I already had this on my list of books I wanted to read, but
its inclusion on the Baileys Women's Prize for fiction longlist encouraged me to push it to the top
of the pile. It’s the first book from the list that I’ve read so I hope I’m not
premature in hoping it makes the shortlist. I don’t think I am, as I found it
an exceptional novel.

Peter Faber’s desire to escape the Eastern front is so great
he enters into a mail-order marriage for the ten days honeymoon leave it
merits. It’s an inauspicious start to a relationship; the bride and groom are
even married by proxy in their separate locations. Peter seems careless of his
chosen wife. He abandons her picture thoughtlessly and the pair’s first
conversation lacks any spark:
‘We’re on the second floor.
Who’s we?
My parents.
I didn’t know you lived with them.
I’m not paid enough to live by myself.
I suppose not. What do you do?
I told you in my letter. I work in a bank. As a typist.
Oh yes, I forgot.’
That casual last line from Peter made me fear the worst for
them, but surprisingly they quickly form a bond. In all of the horror that
follows, it is the hope of seeing each other again that motivates both Peter
and Katharina.
Reading The
Undertaking is not a gentle or relaxing experience. The brutal reality of
life in the army as it marches on Russia is as grim as could be expected. The
horror of life on the home front in Berlin is possibly more shocking. It’s a
very different experience reading about the German domestic front. When I think
about novels set in Britain during the Second World War there’s often an aura
of the Spirit of the Blitz about them – stoicism mixed with pride and pluck and
a smattering of humour. I’m not suggesting that’s the entirety of it nor
wanting to downplay the real hardship and tragedy, but in popular culture slogans
such as Make Do and Mend, Dig for Victory, and even the recently popular Keep
Calm and Carry On exemplify wartime civilian life.
The scene painted of Berlin in The Undertaking is much darker. Katherina’s father Mr Spinell is in
thrall to Dr Weinart, a man clearly well respected in the Nazi Party. Spinell
is a weak man, eagerly swallowing the party rhetoric if it gets him a little
further up the social ladder. He embroils Peter in their night-time activities
and he too becomes more ideologically engaged in the war. The Spinell family is
rewarded for their loyalty with a new luxurious apartment that the previous
tenants, euphemistically, no longer have a use for. The mass eviction of Jewish families from
their homes and theft of their possessions is well known, but still retains the
power to appal, the knowledge that concentration camps provide their
alternative accommodation makes it hard to bear. The mistrust and suspicion
amongst neighbours is horribly realistically portrayed. Mr Spinell’s assertion
that communists are hiding amongst them by being neighbourly indicates the
depth of paranoia at work.
Katharina does her share of networking and enjoys the
benefits it brings. She wears fur coats, eats good food, and goes to the best
parties while her erstwhile neighbours freeze in line for what little meat
there is in the butcher’s shop. She is motivated by the dream of a future that
includes Peter and a family of their own. She accepts the benefits she gains
from the men’s association with the Party without questioning too deeply what
it means. Hers is a shallow attachment and like her mother her real commitment
is to her loved ones, to the exclusion of other considerations. The war takes a
heavy toll on both women, and I was left feeling some sympathy for Katharina. I
couldn’t find it within myself to excuse her parents their actions, and she is,
I think, utterly betrayed by them both.
The book doesn’t shy away from exposing the brutality that
happens on all sides of war. The Russian army treated the captured German
soldiers badly, and their invading troops when they reached Berlin committed
horrors of their own. There was an interesting snippet in the March edition of BBC History magazine about the
motivations for American soldiers looting in Germany at the end of war. One
reason was for revenge – brutality begets more brutality. And so it is here as
Katharina hides in the cellar as Berlin falls. In such a novel as this there
can be no fairytale ending.
I can’t say I enjoyed The
Undertaking; it’s too stark and terrible for such a word to fit. It is told
in a beautifully simple and direct style that suits the subject matter
perfectly. I admire the writing enormously. I found it challenging and moving,
and I would recommend it in a heartbeat.
The Undertaking is
available now in hardback, published by Atlantic
Books. I bought my copy from a bookshop.
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