Jan Brandt, Against the World, Trans. by Katy Derbyshire, Seagull Books, 2016.
an excerpt
On its publication in German, Against the World was hailed as an immediate classic. “One of the most spectacular debuts of recent decades,” said Kulturspiegel, while Der Spiegel went even farther: “Against the World is the book of books.” Now English-language readers will get their first chance to see what German readers have already learned: this is a big, ambitious, over-the-top masterpiece.
Set in the East Friesia region of Germany in the mid-1970s, Against the World tells the story of Daniel Kuper, the nominal heir to a drugstore dynasty, and his struggle to free himself from the petty suspicions and violence of small-town life. A delicate, secretive boy with too much imagination and too few opportunities, he becomes the target of outrage and fear when strange phenomena convulse the town: snowfall in summer, inexplicable corn circles, a boy dead under the wheels of a train, swastikas crudely daubed on walls. Fingers point, and they single out Kuper. The more he tries to prove his innocence, the more fierce the accusations, until his only option is open war against the village and its inhabitants.
An unforgettable debut, Against the World is an epic account of growing up an outsider, and the pain, violence, and betrayal that accompany exclusion.
As experimental literature becomes more mainstream and as literature as a whole becomes democratized to the point of allowing instant, often digital, traversal of stories from one end of the earth to another, it seems harder and harder to find books that are truly unique in terms of structure. Harder still is finding such a book that uses its unique structure in a way that isn’t gimmicky or distracting. With this in mind, Jan Brandt’s debut novel Against the World is a particular joy, as its style, billed by the author himself as manischen realismus, or “manic realism,” feels incredibly fresh while staying completely readable.
At first glance, Brandt’s manic style appears overwhelming. To leaf through the book is like having too many windows open on a computer screen, with an abundance of visually and tonally different items competing for attention. Brandt’s audacious choices include varying fonts, the occasional image, passages in Latin, letters with scribbled handwriting in the margins, multiple narrators, pages containing only one word and other pages consisting only of the same word repeated over and over again, a large chunk where the pages are split horizontally with two different accounts told above and below the line and other quirks.
However, when taken as a whole, this manic realist style accomplishes two important tasks. First, it makes an 882-page novel of literary prose readable and consistently interesting for multiple parts of the brain. And second, it feels completely current. Though the story begins in a corner of Germany in the 1970s and proceeds from that point forward, this is a truly 21st century novel—one that is aware that readers’ brains are overwhelmed by information, images, politics, theories, spiritual crises, globalization and dozens of other competing stimuli. Brandt’s manic telling mimics that while contrasting it against long, literary sections that include beautiful references to the German landscapes, the intricacies of small-town life and heavy doses of ‘70s/‘80s/‘90s nostalgia.
Against the World feels incredibly fresh, which is a particular accomplishment when considering that Brandt still pays homage to those who influenced him. David Foster Wallace’s presence is felt both in the style of prose and in reference, and the book itself looks to be building upon other pieces of ergodic literature like Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves. Ergodic literature, a term coined by Norwegian scholar Espen Aarseth for literature in which “a nontrivial effort is required for the reader to traverse the text,” is a field where many pieces are derivative of classics of the form like the aforementioned House of Leaves and Nick Bantock’s classic Griffin and Sabine series. Against the World certainly sits among those works, yet it doesn’t attempt to copy them.
Style aside, it must also be noted that the readability of the English version has a lot to do with the excellent translation by Katy Derbyshire, who brings Brandt’s world to English without sacrificing the German idiosyncrasies that make his story so interesting. This is a particular feat when considering that this is an 882-page book featuring multiple points of view, yet Derbyshire’s translation is consistently marvelous.
Though Against the World is outstanding in many ways, it still has a few flaws. For instance, even with Brandt’s manic delivery the book does slow down for long portions, which serve to beautifully and complexly evoke small-town country life but also deprive the reader of the delicious structural weirdness of other sections. And through a combination of perspective and description, the main character, Daniel, often feels distant from the reader, too mysterious and occasionally less interesting than the other characters.
It feels important for big, bold books like Against the World to be written and published. Though this book doesn’t break any molds when it comes to race or gender, the literary world is still very traditional in terms of style and inclusivity, and the publishing of more unique works will only open doors for underrepresented voices and styles, particularly a beautifully told one like Against the World. Jan Brandt’s admirable debut is great reading for any occasion: complex and hearty while remaining swiftly readable thanks to a great story and a pitch-perfect translation. - Mike McClelland
https://spectrumculture.com/2016/10/19/world-jan-brandt/
When he was a student at Harvard, the poet Robert Lowell sought out Robert Frost and began to read to him an epic poem he had written about the Crusades. Frost interrupted the fledgling poet and said "it goes on a bit, doesn't it?" and then proceeded to read out loud the opening stanza of Keats' Hyperion, teaching young Lowell a valuable lesson in concision.
If only Jan Brandt had been taught a similar lesson from a mentor or at least an editor. His debut novel Gegen die Welt "goes on a bit" for over 910 pages. The book was recently released in English as Against the World, translated by my blogger acquaintance Katy Derbyshire (Katy, how did you have the stamina?). With his bloated novel Jan Brandt is seeking give the reader as sense of totality of a fictitious provincial town - Jericho in Ostfriesland. He might have learned something from Theodor Fontane, who could invoke an entire world in just a few pages of dialogue.
Jericho is located in what we in the US call "fly-over" country - a forgotten region that is never a destination. Brandt's Jericho is literally a "fly-over" town: fighter jets are constantly buzzing the town as they patrol the near-by East German border (the novel takes place in the 1980's shortly before 'Die Wende'). On the other side of the border is Jerichow - a town much like its West German counterpart but in a more advanced stated of decline. Jericho has seen better days. Businesses struggle to stay afloat. Young people, if they are lucky, leave to study in distant cities, never to return. Those left behind turn to drugs, alcohol, heavy metal rock and - in a few cases - suicide. Even nature conspires against Jericho; it begins snowing in September, and later heavy fog envelopes the town for months on end. The central figure in the novel is Daniel Kupers, a typical teenage boy who gets caught up in very untypical goings-on in Jericho, and soon gets blamed - mostly unjustly - for everything that goes wrong.
What's frustrating is that Gegen die Welt contains several excellent sections and strands that could be crafted into terrific novellas or novels. I especially liked the character Bernhard "Hard" Kupers, Daniel's father, a funny and energetic small businessman who does whatever it takes - including arson - keep his drug store afloat, even as he indulges in gambling and adulterous affairs. The dialogue between Hard and his wife "Biggi" is pure comedy. The strongest piece of writing is the story of the locomotive driver who suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome after two young people throw themselves in front of his train. His story goes on for over 150 pages - the bottom half the page, while the top half continues the saga of Daniel Kupers.
Jan Brandt has many such "techniques" for tormenting his readers, and I confess I put the book down for weeks at a time. But, to the author's credit, I did decide to finish Gegen die Welt, and, reading the last third of the novel, I realized Brandt's true achievement. Gegen die Welt was published in 2011, three years before Pegida or AfD (Alternative for Germany), yet Brandt predicted the wave of right-wing populism that today is washing over the provinces. The citizens of Jericho are no different from those in Sachsen or Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. They see their world threatened by globalization, big box stores, automation, immigration - and are attracted to any rhetoric that promises to "make Germany great again." The best scene in Gegen die Welt is when Johann Rosing - the local real estate and construction baron running for mayor (a "mini-Trump") - mesmerizes the people of Jericho with his speech at a campaign rally:
http://www.dialoginternational.com/dialog_international/2016/12/review-jan-brandts-gegen-die-welt.html
Jan Brandt, born in Leer (East Frisia) in 1974, studied History and Literary Studies in Cologne, London and Berlin, and attended the German School for Journalism in Munich. His novel Gegen die Welt, 2011 (Against the World, 2016) was shortlisted for the German Book Prize and won the Nicolas Born Début Prize. His most recent publication was the autofictional text Tod in Turin (2015, ‘Death in Turin’).
Set in the East Friesia region of Germany in the mid-1970s, Against the World tells the story of Daniel Kuper, the nominal heir to a drugstore dynasty, and his struggle to free himself from the petty suspicions and violence of small-town life. A delicate, secretive boy with too much imagination and too few opportunities, he becomes the target of outrage and fear when strange phenomena convulse the town: snowfall in summer, inexplicable corn circles, a boy dead under the wheels of a train, swastikas crudely daubed on walls. Fingers point, and they single out Kuper. The more he tries to prove his innocence, the more fierce the accusations, until his only option is open war against the village and its inhabitants.
An unforgettable debut, Against the World is an epic account of growing up an outsider, and the pain, violence, and betrayal that accompany exclusion.
As experimental literature becomes more mainstream and as literature as a whole becomes democratized to the point of allowing instant, often digital, traversal of stories from one end of the earth to another, it seems harder and harder to find books that are truly unique in terms of structure. Harder still is finding such a book that uses its unique structure in a way that isn’t gimmicky or distracting. With this in mind, Jan Brandt’s debut novel Against the World is a particular joy, as its style, billed by the author himself as manischen realismus, or “manic realism,” feels incredibly fresh while staying completely readable.
At first glance, Brandt’s manic style appears overwhelming. To leaf through the book is like having too many windows open on a computer screen, with an abundance of visually and tonally different items competing for attention. Brandt’s audacious choices include varying fonts, the occasional image, passages in Latin, letters with scribbled handwriting in the margins, multiple narrators, pages containing only one word and other pages consisting only of the same word repeated over and over again, a large chunk where the pages are split horizontally with two different accounts told above and below the line and other quirks.
However, when taken as a whole, this manic realist style accomplishes two important tasks. First, it makes an 882-page novel of literary prose readable and consistently interesting for multiple parts of the brain. And second, it feels completely current. Though the story begins in a corner of Germany in the 1970s and proceeds from that point forward, this is a truly 21st century novel—one that is aware that readers’ brains are overwhelmed by information, images, politics, theories, spiritual crises, globalization and dozens of other competing stimuli. Brandt’s manic telling mimics that while contrasting it against long, literary sections that include beautiful references to the German landscapes, the intricacies of small-town life and heavy doses of ‘70s/‘80s/‘90s nostalgia.
Against the World feels incredibly fresh, which is a particular accomplishment when considering that Brandt still pays homage to those who influenced him. David Foster Wallace’s presence is felt both in the style of prose and in reference, and the book itself looks to be building upon other pieces of ergodic literature like Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves. Ergodic literature, a term coined by Norwegian scholar Espen Aarseth for literature in which “a nontrivial effort is required for the reader to traverse the text,” is a field where many pieces are derivative of classics of the form like the aforementioned House of Leaves and Nick Bantock’s classic Griffin and Sabine series. Against the World certainly sits among those works, yet it doesn’t attempt to copy them.
Style aside, it must also be noted that the readability of the English version has a lot to do with the excellent translation by Katy Derbyshire, who brings Brandt’s world to English without sacrificing the German idiosyncrasies that make his story so interesting. This is a particular feat when considering that this is an 882-page book featuring multiple points of view, yet Derbyshire’s translation is consistently marvelous.
Though Against the World is outstanding in many ways, it still has a few flaws. For instance, even with Brandt’s manic delivery the book does slow down for long portions, which serve to beautifully and complexly evoke small-town country life but also deprive the reader of the delicious structural weirdness of other sections. And through a combination of perspective and description, the main character, Daniel, often feels distant from the reader, too mysterious and occasionally less interesting than the other characters.
It feels important for big, bold books like Against the World to be written and published. Though this book doesn’t break any molds when it comes to race or gender, the literary world is still very traditional in terms of style and inclusivity, and the publishing of more unique works will only open doors for underrepresented voices and styles, particularly a beautifully told one like Against the World. Jan Brandt’s admirable debut is great reading for any occasion: complex and hearty while remaining swiftly readable thanks to a great story and a pitch-perfect translation. - Mike McClelland
https://spectrumculture.com/2016/10/19/world-jan-brandt/
When he was a student at Harvard, the poet Robert Lowell sought out Robert Frost and began to read to him an epic poem he had written about the Crusades. Frost interrupted the fledgling poet and said "it goes on a bit, doesn't it?" and then proceeded to read out loud the opening stanza of Keats' Hyperion, teaching young Lowell a valuable lesson in concision.
If only Jan Brandt had been taught a similar lesson from a mentor or at least an editor. His debut novel Gegen die Welt "goes on a bit" for over 910 pages. The book was recently released in English as Against the World, translated by my blogger acquaintance Katy Derbyshire (Katy, how did you have the stamina?). With his bloated novel Jan Brandt is seeking give the reader as sense of totality of a fictitious provincial town - Jericho in Ostfriesland. He might have learned something from Theodor Fontane, who could invoke an entire world in just a few pages of dialogue.
Jericho is located in what we in the US call "fly-over" country - a forgotten region that is never a destination. Brandt's Jericho is literally a "fly-over" town: fighter jets are constantly buzzing the town as they patrol the near-by East German border (the novel takes place in the 1980's shortly before 'Die Wende'). On the other side of the border is Jerichow - a town much like its West German counterpart but in a more advanced stated of decline. Jericho has seen better days. Businesses struggle to stay afloat. Young people, if they are lucky, leave to study in distant cities, never to return. Those left behind turn to drugs, alcohol, heavy metal rock and - in a few cases - suicide. Even nature conspires against Jericho; it begins snowing in September, and later heavy fog envelopes the town for months on end. The central figure in the novel is Daniel Kupers, a typical teenage boy who gets caught up in very untypical goings-on in Jericho, and soon gets blamed - mostly unjustly - for everything that goes wrong.
What's frustrating is that Gegen die Welt contains several excellent sections and strands that could be crafted into terrific novellas or novels. I especially liked the character Bernhard "Hard" Kupers, Daniel's father, a funny and energetic small businessman who does whatever it takes - including arson - keep his drug store afloat, even as he indulges in gambling and adulterous affairs. The dialogue between Hard and his wife "Biggi" is pure comedy. The strongest piece of writing is the story of the locomotive driver who suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome after two young people throw themselves in front of his train. His story goes on for over 150 pages - the bottom half the page, while the top half continues the saga of Daniel Kupers.
Jan Brandt has many such "techniques" for tormenting his readers, and I confess I put the book down for weeks at a time. But, to the author's credit, I did decide to finish Gegen die Welt, and, reading the last third of the novel, I realized Brandt's true achievement. Gegen die Welt was published in 2011, three years before Pegida or AfD (Alternative for Germany), yet Brandt predicted the wave of right-wing populism that today is washing over the provinces. The citizens of Jericho are no different from those in Sachsen or Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. They see their world threatened by globalization, big box stores, automation, immigration - and are attracted to any rhetoric that promises to "make Germany great again." The best scene in Gegen die Welt is when Johann Rosing - the local real estate and construction baron running for mayor (a "mini-Trump") - mesmerizes the people of Jericho with his speech at a campaign rally:
"Das Schlimmste aber ist die Vernichtung des Vertrauens in unser Volk, die Beseitigung aller Hoffnungen und aller Zuversicht. Wie können wir diesem Schicksal entgetehn? Der Grundgedanke der Hochfinanz besteht darin, dass es nur ein Glück gibt: Das Diesseits. Dieses Glück hängt von der Lebensmöglichkeit ab, die der einzelne Mensch sich an materiellen Gütern verschafft. [...] Das wahre Glück hängt aber vom Grund und Boden ab, von der Mutter Erde, und von den Menschen, von der Qualität der Menschen. Jedes Volk kann nur dann glücklich werdem. wenn es sein eigenes Leben lebt. wenn es die Güter bekommt, die es selbst zu erzeugen fähig ist... Nur auf das, was man selbst erreicht hat, aus eigener Kraft und Anstrengung, kann man stoltz sein."Sounds very much like a stump speech by Björn Höcke, and in fact Daniel Kupers later finds that much of the speech was lifted verbatim from Mein Kampf. Daniel's father Hard is a die-hard FDP voter, but I'm sure that today Hard and all his neighbors would be casting their ballots for the AfD. It is to Jan Brandt's credit that he does not just depict these folks as caricatures, but as humans with genuine hopes and fears. - David Vickrey
http://www.dialoginternational.com/dialog_international/2016/12/review-jan-brandts-gegen-die-welt.html
Jan Brandt, born in Leer (East Frisia) in 1974, studied History and Literary Studies in Cologne, London and Berlin, and attended the German School for Journalism in Munich. His novel Gegen die Welt, 2011 (Against the World, 2016) was shortlisted for the German Book Prize and won the Nicolas Born Début Prize. His most recent publication was the autofictional text Tod in Turin (2015, ‘Death in Turin’).
