This is a sad book of medical history. The writer is himself medically trained and a compatriot of the main character of the book - the original title being "Die Entlassung".
The protagonist is the famous surgeon Ferdinand Sauerbruch, who dominated the surgical scene in Europe in the first half of the 20th century. The theme of the book is not his outstanding achievements, however: These are covered in his own uncritical auto-biography "Das war mein Leben", a book even more self-serving than autobiographies generally are. The theme of "The dismissal" is on the other hand his last years when he sunk into dementia, but continued working as a surgeon nevertheless, shielded by his own past fame and the East German state's need for great names on their roster. The book follows Sauerbruchs decline, his ever more outlandish surgery, in the end without anesthetic (nobody would assist him) and using his wife's needlepoint and thread to stitch his victims (one can no longer call them patients) up. It follows The Great Man to his dying bed when he - in a stupor - cannot any longer communicate, but his hands are moving along the bedlinen - as he was suturing...
For all doctors this is a reminder that there is a time to stop working and to start tending your garden.
The protagonist is the famous surgeon Ferdinand Sauerbruch, who dominated the surgical scene in Europe in the first half of the 20th century. The theme of the book is not his outstanding achievements, however: These are covered in his own uncritical auto-biography "Das war mein Leben", a book even more self-serving than autobiographies generally are. The theme of "The dismissal" is on the other hand his last years when he sunk into dementia, but continued working as a surgeon nevertheless, shielded by his own past fame and the East German state's need for great names on their roster. The book follows Sauerbruchs decline, his ever more outlandish surgery, in the end without anesthetic (nobody would assist him) and using his wife's needlepoint and thread to stitch his victims (one can no longer call them patients) up. It follows The Great Man to his dying bed when he - in a stupor - cannot any longer communicate, but his hands are moving along the bedlinen - as he was suturing...
For all doctors this is a reminder that there is a time to stop working and to start tending your garden.
The story is about a rumanian man who gets caught up in the second world war; through no fault of his own he is put into various prison camps by various authorities - german, russian, american - without ever being told exactly what he has done wrong. But while Kafka's protagonist Josef K feels guilty during his ordeals, Ioann Moritz (the protagonist of this book) has only a feeling of mild wonder; - like a small pawn he lets himself be moved around the chessboard of history. Torture, bereavement, imprisonment, he takes it all in stride with the same detached sentiment. Probably not the worst way to survive the war years with your personality intact. Well written, this book has no humor in it, only tristesse.