Dog Years

I am not going to attempt to describe Dog Years other than to say it is a stunning work by a brilliant writer at the top of his game. It should be required reading for anyone seeking to understand the German psyche in the 20th century. Some may find the style challenging, but there's a method to Grass's madness, and if you give it time, Dog Years will reward you like no other book you've ever read. Personally, I was hooked right away, but even allowing for taste, Grass will win you over sooner or later. The Tin Drum is a masterpiece, but Dog Years is even better.

Grass uses wonderful, dense, invented words and peppers his novel with wonderful, dense, twisted imagery. Which is why I admire the work and why I was determined to finish the book although it was as intellectually heavy as a brick and occassionally tried my patience. This is not a book for an MTV-hyperactive attention span. More than a reflection of German mentality, it is a journey into the German mind, because so many times it follows a stream-of-consciousness approach. Sometimes it feels as if you're on a rollercoaster ride through the tunnels of a character's mind. Which is why I hated it too. I felt that many times the book became self-indulgent... that is, Grass wasn't writing for the reader but for himself or as a catharsis for his characters. I only realized Dog Years was part of a trilogy after I bought it, and I enjoyed The Tin Drum much more because I read it after seeing the movie (it relieved the mind from loads of exertion). Although I am immensely relieved to have finally finished Dog Years, I still can't wait to read the other book of the trilogy, Cat and Mouse. Love to hate Grass.

First: If you decide to tackle the Danzig Trilogy, Reddick's critical analysis is indispensable. I suggest tackling it the same way I did: read The Tin Drum, start Reddick's book at the same time you start Cat and Mouse (Reddick reads faster than Grass, and you'll get through a lot of Reddick while tackling Grass), and when you've caught up, read Reddick's section on Dog Years and the actual novel concurrently. Those of you who feel the revelation of anything having to do with a book before you get to that part in the book is a spoiler should probably avoid this technique; Reddick revelas the major "mystery" in Dog Years towards the end of his section on Cat and Mouse. However, one cannot really consider Dog Years a mystery, despite the various things that happen within it; while there are some elements to it that keep the reader guessing, Dog Years is, more than anything, a savage satire on Germany during the WW2 years. And as such, finding out the main mystery-that's-not-a-mystery should not detract at all from one's appreciation of the book itself. Dog Years can also stand on its own, without being read as a part of the Danzig Trilogy, but the reader's appreciation of many facets of this novel-- most notably Edouard Amsel's character and the satire itself-- are more easily appreciated when you have The Tin Drum and Cat and Mouse under your belt as comparisons. Amsel, the main protagonist of Dog Years, stands as a direct comparison to both Oskar and Mahlke, and his character is more easily understood when those two have already been assimilated by the reader. The plot of Dog Years is a simple enough one; it charts, through the use of three narrators, the frindship of Edouard Amsel and Walter Matern from grade school through their early thirties. Amsel, the intellectual one, is picked on constantly by his classmates (including Matern) until one day, for no apparent reason, Matern befriends Amsel and chases away the others. It's a typical buddy-relationship in that Amsel is the brains and Matern is the brawn, but we don't get the bonding we've come to expect from seeing too many Hollywood buddy films. The relationship between Matern and Amsel is far more complex than that, and Reddick has done a passable job of interpreting it, one which I won't attempt to recreate here (it would be ludicrous to attempt something that complex in such a forum as a review). In an odd lapse, though-- especially given how much emphasis Reddick has put on Grass' enmity and stire of the Roman Catholic Church in the previous two books-- Reddick seems to have overlooked one of the most obvious interpretations of Amsel's character (and also that of the more minor protagonist Jenny Brunies), as a christ figure. In the novel's central scene, both Amsel and Brunies (who are both made out, in the first half of the novel, to be almost comically fat) undergo a transformation that transforms Brunies into a ballet sensation and Amsel into ano

As good as 'Tin Drum' but far more accessible and direct in its impact on the darkness and light in the German psyche. The only author from Germany to honestly address the issues of what led to WWII and its aftermath. There is a hilarious and brilliant passage towards the end of the second part of the book which takes a savage poke at Heidegger and German love for abstraction. A gem of a book.