I find the courtyard and the windows of the building serve as perfect metaphors of the little bit of knowledge everyone of the inhabitants of the flats have but do not share with the others. Everyone knows something, but it is just a distorted view of some facts gathered accidentally or put out of context. When something is about to be revealed, the truth disappears into the shadows.
Of all the characters in this choral novel, the crippled Annaliese Grotten, Lieschen, is the most endearing. Her personal development through the books represents that of the people of Vienna after the Anschluss: carefree and trusting, unaware of their own deformities or the horrors around them. Lieschen, sweet and confident child of 10, discovers the horror of it all despite the efforts of Dr Beer to protect her.
Dr Beer is not an action man, he is an spectator who clumsily takes his place in stage when called to do so. One can feel his discomfort at being forced there, and accepts that he can't do more than being the witness of the dramas around him.
In a book full of metaphors, I find the quiet twin to be none other than Austria itself. The quiet, but not blameless, twin of Nazi Germany.
In a book full of metaphors, I find the quiet twin to be none other than Austria itself. The quiet, but not blameless, twin of Nazi Germany.
The closing of the book does not disappoint. Without giving much away, I'll say that the reader is left feeling like the tenants of those flats: with a certain suspicion that makes him feel uncomfortable. Suspicions are more disturbing than certainties.
I have to immerse myself in another book, a very different book as soon as possible to get rid of the feeling of guilt and impotence this book has left me with. I will not read Dan Vyleta's Pavel and I just yet.
Dan Vyleta, The Quiet Twin. ISBN 978-1-4088-2168-8