Theodor Fontane (1819–1898)

This novel was... frustrating. At times brilliant, at times wanting, I have to concede that my appreciation of this story may have been stunted by my lack of knowledge of the greater timbre of literature during this time and place. As an English speaker raised in America, my experience with German literature (especially from the 19th century) has been small. I've always enjoyed 19th-century literature, so getting this off my wishlist this Christmas and tearing into it was exciting. It took a bit for how dense it can be, but I was happy to read it, and am a bit intimidated by writing a full review.

Effi Briest tells the story of our titular main character; 17 years old and immediately engaged to her mother's former beau, 22 years her senior. The bulk of the novel surprisingly follows Effi's first two years of marriage, which float on fairly innocuously beside the pesky affair, with the novel's famous "fallen woman" denouement only coming in at a staggering 3/4th of the way through.

Fontane's work has been noted for both its symbolism and realism, and Effi Briest absolutely delivers on these fronts. Many parts of this novel are breathtakingly alive and raw, and there are some other brilliant uses of play with the medium of the written word itself. For the former, I often think of Fontane's descriptions of youth in nature and the somber, quietly suffocating interior scenes. For the latter, I was shocked at the impact of the duel—written so sparsely, one cannot help holding their breath as they rake over and over on the words, lost as to why so little would be written.

My copy of the book is deeply marked up: Fontane's strength here is the potential of poetic richness and the aforementioned symbolism. One can spend ages at a passage, unearthing his intent and meditating on a time gone by that somehow feels like you can see it in the corner of your eye. So much could be said, from Rollo the dog's status as fido to the human-equivalent of Roswitha, from the ever-present and suffocating Prussian military presence around Effi in the form of places, people, and duties to the sacrificial runestones seen on her honeymoon. Sometimes it's a bit heavy-handed, but it made me stop and continually think as to what else I should be looking out for. I will have to similarly concede that the amount of Prussian military figures, place names, and social words were unfortunately impenetrable to me, but I don't doubt an entire book could fill analysis of their inclusion.

Tragically then, I found the root of this novel's weakness in its construction and forthrightness of message. Another reviewer noted how rushed the ending felt, and I am inclined to agree. Effi's... ending comes truly out of nowhere, and it begins and ends only 3 pages before the book's end. The novel suffers from the worst of pre-20th century stories' treatment of "moral ends," and as usual, lacks any gutsy reasoning for its decision. Despite my book's introduction noting that the message one should pull is the tragedy of strict social conditions, the ending felt... ambiguous. I could be a bit daft, I'm far from the strongest reader out there who reads heady lit like this, but the ambiguity in a novel this constructed felt tragically wasted. I don't know. I'm ready and willing to read others' interpretations though.

My Penguin Classics edition was a wonderful copy for anyone looking for an English-language translation, and their notes on translation were very agreeable. It's modern in that it's conservative, and I appreciated the lack of translation of proper nouns. Go Hugh and Helen!… (mais)