As Hitler's army rampaged across Europe, a demoralized Zweig put the finishing touches on this- an autobiography of sorts. In reality Zweig is more interested in comparing the zeitgeists of his three lives: pre WWI, the relative years of peace from 1923-1933, and finally the epoch of terror that began in the mid 30's. He looks back upon his youth with nostalgia; fondly remembering the days of travel, of intellectual stimulation and new experiences. His second life is largely a story of personal success as a writer, but his success feels overwhelmed with his growing unease about the political climate in his native Austria. Lastly, his third life is lived as a refugee; scattered to the winds by the threat of evil. Zweig's narration of these three lives is informative and heartbreaking.

It is also, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, composed with beautiful language. My copy is now full of post it notes marking not only those informative passages, but also those that consist of prose and images that simply amaze. I will put one down here to give an idea of what I am talking about in the hopes that it motivates you to seek this book out for yourself.

"It was a strange morning. Silently we stepped back from the radio that had projected a message into the room which would outlast centuries, a message that was destined to change our world totally and the life of every single one of us. A message which meant death for thousands of those who had silently listened to it, sorrow and unhappiness, desperation and threat for every one of us, and perhaps only after years and years a creative significance. It was war again, a war, more terrible and far-reaching than ever before on earth any war had been. Once more an epoch came to an end, once more a new epoch began. Silently we stood in the room that had suddenly become deathly quiet and avoided looking at each other. From outside came the unconcerned twitter of the birds, frivolous in their love and subject to the gentle breeze, and in golden luster the trees swayed as if their leaves, like lips, wished to touch one another tenderly. It was not for ancient Mother Nature to know the cares of her creatures."

Transformative to the human soul.

Esperaba muchísimo más de mi querido Zweig. Lo empecé con la pretensión (o excusa) de intentar entrever ciertos ramelazos de sus motivos del suicidio unos meses más tarde.

Básicamente recordaré 3 etapas del libro:
1 - Tras 100 páginas pierdo la pretensión Freudiana y me aburro un poco (pero sin perder el ritmo, es imposible con Zweig) por un relato 'aburguesado' de la Paris de principio de siglo aunque es necesario saber la altura para calcular la fuerza del impacto al caer.

2 - Mi momento 'favorito': El impacto más duro, no para él, si no para mi alma, es el estallido de la primera guerra mundial, la histeria colectiva me entristece enormemente y me dejó tocado. Esos ciudadanos recordando las guerras como algo 'épico', desconexión y desconocimiento desembocando esa visión de patria artificiosa. Me recuerda a las 'nuevas' corrientes, para mi gusto, (sobre)nacionalistas: catalunya, españa, brexit... y racistas/clasistas: Trump, refugiados, etc.

3 - El relato de la segunda guerra mundial lo veo (positivamente) falto de fuerza (recupera mi pretensión psicoanalizadora) y me parece una de las partes más auténticas del relato . Una pluma desganada creo que inspira con la desgana que vivió sus últimos años en el exilio y es dramática, siguiendo con el simil, la pendiente de su caída.

En parte me gusta que no haya sido literariamente perfecto. Quizás denota verosimilitud y ganas de ser auténtico. Es Zweig, siempre gusta, pero esperaba más de esa pasión a la que nos tiene acostumbrados.


Bonus Track:
En esos mismos años escribió su biografia de Erasmo de Rotterdam, en el que Zweig tiene claras sus intenciones: 'la muerte de Erasmo es la muerte de la tolerancia europea y el triunfo del fanatismo protestante'. Por ejemplo:
' Cuando llegue el enfrentamiento con Lutero, su neutralidad será tan grave que Lutero no dudará en convertirlo en el primer enemigo del cisma religioso, más incluso que los católicos más recalcitrantes.'

Libro pendiente.