Hedwig and Berti

Hedwig and Berti is the saga of a mismatched upper-class German Jewish couple who escape from Nazi Germany, going first to London, then New York, and finally Kansas. The overbearing Hedwig and diminutive Berti must cope with the culture shock of a new home, a lower class way of life, as well as unwanted memories of the past. The birth of a daughter, a strange, combative, rather ugly child with a genius for music, ultimately unlocks a secret of the past, one which is perhaps better left alone. This is a remarkable novel about failed people, loss, and above all, the effects of prejudice. Intolerance from within their own family defines them. Bigotry from without drives the direction of their lives. Both ultimately contribute to their personal tragedies. The story is told in a lighter, more humorous tone than the subject matter would suggest. Frieda Arkin's prose is witty and unsentimental. Her style is spare yet colorful. Characters are drawn sharply and expertly. One will recognize members of their own family in them, and perhaps even a bit of themselves. The 88 year old author writes as fresh as a teenager, but with the touch a master, resulting in a book that is both marvelously entertaining and memorably illuminating. If there is a fault, it is that at times the writing is too clever. The author's unexpected similes and creative comparisons provide much of the flavor of the book, however they can be repetitious and occasionally even jolting, like a fine recipe that is a bit over seasoned. This is a minor point, however, and I heartily recommend this fine work of fiction.

This is a beautifully written book. Its wisdom and lyricism glide on the page, never acrobatic, never anything but absolutely true. Its honed mastery reminds of Kundera's best work. The characters are wonderful and compelling.

This book resonates with me, as I have a similar background: an uprooted German family with an aristocratic lineage, stories of various relatives' exploits in years past, an ambivalence towards organised religion (and in my case a mixed Jewish and Christian heritage as well). The descriptions of various German dishes prepared with love and tradition in equal measures is evoked with 100% accuracy! In reality, German cuisine of today has evolved way beyond the variations of hearty soups with dumplings, roasts and very filling puddings... Hedwig, the matriarch, marches on in spite of everything; yet she seems to have little depth aside from being a control freak. Her only means of expressing herself seems to be through cooking, even if only for a grotty house full of frat boys in the later part of her life. Though she barely tolerated Berti (her husband/cousin), she enjoys "the boys" and ends up tolerating their mess and lack of hygiene. The inference is that she might have wanted a son instead of a daughter (but that is speculation on my part). By the time she moves to the frat house, she and Berti have drifted apart, perhaps inevitable given their lack of common passion and interests. Gerda, the daughter lives in the same house as her father but is equally distant emotionally. Berti is portrayed as a wallflower: no passion, no will to venture outside his tight boundaries, no will to adapt to the challenges of the new. He eventually finds satisfaction as a night clerk of a similarly grotty "hotel" in Kansas catering to women of the night. Later on, he and one of those women see each other on a regular basis. However, even that pleasure is cut short; he dies in flagrante delicto. If the reader is patient they will discover Berti found religion at some point, alluding to some sort of private thoughts. The final insult to him is that he is not allowed burial at any synagogues as a "non-member". Perhaps he is meant as the Everyman World War II immigrant who was never able or willing to adjust to their new life; he could be a "non-member" of the US or life in general. It does not take a genius to realise that Gerda, the dark and gifted daughter, is a bastard. She was conceived by a Nazi official as a bargain in order to allow the Kessler family to escape Berlin. This is revealed late in the novel, but apparently too late to "save" Gerda's character. Her self-destructiveness is understandable but as with many rebellious children, she apes her mother's behaviour in one respect - frigidness. Might this be a bit of a stereotype of the musician dedicated only to "art" yet never "love"? This frigidness results in her breakdown; her further degeneration is inexplicable in that Gerda is allowed to drift and sink further. A domineering mother might well have taken an active role in her daughter's recovery, even if that meant a mental hospital and the crude drug therapy of that period. Gerda's later suicide is only alluded to (unless going to sleep on a comfor

From the moment Hedwig & Berti arrive at the door of their cousin's flat in London, this novel takes off and involves the reader in the improbably probable lives of Hedwig, Berti, and their daughter Gerda. Hedwig and Berti are German Jews fleeing the Holocaust. Gerda is their prodigy pianist daughter. Hedwig is the defining force of the Kessler family, but Berti and Gerda have their share of the story, as they are dragged from London to New York to Kansas by Hedwig. A quick, enjoyable and involving novel--recommended.

When Hedwig Kessler marries her shy and diminutive first cousin Dagobert, known as Berti, she plans never to leave the substantial German villa which her family has occupied for generations--until the Nazis come to power. Escaping to London with Berti, the imperious, Valkyrian Hedwig totes the family history along with her in boxes, arriving at the doorstep of her cousin Harry Eisenstein, where she promptly takes over. Steadfastly refusing to believe that the situation in Germany is as bad it really is, Hedwig keeps the family afloat by selling items from the family boxes when they need cash. When she visits Germany after the war, she finds that "every Kessler she sought was gone. She had lost the flavors of her past," except for what she has saved herself. When her strange, dark, and hairy daughter Gerda is born, Hedwig pays little attention to her. Disregarding the conventions of plot, Frieda Arkin creates unusual and oddly intriguing characters, who seem to take control of the book, just as Hedwig takes control of everyone's life. Gerda, always at odds with her mother, is a ferocious child who quickly develops a passion for the piano and eventually becomes a prodigy, a "fury" who plays everything her own way. Berti, so self-effacing that even the author finds little to say about his life, finds a job as a veterinarian's assistant, and Hedwig remains perpetually unhappy. The focus of the novel constantly shifts--first from Harry to Hedwig, and then either to Gerda, as she develops a musical career, or to Berti, shifting back and forth during thirty years. The settings also change, as Hedwig uproots the family and moves from England to New York and then to Kansas, always toting her precious boxes, and always feeling isolated from the Kessler connections which have formed the basis of her life. The constantly shifting perspectives parallel in many ways the dislocations of all emigrants as they move to new places and attempt to establish new lives. Filled with oddly charming characters, the novel is full of surprises and quirky humor. Arkin never demeans her characters nor does she satirize them. Instead, she shows the characters in action, the wry humor arising from their very human characteristics and the difficulties they have individually in dealing with themselves and their own worlds. Ultimately, their lives are resolved as a result of their own choices combined with the uncontrollable accidents of fate. Filled with ironies, twists, and warm humor, Arkin's novel moves quickly and resonates long after the book is closed. Mary Whipple