You Should Have Left by Daniel Kehlmann
Bibliographic Data
| ID | 4379814 |
|---|---|
| Authors | Ulf Zimmermann (corresponding author) |
| Year | 2018 |
| Volume | 92 |
| Issue | 5 |
| Pages | 76-77 |
| Publication date | 2018-01-01 |
| Open Access | No |
| Type | ARTICLE |
| Venue | World Literature Today (JOURNAL) |
| Journal identifiers | ISSN: 0196-3570 • E-ISSN: 1945-8134 |
| Publisher | Project MUSE (PUBLISHER • US) |
| DOI | 10.1353/wlt.2018.0096 |
| OpenAlex | W4206253784 |
| Language | EN |
Agneta Pleijel Sister and Brother: A Family Story Trans. Harald Hille. Washington, DC. Gallaudet University Press. 2018. 221 pages. Sister and Brother chronicles the lives of Albert and Helena Berg, siblings from an affluent family of musicians in nineteenthcentury Sweden. Albert’s deafness is a blow to his father’s musical aspirations for his son, though Helena develops into a talented vocalist. Over time, Albert grows to become a notable painter and co-founder of the Stockholm Deaf Association, while Helena is pressured into marrying for money and falls into depression. The juxtaposition of the siblings’ life stories invites the reader to contemplate the parallels between ableism and misogyny. Agneta Pleijel, a hearing woman, has a personal stake in the story: Albert Berg is her great-grandfather. The author uses bold typeface and the first person to establish her thoughts as addenda that highlight her research process. But the choice raises some questions: With a contemporary lens established, should we not scrutinize the novel with our contemporary understandings of misogyny and ableism? Can Albert’s inner life and deaf worldview be authentically rendered by a hearing author and hearing-centric narrator? As a writer and reader, I find the argument that one shouldn’t write outside one’s lived experience problematic, a sentiment that limits where fiction should free most. However, that doesn’t mean one can write about an unfamiliar worldview without difficulty (and much research). Sister and Brother is well researched from a historical perspective but falls short in its understanding of deafhood and signed languages. The thoughts and actions of the novel’s characters are of course rooted in the prevailing sentiments of their time. But the insertion of the present-day Pleijel suggests that the reader might be offered some subsequent insight, a reversal of the beliefs of centuries past. Unfortunately, such clarification never occurs. The description of Albert learning to sign (by which he could “express . . . what he wanted to say, at least the essential part of it”) reads like a fundamental misunderstanding of sign-language linguistics. What is made clear is that the author herself has low expectations for Albert—in her first-person commentary, Pleijel writes of his passing the Royal Academy of Fine Arts’ entrance exam “despite being deaf,” as if inviting us, too, to be surprised that a deaf person could be literate and/or talented in the arts. Overall, the historical narrative within these pages is an engrossing one, and Albert Berg is a fascinating deaf person about whom I was happy to learn. The question of representation, though, remains: is it better to see a deaf character partially rendered on the page than not at all? The answer will be different for different readers. Sara Nović Stockton University Daniel Kehlmann You Should Have Left Trans. Ross Benjamin. New York. Vintage. 2018. 132 pages. It is early December and our narrator is under pressure to complete a screenplay for a sequel to his highly popular previous comedy. He and his wife and daughter have rented a remote chalet in the Alps. Now that the daughter is four, there’s less need to argue who takes care of what with her. But this only means the parents natter at each other about everything else. She: It’s just a screenplay, it’s not art! He: It pays for the house with the yard the kid never uses! He’s suffering from writer’s block; she’s no World Literature in Review 76 WLT SEPTEMBER–OCTOBER 2018 longer getting ingénue roles. Their arguments echo in the script the narrator is sketching—and in everything else. Nothing is as it should be. The house seems to have extra rooms. Pictures appear where none had been before. And the words “Get away” appear mysteriously in his notebook, even within the script. Low on provisions after a few days, he descends the treacherously serpentine road to the tiny village below and its one general store. As he gathers his items, the surly shopkeeper cryptically asks, “Anything happen yet?” People have been known to mysteriously disappear—lots of dangerous crevasses, and the rescue-service chief is mostly drunk. A woman who overhears this waits by
Aesthetics · Art · Art history · Brother · Literature · Musical · Parallels · Psychoanalysis · Sister · Sociology · Anthropology · Discourse Analysis and Cultural Communication · Hearing Impairment and Communication · History · Psychology
| Highly cited | No |
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