Ingo Schulze: New Lives
It’s easy to lose sight of the fact that Ingo Schulze’s latest book is actually a novel, even though it clearly advertises the fact on the front cover. New Lives follows the life and times of aspiring novelist and failed entrepreneur, Enrico Türmer, before his newspaper empire crumbled and he went into self-imposed exile. The narrative is woven from a collection of letters that he wrote to his beloved sister Vera, his best friend Johann, and to the object of his desire Nicoletta, between January and July 1990.
We learn about Türmer’s formative years growing up in East Germany through his seemingly one-sided correspondence with Nicoletta, in what he melodramatically calls his confession. These letters provide a rich warts-and-all narrative that contrasts the often-banal minutiae of the everyday that fills his other letters. His ‘confession’ is penned on the back of rudimentary manuscripts, which appear in the book’s appendix and confirm the man’s lack of talent as a writer.
Türmer describes his West German muse as “the ideal person—at least the Nicoletta I imagine when I’m writing—to tell about the past”. Although he admits he knows next to nothing about his woman she is ideal simply because she grew up on the other side of the wall. As the correspondence progresses the author dispenses with the usual pleasantries and simply starts where he left off without even addressing his reader or acknowledging that she exists outside of the role he has cast her in. Despite the fact that for the most part it seems his letters go unanswered and unacknowledged he continues. “As for anyone who might be watching you read—wouldn’t he envy the writer of that letter and wish he were in his shoes? It is dreams like these that are to blame for my continued efforts.”
Each letter to his muse represents a chapter in Türmer’s life, beginning with an East German boy who dreams of a utopian West; a boy, and later a man, who finds his true calling as a writer is a curse and a blessing; a soldier who discovers the literary richness of adversity; a man who never finds his feet at the theatre but ends up marrying actress Michaela and becoming a reluctant revolutionary; and finally a man who is willing to sacrifice everything for financial gain.
Through these retrospective letters, we also experience East Germany’s march towards reunification, a move that both troubles and excites our protagonist. Since childhood Türmer has idolised everything to do with the West and he hordes the treasures and tales that his grandparents bring from across the border. “When you pronounced the word ‘East’ didn’t your mouth spread into a simpleton’s grimace? Whereas ‘West’ hissed like a Lamborgihini Miora speeding off on superfast tires.” But when he actually tastes freedom abroad he is at a total loss. He describes this inertia to Nicoletta during his first trip to Paris, “…the wall-demon took possession of me.” As the fall of the wall becomes an inevitability he starts to panic, realising he will be entering unchartered territory without a map or a survival plan. “I was losing EVERYTHING! My weal and woe! West and East! Heaven and Hell!
Türmer’s idolatrous affection for his sister is heightened when she moves to the West. He intimates that she was forced to leave because she was the subject of Stasi scrutiny, but Vera doesn’t remember it this way. She also contradicts his insinuation that their relationship went beyond the bounds of brother and sisterly love. But questions remain given the inappropriate intimacy in his letters to Vera.
The letters to Vera and the author’s oldest friend, Johann, also provide a painstaking account of Türmer’s escapades as the editor of a local newspaper and the slow breakdown of his marriage to Michaela. Here we see how quickly he abandons the altruistic ideals that the Altenburg Weekly was founded on, as a paper that encouraged democracy and freedom of speech, in favour of populist puff pieces and the creation of a free advertiser that will reap financial rewards. He is helped along in this endeavour by the ever-present Faustian figure Clemens von Barrista who uses his charm, connections and cash to curry favour and gain influence and soon becomes a model and a mentor for our anti-hero.
The book is as contradictory as its central character and it is often difficult to know whose version of events to believe; the absent author’s, the nitpicking editor’s or those whose lives are laid bare. At times the writing is poetic and evocative, but the level of self-revelation is embarrassingly indulgent and inappropriate for the medium and his intended audience. Equally puzzling is the discrepancy between Türmer’s ability to write engagingly, for the most part, in his letters but his utter failure in narrative form. Although perhaps this can be explained as his self-professed weakness for writing dialogue, a talent that involves inhabiting the mind of another, something he appears incapable of.
Schulze himself is front and centre, as the omnipresent editor and former classmate of Enrico and one of many of his sister’s admirers. He pieces together the narrative from the methodically made carbon copies that Türmer kept of his own correspondence. Schulze shines a blinding light on his subject’s already glaring faults and seems to have a score to settle with the absent entrepreneur. He uses the book’s footnotes to contradict, quibble, and question the validity of what the author claims as his truth, to the point of annoyance. The author’s repetitious ramblings could easily have been condensed further; instead they remain as the subject of the editor’s equally repetitious point scoring at Türmer’s expense.
The book itself makes no mention of the fact that Schulze was more than just Türmer’s contemporary but is in fact the inspiration for the failed author at the centre of New Lives. Using the device of reflexivity, Schulze has bravely laid bare and satirised his own experiences as the former dramatic arts advisor at the Altenburg State Theatre and the co-founder of a local newspaper and later a free advertiser in order to examine the broader issue of East Germany’s tumultuous transition from socialism to capitalism.
While this is a clever literary construct you almost need to be in on the joke from the outset to appreciate Schulze’s intent. Without this knowledge he is in danger of damning his already unlikeable character to the point of disinterest, as well as alienating the reader with his over-the-top editorialising.
While this provides a great twist to this epic tale, the reader might feel a bit cheated because not only are we presented with an unreliable author, but there are also inconsistencies and omissions in the way the book is edited. For example, the reader is led to believe that Türmer’s correspondence to Nicoletta goes unanswered, understandably so, as the man he reveals in his letters is weak, judgemental, insecure and extremely selfish. So it comes as a great surprise when three-quarters of the way into the book we learn that the pair was apparently engaged to be married at some point. Ironically, it seems that Schulze, as author of this highly original but ultimately flawed novel, would have benefited from a more objective editor.
The Book
Schulze, Ingo: New Lives / translated by John E. Woods – Random House Inc., 2008. - 592 pages
ISBN: 978-0-307-26559-3
Original title: Neue Leben (German)
