The Post Office Girl

7.5/10

What a strange and powerful -- and ultimately disappointing -- novel this is! I kept thinking how I would have enjoyed it, had it been made into a film. The awkward and unworkable layers would have been stripped clean and one would have been left with a diamond, no longer in the rough.

The "unworkable layers" cannot be ascribed to Zweig alone (or at all?) since this was a work published posthumously, having been on the writer's table for more than a decade, in the 1930s, while he alternately wrestled with it, and put it from him -- and which was finally published about 40 years after he had shelved it for the last time. Neither did he leave any instructions for this one to be published after his death, as he did with [b:Chess show more Story|59151|Chess Story|Stefan Zweig|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1386924796s/59151.jpg|57593]. It begs the question: did he want this one going out into the world at all? There must have been some sense of incompleteness or inadequacy that presented itself to him from within this impassioned work.

There are many levels herein which pulled at me: the transformative power of war, of society, of poverty. This part trampled my heart for it seems to me he described it accurately and much too poignantly. Coming from a generation whose parents and grandparents were affected directly by the destructive forces of war and its ensuing upheaval attendant with poverty, these passages felt real, and cutting.

How does one survive such crushing destruction of home, of self? How does one deal with one's world getting ever and ever smaller, until it all but disappears into a smoky little garret at the end of a street of no account? The cut to the self of losing everything one holds dear is barely noticeable, as each layer gets stripped away; and there is a shock of waking up one morning with only 4 cups to one's name, so not enough china even left over to serve coffee to 5 people at a mother's funeral: this minutiae that Zweig gathers tears out your heart. It is this part of the novel which felt most convincing to me: watching Christine's war and post war existence erode, drop by drop, and distilled into a little room with two beds, with smoke in the rafters from the ill-functioning cooker.

Christine has the unexpected opportunity of being sprung from this world for a few weeks when she is invited to visit with her relatives at a hotel in Switzerland. Her life turns on a metaphorical dime and instantly Cinderella is transformed into nothing other than a dancing fool. Made up, tarted up, drunked up, every desire fulfilled and every inhibtion left behind, she takes to the new society like a bird to the air. From the moment she first dons her new dress, one can see the fall. Having been deprived for so long from the liquor of life, it proves too intoxicating to withstand its worst appeal and emotional debauchery.

From this point on, the novel begins to fall apart for me because I'm not convinced that such a level headed girl would go so far into destruction. So this is the problem: either give me a girl of questionable character who would succumb to such enticements utterly; or give me a girl with higher morals who would enjoy the moment for what it is -- but don't try to convince me that a Saint Theresa will turn into The Whore of Babylon by donning a slinky gown.

Perhaps this is where it fell apart for Zweig as well and why he kept rewriting it for the better part of a decade: things fall apart. the center cannot hold.

I would have been more convinced had Zweig given me more cause and circumstance to believe in the rage that ensued on the turning of yet another dime. It certainly didn't follow the logic, nor the character of Christine as she had been previously laid out. (It does not follow, unless there was something psychologically wrong with her to begin with -- and this part we are never given.)

I found too many problems from this point on, that I lost interest in the story. I rushed to its end and found exactly what I expected: an ambiguous, unsatisfying finish that felt as rushed in its writing, as I felt in its reading.

My thoughts here are that Zweig couldn't quite get his character out of the hole into which he had dropped her -- it just feels that he's pulling her off in all directions, and wants it to end, no matter what end.

Having said all that, I loved the first half of this book, enough to convince me to seek out Zweig again. His observations on life are disturbing and heart-rending -- and exact. I don't quite understand why this one fell apart for him but I've seen enough to convince me that his other novels might be more rewarding. show less

The title character is Christine Hoflehner, postal clerk in the Austrian village of Klein-Reifling in 1926 postwar Austria. She shares a damp and humid attic room with her sickly mother. Her youth and happiness has been stolen in the war, along with her father and brother. Suddenly a telegram from her Aunt Claire arrives. Years ago Claire and her husband went to America and become quite wealthy. They are now vacationing in Switzerland and invite Christine to join them. Christine discovers a new and exotic life filled with pleasure and wealth. She's dressed in beautiful clothes and receives attention from attractive and wealthy men. Then suddenly it's over. Aunt Claire fears the discovery of her own secrets and sends Christine back to show more her miserable life in the village. Now her life there seems intolerable and her anger and bitterness is palpable. Eventually she meets Ferdinand, another miserable war survivor who spent six years in a Siberian labor camp. In Ferdinand she's found her soul mate of misery. Their meeting and their developing relationship takes us through the second half of the book.

This is an beautifully written novel about what it's like to live without hope, and what happens when someone who has nothing is given a chance to see what the good life is like, and then have it taken away from them. It's an absorbing story that also captures the bleakness of life in Austria between the wars. I had some trouble getting into it in the beginning but I'm glad I stuck with it. Just when you think you have a handle on what Christine will do, the novel stops abruptly, but ultimately satisfying, at a place that almost leads you to believe there will be another part to the story.

The book is written in two parts, each totally different from the other. I understand Zweig wrote The Post-Office Girl in the early 1930s, working on it during years that Hitler rose to power. He appears to have considered the book finished, and yet he left it untitled. It was not published in Germany until 1982 and then translated into English in 2008. Zweig committed suicide in a pact with his second wife in Brazil in 1942. show less

This has been on my shelf for years, and I'm kicking myself for letting it languish there for so long. It's a Cinderella story with a twist.

Christine lives an impoverished life with her mother in a small Austrian village, barely eking out a living as the postmistress. Then one day a postcard arrives from a long-forgotten aunt, who left for America years before under questionable circumstances, inviting Christine to visit at a luxurious resort in the Alps.

Christine arrives at the resort, and Zweig is masterful at describing her embarrassment at her own shabbiness and awe at the luxury and wealth surrounding her. But soon, after her aunt has purchased her beautiful clothes, and has treated her to the beauty parlor, Christine is having show more the time of her life.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last, and Christine must return to her desolate life, only now more disheartened. Then she meets Ferdinand, and things take a surprising turn.

This book was unpublished at the time of Zweig's death (a suicide after the rise of Hitler), and was not published until about 40 years after his death. Because of this, and because of the somewhat abrupt ending, there are some who question whether the book was actually finished. I actually liked the way it ended.

4 stars show less

I wanted to read something by Stefan Zweig because his writing was apparently the inspiration for ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’, one my favourite films of 2014. I picked ‘The Post Office Girl’ because a brief plot description proved intriguing: an impoverished young woman works at a post office. She is whisked away from her life of drudgery for a holiday by a rich relative, then has to go back to her old life. A simple plot, but one rife with dramatic possibility. From the Wes Anderson film, I anticipated something droll, mannered, yet with some sharp edges. How I underestimated Zweig! ‘The Post Office Girl’ has an incredible intensity of feeling. When Christine is torn away from her idyllic holiday, it’s nearly physically show more painful to read. When she meets someone else of equal bitterness, the feeling of recognition is like a static shock. And when one plan succeeds another towards the end, the wild hope is enough to make you gasp and clench your fists.

Rather than the film, I was reminded of [b:The Rector's Daughter|1220032|The Rector's Daughter|F.M. Mayor|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1477226543s/1220032.jpg|1208509] and [b:A Clergyman's Daughter|319238|A Clergyman's Daughter|George Orwell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1420079227s/319238.jpg|1469726], both of which follow women with limited, lonely lives. Although they are good novels, in fact the former is brilliant, I like ‘The Post Office Girl’ more than either. As well as conveying beautifully the emotions of the titular Christine, Zweig’s novel makes much wider social points with astonishing power. Christine’s life in 1920s Austria has been blighted by the First World War and its aftermath. More generally, she only realises how wretched her existence is once she’s had a short insight into the world of wealth and privilege. This novel is in fact a vivid, beautiful, scathing indictment of inequality such as I’ve very rarely encountered in fiction. Part of Zweig’s genius is to fully explore the interdependence of the practical and emotional toll that poverty takes on Christine – both her shabby clothes and the depth of her feelings about them. Although the secondary characters are neatly drawn, indeed fascinating in the case of the more prominent ones, this is Christine’s novel. It is truly brilliant that Zweig has created such a sympathetic, nuanced, unusual character whilst also using her as a very pointed socio-political commentary. She is a person first and foremost, yet the symbolism also works well. The only other writer I can think of who walks that line so deftly is Zola in [b:Germinal|28407|Germinal (Les Rougon-Macquart, #13)|Émile Zola|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1388208755s/28407.jpg|941651]. Orwell doesn’t manage it in [b:A Clergyman's Daughter|319238|A Clergyman's Daughter|George Orwell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1420079227s/319238.jpg|1469726]; his main character is too much symbol and not enough person. Whereas in [b:The Rector's Daughter|1220032|The Rector's Daughter|F.M. Mayor|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1477226543s/1220032.jpg|1208509] there is no real attempt at wider social commentary and the individual predominates.

In short, Zweig really blew me away. It’s as if I was expecting a frothy decaf cappuccino and found myself drinking a triple expresso. I will definitely be searching the library for more of his work. More amazing still, this is not a novel that he considered ready for publication! I’m very glad that his posthumous wishes were not respected in this case, as what a loss that would have been. ‘The Post Office Girl’ does end in a distinctly abrupt manner, but in a very narratively satisfying place. The reader is then free to contemplate what most plausibly happened next, what you would really like to happen next, and the gap between the two. I must also add that the translation is wonderful and Zweig has a magnificent turn of phrase. Really, I should stop throwing around the hyperbolic adjectives and just heartily recommend that you read it. show less

no one can help asking 'why not me?' when they see other people living high on the hog...Why not me too?
Bysally tarboxTOP 500 REVIEWERon 26 August 2012
Format: Paperback
Utterly engrossing novel of two parts. In the first, Christine, a faded 28 year old clerk lives a poor and humdrum life in 1930s Austria. Unexpectedly a rich aunt invites her for a brief holiday; in sensuous descriptions of the luxurious hotel and the gorgeous new clothes, Zweig shows how Christine sees what she has been missing. Suddenly wealthy men are paying her attention, everyone respects and admires her...till the holiday is over and she is returned to her old life. Moody and dissatisfied, she cannot recapture her previous self.
In part 2, she encounters Ferdinand, show more another angry and resentful individual; years stuck in Siberia as a result of the First World War have ruined his career opportunities.....
Up until the last page I was wondering what would happen, and it didn't go the way I expected! A highly compelling read. show less

”The war has in fact ended, but poverty has not. It only ducked beneath the barrage of ordinances, crawled foxily behind the paper ramparts of war loans and banknotes with their ink still wet. Now it’s creeping back out, hollow-eyed, broad muzzled, hungry, and bold, eating what’s left in the gutters of the war. An entire winter of denominations and zeroes snows down from the sky, hundreds of thousands, millions, but every flake, every thousand melts in your hand. Money dissolves while you’re sleeping, it flies away while you’re changing your shoes (coming apart, with wooden heels) to run to the market for a second time; you never stop moving, but you’re always late. Life becomes mathematics, addition, multiplication, a mad show more whirl of figures and numbers, a vortex that snatches the last of your possessions into its black insatiable vacuum: your mother’s gold hair clasp off your neck, her wedding ring off her finger, the damask cloth off the table. But no matter how much you toss in, it’s no use, you can’t plug the black hellish hole, it does no good to stay up late knitting wool sweaters and rent all your rooms out and use the kitchen as a bedroom, doubling up with someone else.”

Stefan Zweig was a master at being able to make you feel what abject poverty really felt like. His descriptions of it literally tear your heart out. Set after WWI in the 1920s, Austria is a particularly harrowing place to be. The eponymous post office girl, Christine Hoflehner, is a civil servant who maintains the office in the inconsequential village of Klein-Reifling, two hours outside Vienna. Her meager salary allows her and her very ill mother to maintain a tiny attic space in the village. But she has an aunt who married a wealthy American and has extended an invitation to Christine to spend two weeks with them at a posh Swiss resort so Christine goes. Her aunt is at once cognizant of the fact that her niece has neither the clothes nor the bearing to be accepted by the clientele as ‘one of them’ so she takes her shopping and Christine is transformed. And Zweig switches gears and as deftly as he described poverty he now describes the world of the very wealthy ‘where unspoken wishes are granted. How could anyone be anything but happy here?’ But something happens. Someone she thought had become a friend has been inquiring into her background and apparently the jig is up. Christine is shocked when her aunt decides to check out of the hotel abruptly and go on to another posh spot and Christine is not invited along so she must return to her former life.

That is when she meets Ferdinand, a man whose experiences in captivity in Russia and his return to the very challenging employment opportunities in Austria have left him bitter and desperate. And Christine realizes that she is complete agreement with this sorry soul. Things are as bad as she thought they were. They hatch a scheme after a few meetings and the story ends on a sour note.

This may be the most depressing book I’ve ever read. But Zweig’s ability to make me feel extreme sadness in one moment and exhilaration the next is an ability not many authors have. And his command of language makes him an instant favorite with me. Just an astounding read and very highly recommended. show less

Another impossibly painful read from Zweig.

In post-WWI Austria, there is no time for living; poverty is the way of life, surviving the only mode. This is an Eliza Doolittle tale steeped in realism with no happy ending. Misery abounds (for the poor). Zweig places his characters in these complex situations where there are no easy answers, only insurmountable obstacles. You can only sympathise so much before getting angry at the inequality. Perhaps it's because I've been thinking more lately about money and capitalism and how to better support charities and those in need, but this book makes my frustrations overflow.

Don't get me wrong, this book is great at what it does, revealing and psychoanalysing the disillusionment faced by the people show more left behind after the war. But do not read it while feeling down, Zweig spares no mercy.

Aside: I've now read enough Zweig to watch Grand Budapest Hotel by Wes Anderson. show less