Dariusz Skórczewski

Modern Polish Literature Through a Postcolonial Lens

 Castorp by Pawel Huelle, Poland’s most accomplished contemporary writer (1), has
frequently been interpreted as a counterpart to Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain. A
reader of Mann’s novel may remember that before his arrival at Davos, Hans Castorp spent
four terms as a student at the Danzig Polytechnic. It is around this digression that Huelle
builds his plot, inserting into the biography of Mann’s protagonist an extensive Gdansk-based
episode. Both Polish and German critics have praised Huelle for his skilful exploitation of
literary tradition and for revitalizing the myth of Gdansk with its distinctive atmosphere and
surroundings. They have focused on recognizing Mann’s motifs such as time, narrator, and
philosophy as vital elements of Huelle’s story. Let me suggest an excursion in a different
direction by answering the following question: Why did Pawel Huelle write Castorp? This
question can also be reversed as follows: Why would it have been impossible for Thomas
Mann to write Castorp? I treat the second question as tautological with regard to the first.
However, I am not interested in exploring psychological or biographical aspects of either
novel.

The situation of Huelle’s Castorp reminds one of Jean Rhys and her celebrated Wide
Sargasso Sea. In that novel the canonical narrative of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre is
challenged through the switching of perspectives. By giving voice to Antoinette Cosway, the
actual name of the animal-like and repulsive Bertha Rochester in Brontë’s work, Rhys invites
her audience to a contrapuntal rereading of Bertha’s traumatic life story as told from her own
non-British perspective. This is how Rhys “writes back” to Brontë and to the colonial
discourse encapsulated in Jane Eyre. In Wide Sargasso Sea we see the polemic response by
the former British colony to the dominating image of the periphery as solidified in the master
narratives of the metropolitan center.

I argue that Pawel Huelle’s novel should be viewed from a similar position. The
Gdansk-based episode of Castorp attracts readers’ attention by the unique postcolonial
perspective from which the novel personae and events are narrated. When interpreted
alongside the standard colonial narrative which Mann’s Magic Mountain represents, Castorp
transgresses the colonial paradigm in three major aspects: space arrangement, language, and
identity.

Concerning specific qualities of the space usurped by the empire, Frantz Fanon writes
the following:

The zone where the natives live is not complementary to the zone inhabited by the
settlers. The two zones are opposed, but not in the service of a higher unity. Obedient
to the rule of Aristotelian logic, they both follow the principle of reciprocal
exclusivity. No conciliation is possible, for of the two terms, one is superfluous. The
town belonging to the colonized people, or at least the native town. . . is a place of ill
fame, peopled by men of evil repute. . . .The colonized man is an envious man. And
this the settler knows very well; when their glances meet he ascertains bitterly, always
on the defensive, “They want to take our place.”(2)

Gdańsk in Castorp is, in fact, more than just a provincial melting pot bearing some
marks of a splendid Hanseatic past. Viewed through the protagonist’s eyes, the town seems to
comply perfectly with the criteria of literary representation of colonized space defined by
Fanon. Dominated by the Germans, it has Prussian barracks with Prussian soldiers and a
newly established German university with German and Prussian students. Every street and
building is filled with things German. However, the town constitutes a space that is
heterogeneous, with an array of impervious zones. Viewed by Castorp the biker, the
indigenous Polish and Kashubian people constitute an enclave driven to the margin of the
world and its spatial representation. They occupy limited areas and do not mix with the
dominating population of Germans:

Both Kashubians and Poles alike, none of whom he was able to discern by language,
were for him as grey dust: covered long ago with pavement, only at times to unveil its
existence in assigned areas.(3)

Hans Castorp does not confine himself to the exploration of the town, however. He
draws strong aesthetic impulses from his frequent outings to the woods and countryside,
where he finds delight in contemplating alien (i.e., Polish) landscapes. In the relevant
descriptions specific tropes and figures are drawn from Polish literary discourse that are
familiar to Polish audiences, such as the weeping willows, storks in the meadow, and birch
groves. However, these specifically Polish elements are configured in a way that breaks with
their two standard functions: emotional and identifying. Castorp admires foreign landscapes
from a perspective approaching that defined by Edward Said as “Oriental.” The subject’s
attitude toward the observed objects reflects his fascination, which can be described as that of
a conqueror who through an epistemological act appropriates the exotic and stimulating
territory. The space of Gdansk and vicinity penetrated by Castorp and his peers appears to
exist only to bring excitement to the young generation of conquerors as they traverse its vast
and uncivilized tracts. Franz Schubert’s song “Das Wandern” sung by Castorp during one of
his excursions seals this act of appropriation. This piece by a German composer becomes the
most appropriate textual instrument to reflect the emotions aroused by his encounter with
typically Polish landscapes. The reader receives a clear message that while nature is the
domain of periphery, culture belongs to metropolis.
The importance of spatial arrangement for the postcolonial overtones in Huelle’s novel
is already demonstrated in the novel’s exposition. The opening interaction between Hans
Castorp and his uncle reveals the latter’s views on the East, which are so characteristic of
imperial discourse. As a matter of fact, by so doing Huelle revives Mann’s perspective in The
Magic Mountain that presented the classically Orientalist image of the East in the enigmatic
Claudia Chauchat. In Castorp, the East is a formidable territory where unpredictable events
may occur, a realm in which “forms which have been worked out with much difficulty may
plunge into chaos” (8). By warning his nephew, Uncle Tiennaple duplicates the standard
representations of the East’s lurking temptations and dangers that await an unwitting
newcomer. These representations proliferate in a great many imperial literatures: “Please,
consider how easy it is to deviate from a once-taken road. An insignificant word, an instant of
weakness, a moment of oblivion may all ruin the efforts of many years. In the East these
things simply happen more often, although one cannot rationally prove it” (10).
Interestingly enough, the prophecy encapsulated in this warning is fulfilled in the
novel. Castorp eventually does succumb to the East in a way that imitates the widely
exploited literary representation of the Orient. In his dream the East is embodied in a tempting
woman with a sensual scent of musk and “delicately protruding cheekbones that, together
with the peculiar, slightly whimsical expression of her mouth, set an exotic allure of her face,
an ambiguous and attracting strangeness” (95, my italics).
We are frequently reminded by the novel’s characters that the era of colonization left
its mark on the novel’s setting. Pastor Gropius, “having spent twenty years in the midst of the
blackest tribes of Bantustan” (14), is offered a parish near Gdansk that is in close proximity to
the metropolitan center. Another character, Kiekernix the Dutch merchant who reaps profits
from trading with overseas colonies, informs his co-passengers about the peripheral status of
Gdansk, a “provincial shithole with no theatre up to a certain measure” (15). The dialogue of
these two characters is quite revealing. The pastor gives a speech in defense of German
imperialism where he equates this imperialism with the “civilizing mission,” the universal
argument of every spokesperson for the colonial enterprise. The rhetoric of la mission
civilisatrice reproduces figures of speech widely employed by British or French writers and
politicians of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries: “We came late to Asia and Africa,
that’s true. But how about Eastern Europe? For centuries we have been carrying the law,
order, harmony of art and technique. Without us the Slavs would long ago have fallen into
anarchy. It is thanks to our benevolence that they find their place in the family named
civilization and culture” (23).
Kiekernix offers an immediate riposte that seems to imitate some arguments by the
more aggressive postcolonial critics. I quote it in extenso as it lays out the direction in which
Pawel Huelle develops his narrative: “Ladies and gents, please imagine that one day an
armada of foreign, Indian, or Chinese vessels calls at Amsterdam. . . . They force us to
worship their God, they kill our king, rape our women, and drive our men to coalmines or
plantations. Syphilis, smallpox, quinsy, cheap vodka, and opium do the rest. Then their
preacher tells us to thank them for their care through which we found ourselves in the family
of civilization and culture. . . . That’s exactly how Indians, Asians, and blacks feel today.”(23)
And we may add: so do Kashubians and Poles. In this remarkable passage, the
postcolonial problematic is powerfully brought into the very core of the novel. Kiekernix’s
voice fixes the plot of Castorp in the sociopolitical reality of the early twentieth century
according to the established patterns of literary representation in British, French, or German
writings of the time. Such patterns were thoroughly examined in Said’s Orientalism. This is
where Huelle’s respect for the principles of spatial organization in colonial discourse ends.
From this point on in Castorp we encounter examples of the transgression of those
Orientalizing clichés. For the title hero the Prussian presence in Gdansk is an unpleasant
burden. Castorp’s attempt at crossing the boundary of urban space during his outing ends with
only a qualified success because of his accidental and undesired encounter with his German
peers. Further, Castorp’s position as an outsider is by no means a satisfying explanation of the
mode in which the Germans are introduced in the particularly shaped scenery. Clearly playing
the role of an “understanding link” between the two separated zones, the protagonist distances
himself from his compatriots, especially those who represent the chauvinist Prussian
mentality. This distance is powerfully manifested through the arrangement of the novel’s
scenery.
In Huelle’s novel Castorp strolls along the streets of Gdansk and Sopot performing
typical acts of perception. Despite his young age and a certain philosophical immaturity (he
has not met Naphta, who will inspire him to seek answers to most vital questions), he is richer
than his Mann-invented predecessor because he experiences an encounter with the culture of
an oppressed nation. From this perspective, the novel can be briefly summarized as a process
of Castorp’s maturing through his discovery of his own identity as a member of a nation that
exercises authority over the population of Poles and Kashubians, both of whom are viewed as
inferior. This thread is very subtly interwoven with Huelle’s plot.
Part of this cognitive process refers to the novel’s space. Although certain areas such
as hotels and ships are marked by German names, most places bear Polish names. Instead of
“Soppot” or “Danzig” we have Sopot and Gdansk. In a similar vein “ulica Kasztanowa”
(Chestnut Street) is not replaced with “Kastanienstrasse.” For a newcomer from a
metropolitan center, this space continually demonstrates its inherent strangeness,
mysteriousness, and impenetrability. The space extends itself onto other areas of the
nonexistent Poland. As Castorp becomes directly involved in the novel’s intrigue, we see his
finger traversing a map of Russia, searching for Lublin.
 Leaving space, we now move on to the language. The sentence “Only German is
spoken here!” (108) graphically points to the symbolic role played by language in the novel.
In Castorp, German is an instrument of hegemony incorporating the famous dictum by Fanon
that “A man who has a language consequently possesses the world expressed and implied by
that language”(4). In the novel German clearly is the language of power. When contaminated,
it must be unmercifully rejected not only for the sake of purity but also to maintain power.
The university’s clerk, a most unfortunate person ridiculed by those around him because of
his Polish accent, is driven to suicide. Dr. Ankewitz, a Polish exile from the Russian partition,
can start his psychiatric practice in the German empire only due to his perfect command of
German.
The hegemony of the language, however, is powerfully challenged in Huelle. The first
instance of transgression occurs when Castorp meets a poor Kashubian boy. At first the boy is
depicted in full conformity to the well-established pattern of imperial narrative: his body
ragged, and his “bare feet shoed with flimsy sandals” (50). Similar to the Arabs described by
Albert Camus, he remains anonymous, with no certain identity. Despite his subalternity,
however, the boy bests Castorp by his language competence, the lack of which the latter
painfully realizes in their conversation. In an imperial novel the protagonist would most likely
dismiss this confrontation with some denigrating comments on the Poles’ undeveloped
civilization, or the barbarism of the obscure and rustling Polish speech, or the supremacy of
the Prussian educational system that imposes the language of the colonizer over the colonized,
thus fulfilling the civilizing mission. Castorp, though, does none of these. Rather, he gives
himself up to the strange feeling of “not having access to that which for others is as obvious
as the air” (51).
The second instance of the break-up with language domination is manifested in the
relationship between Mrs. Wybe and her Kashubian housekeeper. Kaszibke does away with
the stereotype that is so commonplace in literatures of all empires, one of subalternity of a
servant who is silent and has no right to voice his/her own opinions. Kaszibke reverses the
traditional order. Although taught the piano by her mistress (so that the educational mission of
the colonial enterprise can be carried out), the Kashubian girl actually takes over through her
simple yet forceful language. It is Kaszibke and not Mrs. Wybe who actually holds power in
the home where Castorp rents his room. In this way yet again, the metropolitan hegemony
over peripheries is questioned. Kaszibke seems to display the ambivalent effect of
colonization. She is the colonizer’s mirror image, yet this image is somewhat distorted and
caricatural in accordance with what Homi Bhabha described as “mimicry.”(5) The
colonized’s behavior is copied by the colonizer, yet this imitation is deeply subversive as it
bears traces of mockery and menace. Consequently, the authority of colonial discourse as
represented by Mrs. Wybe is threatened and the colonial domination is destabilized.
The third instance of the transgression of colonial narrative in terms of language is
related to the mysterious Wanda Pilecka. Although Polish, her position in the novel is one of
an outspoken partner rather than a silent representative of a subjugated nation, as seen in her
free multilingual conversations at the table. Devastated by Pilecka’s charm, the protagonist
seeks to discover her true identity, and it is by the language that he is led astray to consider
her as Russian. This is how we come to the third aspect in which the colonial dimension of
Castorp is overcome-the problem of identity.
Castorp is astonished by the discovery of Wanda’s true nationality. His bewilderment
grows even larger as he finds out that her lover is a Russian officer. This destroys the
stereotypical image of Polish-Russian relations based on Castorp’s rudimentary knowledge of
Poland’s history. This knowledge only reiterates the clichés of German imperial education of
the time: “In gymnasium he had one lesson on the history of Poland: anarchy and alcoholism
of the noblemen led to partition as this ulcer in the very midst of Europe had to be quickly cut
out for hygienic reasons” (184).
In the novel the knowledge of the subjugated ethnic groups, such as Poles and
Kashubians, is an element of the discourse of power. It encompasses historiography,
anthropology, and ethnology, and resembles the writings on the conquered peoples as
collected and conveyed by British, French, or German scientists, writers, and travelers. As
Said pointed out, this knowledge is never a neutral and disinterested description. On the
contrary, its purpose is to solidify the power over the object of studies. Huelle’s novel seems
to follow this pattern. To paraphrase Said, in Castorp Germans do know Poles and Poles are
that which is known by the Germans(6) and exist only insofar as they are narrated. This is
how we come to realize the importance of the evolution of the protagonist’s awareness of the
postcolonial overtones of the novel. Castorp’s deeper acquaintance with the Poles affords
them a more subjective and autonomous status in the novel.
This is how Wanda Pilecka, a representative of the nation whose colonization seemed
legitimate and even advantageous in the light of Castorp’s education, is elevated to the
position of his partner. To be sure, she appears as a person who is visibly relaxed-an unusual
feature for a member of a colonized nation. Although she shares some parts of her biography
and even thanks him for providing her an alibi, Wanda never loses her dignity and neither
does she fall into any kind of dependence on Castorp. Instead, she gains domination over him,
first by destabilizing his burgher lifestyle by becoming a hidden object of his desire, and then
by halting their acquaintance with an elegant, yet firm, gesture. The erotic thread between
Wanda and the German has an equivocal ending: on the one hand, it breaks the stereotype of
mutual perception of the two nations, while on the other it lends support to one of the
foundational Polish myths-that of a legendary ninth-century Wanda who refused to marry a
German.
It is important for the postcolonial interpretation of the novel to trace the evolution of
Castorp’s consciousness. His biography emphasizes his affiliation with the center of the
German empire. Theodor Fontane’s Effi Briest, a novel stolen from Wanda by the protagonist,
invokes memories, among which the imperial myth is brought to the fore. “His own life,
growing in the shade of harbor cranes and oceanic ships, stock market, world business and
colonial merchandise, all of a sudden seemed full of light comparing to the rutted sandy road
in Pomerania” (113).
Castorp obviously comes from the center where civilization, power, capital, and
prosperity coexist in harmony, to the peripheries where those values are challenged by
different values that he has only begun to discover, principally through his fascination with
the charming stranger. It is interesting to note that before Castorp meets Pilecka, Poles are
almost absent from the plot. The hero and his environment consist mostly of Germans, while
the exotic peoples of the East appear only to reaffirm the purpose of colonial discourse, which
according to Bhabha is “to construe the colonized as a population of degenerate types . . . in
order to justify conquest.”(7) The shocking assassination of a German goldsmith by a Polish
apprentice and his fiancée that makes the local headlines fits this paradigm perfectly.
When Wanda and her Russian lover enter the scene, a “Polish-Russian knot” (185) is
tied together to broaden Castorp’s horizons and shift the narrative onto a postcolonial plane.
The protagonist is presented as a newcomer from a metropolis who arrives at peripheries in
order to deconstruct the imperial myth and discover the actual identity of the subjugated
peoples, which in turn allows him to realize his own identity. Huelle puts him in an entire
array of relations to other characters and situations that question his canonical image of
Germany and imperial Europe. Castorp comes to the realization that he belongs to a
colonizing nation, and this discovery is a matter of disgust rather than pride to him. The
process of gaining this awareness constitutes a vital layer of Huelle’s fiction. It finds its
apogee in the symbolic gesture of the rejection of both German and Russian imperialism on
the final pages of the novel. Having encountered these two imperial discourses, woven into a
lecture on Goethe and a Russian textbook respectively, Castorp demystifies them and
ostentatiously refuses to participate in the colonial enterprise represented by them.
The elements of Huelle’s novel discussed in this paper demonstrate that, although in
many ways indebted to Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, Castorp is a product of a
literary consciousness of the postcolonial era. The author dexterously exploits narrative
strategies of colonial discourse only in order to enter into polemics with this discourse and
offer a novel perspective, one that was unattainable for Mann. As a consequence, Huelle
wrote a postcolonial novel. The final nachgeschichte, consisting of some snapshots of
Gdansk’s complex history throughout the twentieth century, leads to the following
conclusion: the Gdansk-based episode in Castorp’s biography has been narrated from a
perspective accessible only to a writer of our time, that is, a perspective brought into existence
only after the demise of the German and Soviet empires in that part of the globe. One should
only hope that German critics, so enthusiastic about the perfect imitation of Mann’s style by
Huelle and the reconstruction of Gdansk’s and Sopot’s ambience at the turn of the century,
will spot this dimension of the novel, thereby breaking the silence surrounding the German
“white colonialism.”

NOTES

1. Teresa Halikowska-Smith, “The Past as Palimpsest: the Gdansk school of writers in the
1980s and 1990s,” Sarmatian Review, vol. XXIII, no. 1 (January 2003).
2. Franz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth, trans. Constance Farrington (Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1990), 3rd ed., p. 39.
3. Pawel Huelle, Castorp (Gdansk: Slowo/obraz terytoria, 2004), p. 160. All translations from
Polish are my own, references in brackets.
4. F. Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks (London: Pluto, 1986), p. 18.
5. H. K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London-New York: Routledge, 1994), p. 86.
6. E. Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage, 1979), p. 34.
7. H. Bhabha, Location of Culture, p. 70.

[First published in: The Sarmatian Review, 2006, Vol. XXVI, No. 3: 1229-1233]