Grass has a special sense of metaphor and history, weaving fantastic stories for adults, just as dark as Grimm's originals. Except the goblins are/were real. Oddly enough for a man who is now 'persona non-grata' in Israel few have done more to write the story of persecution of the Jewish population of Danzig, as Grass tells it again here in dialogue with his children, asking innocent questions and being told the truth. And nor does Grass hide his own involvement in the German crime, but it is of course part of his story and it seems that for Grass the telling of stories, particularly Danzig's story, is as much part of him as breathing, or gastronomy. A man who could make tripe, well sound at least, interesting surely deserves his Nobel Prize. Highly recommended for those that are already under the spell of Danzig, especially for the vignettes of Grass's family, and the memory of Danzig's jews. ( )

Most of the things I have ever read about Gunter Grass usually say something along the lines of: excellent first couple of books, load of nonsense for the next 30 years, got good again later in life. It’s an opinion I see a lot, and one I couldn’t disagree with more. I am getting a real thing for Grass at the moment, and have thoroughly admired everything I have read, including this one (which is from his allegedly fallow years).
From the Diary of a Snail is Grass’ usual mix of autobiography and fiction. Written in the early 1970s, it covers the period in which Grass actively campaigned for the Social Democrats, under Willy Brandt, in the West German elections. Grass saw it as an important step in the catharsis of a nation that still hadn’t come to terms with its role in World War II. Like many of his books, this is largely about Germany’s post-war struggles with memory and identity. Largely factual accounts of Grass’ campaign speeches are interspersed with the fictional story of a man nicknamed ‘Doubt’, who spent the war in Danzig supporting Jewish causes, before being forced to live in a cellar to hide from the Nazis. Doubt’s story, juxtaposed with the politics of the early 1970s, serves to illustrate the difficulties that Grass saw in marrying the actions of many Germans in World War II with the hope of rebirth in the second half of the twentieth century.
The book is undoubtedly difficult. Grass, as usual, lacks a clear narrative thrust, preferring a sort of meandering style full of odd interpolations and bizarre extended metaphors (the snail of the title being the most prominent). One of the things I like about Grass, which is also one of the things that makes his books less accessible, is that he never feels the need to explain himself explicitly. It as if he is trying to describe a sculpture not by describing its shape or texture, but by describing the way the air moves over it and letting the reader fill in the gaps. When I read one of his books, I’m never quite sure if I have understood his intent, but I always know I have understood a lot more than I did when I started. From the Diary of a Snail is no exception.