Christopher Isherwood (1904–1986)

In which a European in exile in 1964 manages to accurately convey the inner workings of those of us Antipodeans in 2012.

I've not yet seen the (apparently wonderful) film based on this book, which was probably a blessing, as I was able to approach it uninitiated. In a scant 150 pages, Isherwood details one mundane-yet-important day in the life of an English professor in the U.S. Digging deftly to the root of George's mind, Isherwood captures his moments of intelligence and pain, of arrogance, lust, self-loathing, confusion, alienation, connection, nostalgia, heartbreak, discovery. It's a taut little character study, which approaches a variety of '60s counter-culture/neo-romantic issues (social alienation, the rise of that loathsome word 'tolerance', man-made boundaries preventing connection), yet - because his focus is so clearly on George's character - Isherwood avoids that painfully on-the-nose attitude that so dates other writers of the era (if I cough Kerouac's name out of the corner of my mouth, will a thousand hipsters descend upon my house with torches and pitchforks?).

A beautiful little work. It worries me somewhat that I feel Isherwood has here predicted my future. And if not, all the better: he has allowed me an insight into a genuine mind. A complete human being laid bare in 150 pages. Perhaps the moral is to invite your neighbours over to dinner more often. Perhaps it's simply to say "yes" when asked. Or perhaps it is that we cannot expect any more. It's not the dinner, or the asking, or what we say when we're there, or even what we mean. It's about washing ourselves free of the rituals in which we drape our lives, or at least of questioning the rituals before we abandon ourselves to them. It's how we remove the past from its pedestal without removing its meaning. It's going forward knowing that, in some ways, everything we have learned is important to us, yet in other ways, we have learned nothing at all.… (more)

This was an odd one for me. Ive been working on it for 2 months (my fault, not the book), but having finished it 20 minutes ago, the following things jump to my mind. I did not like Mr. Norris at all. Thus i had to rely on our first person storyteller, William. I tried to like William.....but my dislike for Mr. Norris prevented me from taking William seriously, since the character he was portrayed to be, would never in a million years put up with his quirky weirdness for as long as he did. Having been written in 1935...pre WWII....this was also a political tome dancing through the mire of Communists, Nazis and the others through campaigns and elections during that turbulent period leading up to Hitler's rage against humanity. Set in Berlin mostly, I felt that through all of those parts, I was sitting in preparation class for a college final, and i realized i must have missed a whole bunch of classes! I tried to figure it out....but i also did not care enough about these characters to pause long enough to look it up. so, i struggled. Interesting, then quirky....then disturbing on a few levels. Cannot go above a 3.… (more)

I intended to write separate reviews of the two novels which comprise The Berlin Stories but having read them—and about them—I think they should be treated as one book (which is, incidentally, how I purchased them).

The first half of The Berlin Stories, titled Mr. Norris Changes Trains, is one of those books you read feeling like you're missing out on critical points because it's written in a code that isn't explained. There are many references to concurrent historical events that Christopher Isherwood assumed were familiar to anyone reading his story. This might have been true in the 1950s; I doubt that today's readers know who the S.A. or Brown Shirts were or are grounded in the significance of hyperinflation which existed during the novel's timeline. Even the concept of changing trains goes unexplained.

My other observation is that not much happens in the first two-thirds of the story. William Bradshaw, the narrator, writes eloquently and engagingly about his interactions with the mysterious and suspicion-worthy Mr. Norris, mostly consisting of dinners and conversations and introductions to other mysterious characters. But this section feels more like scenery than plot.

Then Norris finagles Bradshaw into a nefarious, inadequately explained intrigue, and all the previous mysteries are clarified in a rush of action and information. The novel ends with the haphazard, unresolved fate of Mr. Norris. And you find yourself asking, "what was that all about?"

The second half, titled Goodbye to Berlin, is more a series of character sketches than a novel. Like Martin Amis' Money, which I recently read and reviewed, Isherwood injects himself into the book as a character, a literary device which makes me question whether this is a memoir rather than a novel.

The characters who people this book are interesting, as are the historical events. There are political discussions with Nazis, such as two likely Hitler Youth about their alleged preparations for war, to which they protest that Hitler is for peace. A precursor to Kristallnacht happens, as does the burning of the Reichstag. Knowing the truth behind these events will deepen your appreciation of the book and the people trapped in Hitler's rise to power.

The one element of The Berlin Stories that rendered both halves incoherent at times was its reluctance to openly confirm the male characters' homosexuality. I understand that this is how books had to be written at the time, but it was never made clear that one of Isherwood's two housemates on Rugen Island was bisexual, and his interest in dancing with girls and a female schoolteacher made me question whether I understood what was going on between the two men. The relationship between Bradshaw and Norris is equally nebulous; in fact, Isherwood at times portrays Bradshaw as heterosexual. This lack of clarity on his true nature made me wonder how I would have viewed the novel had I been unaware while reading it that Isherwood was gay.

On the whole, The Berlin Stories is an interesting read, although I wouldn't include it on a list of the best books I ever read or consider it a must-read. My three-star-rating is the blending of two and a half for Mr. Norris Changes Trains and three and a half for its companion.… (more)