Let me
start this review at the very end of the book. In the acknowledgements, Larissa
Boehning writes:
After a long phase of working together, Marianne Reil gave me her short stories and notes on her childhood in the Engelwirt shortly before her death, asking me to make them into a novel. She wanted to call it Dosierte Liebe (love in small doses). I am still grateful to her for such a great and trusting gift.
In a way,
Boehning’s book takes these luminous anecdotes of a childhood in a Bavarian family
inn at the end of WWII as its centrepiece. And yet it is not a historical
novel. It opens, in fact, with a false little affair between a woman and her
neighbour in present-day Hamburg. Jule works in advertising and Matthias claims
to run an online dating platform – so they’re both professional manipulators of
the truth. As it turns out, Matthias actually works for an insurance company,
but not for long. His last visit – after being sacked – is to a wealthy elderly
widow, Annemarie. Annemarie needs someone to help her with things, including
trips to the hospital, because she doesn’t have long to live. And Matthias
worms his way into her affections in the hope of inheriting.
Boehning
read an extract from the novel at the Ingeborg Bachmann competition in
Klagenfurt last year. It was probably the book’s most shocking passage, and it
was a good illustration of her skill at building up an extremely oppressive
atmosphere between the would-be son and heir and his would-be mother. There
were times when I felt Matthias was too simple a character, his motivations
made overly clear – a domineering mother of his own, a wish to have something
to show for himself in the form of status symbols. He’s certainly a
love-to-hate figure, but the writer lets Annemarie get her fair share of
manipulating done too. She seems to come back to life all of a sudden now that she has someone to take care of, and that adds extra tension. Standing alone, however, this strand of the plot wouldn’t be
enough to make Nichts davon stimmt aber alles ist wahr a good novel.
Wisely,
then, Boehning gives us Jule, who follows Matthias after he’s disappointed her,
and finds out about Annemarie. In an unlikely but forgivable plot twist, the
elderly woman ends up telling Jule about her childhood – the Bavarian passages.
I love the fact that Annemarie’s whole character is built up around these
wonderful anecdotes. The child has a tough mother – called “the general” – who
runs the Engelwirt inn with a rule of steel and little but cruelty to spare for
her daughter. But there is her father, a butcher, and her grandfather with his
tall tales that help her learn the alphabet, and there is hard work. It feels
as though Boehning has sat down and thought about how the adult version might
be of this curious child who got love in small doses.
I suppose
the novel might be all about love and truth. Matthias seems to make a fairly good living
after being sacked by running fake dating profiles, paid for by the online
platform. As Jule finds out, he sends standard responses to love-hungry ladies
interested in his various personae. And Jule herself has occasion to ponder the
inflationary use of the word love in advertising campaigns (something I’m
guilty of myself here at love german books). In a way, Boehning seems to be
telling us, all kinds of love can be manipulative. But the novel is not
condemnatory; it ends on a surprisingly positive note.
And I was
positively surprised, especially because I fell rather in love with the
Bavarian sections but also because I was happy to leave them again for the
contemporary plotline, which ticks along nicely. A good book.
2 comments:
I really wanted that passage from the acknowledgements to have been a preface - I'd have liked to know there was a beautiful little kernel of truth at the heart of the book before I started reading. Or maybe not telling people until the end was the point. Of course, everyone knows now... :-)
Only everyone who reads this.
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