Hide this

Results from Google Books

Click on a thumbnail to go to Google Books.

The Assignment: or, On the Observing of the…

The Assignment: or, On the Observing of the Observer of the Observers (1986)

by Friedrich Durrenmatt

MembersReviewsPopularityAverage ratingMentions
218853,416 (3.68)5



Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book.

No current Talk conversations about this book.

» See also 5 mentions

Showing 1-5 of 8 (next | show all)
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
I described to friends the Swiss author of German language Friedrich Durrenmatt (1921-1990) as being so... Swiss.
In his last novel, The Assignment, the writer introduced himself under the figure of a logician!
But Durrenmatt, the prominent author, stands apart. He is a rare one able to rhythm intellect with thriller.
The Assignment involves Superpowers, weapon trades and remote wars in the desert.
There is a mind play between intelligence agencies, and observers or investigating journalists.
Freedom is odd, and escaping the reality is not surely possible in a world obsessed with images, mixing reality and appearance.
  alexmtl | Jul 26, 2009 |
"When Otto von Lambert was informed by the police that his wife Tina had been found dead and violated at the foot of the Al-Hakim ruin, and that the crime was as yet unsolved, the psychiatrist, well known for his book on terrorism, had the corpse transported by helicopter across the Mediterranean, suspended in its coffin by ropes from the bottom of the plane, so that it trailed after it slightly, over vast stretches of sunlit land, through shreds of clouds, across the Alps in a snowstorm, and later through rain showers, until it was gently reeled down into an open grave surrounded by a mourning party, and covered with earth, whereupon von Lambert, who had noticed that F., too, had filmed the event, briefly scrutinized her and, closing his umbrella despite the rain, demanded that she and her team visit him that same evening, since he had an assignment for her that could not be delayed."

So goes the first sentence, which is also the entire first chapter, of Friedrich Dürrenmatt's The Assignment (or, on the observing of the observer of the observers). In fact, every chapter consists of a single long sentence, a technique which leads, at its best, to evocative, noir-ish snapshots of the action, and at its worst to confusing, breathless run-ons with no clear referent. I actually think both best- and worst-case scenarios have their place in creating Dürrenmatt's chosen atmosphere: as the titular "assignment" spirals out of F.'s control, the chapter-sentences get longer and more labyrinthine, mirroring her own descent from unease to panic. It's cleverly and effectively done, and also allows Dürrenmatt to condense a standard-length novel into a scant 129 pages. Into this brief first chapter, for example, is packed a remarkable amount of information, relevant to both the plot (von Lambert is a psychiatrist; he is "well known for his book on terrorism"; his wife has been brutally raped and murdered; her body was found at the foot of a desert monument) and the enigmatic atmosphere ("over vast stretches of sunlit land, through shreds of clouds, across the Alps in a snowstorm"; "closing his umbrella despite the rain"). Indeed, especially in these first few chapter-sentences, I was spellbound by Dürrenmatt's extreme economy of language. It's right next door to a political thriller told in verse, so compressed and evocative is the prose.

Although I generally preferred the shorter chapters, one of the most memorable is much longer: in it, F. drops into a cafe to talk with her logician friend D. about the case, and D. proceeds to develop the novella's obsessive preoccupation with observation and aggression. Dürrenmatt's overarching fear, in this book, seems to be the dual dependence on and incapability of constant observation: just as Tina von Lambert and her husband were constantly observing (and therefore objectifying) one another, so countries and individuals are constantly locked in a (to Dürrenmatt) unhealthy relationship of obsessive observation:

[The case reminded him of] a logical problem loosely involving a mirror telescope he had installed in his house in the mountains, an unwieldy thing that he occasionally pointed at a cliff from which he was being observed by people with field glasses, with the effect that, as soon as the people observing him through their field glasses realized that he was observing them through his telescope, they would retreat in a hurry...for the people observing him and discovering that we was observing them through a mirror telescope felt caught in the act, and since being caught in the act produces embarrassment and embarrassment frequently leads to aggression, more than one of these people, after retreating in haste, had come back to throw rocks at his house as soon as he had dismantled the telescope...

...but, he added, after suddenly bursting into laughter and becoming serious again, what he was constructing here was of course only one of two possibilities, the other one being the precise opposite of what he had described...: if, in his house in the mountains, he was being observed less and less, so rarely that, when he pointed his mirror telescope at people who he presumed were observing him from the cliff, they turned out to be observing not him but something else through their field glasses, chamois or mountain climbers or whatnot, this state of not being observed would begin to torment him after a while, much more than the knowledge of being observed had bothered him earlier, so that he would virtually yearn for those rocks to be thrown at his house, because not being watched would make him feel not worth noticing, not being worth noticing would make him feel disrespected, being disrespected would make him feel insignificant, being insignificant would make him feel meaningless, the end result might be a hopeless depression...man was staggering along in the mad hope of somehow finding someone to be observed by somewhere...

As sophomoric as the character D. (for Dürrenmatt?) can sometimes be, this ongoing trap of observation is at the heart of The Assignment, and manifests in personal relationships as well as international relations. Being under constant observation, argues Dürrenmatt, makes people antsy and suspicious, desperate to escape into some modicum of privacy and aggressive towards the ones observing them. Yet without the presence of an observer, one who provides some kind of feedback, modern people lose their sense of self. Toward the end of the novel, he even argues that in certain circumstances the inability to observe directly - the modern dependence on intermediary tools and measures, which abstracts peoples' experiences of concrete reality - can have disastrous and violent consequences. These are all thought-provoking claims, especially in the era of Twitter, GPS, and iPhone apps that broadcast to one's friend network whether one is walking, shopping, or sitting on the john. I'm not sure I agree with all of them (it might actually be logically impossible to agree with all claims made in the book), but it definitely got me thinking, in a very stylish way.

There were two things that mitigated my pleasure in The Assignment, the first of which is somewhat unreasonable: I was expecting a work of modern absurdism, a kind of thriller version of Ishiguro's The Unconsoled, whereas Dürrenmatt's work turns out, in the end, to be full of rational explanations for all the weird and atmospheric stuff that goes on in its early pages. There's more weird stuff that goes on in its latter pages as well, but, sadly for me, this is all explained too, and kind of lamely at that. I know that it is a convention, in the mystery/thriller genre, that the crime is tied up neatly in the end and explained to the reader, and I like that okay when I'm in the mood. But I dearly love a well-executed absurdist novel, and they're much harder to come by than a well done standard murder mystery. Having psyched myself up for the former, it was disappointing to be left with the latter.

My second issue is, I think, more widely applicable. Throughout the whole novella, I was mentally commending Dürrenmatt for writing a thriller with a female protagonist who is independent and gutsy, without making an issue out of her femaleness. F. engages in almost exclusively un-gendered, yet noirish, activities: she shoots reels of film (which are then swapped for others by her mysterious antagonists), meets a friend in a shady café, descends into the lair of the chief of police, decides whether or not to accept the advice of mysterious drunken strangers, and so on. Even her single-letter "name" is gender-free. Aside from a casual reference to her "changing into a denim dress" partway through, F. could just as easily be a man. This is, to me, very refreshing, especially in a genre where female roles are usually limited to helpless victim or femme fatale, and where, on the few occasions when detectives are female, they are usually presented with a dashing love interest who rescues them right on schedule. I was just reveling in the welcome change when BAM!: F. is threatened with a grisly rape. (Orbis Terrarum people: I do actually read books that don't involve rape, I promise.) To me, this rape threat is totally unnecessary to furthering the plot or developing any of Dürrenmatt's points about observation and violence. It seems to me that the author uses rape, irresponsibly, as short-hand for "extreme violence," and the way the scene is handled undermines the entire prior development of F.'s character: in the final analysis, she is reduced to just another person whose victimhood is synonymous with her womanhood. This, coming in tandem with the (to me) unwelcome explanations of all that went before, soured me a bit on the book as a whole.

But! For those thoughtful readers who like a little weird but still prefer their loose ends tied up, and who don't mind the predictable victimization of the female lead (and you can't mind that too much if you like thrillers), I would still recommend The Assignment. As an experiment in style, an atmospheric political portrait, and a parable of observation and violence, it was quite memorably effective.
  emily_morine | Apr 23, 2009 |
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
I have to give Joel Agee a great deal of credit. As the translator of Friedrich Dürrenmatt's exceedingly quirky 1986 novella The Assignment; or, On the Observing of the Observer of the Observers, he recognized both potential and difficulty and managed to rise to the challenge with aplomb.

Potential, because the novella, though over twenty years old, manages to speak to the kind of panic that is urgent and contemporaneous. Opening with the wonderfully cinematic scene of a coffin being suspended by helicopter and transported across Europe, the story quickly takes us into the world of a journalist known only as F. She has been hired by the widow of the woman in the coffin, Tina von Lambert, to reconstruct her murder as a documentary in the hopes of solving the otherwise cold case. As F. travels to North Africa, she becomes enmeshed in complex political machinations, switches of identity, and dangerous missions that entrap her in a labyrinth beneath the desert from which she must, against all odds, escape.

Difficulty, because each of the novel's twenty-four chapters consists of a single sentence. The enlightening foreward by Theodore Ziolkowski explains that Dürrenmatt was inspired by Bach, whose Well Tempered Clavier I likewise featured twenty-four movements (in German, we are told, the word for a sentence and a musical movement is the same). The result is a story that must have been a translator's nightmare, as ideas and clauses pile on top of one another and stream-of-consciousness is always on the verge of taking over the narrative's tenuous grasp on order.

The question that must be answered, of course, is does it all work? As a cohesive unit, surprisingly, it does. Agee's ability to keep the single-sentence unity of each chapter intact contributes strongly to the aforementioned sense of urgency: the short chapters glide quickly, the longer chapters gain pace as the reader progresses. The result is a novel that pushes uncomfortably forward while the screws of the plot twist and turn in innumerable ways. That it forces us to slow down but does not allow us to adds to the effect of the book on the reader.

That the book seems constantly on the verge of spinning out of control is in no small part the result of Dürrenmatt's subject matter. The novel's central conspiracy becomes almost completely irrelevant by the end while, as the convoluted subtitle suggests, the theme of constant surveillance emerges. Dürrenmatt's must have sensed that the Orwellian Big Brother of his time was either present or on the verge of being realized, because he presciently ties constant observation with large-scale international conspiracy in a way that makes the novel feel (almost) at home in the present as it did in the mid-1980s.

Perhaps the only piece of the puzzle that doesn't quite mesh so well is that it is incredibly hard to decipher whether or not Dürrenmatt actually ties all the loose ends together. It seems obvious that the central argument of the book is far more concerned with confusion and coercion than with clarity, but a bit of resolution would have been somewhat more helpful. The deus ex machina ending is slightly unsatisfying, but perhaps no more unexpected or unusual than anything else that preceded it. In short, the novella refuses to tidy things up -- and perhaps that's the point -- but it still concludes the work on an uneasy note that feels like it has more to do with merely the themes.

But the fact that the book has become more accurate and realistic since its initial publication in German is a testament to the strength of Dürrenmatt's material. The Assignment represents the work of an author who sensed the need to capture something greater than he could fathom, as well as the work of a translator who sensed a great thing that needed to be realized. Both succeed gloriously, producing a work that feels frighteningly contemporary -- and, to be sure, just downright frightening.
  dczapka | Mar 8, 2009 |
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
F. a young filmmaker has been making an unofficial biography of a famous psychiatrist Otto von Lampert. von Lampert's wife Tina is found raped and murdered in the North African desert. After flying her coffin back to Europe suspended from a helicopter he hires F. to investigate the murder. The convoluted plot develops to include multiple mistaken identities, espionage, terrorism, government repression and a red fur coat.
A highly experimental novel. After listening to the first half of Glenn Gould's recording of The Well Tempered Clavier (which has 24 sections) he decided to write the novel in 24 chapters each one sentence long. Since the book is 126 pages long this makes for some very long sentences (the longest is about 10 pages). Surprisingly, when he sticks to narration it is quite easy to follow but when he waxes philosophic it becomes quickly incomprehensible.
I had only been acquainted with Durrenmatt's plays before; the darkly comic and bizarre Physicists and The Vist and the experimental play Meteor. While not as entertaining as Calvino or as deep as Borges this is still a valuable book to anyone interested in Durrenmatt's work. ( )
  justifiedsinner | Dec 14, 2008 |
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.
This book is a postmodern novel consisting of 24 chapters, each of which in turn consists of one sentence. The story concerns a documentary filmmaker who travels to north Africa to investigate the murder of a German woman.

While the blurbs on the cover vaguely present the book as a political thriller, it is nothing of the sort. The story is more or less a pretense for a philosophical discussion of the self in a world in which one is always observed. As a result of Durrenmatt's preoccupation with stating his argument and his formal choices, there is no characterization or coherent narrative. As a consequence, the book is not enjoyable as a novel.

As a philosophical argument, the book has some insights into how individuals under total and constant observation behave and exist. Durrenmatt, however, is far too clever for his own, or his reader's, good. While the book did accurately forecast some aspects of our present age, it shares that distinction with thousands of run-of-the-mill science fiction novels, and ultimately the insights are not worth the indifferent story and semi-successful formal innovations. ( )
  tom1066 | Nov 27, 2008 |
Showing 1-5 of 8 (next | show all)
no reviews | add a review
You must log in to edit Common Knowledge data.
For more help see the Common Knowledge help page.
Series (with order)
Canonical title
Original title
Alternative titles
Original publication date
Important places
Important events
Related movies
Awards and honors
First words
Last words
Disambiguation notice
Publisher's editors
Publisher series
Original language

References to this work on external resources.

Wikipedia in English (1)

Book description
Haiku summary

No descriptions found.

No library descriptions found.

LibraryThing Early Reviewers Alum

Friedrich Durrenmatt's book The Assignment was available from LibraryThing Early Reviewers.

Sign up to get a pre-publication copy in exchange for a review.

Quick Links

Swap Ebooks Audio
5 wanted1 pay

Popular covers


Average: (3.68)
0.5 1
2.5 2
3 6
3.5 1
4 16
4.5 1
5 3

Is this you?

Become a LibraryThing Author.


About | Contact | Privacy/Terms | Help/FAQs | Blog | Store | APIs | TinyCat | Legacy Libraries | Early Reviewers | Common Knowledge | 119,650,474 books! | Top bar: Always visible