Students of literature have to contend with books that could do extra duty as doorstops: think Middlemarch, War and Peace, and Bleak House. But it can be well argued that in favouring brevity rather than bagginess shorter novels pack a greater punch. Animal Farm, which dramatises the gap between Communist ideal and reality, is one example, while Heart of Darkness, that expose of the brutality of imperialism, is another.
Then there is Address Unknown, a novel so short (50 pages, and many of those also short) it can be read during an average trip to work, but one that can be said to join the previous two works in classic status.
Written by American woman Katherine Kressmann Taylor but originally published under the name Kressman Taylor because the story was deemed 'too strong' to appear to have been written by a woman, it was first published in 1938, becoming a hit in the USA and predictably being banned in Nazi Germany; it sank almost without trace in Europe, however, mainly because of the outbreak of war. But it was reissued in 1995, and published in Europe in 2002; it then became an immediate best seller all around the world, and has remained in print ever since.
An epistolary work, the novel charts the correspondence between German business partners who run an art gallery in San Francisco. Late in 1932, Martin returns to Munich, while Max, who is Jewish, stays in America. In his first letter to Martin, Max says he believes his friend is going to a new and 'democratic Germany, a land with a deep culture and the beginning of a fine political freedom'. The irony of this remark, however, soon becomes evident. As does the matching irony in Max's expressed belief that in friendship we 'can always find something true ... something that no falseness can touch'.
The two men are so close as to be virtually brothers, such closeness being deepened by the fact that Martin was once romantically entangled with Griselle, Max's actress sister. The early letters in the correspondence reflect this intimacy. But the second letter, which is from Max and dated January 1933, asks who this new man Hitler is. 'I do not like what I read of him.'
A few months and letters later, Martin expresses the view that in many ways Hitler is good for Germany. And so the radical and upsetting change in the friendship begins. In a touching appeal, as Martin becomes ever more in thrall to Hitler, referring to him (more irony) as 'our Gentle Leader', Max says he has always known Martin to be an American liberal. No longer, declares Martin: 'I am a German patriot!'
A major part of this so-called patriotism is anti-Semitism, and Martin soon uses the well-worn trope in which the prejudiced person makes an exception of an individual. After declaring that the Jewish race is 'a sore spot', Martin tells Max that he has loved him not because of his race but in spite of it, and that when it comes to the matter of the Jews, he has come to see stern measures as 'a painful necessity'.
"Max learns bitterly that people are not always as we assume them to be, while the reader learns of the dire ways in which certain ideologies can affect individuals, often irrevocably."
In an attempt to avoid spoilers, I can say only that the crisis comes when Max appeals to Martin once again, but is grossly betrayed: the betrayal occurs mainly because of Martin's fear for his family and his extremely comfortable and socially successful way of life. Max manages a grim revenge in a way entirely fitting with the rest of the novel. Justice is achieved, but only at great cost.
Max learns bitterly that people are not always as we assume them to be, while the reader of this brief but powerful work learns of the dire ways in which certain ideologies can affect individuals, often irrevocably. He/She also learns about the damage done by people who have an unshakeable sense of conviction, little insight into themselves or events unfolding around them, and absolutely no self-doubt.
Perhaps most of all the reader observes the insidious nature of corruption, the way in which it creeps up on individuals, and the way in which those same individuals can rationalise and justify any action or attitude. Katherine Kressmann Taylor died in 1996; one imagines she would be quite rueful if she could observe just how relevant her little book still is.
Gillian Bouras is an expatriate Australian writer who has written several books, stories and articles, many of them dealing with her experiences as an Australian woman in Greece.