These days I'm mostly surrendering to my whims and fancies. As a result, no real studying is happening but this leaves more time for endulging in some long-delayed short-time projects and reading.
For instance, I read Philip Kerr's "Berlin Noir" last week, a series of three crime novels featuring Bernie Gunther, private detective/policeman in Nazi Germany. I found them enjoyable enough and they apparently set me into the mood for...
Gascon
...Pèire Bec's Lo hiu tibat (1978). The book has been sitting on my shelf for more than a year but it's only now that I'm getting to it. In it, Bec narrates episodes of his life in Austria/Germany in 1943-1944, as a Frenchman sent to work in the Reich (see Service du Travail Obligatoire for more on this).
I've read the first part of the book ("Hilde"), which is made of five stories pertaining to the time when Bec worked in Vienna as a clerk:
1. Bec and Hilde, his Austrian colleague, are terrified because a frame containing Hitler's picture is broken and they have to find a way to replace it discretly
2. Bec meets Francesco Colombo, an Italian tailor. The two become friends
3. Bec's office sees the arrival of an ex-soldier from the Russian front. He replaces Bec (but only for a very short time)
4. How Bec and Hilde dealt with bombings on various occasions (from late May 1944 on)
5. How Bec accidentally met with Baldur von Shirach. Later he is transferred to Waldeck and parts with Hilde.
In the foreword, Bec writes slightly ambiguously about the reality of the events he describes, basically saying something like "Of course, the work is autobiographic...but I have modified some stuff. Of course, it's real...but it's re-lived reality." Make of that what you will
Nevertheless, I'm enjoying the read so far. It builds on the Kerr novels I mentioned earlier in the sense that these books have reminded me that, for millions of people in Germany, the period from the late 1930s up to the early 1940s wasn't so tragic after all. Life went on, they spent time with their loved ones, went to work every day, etc. To be honest, reading about all this relative normality after reading/listening to so many Yiddish Holocaust survivors stories over the last ten years feels somewhat...obscene? disturbing? But that's part of why I find reading this book interesting, it gives me, or rather it reminds me of, a different aspect of this period.
There are some other things I'd like to comment upon (Is Bec's Gascon a calque of French? The way the dialogues are presented in the original language cum Gascon translation, etc.) but maybe I'll keep these for another post.
Here is a short extract from p. 60-61, together with my poor attempt at a translation. Pèire Bec, his Italian friend Francesco and other foreign workers have just been accused of stealing 300 Marks in the café they were having a drink in. The owner wants to search them before they leave but Francesco adamantly refuses.
Dens aquesta escadença lo patron, qui ne'n podèva pas mes e n'avèva pas mes cap de dobte sus la culpabilitat de Francesco, que bondiscoc tau telefòne, en bèth cridant de mes en mes :
- Ich rufe die Polizei an ! Ich rufe die Polizei an ! [Qu'apèri la polícia !]
- Francesco, per favore, lasciati fare la perquisizione ! Tu vedi bene che chiamano la polizia ! [Francesco, dèisha-te hèr la folhada. Que vedes plan qu'apèran la polícia !]
Francesco que devarèc alavetz deu son jocader, blèsme deu bijarrèr, bohabrac e lagrimejant e, en bèth m'espiar plan dens los uelhs, que'm getèc a la cara :
- Pietro, tu non sei degno di essere Italiano ! [Pèire, n'ès pas digne d'èste Italian !]
At this time, the owner (who was at his wit's end and had no doubt anymore about Francesco being guilty) sprang on the phone while shouting more and more:
- I'm calling the police! I'm calling the police!
- Francesco, please, let them search you. You can see that they're calling the police!
Francesco then climbed down from his perch, pale because of anger(?), short of breath and crying, and, looking at me right in the eyes, he threw to my face:
- Pèire, you're not worthy of being Italian!