Stefan Zweig

Stefan Zweig

 

There is some dis­pute con­cern­ing the con­di­tion of The Post-​​Office Girl prior to Zweig’s sui­cide in 1942. Did he fin­ish it? Did he intend to pub­lish it at all? The new release of Rausch der Verwandlung, trans­lated by Joel Rotenberg and brought out by New York Review Books, reads like a fin­ished novel. The new pub­lish­ers do not say it was unfin­ished and do not include a for­ward that may have dis­cussed the matter.

This is a dif­fer­ent approach than the one taken with Kafka and Max Brod.

After fin­ish­ing the book, I am cer­tainly happy it was brought out again, and put together so well. Well enough to make it seem like a com­plete work, even though the end­ing is open, some might say abrupt.

It’s the story of Christine, a young woman trapped by cir­cum­stance. An invalid mother to take care of, and a fam­ily all but ruined by the first World War. She toils away as a Post-​​Office offi­cial, but longs for some­thing bet­ter. Though she doesn’t yet sense just how much she longs for other worlds, bet­ter worlds, until a sur­prise gift comes to her from over­seas. Her aunt, wealthy and well-​​connected, invites Christine to join her and her uncle at a very posh hotel in Switzerland and this changes her life for­ever. Her aunt Klara dresses her in fin­ery, brings out the but­ter­fly, the swan. She’s Cinderella, set free among the rich and famous, until her bub­ble is burst by cruel machi­na­tions that expose her poverty.

Zweig dives deeply into the psy­chol­ogy of the rich, hav­ing grown up in that soci­ety, and adds to it aliens in their midst. Adds to it the psy­chol­ogy of some­one who is barely mak­ing ends meet, set free from finan­cial worry for the first time, if only for a flash in the night. Christine becomes the belle of the ball and then is cast out of that world, betrayed by a new friend and by family.

Back at her job, noth­ing can bring her out of her despair. She was intox­i­cated by the heights of wealth, the danc­ing, the rich and var­ied food, the free­dom of move­ment, the atten­tion from wealthy and dis­tin­guished men, and the total lack of worry about finan­cial mat­ters. It has ruined her for any­thing short of that life. Her intox­i­ca­tion was so great it altered her abil­ity to grieve for her now dead mother. Nothing is ever going to be the same.

Then she meets Ferdinand, another bit­ter soul. A vet­eran of the Great War, Ferdinand feels an even greater sense of loss and betrayal than Christine’s. His resent­ments have been build­ing up over many years, poi­son­ing him, mak­ing him more and more des­per­ate. He’s sim­i­lar to char­ac­ters out of Dostoevsky, Hamsun and Roth, in that he thinks of him­self as supe­rior and uniquely tal­ented, but blocked at every turn by cruel fate.

The Post-​​Office Girl is a small mas­ter­piece as is. My guess is that Zweig had much more planned for it. The Nazi occu­pa­tion of Europe, its col­lapse, the loss of mil­lions of lives there, some­times cre­ated casu­al­ties as far away as Brazil. Zweig com­mit­ted sui­cide with his sec­ond wife Lotte, beyond despair for his cul­tural homeland:

 

All the pale horses of the apoc­a­lypse have stormed through my life, rev­o­lu­tion, star­va­tion, deval­u­a­tion of cur­rency and ter­ror, epi­demics, emi­gra­tion; I have seen the great ide­olo­gies of the masses grow and spread out before my eyes. Fascism in Italy, National Socialism in Germany, Bolshevism in Russia, and, above all, that arch­pesti­lence, nation­al­ism, which poi­soned our flour­ish­ing European culture.”