Death in Breslau by Marek Krajewski, translated by Danusia Stok

Rating

* * * * *

The book's description from the publisher's website:

Introducing one of the most stylish and moody historic detective series ever: The Inspector Eberhard Mock Quartet.
Occupied Breslau, 1933: Two young women are found murdered on a train, scorpions writhing on their bodies, an indecipherable note in an apparently oriental language nearby...Police Inspector Eberhard Mock's weekly assignation with two ladies of the night is interrupted as he is called to investigate. But uncovering the truth is no straightforward matter in Breslau. The city is in the grip of the Gestapo, and has become a place where spies are everywhere, corrupt ministers torture confessions from Jewish merchants, and Freemasons guard their secrets with blackmail and violence. And as Mock and his young assistant Herbert Anwaldt plunge into the city's squalid underbelly the case takes on a dark twist of the occult when the mysterious note seems to indicate a ritual killing with roots in the Crusades...

This was one crazy ride. I've been reading thrillers/mysteries/crime fiction for many years now. Therefore I'm not exactly a novice in this department. With my conscience clean and easy, I would place Mr. Krajewski's historical crime  novel among the best in this genre and beyond. Beyond, since Death in Breslau is one of those gems that blur the boundaries between several genres and display in front of a reader serious literary talents of the books' creators. And such indeed is the case with Death in Breslau. It is rightly called noir, with all the characters exhibiting various stages of moral and ethical decomposition. No superhero cop rising above corruption and other earthly traps will be found here. This one truly is a gritty, hardcore murder investigation set in a world of brutality, violence, death and ambiguous morals, a world where you either eat or get eaten. And sometimes not until your last breath do you know whether you're dying as prey or predator. 

Hidden within the folds of the crime novel is an unexpected treasure of historical fiction. Marek Krajewski paints a fascinating portrait of interwar Breslau, a German name for the city of Wroclaw, Poland, then under German occupation. It's a little embarrassing to admit but despite having been born and years later lived my wildest college years in my beautiful Wroclaw, I'd shown precious little knowledge or appreciation for the history within the brick walls of buildings, cathedrals, little side alleys and bridges (Breslau really is perceived by many as a city of islands because the rivers cut through it from all sides) that were part of my life a few years back just as they became the setting for Death in Breslau and a part of the lives of Inspector Mock, Herbert Anwaldt, other policemen, Gestapo officers, debauched aristocrats and prostitutes. Despite the gruesome murders and an uneasy atmosphere inundated with foreboding of what evil was yet to come (WWII), despite that ethical and moral decay slowly taking root in all who become entangled in the search for and the hiding of the truth, Mr. Krajewski gave us beauty too - the architectural beauty and the natural charm of Breslau, this majestic city that to this day retains all the appeal and is as a matter of fact rapidly becoming the cultural center of Europe. I'm waxing nostalgic here but hey, Wroclaw is and always has been worthy of every ounce of nostalgia poured over it :D.

Most importantly, in a true spirit of crime fiction, the plot is captivating and you'll find yourself utterly engaged in looking for the killer/s along with Eberhardt Mock and his sidekick from Berlin, Herbert Anwaldt. It's especially worthy of praise how the book's author developed these two characters who while playing the roles of 'the good guys' are probably the two most morally ambiguous people in the whole story. Mock and Anwaldt belong to the grey world of the 'not wholly good but not entirely evil either' human beings. Because of that, these two elements (totally my term of endearment) are also the most realistic characters in this story. Why, you ask? Because humans are nothing, if we're not morally ambiguous. Those Jean Claude Van Damme or Steven Segal cop characters belong in the fantasy world that is a close and good neighbor of Disneyworld. They do not exist. Mocks and Anwaldts, on the other hand, very much so.

I'm very happy and very excited to see that the Polish literary crime world counts among its ranks such a talented writer as Marek Krajewski. His prose is smart, intelligent but never ostentatious or, goodness forbid, condescending. When I was reading Death in Breslau, I was experiencing a creation of  a confident writer, who knows where he belongs on the crime fiction and literary scene and  who is fervently carving out a permanent place among the talents of the European Noir. He deserves it too.

A Note On Translation

Death in Breslau has been translated from Polish by Danusia Stok. Ms. Stok is a very accomplished and skilled translator bringing Polish books to the UK market for quite some time. I believe she is less known in the American publishing market, an unfortunate situation which I greatly hope is in the process of being remedied. Her translation of Krajewski's novel was really good, the potential obstacle or challenge of dealing with German names and phrases and Latin sayings sprinkled throughout, all to never break the flow of the narrative in the translation of the main text seemed to not have been a challenge at all. Danusia Stok is the necessary half to Krajewski's in forming a literary tandem to give the English world a hearty bite of the Polish mystery genre.

~~~~~~~

FTC: I received an e-galley of Death in Breslau by Marek Krajewski from the publisher, Melville House via Edelweiss.

Just to give you a glimpse of Wroclaw, here are a few photos for your enjoyment

This is University of Wroclaw, my alma mater.

Inside the main building of the University, there is this astonishing room in which I got officially immatriculated into the folds of University of Wroclaw.

The Sadness of the Samurai by Victor Del Arbol, translated by Mara Lethem

Rating

* * * * *

The book's synopsis from the publisher's website:

A betrayal and a murder in pro-Nazi Spain spark a struggle for power that grips a family for generations in this sweeping historical thriller
Fierce, edgy, brisk, and enthralling, this brilliant novel by Victor del Árbol pushes the boundaries of the traditional historical novel and in doing so creates a work of incredible power that resonates long after the last page has been turned.
When Isabel, a Spanish aristocrat living in the pro-Nazi Spain of 1941, becomes involved in a plot to kill her Fascist husband, she finds herself betrayed by her mysterious lover. The effects of her betrayal play out in a violent struggle for power in both family and government over three generations, intertwining her story with that of a young lawyer named Maria forty years later. During the attempted Fascist coup of 1981, Maria is accused of plotting the prison escape of a man she successfully prosecuted for murder. As Maria's and Isabel's narratives unfold they encircle each other, creating a page-turning literary thriller firmly rooted in history.

After I finished The Sadness of the Samurai, I had been seriously worried that there might not have been much reason to try and read anything else for a while. The intensity of this novel seemed unparalleled by anything that might come after it. Even though I am now lucky enough to be reading another astonishing novel, I can say with all honesty that within the past ten years, I haven't read anything like The Sadness of the Samurai.

This novel is raw and brutal. It seemed that all my nerve endings were working beyond their capacity, just to help me process the story enough to concentrate on my next day routines until I could read some more (I primarily read at night when my two toddlers are sleeping). What makes The Sadness of the Samurai so special however, is that all the cruelty is juxtaposed with Victor Del Arbol's beautiful, at times tragic, writing. It's verging on poetic sometimes, other times it's straightforward, yet so powerful, it made me catch my breath.And it always crept up on me unexpectedly. That element of surprise, not in the events, but in the writing, added yet another layer of depth.

Now, you'll probably see The Sadness of the Samurai categorized as one genre or another. But don't let it discourage you, if you don't read one specific genre this book is listed under. A thriller? Yes, it is that. A spy novel? I suppose one could call it that, as well. A historical fiction? Most definitely. One that will at the very least make you want to look up Spain's 20th century history, especially the years of WWII and after. But most importantly, it's a complex literary work of fiction. And that means,  having read it, you won't end up dumber. The characters are frighteningly human...in their capacity for cruelty and in their fragility. Some of the people there are truly evil. There's no redemption for them, nor would they seek any. Not one remorseful thought enters their minds. Some are innocent victims, who pay a dear price for the sins of their parents. And of course, those in between: not wholly good but not wholly evil either. You'll have plenty of people to pick from to hate and to admire. I particularly liked Maria, who in the end is, when it really matters, a very brave woman. She's a person with integrity, one who fought, one who knowing full well the consequences, didn't turn her back on her moral responsibility. Really, I could go on for hours about how well Del Arbol builds up his characters, but that's one of the reasons why you may want to read the book and judge for yourself.

I need to stress that The Sadness of the Samurai is not for people whose sensibilities are easily offended. It is not for those who can't stand graphic violence, rape and the bestial side of human nature. I'm saying this not because the brutality takes anything away from the story, but because it is a very important, crucial even, element that makes Del Arbol's book so raw and so astounding, and if a wrong person reads it, they will give a low rating and low opinion on a book they shouldn't be reading in the first place.

Translation

The Sadness of the Samurai has been translated from Spanish by Mara Lethem. While I couldn't find much information on the web about this translator, I did notice that she has a fairly established record and has been a translator for at at least three different Spanish authors. Just like Del Arbol is a splendid writer, so is Ms. Lethem a talented translator. As a native European, for lack of a better word, I know that there are noticeable differences in a story's overall atmosphere between a novel written by a European author and that by an American one. European novels generally take on a slightly darker tone, explore existential questions and the nature of humans with gloomy outcomes, as opposed to the lighter tones of American novels, where the outlook on life is almost always positive in the end, offering hope and at least some little bit of optimism. Mara Lethem captured the character and atmosphere of that Spanish novel really well, for which I am very grateful.

~~~~~~~~~

FTC: I received a copy of The Sadness of the Samurai by Victor Del Arbol from the publisher, Henry Holt & Co.