Showing posts with label Short Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Stories. Show all posts

Monday, September 14, 2009

The Sandman

The second story in our first Hoffmann discussion was "The Sandman" (1815), which is shorter and rather different from "The Golden Pot" - it still has elements of fantasy and horror, but can't really be called a fairy tale. Nathanael, another student, is visited by a peddler he's sure is a horrific figure from his childhood, his late father's friend Coppelius, who would cruelly tease and insult him and his siblings when they were young.

In a letter to his friend Lothar, Nathanael describes how, at the end of the evening, his mother would morosely announce that "the Sandman is coming," and it was time to go to bed. When young Nathanael asked, she explained that "the Sandman is coming" is just a way of saying, "you children are tired, so it's time to go to bed," but he didn't believe her - because, lying in bed, he could hear someone come into the house with heavy, dragging footsteps. When he finally gets up the nerve to explore, he discovers that the guest is Coppelius, come to engage in alchemical experiments with Nathanael's father. Nathanael suspects that Coppelius is responsible for his father's death in a strange accident, but at least the frightening old man was out of their lives.

Nathanael is deeply disturbed by the seeming reappearance of Coppelius at his door, but Lothar and his sister Clara (who, as it happens, is engaged to Nathanael) encourage him to be reasonable, not be consumed by the fright he's had, not to dwell undully on the sad childhood events recalled to mind. Clara's level-headed counsel:

If there is a dark power which malevolently and treacherously places a thread within us, with which to hold us and draw us down a perilous and pernicious path that we would never otherwise have set foot on - if there is such a power, then it must take the same form as we do, it must become our very self; for only inn this way can we believe in it and give it the scope it requires to accomplish its secret task. If our minds...are resolute enough to recognize alien and malevolent influences for what they are and to proceed tranquilly along the path to which our inclinations and our vocation have directed us, the uncanny power must surely perish in a vain struggle...
The poetically-minded Nathanael tries to heed this advice, and when the peddler returns he lets him in and buys a little spy-glass from him. When he looks out his window through the spy-glass, he sees and immediately falls in love with the girl across the street, Olimpia. But there's something decidedly...unusual about Olimpia that the enchanted Nathanael just can't see. Has he fallen to the terror of Coppelius after all?

Nathanael, like Anselmus in "The Golden Pot," possesses the poetic heart of the Romantic ideal, but the two stories seem to draw rather different conclusions about the value and meaning of a life so inclined. I'm definitely curious about the rest of the stories on the schedule.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

The Golden Pot

This year the library book group is all about the Germans, and our first readings are the stories of E.T.A. Hoffmann. Hoffmann (1776-1822) was a major figure in German romantic literature, though he was also a notable composer, artist and lawyer. His stories have characteristics of horror, fantasy, and fairy tale, and feature imagery of mirrors, eyes, lenses, and mechanical devices - he's credited with writing the first detective story (Mademoiselle de Scudéri), and was the author of "The Nutcracker and the Mouse King," which, of course, provided the inspiration for Tchaikovsky's Christmas ballet.

"The Golden Pot" (1814) is a literary fairly tale. The clumsy (and whiny) student Anselmus of Dresden has a run-in with an apple-seller who happens to be the very picture of the fairy tale hag-witch. She curses him cryptically, and he walks away, tripping over things and complaining about his life, until, in the shade of an elder tree, he has a strange vision of a crystal voice and a blue-eyed snake.

As Anselmus begins to fall in love with the snake, he's drawn back to earth by his friend Sub-Rector Paulmann, who's urging him to take a job transcribing mysterious ancient manuscripts in the library of the eccentric Archivist Lindhorst. Apparently, for all his clumsiness, Anselmus is noted for his beautiful hand. Anselmus accepts the job, and strange things begin to happen at the Archivist's house - including the reappearance of his beloved green snake.

Meanwhile, Sub-Rector Paulmann's daughter, Veronica, has her sights set on Anselmus, having heard that he's destined to be an important civil servant some day. Veronica enlists the help of the old witch to ensure that Anselmus will be hers.

The story was kind of hard going for the first 50 pages or so - it grabbed my interest at the point in which one of the Archivist's daughters explains to Anselmus the magical back story, and it finally becomes clear that something definitive is happening. But even then, the lines between good and evil were unclear; it was uncertain whether the reader should be rooting for Veronica or the green snake to win Anselmus's affections, or whether the evil force was the Archivist or the old woman. This uncertainty stands out, because, of course, moral ambiguity is not normally a characteristic of fairly tales.

At the very least, Hoffmann retains the fairy tale happy ending, and all around, I was pleased with the first story.