bonner ‘Hofgartenwiese.’” Neue Zeitschrift für Verwaltungsrecht 9 (1993): n.pag. Print. ---. “The Concept of Human Dignity.” Understanding Human Dignity. Ed. Christopher McCrudden. Oxford: Oxford UP for the British Academy, 2013. 635-40. Print. ---. “The Constitutional Subject and its Identity: My German Experience.” Cardozo Law Review 33.5 (2012): 1869-73. Print. ---. “Datenschutz und Amtshilfe.” Neue Zeitschrift für Verwaltungsrecht 4 (1986): 249-56. Web. ( Beck-Online ) 17 July 2015. ---. “Debatte über Flugzeug-Abschuss. Die Scheinwelt eines Verteidigungsministers.” Der Spiegel 19 Sept. 2007. Web. 17 July 2015. ---. “An der Grenze des Rechts.” Der Spiegel 3 (2005): 34-36. Print. ---. “Die dritte Abhörentscheidung des Bundesverfassungsgerichts.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 1 (1989): 11-16. Web ( Beck-Online ). 17 July 2015. ---. “Das Duell im 19. Jahrhundert: Realität und Literarisches Bild einer adeligen Institution in der bürgerlichen Gesellschaft.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 55.8 (2002): 537-44. Web ( Beck-Online ). 10 July 2015. ---. “Een Verleden om te Herinneren, Een Verleden om te Vergeten.” Ethische Perspectieven 24.4 (2014): 291-306. Print. ---. “Die Entthrohnung der Staatsrechtswissenschaft durch die Verfassungsgerichtsbarkeit.” Der Staat 28 (1989): 161-72. Print. ---. “Epilog. Die Gegenwart der Vergangenheit.” Vergangenheitsschuld und Gegenwärtiges Recht . Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 2002. 145-56. Print. ---. “Erinnern und Vergessen: Wieviel Freiheit haben wir im Umgang mit der Vergangenheit? ” Vortrag gehalten am 9. April 2014 auf Einladung der Bürgerstiftung Heidelberg. Nachwort Steffen Sigmund . Heidelberg: Kurpfälzischer Verlag, 2014. Print. ---. Erkundungen zu Geschichte, Moral, Recht und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2015. Print. ---. “Die erschöpfte Generation.” Der Spiegel 1 (2003): 134-35. Print. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 133 ---. “Evaluierte Freiheit? Zu den Bemühungen um eine Verbesserung der wissenschaftlichen Lehre. Vortrag anläßlich der Verabschiedung des Kanzlers Reiner Neumann, 28. Juni 1999.” 28 June 1999. Web. 17 July 2015. ---. “Failure of the Word: Literature as an Institution.” Cardozo Law Review 26 (2005): 2435-2655. Print. ---. “Frauen und Macht.” Recht so, Jutta Limbach! Zum Abschied verfasst für die Präsidentin des Bundesverfassungsgerichts. Ed. Uta Fölster and Christina Stresemann. Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2002. Print. ---. “Freiheit durch Eingriffsabwehr: Rekonstruktion der klassischen Grundrechtsfunktion.” Europäische Grundrechte-Zeitschrift 11.17 (1984): 457-68. Print. ---. “Früh erlebt, spät begriffen. Rituale sind wichtig—und wo sie fehlen, müssen sie notfalls erfunden werden.” Zeitzeichen. Evangelische Kommentare zu Religion und Gesellschaft 6.3 (2005): 54-57. Print. ---. “Der Geist der Erzählung. Laudatio auf Imre Kertész.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben . Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 200-06. Print. ---. “German Constitutional Culture in Transition.” Cardozo Law Review 14 (1993): 711-36. Print. ---. German Constitutional Law: Readings for the Introductory Course. Faculty of Law, U of Toronto, 2007. Print. ---. “Den Glauben gestalten.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 350-59. Print. ---. “Gotteskindschaft. Predigt über Philliper 2, 12-13.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 331-37. Print. ---. “Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. Bürgerliches Denken über Recht, Staat und Politik am Vorabend der bürgerlichen Gesellschaft.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 21 (1983): 1137-44. Web ( Beck-Online ). 17 July 2015. ---. “Great Moments in Pasewalk. Two Books about Hitler’s War Neurosis.” Luzifer-Amor: Zeitschrift zur Geschichte der Psychoanalyse 19.37 (2006): 134-36. Print. ---. “Grosser Irrtum.” Der Spiegel 48 (2013): 28-30. Print. ---. “Das Grundgesetz und die Wissenschaftsfreiheit. Zum gegenwärtigen Stand der Diskussion um Art. 5 III GG .” Der Staat 10 (1971): 244-68. Print. ---. “Grundrechte als Prinzipien.” Faculty of Law, Osaka University, 1992. Web. 4 July 2015. ---. “Der Grundsatz der Verhältnismäßigkeit.” Festschrift 50 Jahre Bundesverfassungsgericht. Ed. Peter Badura and Horst Dreier. 2 Vol. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001. 445-65. Print. ---. “Guaranteeing Truth, and Avoiding it. The Essay.” Sydney Morning Herald 10 Jan. 2009. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. Guilt about the Past . Toronto: Anasi, 2009. Print. ---. “Habermas on Law and Democracy. Critical Exchanges: Liberalism, Republicanism, and Constitutionalism: The Dynamics of Constitutional Adjudication.” Cardozo Law Review 17 (1996): 1231-2153. Print. 134 Heidi Madden ---. “Hate Speech and Self-Restraint.” The Content and Context of Hate Speech: Rethinking Regulation and Responses. Ed. Michael E. Herz and Péter Molnár. New York: Cambridge UP , 2012. 217-41. Print. ---. Heimat als Utopie. Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 2000. Print. ---. “Hercules in Germany? ” International Journal of Constitutional Law 1.4 (2003): 610-20. Print. ---. “Hitler und die Deutschen. Auf dem Eis. Von der Notwendigkeit und der Gefahr der Beschäftigung mit dem Dritten Reich und dem Holocaust.” Der Spiegel. Special 1 (2001): 18-21. Print. ---. “Hitler und die Deutschen. Teil 1. Auf dem Eis. Von der Notwendigkeit und der Gefahr der Beschäftigung mit dem Dritten Reich und dem Holocaust.” Der Spiegel 19 (2001): 82-86. Print. ---. “Immer wieder neu. Das Leben lässt sich runden, Katastrophen sind lustig, in der Vielfalt der Wiederholung liegt das Glück—und was man aus dem großen Roman “Middlesex” sonst noch lernen kann: Bernhard Schlink, 1999 erster Träger des WELT -Literaturpreises, gratuliert seinem Nachfolger Jeffrey Eugenides.” Die Welt 11 Aug. 2003. Web. 16 July 2015. ---. “The Inherent Rationality of the State in Hegel’s Philosophy of Right.” Cardozo Law Review 10.5-6 (1989): 1427-34. Print. ---. “Inwieweit sind juristische Entscheidungen mit entscheidungstheoretischen Modellen theoretisch zu erfassen und praktisch zu bewältigen? ” Jahrbuch für Rechtssoziologie und Rechtstheorie 2 (1972): 322-46. Print. ---. “Jakobs Kampf am Jabbok. Bibelarbeit über 1. Mose 32, 23-33.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben . Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 310-30. Print. ---. “The Journey into Activism.” Cardozo Law Review 17.2 (1995): 269-71. Print. ---. “Jugendgerichtshilfe zwischen Jugend und Gerichtshilfe.” Bundesministerium der Justiz. Jugendgerichtshilfe—Quo Vadis: Status und Perspektive der öffentlichen Jugendhilfe gegenüber dem Jugendgericht. Ed. Bundesminister der Justiz. Bonn: Bundesministerium der Justiz, 1991. 51-58. Print. ---. “Juristische Methodik zwischen Verfassungstheorie und Wirtschaftstheorie.” Rechtstheorie 7 (1976): 94-102. Print. ---. “Die Kirche: Predigt über Apostelgeschichte 2, 1-18.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 338-49. Print. ---. “Die Kirchen haben schon verloren.” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung 15 Jan. 2009. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2016. ---. “Kollektivschuld.” Vergangenheitsschuld: Beiträge zu einem deutschen Thema. Zurich: Diogenes, 2015. 11-33. Print. ---. “Korrektur von Gerichtsentscheidungen durch die Polizei? ” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 28 (1988): 1689-94. Web ( Beck-Online ). 17 July 2015. ---. “Die Kultur des Denunziatorischen.” Merkur 65.745 (2011): 473-86. Print. ---. “Laband als Politiker.” Der Staat 31 (1992): 553-69. Print. ---. “Laudatio auf Ernst-Wolfgang Böckenförde.” Jahrbuch Deutsche Akademie für Sprache und Dichtung . Göttingen: Wallstein, 2012. 139-43. Print. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 135 ---. “Liberals Need to Learn to Say No: The Legal Theorist Richard Weisberg Argues That Rather than Castigate Conservatives for their Intransigence, Liberals Ought to Become More Inflexible Themselves.” The Daily Beast 7 Oct. 2014. Web. 16 July 2016. ---. “Literatur als Bilderbuch der Rechtsand Staatsphilosophie. Zu Peter Schneider, ‘… Ein einzig Volk von Brüdern’. Recht und Staat in der Literatur .” Internationales Archiv für Sozialgeschichte der deutschen Literatur 16.1 (1991): 283-96. Print. ---. “Literatur als Institution. Zur zwanzigjährigen Wiederkehr des Erscheinens von Richard H. Weisberg, The Failure of the Word. The Protagonist as Lawyer in Modern Fiction .” Cardozo Law Review 26.6 (2005): 2435-42. Print. ---. “Das Moralische versteht sich von selbst.” Merkur 63.722 (2009): 557-69. Print. ---. “Das nachrichtendienstliche Mittel.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift (1980): 552-59. Print. ---. “Nachwort: Anton Tschechov, Die Dame mit dem Hündchen .” Berlin: Insel-Verlag, 2013. Print. ---. “Nachwort: Richard Weisberg, Rechtsgeschichten. Über Gerechtigkeit in der Literatur .” Berlin: Suhrkamp-Verlag, 2013. 275-89. Print. ---. “Neuere Entwicklungen im Recht der kirchlichen öffentlichen Sachen und der res sacrae.” Neue Zeitschrift für Verwaltungsrecht (1987). Print. ---. “Nochmals. Die Befugnisse des Verfassungsschutzes.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 11 (1981): 565-66. Web ( Beck-Online ). 17 July 2015. ---. “Nochmals: Die Vorprüfung der Verfassungsbeschwerde durch die Präsidialräte.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 39 (1984): 2195-96. Web ( Beck-Online ). 17 July 2015. ---. “Das Objektive und das Subjektive beim polizeirechtlichen Gefahrbegriff.” Jura 21�4 (1999): 169-72. Print. ---. “On a Principle of Contradiction in Normative Logic and Jurisprudence.” Theory and Decision: An International Journal for Multidisciplinary Advances in Decision Science 2 (1971 / 72): 35-48. Print. ---. “Once Upon a Time: Bernhard Schlink on Benjamin West and his Cat Grimalkin .” Financial Times 2 Feb. 2008. Web. 17 July 2015. ---. “Open Justice in a Closed Legal System? ” Cardozo Law Review 13 (1992): 1713-19. Print. ---. “Das Opfer des Lebens.” Freiheit des Subjekts und Organisation von Herrschaft: Symposium zu Ehren von Ernst-Wolfgang Böckenförde anlässlich seines Geburtstages, 23. und 24. September 2005. Ed. Ernst Wolfgang Böckenförde, Christoph Enders, and Johannes Masing. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2006. 43-54. Print. ---. “Otto Luchterhandt, Grundpflichten als Verfassungsproblem in Deutschland .” Book Review. Archiv des öffentlichen Rechts 115.4 (1990): 655-57. Print. ---. “Peter Häberle, Verfassungslehre als Kulturwissenschaft .” Book Review. Archiv des öffentlichen Rechts 109.1 (1984): 143-47. Print. ---. “Die Pflicht zum Glück. Das Werk des großen Erzählers Imre Kertész steht im Zeichen des ‘Trotzdem’—Die Laudatio auf den Preisträger.” Die Welt 11 Nov. 2000. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. 136 Heidi Madden ---. “Die polizeiliche Räumung besetzter Häuser.” Neue Zeitschrift für Verwaltungsrecht (1982): 529-35. Print. ---. “Der Preis der Gerechtigkeit.” Merkur 58.667 (2004): 983-97. Print. ---. “Der Preis der Gerechtigkeit.” Rechts- und Staatstheoretische Schlüsselbegriffe: Legitimität—Repräsentation—Freiheit: Symposion für Hasso Hofmann zum 70. Geburtstag. Ed. Horst Dreier. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2005. 9-33. Print. ---. “The Problem with ‘Torture Lite.’” Symposium: Preserving Civil Liberties in an Age of Global Terror: International Perspectives � Cardozo Law Review 29.1 (2007): 85-89. Print. ---. “Probleme und Ansätze einer Entscheidungstheorie der richterlichen Innovation.” Rechtlicher Wandel durch richterliche Entscheidung: Beiträge zu einer Entscheidungstheorie der richterlichen Innovation. Ed. Jan Harenburg, Adalbert Podlech, and Bernhard Schlink. Darmstadt: Toeche-Mittler, 1980. 13-42. Print. ---. “Proportionality (1).” The Oxford Handbook of Comparative Constitutional Law. Ed� Michael Rosenfeld and András Sajó. Oxford, UK : Oxford UP , 2012. 719-36. Print. ---. “Proportionality in Constitutional Law: Why Everywhere But Here? ” Duke Journal of Comparative & International Law 22 (2012): 291-302. Print. ---. “Protecting Liberty in an Age of Terror.” Cardozo Law Review 29.1 (2007): 85-89. Print. ---. “Pure Law: Hans Kelsen Argued for a Legal System Above Politics—and Even Morality.” The New York Times Magazine 18 Apr. 1999 . Web ( ProQuest Historical Newspapers ). 10 July 2015. ---. “Das Recht der informationellen Selbstbestimmung.” Der Staat 25 (1986): 233-50. Print. ---. “Recht-Schuld-Zukunft.” Geschichte, Schuld, Zukunft. Ed. Jörg Calliess. Rehburg-Loccum: Evangelische Akademie Loccum, 1988. 57-78. Print. ---. “Rechtsstaat und revolutionäre Gerechtigkeit.” Neue Justiz 10 (1994): 433-37. Print. ---. “Rechtsstaat und revolutionäre Gerechtigkeit. Antrittsvorlesung 14. April 1994 / Vergangenheit als Zumutung? Öffentliche Vorlesung 20. April 1995.” 6 Mar. 1996. Web. 16 July 2015. ---. “Reden zur Verleihung der Ehrengabe der Heinrich-Heine-Gesellschaft 2000: ‘Schlage die Trommel und fürchte Dich nicht! ’” Heine Jahrbuch 39 (2000): 230-37. Print. ---. “Religionsunterricht in den neuen Ländern.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 16 (1992): 1008-13. Print. ---. “Jan Harenburg, Rechtsdogmatik zwischen Wissenschaft und Praxis. Ein Beitrag zur Theorie der Rechtsdogmatik. Book Review. Zeitschrift für Rechtspolitik 20.12 (1987): 449-50. Print. ---. “Revisionsbegründung vor dem Bundesverwaltungsgericht.” Integration und Religion: Islamischer Religionsunterricht an Berliner Schulen. Ed. Rolf Busch. Berlin: Dahlem UP , 2000. 52-74. Print. ---. “Rousseau in Amerika.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 37-60. Print. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 137 ---. “Rückkehr und Wiederholung: Laudatio auf Jeffrey Eugenides.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 215-24. Print. ---. “Schlusswort zu Georg Neureither JZ 2013, 1089-1093.” Juristenzeitung 68.22 (2013): 1093-94. Print. ---. “Sommer 1970.” Merkur 57.565 (2003): 1121-34. Print. ---. “Das Spiel um den Nachlass. Zum Problem der gerechten Teilung, seiner Diskussion in der Spieltheorie und seiner Lösung durch das Gesetz.” Rechnen und Entscheiden: Mathematische Modelle Juristischen Argumentierens. Ed. Adalbert Podlech and Jean-Antoine-Nicolas de Caritat Condorcet. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1977. 113-42. Print. ---. “Sternstunde in Pasewalk. Zwei Bücher über Hitlers Kriegsneurose.” Luzifer-Amor: Zeitschrift zur Geschichte der Psychoanalyse 19.37 (2006): 134. Print. ---. “Strasse des Lichts.” Murnauer Lesebogen. Hrsg. von den Deutschlehrern am Staffelsee-Gymnasium Murnau. Ed. Barbara Bierprigl. 25 (2014). n. pag. Print. ---. “Ein Teil der Welt. Rede anlässlich der Verleihung der Ehrengabe der Heinrich-Heine-Gesellschaft.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 194-99. Print. ---. “Thesen zu Religionen, Weltanschauungen und den Grundrechten des Grundgesetzes.” Dritte Berliner Gespräche über das Verhältnis von Staat, Religion und Weltanschauung. Eine gemeinsame Tagung der Brandenburgischen Landeszentrale für politische Bildung und der Humanistischen Union Potsdam, 13 Apr. 2007. Web. 17 July 2015. ---. “The Truth Beyond the Facts. [Edited excerpt from Guilt about the Past ].” The Age 10 Jan. 2009. Web ( Academic OneFile ). 17 July 2015. ---. “Die überforderte Menschenwürde. Welche Gewissheit kann Artikel 1 des Grundgesetzes geben? ” Der Spiegel 51 (2003): 50-54. Print. ---. “Unerfüllt und gesegnet; Ruth Gay beschreibt das Leben der Ostjuden, die in Amerika einwanderten.” Book Review. Die Welt 8 Sept. 2001. Web. 17 July 2015. ---. “Unfähigkeit der Staatsrechtswissenschaft zu trauern? ” Vergangenheitsschuld und gegenwärtiges Recht . Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 2002. 124-44. Print. ---. “Über die Heimat schreiben.” Gedanken über das Schreiben: Heidelberger Poetikvorlesungen . Zurich: Diogenes, 2011. 61-86. Print. ---. “Über die Liebe schreiben.” Gedanken über das Schreiben: Heidelberger Poetikvorlesungen . Zurich: Diogenes, 2011. 37-59. Print. ---. “Über die Vergangenheit schreiben.” Gedanken über das Schreiben: Heidelberger Poetikvorlesungen . Zurich: Diogenes, 2011. 7-35. Print. ---. “Vergangenheit als Zumutung? Zum Kündigungsgrund der Unzumutbarkeit weiterer Beschäftigung nach früherer Tätigkeit für das Ministerium für Staatssicherheit nach Kapitel XIX Sachgebiet A Abschnitt III Nr. 1 Abs. 5, 2. Alternative der Anlage I zum Einigungsvertrag.” Offene Staatlichkeit. Festschrift für Ernst-Wolfgang Böckenförde zum 65. Geburtstag. Ed. Rolf Grawert et al. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1995. 341-55. Print. 138 Heidi Madden ---. Vergangenheitsschuld und gegenwärtiges Recht. Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 2002. Print. ---. Vergangenheitsschuld: Beiträge zu einem deutschen Thema. Zurich: Diogenes, 2007. Print. ---. “Vergeben und versöhnen.” Vergangenheitsschuld: Beiträge zu einem Deutschen Thema. Zurich: Diogenes, 2007. 170-88. Print. ---. Vergewisserungen: Über Recht, Politik, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. Print. ---. “Der Verrat.” Merkur 61.698 (2007): 471-86. Print. ---. “Verschüttete Vergangenheit. Laudatio auf Pat Barker.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 207-14. Print. ---. “Das Volkszählungsurteil und seine Bedeutung für das Sozialrecht.” Archiv für Wissenschaft und Praxis der sozialen Arbeit 15 (1984): 201-12. Print. ---. “Vorwort zu Gisela Friedrichsen, ’Ich bin doch kein Mörder’. Gerichtsreportagen 1989-2004. Berlin: Berliner Taschenbuch-Verlag, 2010. 9. Print. ---. “Vorwort zu Peter Schneider, Der Elefant: Goethe über Recht, Staat und Gesellschaft in Faust II .” Freiburg: Rombach, 2009. 7-9. Print. ---. “Was ist eine angemessene Vergütung? ” Die Welt 19 Jan. 2002. Web. 17 July 2015. ---. “Weimar. Von der Krise der Theorie zur Theorie der Krise.” Rechtstheorie und Rechtsdogmatik im Austausch: Gedächtnisschrift für Bernd Jeand’Heur. Ed. Bernd Jeand’Heur et al. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1999. 43-55. Print. ---. “Why Carl Schmitt? ” Constellations 2.3 (1996): 429-41. Print. ---. “Wirtschaft und Vertrauen.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 66-76. Print. ---. “Die Wissenschaftsfreiheit des Bundesverfassungsgerichts.” Die Öffentliche Verwaltung 26 (1973): 541-45. Print. ---. “Die Würde in Vitro.” Der Spiegel 25 (2011): 30-32. Print. ---. “Zugangshürden im Verfassungsbeschwerdeverfahren.” Neue Juristische Wochenschrift 3 (1984): 89-94. Web ( Beck-Online ). 17 July 2015. ---. “Die Zukunft der Verantwortung.” Merkur 64.738 (2010): 1047-58. Print. ---. “Zwischen Identifikation und Distanz. Zur Stellung des Beamten im Staat und zur Gestaltung des Beamtenrechts durch das Staatsrecht.” Der Staat 15 (1976): 335-66. Print. ---. “Zwischen Säkularisierung und Multikulturalität.” Recht und Recht: Festschrift für Gerd Roellecke zum 70. Geburtstag. Ed. Rolf Stober and Gerd Roellecke. Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1997. 301-16. Print. Brugger, Winfried, Dieter Grimm, and Bernhard Schlink. “Darf der Staat foltern? Eine Podiumsdiskussion.” Humboldt-Forum Recht. Die Juristische Internet Zeitschrift an der Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin 4 (2002). Web. 20 July 2015. Eberhard, Roger, Karen Sinsheimer, and Bernhard Schlink. In Good Light. With a Foreword by Karen Sinsheimer and an Essay by Bernhard Schlink. Zurich: Scheidegger & Spiess, 2011. Print. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 139 Hare, David, and Bernhard Schlink. The Reader. [Screenplay based on the novel by Bernhard Schlink] . New York: Weinstein Co., 2008. Print. Jacobson, Arthur J., and Bernhard Schlink. Weimar. A Jurisprudence of Crisis. Berkeley: U of California P, 2000. Print. Kingreen, Thorsten, Bernhard Schlink, et al. Grundrechte: Mit Ebook: Lehrbuch, Entscheidungen, Gesetzestexte. Heidelberg / Munich / Landsberg: Müller, 2013. Print. Klewitz, Sayeed, Walter G. Popp, and Bernhard Schlink. “Bürocomputer in der Anwaltskanzlei.” Rechtsinformatik in den achtziger Jahren: Wissenschaftliches Symposium der IBM Deutschland. Ed. Hermann Seegers and Fritjof Haft. Munich: J. Schweitzer, 1984. 159-82. Print. Koelbl, Herlinde, and Bernhard Schlink. Hair. Foreword by Herlinde Koelbl. Texts by Gabriele Betancourt Nuñez, Bernhard Schlink, Silke Andrea Schuemmer. [Published in conjunction with the Exhibit. Museum für Kunst u. Gewerbe, Hamburg, August 31—November 18, 2007; Museum Villa Stuck, Munich, March 13—June 15, 2008]. Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz, 2007. Print. Link, Christoph, Bernhard Schlink, et al. Staatszwecke im Verfassungsstaat nach 40 Jahren Grundgesetz. Die Bewältigung der wissenschaftlichen und technischen Entwicklungen durch das Verwaltungsrecht. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1990. Print. Meyer, Lucas, Bernhard Schlink, et al. “Die Moral der Wiedergutmachung: Ein philosophisches Gespräch.” Die Globalisierung der Wiedergutmachung: Politik, Moral, Moralpolitik. Ed. José Brunner, Constantin Goschler, and Norbert Frei. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2013. 291-320. Print. Nolte, Jakob, et al. Die Verfassung als Aufgabe von Wissenschaft, Praxis und Öffentlichkeit: Freundesgabe für Bernhard Schlink zum 70. Geburtstag . [Appendix: Bernhard Schlink Schriftenverzeichnis]. Heidelberg: C. F. Müller, 2014. Print. “Mit Rechts leben. Gespräch mit Bernhard Schlink.” Verbot der NPD —Ein deutsches Staatstheater in zwei Akten. Analysen und Kritik 2001-2014. Ed. Horst Meier. Berlin: Berliner Wissenschafts-Verlag, 2015. 218-29. Print. Pieroth, Bodo, Bernhard Schlink, and Michael Kniesel. Polizei- und Ordnungsrecht: Mit Versammlungsrecht. Munich: C. H. Beck, 2002. Print. Pieroth, Bodo, and Bernhard Schlink. Grundrechte. Staatsrecht II . Heidelberg: C. F. Müller, 1985. Print. Popp, Walter, Bernhard Schlink, and Dieter Suhr. Computer als juristischer Gesprächspartner: Ein Arbeitspapier zu programmierten dialogischen Denkhilfen für die Jurisprudenz. Berlin: Schweitzer Verlag, 1970. Print. Popp, Walter G., and Bernhard Schlink. “ JUDITH , A Computer Program to Advise Lawyers in Reasoning a Case.” Jurimetrics Journal 15.4 (1975): 303-14. Print. Schlink, Bernhard. “Deutsch-Deutsche Verfassungsentwicklungen im Jahre 1990.” Der Staat 30.2 (1991): 162-80. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Klaus Bernsmann. “Was tun? Zur Fortsetzung der Reform nach der zweiten Entscheidung des Bundesverfassungsgerichts zum Schwangerschaftsabbruch.” Kritische Vierteljahresschrift für Gesetzgebung und Rechtswissenschaft � Sonderheft 1 (1993): 180-87. Print. 140 Heidi Madden Schlink, Bernhard, G. J. M. Corstens, and Gerda Baardman. Objectieve Wetgeving En Subjectieve Rechters = Objective Law and Subjective Judges. Amsterdam: Cossee, 2011. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Monika Kohnert. Korporatismus im Krankenhauswesen: Zur Neuregelung des Verhältnisses zwischen Krankenkassen und Krankenhäusern durch das 5. Buch des Sozialgesetzbuchs. Soziale Dienste und Einrichtungen in der DDR —insbesondere für ältere Menschen. Köln: Heymanns, 1990. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Michaela Kopp-Marx. “Heidelberger Poetikdozentur 2010. Bernhard Schlink: Gedanken über das Schreiben.” hei DOK (Heidelberger Dokumentenserver) 2010. Web. 17 July 2015. Video. Schlink, Bernhard, and Walter Pauly. Streik und Aussperrung als Verfassungsproblem: Untersuchung anhand der neueren Rechtsprechung von Bundesarbeitsgericht und Bundesverfassungsgericht. Düsseldorf: Hans-Böckler-Stiftung, 1988. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Bodo Pieroth. “Christen als Verfassungsfeinde? ( VG Freiburg. NJW 1981, 2829).” Juristische Schulung (1984): 345-51. Print. ---. “Emanzipation des Strafrechts vom Hochschulrecht? ” Mitteilungen des Hochschulverbandes 30 (1982): 321-25. Print. ---. “Fortbestand und Umfang der Gelehrtensozietät der Akademie der Wissenschaften der (Ehemaligen) Deutschen Demokratischen Republik.” Wissenschaftsrecht: Wissenschaftsverwaltung, Wissenschaftsförderung 25 (1992): 105-24. Print. ---. “Hochschulrechtliche Vorgaben für Hausfriedensbruch und Nötigung.” Mitteilungen des Hochschulverbandes 31 (1983): 266-68. Print. ---. “Menschenwürde und Rechtsschutz bei der Verfassungsrechtlichen Gewährleistung von Asyl.” Gegenrede: Aufklärung, Kritik, Öffentlichkeit: Festschrift für Ernst Gottfried Mahrenholz. Ed. Ernst Gottfried Mahrenholz and Herta Däubler-Gmelin. Baden- Baden: Nomos, 1994. 669-99. Print. ---. “Personalauskünfte im Hochschulbereich.” Wissenschaftsrecht, Wissenschaftsverwaltung, Wissenschaftsförderung. Zeitschrift für Recht und Verwaltung der wissenschaftlichen Hochschulen und der wissenschaftspflegenden und -fördernden Organisationen und Stiftungen 11 (1978): 23-51. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Walter G. Popp. “Artificial Intelligence in der Rechtsinformatik.” Datenverarbeitung im Recht 4 (1975): 297-340. Print. ---. “Präferenztheoretische Bedingungen einer sozialen Wertordnung.” Rechnen und Entscheiden: Mathematische Modelle juristischen Argumentierens. Ed. Adalbert Podlech and Jean-Antoine-Nicolas de Caritat Condorcet. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1977. 61-86. Print. ---. “Rechts- und Staatstheoretische Implikationen einer sozialen Präferenztheorie.” Rechnen und Entscheiden: Mathematische Modelle juristischen Argumentierens. Ed� Adalbert Podlech and Jean-Antoine-Nicolas de Caritat Condorcet. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1977. 87-111. Print. ---. “Skizze eines intelligenten juristischen Informationssystems.” Datenverarbeitung im Recht 4 (1975): 1-29. Print. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 141 Schlink, Bernhard, and Ralf Poscher. Verfassungsfragen der Reform des Urhebervertragsrechts: Die Vereinbarkeit der Neuregelung des Vergütungsanspruchs in dem Gesetzentwurf zur Stärkung der vertraglichen Stellung von Urhebern und ausübenden Künstlern mit dem Grundgesetz und dem Recht der Europäischen Union. Munich: Druckwerk, 2002. Print. ---. Der Verfassungskompromiß zum Religionsunterricht: Art. 7 Abs. 3 und Art. 141 GG im Kampf des Parlamentarischen Rates um die “Lebensordnungen.” Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2000. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Sebastian Schattenfroh. “Zulässigkeit der geschlossenen Unterbringung in Heimen der öffentlichen Jugendhilfe.” Freiheitsentziehende Massnahmen in der Jugendhilfe und Kinder- und Jugendpsychiatrie. Ed. Jörg Michael Fegert. Münster: Votum, 2001. 73-171. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Wilhelm Schlink. “Das Dilemma der Kunstfreiheit. Über den Prozess um ‘Christus am Kreuz mit Gasmaske’ von George Grosz.” Vergewisserungen: Über Politik, Recht, Schreiben und Glauben. Zurich: Diogenes, 2005. 112-24. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Christoph Schönberg. “Gutachten III .” Daten für die Forschung im Gesundheitsweisen: Statistische und rechtliche Klärung ihrer Weitergabe. Ed. Elisabeth Schach. Darmstadt: S. Toeche-Mittler, 1995. 77-94. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, Joachim Wieland, and Jürgen Welp. “Zur Frage der Übertragbarkeit von Aufgaben des Betriebssicherungsdienstes der Deutschen Bundespost auf postfremde Ermittlungsbehörden.” Archiv Post und Telekommunikation 46 (1994): 5-38. Print. Schlink, Bernhard, and Joachim Wieland. “Klagebegehren und Spruchreife im Asylverfahren.” Die Öffentliche Verwaltung 35 (1982): 426-34. Print. ---. “Rechtsprobleme der Organisation Neuer Medien.” Juristische Ausbildung (1985): 570-78. Print. ---. “Gewaltenteilung in der Verwaltung. Verfasssungsrechtliche Vorgabe für Amtshilfe und Datenschutz im Bereich der sozialen Arbeit.” Sozialdatenschutz: Positionen, Diskussionen, Resultate. Ed. Matthias Frommann and Klaus Bartnitzke. Frankfurt a. M.: Eigenverl. d. Dt. Vereins für Öff. u. Private Fürsorge, 1985. 39-49. Print. Selected Interviews Aaronovitch, David. “In Conversation with the Writer of the Reader.” The Times (London) 14 Sept. 2010. Print. Ahne, Petra, and Steven Geyer. “Das Gespräch. Bernhard Schlink ‘Ich denke einfach gern.’” Mitteldeutsche Zeitung 7 Apr. 2013, sec. Nachrichten Kultur: n.pag. Print. ---. “Ich denke einfach gern; Er lebt immer wieder mal in Amerika, wollte aber nie ganz hinziehen. Er ist als Schriftsteller erfolgreich, wollte aber immer auch Jurist bleiben. Bernhard Schlink über den Reiz des Perspektivwechsels, die 68er und mögliche Parallelen zwischen RAF und NSU .” Frankfurter Rundschau 6 Apr. 2013, sec. Magazin: n. pag. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. 142 Heidi Madden ---. “Interview mit Bernhard Schlink”: ‘Nicht nur Monster begehen Verbrechen.’” Frankfurter Rundschau 11 Apr. 2013, sec. Kultur: n. pag. Print. Akbar, Arifa. “Germany has yet to rid itself of its guilt over the Nazis, says Schlink.” The Independent (London) 18 Sept. 2010, sec. News: 28. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. “Der Anfang der Ethik; Eine Laudatio auf den Schriftsteller Imre Kertész. Am 9. November 2000 wurde Imre Kertész in Berlin mit dem WELT -Literaturpreis, dotiert mit 25.000 Mark, ausgezeichnet. Die Laudatio hielt der Preisträger von 1999, Bernhard Schlink, Autor des Weltbestsellers ‘Der Vorleser’. Auszüge.” Die Welt 11 Oct. 2002, sec. Feuilleton: 27. Web. 16 July 2015. Bayerisches Fernsehen. “Im Gespräch, 29. 09. 2014. Bernhard Schlink: Die Frau auf der Treppe.” 29 Sept. 2014. Web. 16 July 2015. Video. “Bernhard Schlink im Gespräch mit Rudolf von Bitter . ” Anonymous. Perf. von Bitter, Rudolf. Lese-Zeichen . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2007. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink mit seinem neuen Roman ‘Sommerlügen’.” Anonymous. Perf. Hametner, Michael. MDR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2011. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink und Raoul Schrott mit Felicitas von Lovenberg . ” Anonymous. Perf. Lovenberg, Felicitas von. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2014. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink will 2005 einen autobiographischen Roman veröffentlichen.” Die Welt 30 Nov. 2004. Web ( LexisNexis ). 17 July 2015. “Bernhard Schlink, im Gespräch mit Claudia Deeg . ” Anonymous. Perf. Deeg, Claudia. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2010. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink, Jura-Professor und Schriftsteller, im Gespräch mit Stefan Siller.” Anonymous. Perf. Siller, Stefan. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv, 2014. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink, Schriftsteller, im Gespräch mit Thomas Koch . ” Anonymous. Perf. Koch, Thomas. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2014. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink: ‘Liebesfluchten’: Die Fortsetzung einer Erfolgsstory; Diskussion mit Bernhard Schlink, Verena Auffermann, Volker Hage, Wend Kässens, Uwe Wittstock und Martin Lüdke. Anonymous. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2000. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink: A Passion for Precision.” Canberra Times 6 Nov. 2004. Web ( Lexis- Nexis ). 16 July 2015. “Bernhard Schlink: Die Frau auf der Treppe. Bernhard Schlink im Gespräch mit Christine Thalmann.” Anonymous. Perf. Thalmann, Christine. RRB . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2014. DVD / Video. “Bernhard Schlink: Wenn die Kirche nicht Gemeinde ist, ist sie nicht.” Chrismon. Das Evangelische Magazin Oct. 2014. Web. 7 July 2015. Bosold, Ingrid, Kerstin Merz, and Norbert Vogel. “Unersetzlich und gerecht. Zeitgespräch im Spitalhof mit Bestsellerautor Prof. Dr. Bernhard Schlink.” Reutlinger Nachrichten 12 June 2015. Web. 17 July 2015. Bernhard Schlink auf Odyssee. Serie: Schrill. Exzentrisch. Provokant. Dir. Böttinger, Bettina. WDR , 2006. Video. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 143 Brugger, Winfried, Dieter Grimm, and Bernhard Schlink. “Darf der Staat foltern? Eine Podiumsdiskussion.” Humboldt-Forum Recht. Die juristische Internet Zeitschrift an der Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin 4 (2002). Web. 16 July 2015. Bunbury, Stephanie. “Schlink’s Burden.” Sydney Morning Herald 1 Aug. 1998, sec. Spectrum. Books: 10. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “Bernhard Schlink talks to Stephanie Burnbury. Sorry, that’s not good enough.” Sydney Morning Herald 25 July 2009. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Cohen, Richard. “Ordinary Monsters.” Daily Beast 11 Dec. 2008. Web. 2 Sept. 2016. Connolly, Kate. “Bernhard Schlink: Deutschsein ist eine riesige Belastung.” The Guardian 17 Sept. 2012. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “German Guilt Over Past Hampers the Search for Europe’s Future: Kicking Off a Series on Europe’s Pre-Eminent Power, the Author Bernhard Schlink Tells Kate Connolly the Legacy of War Continues to Haunt the Nation.” The Guardian 17 Sept. 2012, sec. Guardian Home Pages: 1. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. “Daniela Arnu im Gespräch mit Bernhard Schlink . ” Anonymous. Perf. Arnu, Daniela. BR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2012. DVD / Video. Davis, Susan L. “An Interview with Bernhard Schlink.” Cardozo Life 1 (2009). Web. 16 July 2015. “Die Frau auf der Treppe: Lesung und Gespräch. Schlink, Bernhard ‘Die Stimme des Autors.’” Anonymous. Perf. Bürger, Jan. Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach. 2015. DVD / Video. Doerry, Martin, and Volker Hage. “Ich lebe in Geschichten.” Der Spiegel 4 (2000): 180-84. Print. Ebel, Martin. “Terroristen wollen die Vollkommenheit herbeibomben.” Tages-Anzeiger 18 Mar. 2008. Web ( LexisNexis ). 17 July 2015. Erlanger, Steven. “The Saturday Profile. Postwar German Writer a Bard of a Generation.” The New York Times 19 Jan. 2002, sec. A, Foreign Desk: 4. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2016. Feddersen, Jan. “Der Genesis-Vorleser. Bibelarbeit mit Bernhard Schlink. Der Schriftsteller interpretiert Jakobs Kampf mit Gott. Und er empfiehlt den 2.000 Zuhörern: Holt an Gutem heraus, was es zu holen gibt, und lasst nicht locker.” Die Tageszeitung 31 May 2003, sec. Spezial: 6. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Fellmann, Max, and Nico Hoffman. “Die Krise ist für die Gesellschaft der moralische Testfall. Ein Gespräch mit dem Staatsrechtler und Bestsellerautor Bernhard Schlink über das wankende Europa und typisch deutsche Untergangsfantasien.” Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazin 25 (2012). Web. 16 July 2015. Fraser, Morag. “A Confronting Weekend with Schlink.” The Age 4 Dec. 2010, sec. A2, Books: 28. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Vom Umgang mit deutschen Vergangenheiten. Mit Aleida Assmann, Alfred Grosser, Adolf Muschg, Bernhard Schlink, Michael Stürmer und Gertrud Höhler als Gastgeberin. Dir. Froidevaux, Marc. Perf. Höhler, Gertrud. Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2000. DVD / Video. 144 Heidi Madden “Gast: Bernhard Schlink.” Anonymous. Perf. Dorn, Thea. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2006. DVD / Video. “Gedächtnis und Gerechtigkeit. Bernhard Schlink im Gespräch mit Monika Maria Trost und Michael Pfister.” Anonymous. Perf. Trost, Maria, and Michael Pfister. SF DRS � Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2008. DVD / Video. Geiger, Ruth. “ MAZ -Interview über neuen Roman ‘Die Frau auf der Treppe’. Bernhard Schlink liest in Brandenburg / Havel vor.” Märkische Allgemeine 16 May 2015. Web. 16 July 2015. “Getarnter Rechtsbruch. Der Berliner Verfassungsrechtler Bernhard Schlink, 51, über die Versuche des Freistaates Bayern, das Kruzifix im Klassenzimmer zu lassen.” Der Spiegel 38 (1995): 17. Print. Grieser, Ariane. “Ist Würde wägbar? Ein Interview zur Stammzellenforschung mit Professor Dr. Bernhard Schlink.” Humboldt-Forum Recht. Die juristische Internet Zeitschrift an der Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin 8 (2003). Web. 20 July 2015. Gysi, Gregor. “In dieser Welt, nicht von dieser Welt. Bernhard Schlink als Gesprächsgast von Gregor Gysi im Deutschen Theater Berlin.” Neues Deutschland 19 May 2015. Web. 16 July 2015. Hage, Volker, and Julia Koch. “Interview mit Bernhard Schlink: Lesen muss man trainieren.” Der Spiegel 2 (2002): 39-42. Print. “Ich bin beim Schreiben glücklich. Michael Kerbler spricht mit dem Schriftsteller Bernhard Schlink. Anonymous. Perf. Kerbler, Michael. ORF . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2013. DVD / Video. “Interview mit Bernhard Schlink.” Kriminal Journal. Zeitung für Krimileser / innen. 3 (1990): 23-25. Print. “Jens Sparschuh, Tilman Spengler, Bernhard Schlink, Hilde Domin, Raoul Schrott. Moderation Monika Buschey.” Anonymous. Perf. Buschey, Monika. Mosaik � Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2003. DVD / Video. Kahlweit, Cathrin. “Die neue Gegenwart hat so was gelecktes.” Süddeutsche Zeitung 13 Sept. 1997. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. “Kein Verstoß gegen das Grundgesetz. Bernhard Schlink zum Urheberrecht.” Nürnberger Nachrichten 10 Jan. 2002, sec. Feuilleton: 26. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Keller, Claudia, and Axel Vornbäumen. “Paradies, Hölle—Ich tue mich schwer damit.” Der Tagesspiegel 17 Apr. 2006 . Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Kilb, Andreas. “Im Gespräch: Bernhard Schlink. Herr Schlink, ist ‘Der Vorleser’ Geschichte? ” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung 20 Feb. 2009. Web. 16 July 2015. Krause, Tilman. “Bücher der Kindheit, Bücher des Lebens; für kurz und für ewig—Tilman Krause und Bernhard Schlink haben sich im Literaturhaus Stuttgart an Kindheitslektüren erinnert.” Stuttgarter Nachrichten 20 Jan. 2011, sec. Kultur: n.pag. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “Ein einziges Buch hat mir die ganze Welt eröffnet.” Stuttgarter Zeitung 19 Jan. 2011. Web. 16 July 2015. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 145 ---. “Gegen die Verlorenheit an sich selbst. Gute Literatur lebt von der Auseinandersetzung mit der Umwelt. Ein Gespräch mit Bernhard Schlink, dem Autor des Vorleser.” Die Welt 3 Apr. 1999 . Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “Ich bin jetzt in der Welt viel mehr zu Hause als früher. Ein Gespräch mit Bernhard Schlink über sein zweites Leben als Schriftsteller und seine Liebesfluchten.” Die Welt 10 Oct. 2009, sec. Feuilleton: 26. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “In Berlin fehlt es an Bürgersinn; WELT -Literaturpreisträger Bernhard Schlink über seinen Beruf, seine Vorbilder und die deutsche Geschichte.” Die Welt 14 Oct. 1999. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “Wir sind, was wir gelesen haben. Der Ausspruch stammt von Golo Mann, und zwei Menschen des geschriebenen Wortes haben ihn beim Wort genommen. Im Literaturhaus Stuttgart unterhielten sich der Schriftsteller Bernhard Schlink (Der Vorleser) und der Literaturkritiker Tilman Krause über prägende Lektüren.” Die Welt 16 July 2011, sec. Literarische Welt: 4. Web. 16 July 2015. Kron, Norbert. “Flammen des Digitalen. Was hinterlassen uns Dichter, wenn Sie ihre Manuskripte nur noch auf dem Computer schreiben? ” Die Welt 7 Jan. 2006, sec. Literarische Welt: 7. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Kübler, Gunhild. “Als Deutscher im Ausland wird man gestellt. Der Schriftsteller Bernhard Schlink űber die Empfindlichkeiten zwischen Ost- und Westdeutschen und Juden sowie seine Angst vor dem Beifall von der falschen Seite.” Die Weltwoche 27 Jan. 2000. Print. Läubli, Martina. “Literarische Länderkunde. Schriftsteller über ihr Land.” Neue Züricher Zeitung 17 Oct. 2014. Web. 16 July 2015. Lorenz, Petra. “Verstrickung der Generationen; Bernhard Schlink zur Verfilmung seines Buchs. Im Interview von Petra Lorenz für den Diogenes Verlag.” Wiesbadener Tagblatt 26 Feb. 2009. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Meacham, Steve. “It’s a simplistic idea that only monsters can commit monstrous crimes. The Interview.” The Sun Herald 25 Jan. 2009, sec. Extra: 5. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. “Die Vergangenheit, die Schuld und das Recht. Ein Gespräch mit Bernhard Schlink.” Dir. Meier, Horst. DLF , 2013. Audio. Meyer, Lucas, et al. “Die Moral der Wiedergutmachung: Ein philosophisches Gespräch.” Die Globalisierung der Wiedergutmachung: Politik, Moral, Moralpolitik. Ed. José Brunner, Constantin Goschler, and Norbert Frei. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2013. 291-320. Print. “Mit Rechts leben. Gespräch mit Bernhard Schlink.” Verbot Der NPD —Ein deutsches Staatstheater in zwei Akten. Analysen und Kritik 2001-2014. Ed. Horst Meier. Berlin: Berliner Wissenschafts-Verlag, 2015. 218-29. Print. Naparstek, Ben. “Postwar Odyssey.” The Jerusalem Post 8 Feb. 2008, sec. Books: 24. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “Something to Hide. A Character in Homecoming was a Nazi Collaborator. Novelist Bernhard Schlink gives him a Rationalization that’s ‘a Pretty Smart Approach,’ if 146 Heidi Madden he does say so Himself.” The Vancouver Sun 2 Feb. 2008, sec. Weekend Review: C8. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Petsch, Barbara v. “Kann Schwierigen einfache Liebe gelingen? ” Die Presse 17 Nov. 2010. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Post, Dylan F. “Interview Bernhard Schlink: The Ruins of War History of Post-Nazi Germany Used to Explore Meaning of Family, Identity.” The Denver Post 3 Feb. 2008. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. “Renata Schmidtkunz spricht mit Bernhard Schlink, Jurist und Schriftsteller.” Anonymous. Perf. Schmidtkunz, Renata. ORF . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2014. DVD / Video. Reuters, Belinda G. “Germany’s Schlink Finds Time to Contemplate Guilt.” Edmonton Journal 22 Feb. 2008, sec. What’s on: F13. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2016. Rohwer, Jörn J. “Ich kann auch sehr fröhlich sein.” Frankfurter Rundschau 6 Oct. 2001. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Russel, Mary. “The Birth of the Reader Bernhard Schlink’s Novel about a Teenager Who Falls in Love with a War Criminal Sounds as if it is Autobiographical, but the Author Isn’t so Sure, Writes Mary Russell.” The Irish Times 20 June 2001. Web ( Lexis- Nexis ). 16 July 2015. “Fritz Frey mit Bernhard Schlink.” Dir. Schmidbauer, Rupert. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 1999. DVD / Video. Shapiro, Ari. “For ‘The Reader,’ Guilt Travels from Page to Screen.” NPR Interview Transcript. 3 Jan. 2008. Web ( Literature Resource Center ). 16 July 2015. Shea, Erin J. “Q&A with Berhard Schlink.” [Interview Excerpts]. www.oprah.com, n.d. Web. 17 July 2015. “Schuld und Sühne. Gäste: Bernhard Schlink, Ferdinand von Schirach . ” Anonymous. Perf. Dorn, Thea. SWR . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2010. DVD / Video. Sternstunde Philosophie: Der Schriftsteller Bernhard Schlink. Gedächtnis und Gerechtigkeit. Anonymous. Prod. Radio- und Fernsehgesellschaft der Deutschen und der Rätoromanischen Schweiz (Zurich). Atv- TV - P roduktion-Assmann, 2008. Video. Strehle, Res. “Zuerst ist die Lüge klein und unschuldig.” Tages-Anzeiger 24 July 2010, sec. Kultur Gesellschaft: 27. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Sung-mi, Ahn. “Bernhard Schlink: Two Koreas should be the Victors.” The Korea Herald 23 Oct. 2014. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Syal, Rajeev, and Adam Luck. “Nazi behind Winslet Film Role is Revealed. Professor Unmasks ‘Bitch of Buchenwald’ as the Inspiration for the British Star’s Award-Winning Role in the Reader.” The Observer 18 Jan. 2009. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Trachtenberg, Jeffrey A. “A Writer Ponders His ‘Reader’—Schlink on the War-Torn Past and the Movie Version of His Bestseller.” The Wall Street Journal 10 Jan. 2009. Web ( ProQuest Central ). 16 July 2015. “Die Vergangenheit, die Schuld und das Recht; Der Schriftsteller Bernhard Schlink im Gespräch mit Horst Meier.” Anonymous. Perf. Meier, Horst. DLF . Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, 2013. DVD / Video. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 147 Vieth-Entus, Susanne. “Bernhard Schlink zu Pro Reli: ‘Die Gräben werden danach tiefer sein.’” Der Tagesspiegel 22 Apr. 2009 . Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. ---. “Ethik-Unterricht: Wer darf lehren, wer bleibt draußen? Bernhard Schlink erklärt, warum die Islamische Föderation keine Religionsgemeinschaft ist.” Der Tagesspiegel 27 Nov. 2004. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Wachtel, Eleanor. “Bernhard Schlink interviewed by Eleanor Wachtel.” Queen’s Quarterly 106 (1999): 544-55. Print. Wendt, Christina. “Die Menschenrechte bleiben gewahrt. Warum der Bestsellerautor und Jurist Bernhard Schlink das Kopftuchverbot verteidigt.” Stuttgarter Nachrichten 29 Apr. 2009, sec. Zeitgeschehen: n.pag. Web ( LexisNexis ). 16 July 2015. Biography Sources for Bernhard Schlink “Bernhard Schlink.” Contemporary Authors Online . Detroit: Gale, 2011. Web ( Biography in Context ). 20 July 2015. “Bernhard Schlink.” The Writers Directory . Detroit: St. James Press, 2014. Web ( Biography in Context ). 20 July 2015. “Bernhard Schlink.” Contemporary Literary Criticism . Ed. Jeffrey W. Hunter. Vol. 347. Detroit: Gale, 2014. Web ( Literature Resource Center ). 20 July 2015. “Bernhard Schlink.” Diogenes Bio-Bibliographie. www.diogenes.ch, n.d. Web. 20 July 2015. Download. “‘Der Vorleser’ und mehr: Das Deutsche Literaturarchiv Marbach erhält die literarischen Manuskripte und Korrespondenzen von Bernhard Schlink.” life PR 6 Feb. 2009. Web. 20 July 2015. Krause, Tilman. “Welt-Literaturpreis für Schlink; Liebe zu Guten Geschichten: Ein Porträt des Berliner Schriftstellers.” Die Welt 16. Oct. 1999. Web. 17 July 2015. Moraldo, Sandro. “Bernhard Schlink Biogramm.” Kritisches Lexikon zur deutschsprachigen Gegenwartsliteratur. 1 June 2009. Web (nachschlage.net). 16 June 2015. “Schlink, Bernhard.” OCLC Worldcat Identities. n.d. Web. 7 July 2015. Resources for the Classroom Berger, Norbert. Bernhard Schlink: Der Vorleser: Mit Materialien zum Film . Donauwörth: Auer, 2011. Print. ---. Zeitgenössische Romane—Ideen und Materialien für den Literatur-Unterricht . Donauwörth: Auer, 2009. Print. Egbers, Michaela. Interpretationen—Deutsch. Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser . Freising: Stark, 2014. Print. Feuchert, Sascha, and Lars Hofmann. Bernhard Schlink: “Der Vorleser”. Lektüreschlüssel für Schülerinnen und Schüler . Stuttgart: Reclam, 2014. Print. Fricke-Sonnenschein, Hannes. Interpretation. Bernhard Schlink: Der Vorleser . Stuttgart: Reclam, 2009. Print. 148 Heidi Madden Greese, Bettina, et al. Bernhard Schlink: Der Vorleser. EinFach Deutsch Unterrichtsmodelle. Paderborn: Schöningh, 2012. Print. Hare, David, and Bernhard Schlink. The Reader . [Screenplay based on the novel by Bernhard Schlink]. New York: Weinstein Co., 2008. Print. Heddrich, Gesine. Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser. Zugänge und Methoden der Textarbeit. Rot a.d. Rot: Krapp und Gutknecht, 2006. Print. Heigenmoser, Manfred. Bernhard Schlink—Der Vorleser � Erläuterungen und Dokumente. Stuttgart: Reclam, 2010. Print. Kleymann, Susanne, and Guido Rings. “Unschuldig Schuldig? Zur Schuldfrage und Vermittlung von Schlinks Der Vorleser im DaF-Unterricht.” German as a Foreign Language 2 (2004): 81-110. Print. Köster, Juliane. Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser: Interpretation . Munich: Oldenbourg, 2007. Print. Köster, Juliane, and Rolf Schmidt. “Interaktive Lesung mit Bernhard Schlink.” Deutschunterricht 1 (1998): 46-49. Print. Lamberty, Michael . Literatur-Kartei “Der Vorleser”: Schülerarbeitsmaterial für die Sekundarstufen . Mülheim an der Ruhr: Verl. an der Ruhr, 2008. Print. Lihocky, Petra. Der Vorleser, Bernhard Schlink. DVD / Video- CD und Booklet. Pons-Lektürehilfe Deutsch Abitur. Stuttgart: PONS , 2009. Print. Misfeldt, Kim Fordham. “Pedagogies of Affect and Lived Place: Reading Der Vorleser on a Short-Term Intensive Immersion.” Traditions and Transitions: Curricula for German Studies. WCGS German Studies Series. Ed. John L. Plews and Barbara Schmenk. Waterloo, ON : Wilfrid Laurier UP , 2013. 191-208. Print. Mittelberg, Ekkehart. Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser . Berlin: Cornelsen, 2012. Print. Möckel, Magret. Erläuterungen zu Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser . Hollfeld: Bange, 2010. Print. ---. Textanalyse und Interpretation zu Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser: Alle erforderlichen Infos für Abitur, Matura, Klausur und Referat; Plus Musteraufgaben mit Lösungsansätzen. Hollfeld: Bange, 2014. Print. Moers, Helmut. Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser. Freising: Stark, 2007. Print. Reisner, Hanns-Peter. Lektürehilfen Bernhard Schlink “Der Vorleser” . Stuttgart: Klett LernTraining, 2011. Print. Schäfer, Dietmar. Der Vorleser. Bernhard Schlink: Inhalt, Hintergrund, Interpretation. Munich: Mentor, 2008. Print. Schaumann, Caroline. “Erzählraum im Virtuellen Raum: Rewriting Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser on the Web. A Pilot Course for the Collaboration in Virtual Space (Ci VS ) Project at Middlebury College.” Unterrichtspraxis / Teaching German 34�2 (2001): 150-57. Print. “Schlink Unterrichtsmaterialien zur Verfilmung ‘Der Vorleser.’” www.diogenes.ch, 26 Feb. 2009. Web. 20 July 2015. Download. Schmitt, Markus. Der Vorleser: Ein Film Von Stephen Daldry. Nach dem Bestseller von Bernhard Schlink: Materialien für den Sekundarbereich I und II zur Reihe Grundkurs Film. Film Portfolio. Aspekte der Literaturverfilmung. Braunschweig: Schroedel, 2011. Print. Bernhard Schlink: Lawyer, Writer, Public Intellectual: A Bio-Bibliography 149 Steinbach, Gabrielle. Bernhard Schlink, Der Vorleser: Arbeitsmaterial mit Aufgaben � Freising: Stark, 1999. Print. Taberner, Stuart. Der Vorleser. With Introduction, Notes and Vocabulary . London: Bristol Classical P, 2003. Print. Urban, Cerstin. Blickpunkt: Text im Unterricht: Bernhard Schlink “Der Vorleser.” Kommentare, Diskussionsaspekte und Anregungen für produktionsorientiertes Lesen . Hollfeld: Joachim Beyer, 2011. Print. “Der Vorleser—Übersicht.” Lehrerinnenfortbildung Baden-Württemberg. Landesakademie für Fortbildung und Personalentwicklung an Schulen. n.d. Web. 17 July 2017. Autorenverzeichnis Gary L. Baker Denison University Granville, OH 43023 bakerg@denison.edu Björn Bergmann Am Oberfeld 23 65551 Limburg bbergmann65551@aol.com Denise M. Della Rossa 318 O’Shaughnessy Notre Dame, IN 46556 dellarossa.1@nd.edu William Collins Donahue 318 O’Shaughnessy Notre Dame, IN 46556 wcdonahue@nd.edu Sascha Feuchert Justus-Liebig-Universität Gießen Otto-Behaghel-Str. 10 B / 1 35394 Gießen Sascha.Feuchert@germanistik. uni-giessen.de Robert C. Holub 340 Hagerty Hall 1775 South College Road Columbus, OH 43210 holub.5@osu.edu Heidi Madden 232 Bostock Library Box 90195 Durham, NC 27708-0195 heidi.madden@duke.edu Bill Niven 8 Wellin Lane, Edwalton, Nottingham NG 12 4 AS bill william.niven@ntu.ac.uk Brad Prager 451 Strickland Hall University of Missouri Columbia, MO 65211-4170 PragerB@missouri.edu Eva B. Revesz 1705 Lakeview Drive Newark, Ohio 43055. revesze@denison.edu Claudia Rusch Zionskirchstraße 75 10119 Berlin Germany claudia.rusch@googlemail.com Judith Ryan 5, rue du chevalier de la Barre 75018 Paris France jryan@fas.harvard.edu Band 48 2015 Heft 1 - 2 Harald Höbus ch, Linda K . Worle y (Hr sg.) ISSN 0010-1338 Band 48 T h e m e n h eft: B e rnh a rd S c hlink s D e r Vo rle s e r G a s th e ra u s g e b e r: W illia m Collin s D on a hu e und E va B . R e ve s z E va B . R e ve s z : B e r n h a rd S c hlin k ’ s T h e R e a d e r a n d th e P roble m of G e r m a n V i c tim hood J udith R ya n: S c hlin k ’ s Vo rl e s e r , S ü s kin d ’ s Pa r fu m , a n d th e Conc e pt of G lob al L ite ratu re R ob e r t C . H olub: G e r m a n s a s V i c tim s in 1 9 9 5 B ill N ive n: B e r n h a rd S c hlin k a n d th e L e g a c ie s of 1 9 6 8 B ra d Pra g e r: O n S te p h e n D ald r y ' s A d a ptation of T h e R e a d e r G a r y L . B ake r: E m otion al D eta c h m e nt in B e r n h a rd S c hlin k ‘ s D e r Vo rl e s e r: A P roble m for D e m o c ra c y C la udia R u s c h: D e m U n a u s s p re c hli c h e n b e g e g n e n D e ni s e M . D ella R o s s a: D e r Vo rl e s e r a n d B e r n h a rd S c hlin k in th e C la s s roo m S a s c h a Fe u c h e r t und B jörn B e rgm a nn: I m m e r wie d e r S c hlin k ? 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