Once again (like in "The tin drumm" and "Cat and mouse") the story of ordinary people goes epic, trough the eyes and voices of different Danzig inhabitants, the autor find an objective review of the known facts involved the II World War.

If you can't check these out at a library (or can't just have these great works for just a few weeks) this trilogy is for you. Tin Drum, in my opinion, is the best of the set, expressing oppression and pain with the best of Grass's stark realism and sardonic wit.

for the first time a great look back to a chapter in german history nobody talkes about!

Die Geschichte ist wirklick super muess ich sagen. Guenter Grass ist ein wohlgezeter Autor. Man fuehlt als ob man aller miterlebt. Du muesst "den grossen Malke" einfach kennenlernen!.

So in your opinion, today's writers and "intellectuals" are a bunch of self-absorbed irrelevant bigheads? Rewind, 350 years back - welcome to Grass' fictional recount of a meeting of German writers set at the town of Telgte during the "30 Year War". Convention circus, 17th century-style: In the midst of the unprecedented tragedy of the "Great European War" the intellectual elite of its time descends upon a little town with the intention to brainstorm about the sorry state of literature, fatherland and life in general. Instead of a noble battle of wits on the substance of the Big Questions at issue, the lofty intentions fade quickly into the background as perennial personal rivalries and pettyness inmidst this most eminent quorum take over - against the backdrop of a ghostly scenery of a whole continent in ruins, sunken in disease, squalor, starvation and suffering... (but, hey, first things first, we got personal scores to settle here.) Trademark Grass: acute acerbity (and a hefty dose of self-depreciating wit this time), with more levity than you may find in any of his other works. (but no trace of kiddy porn; - even by midwestern standards). German "Nabelschau" at its very best. Grass paints a timeless picture of his own trade, the trivial world of celebrity and vanity.

I've not picked up a novel by Gunter Grass since I plowed through (and enjoyed) "Cat and Mouse", "The Tin Drum" and "Dog Years" a couple of decades ago. Prior to reading this novel, I was completely ignorant of the catastrophic sinking of the German ship Wilhelm Gustoff by a Russian submarine in the Baltic Sea in the last few months of the second world war. As presented by Gunter Grass, this incident was the result of many fateful events, each one of which may not have been deadly, but when combined resulted in a horrible tragedy.
I found this novel very difficult to read. Grass aptly titled the book "Crabwalk" because the story does not unfold in simple chronological order. Instead the story, as told in the first person by Paul Pokriefke, wanders back and forth over more than half a century. As I read the novel I was flipping back through the pages I'd already read trying to figure out who a particular character is, or to recall a given event. I had to get halfway through the novel before I could recall all of the main characters and events. My knowledge of German is fair, and I found it helpful in understanding location names and some of the peculiar sentences. A good atlas is helpful to have when reading this novel because a map of the region where most of the events in the novel take place is not included.
I'd recommend this book, but it does require some effort on the part of the reader. It's not a poolside read.

Crabwalk is the first great book I have read that was written in the 21st century.

Why Crabwalk? Here's a definition of "crab:" "to move sideways, diagonally, or obliquely, especially with short, abrupt bursts of speed." Crabwalk's structure is similar. Grass offers a clue in referring to "scuttling backward to move forward."

Paul Pokreife, a journeyman journalist, narrates several parallel tracks: his life, his mother's (Tulla), his son's (Konrad), his ex-wife's, the ship Wilhelm Gustloff, the Nazi Wilhelm Gustloff (and his monument and remains), Gustloff's assassin (David Frankfurter), the Soviet submarine commander who sunk the ship (Marinesko), and Konrad's online challenger (Wolfgang "David" Stremplin) and his parents. Sometimes Mr. Grass jumps sideways sharing several stories at that time. Other times he jumps forward or backward to a different time or story. . . and then goes sideways to other stories. It's like stream of consciousness narration except it's finished prose and dialogue. . . rather than thought fragments.

This structure establishes many connections between one person and another to show an interconnected fabric of German society and consciousness since 1933 in the context of a few events, a family and a few other characters. I felt like I had just absorbed the richness of War and Peace . . . except in a relatively short and simple book.

Crabwalk can be read at several levels of meaning. The most compelling story relates the terrible tragedy of the sinking of the German refugee ship, Wilhelm Gustoloff, in January 1945 on the frigid Baltic by a Soviet submarine. More than 1200 survived while most others (estimated between 6,600 and 10,600) died from explosions, equipment faults, rescue mistakes, freezing, drowning, or the icy waters. Of these, more than 4,000 were probably children. There were only 22 lifeboats on board, and only one was launched properly. You'll have to read Crabwalk to appreciate the tragedy, but it dwarfs the Titanic. Yet it's a little-known event. The Germans made no announcement then to help maintain civilian morale. The Soviets were embarrassed and hid the event. Post-war Germany has kept a code of silence around any German civilians suffering as a result of the war, seeming to reflect the national guilt for starting the war.

Paul's being born the night of the sinking, aboard a rescue ship, links him to the Nazi past (through the anniversaries of the Nazi rise to power and Gustloff's death), the consequences of the sinking on the survivors, and the sinking's effect on the next generation of Germans. This connection is the bridge to other ways to read the book.

At another level, it's a story of a dysfunctional family: A woman who wasn't sure who the father is of her only son; a son estranged from his mother by her disappointment in him and his rejection of her values; a fatherless son becoming a poor father and failed husband; and a grandson reaching out to a grandmother for the emotional support his father fails to give him.

At a third level, Crabwalk is about the experience of the German nation since January 1933 when the Nazis took over. We go through the economic recovery years as Tulla's parents take a cruise to the Norwegian fjords aboard the Wilhelm Gustloff. Tulla grows up during the war and has a miscarriage while being a streetcar conductor. She becomes pregnant with Paul, and after the rescue are settled in East Germany where she becomes a carpenter and a devoted Stalinist. Paul escapes to the West as a teenager, and the two becomes estranged. Tulla also admires the old Nazis after East Germany falls and tries to fascinate her grandson with the ship's history. She succeeds through giving him a computer, and Konrad runs a Web site about the ship and the man it's named for. At the same time, you find out how Gustloff becomes a Nazi martyr after he's assassinated by a Jewish medical student in Davos. Ironically, Frankfurter's health improves by being in prison. He's released after World War II by the Swiss and heads to Palestine.

At a fourth level, this is a story about how our lives are influenced by our environment (our family, our nation, our history and our ways of perceiving).

At a fifth level, Crabwalk teaches us to think about the consequences of when and where we're born. If Paul had been born a few hours later, he would have spent his whole life in the western sectors of Germany rather than starting in the east. He believes his whole life would have been different . . . and it probably would have.

At a sixth level, Crabwalk explains that history repeats itself through the influences of the earlier generations on another. There are many deliberate ironies in the book as one character acts out variations on what an earlier character did (especially the way Konrad mimics David Frankfurter).

Ultimately, the book is about guilt. Who's guilt is it? And for what? What's to be done to atone? "History, or, to be more precise, the history we Germans have repeatedly mucked up, is a clogged toilet." "We flush and flush, but the [content]. . . keeps rising." In particular, should Germans deny their own suffering in World War II as a means to expiate guilt, or will that denial lead to new guilty actions?

The book profoundly expanded my understanding of the German experience. As a young man in Munich on business, I found my sleep troubled and interrupted by dreams and memories of Nazi marchers on the street outside, death camps in the countryside and murderous attacks on fellow Germans. Some taxi drivers who were old enough to have been in the Wehrmacht looked at me with obvious hate. Clients my age were very punctiliously correct anti-Nazis (we even visited events criticizing the Nazi past together). On the streets, young skinheads passed wearing swastikas. Crabwalk helped me to understand what was happening then and now.

This book describes the history of a ship and its influence on the history of a family. The ship is the Wilhelm Gustloff that was named after a Nazi who was killed in Davos, Switzerland in 1936. After its use as a cruise ship for the Nazi Kraft durch Freude movement, a floating hospital and a training ship, the Wilhelm Gustloff was torpedoed to the bottom of the sea on 30 January 1945 with on board between 6000 and 10000 (nobody knows the exact number) German refugees. On board is also the very pregnant Tulla Prokriefke, who goes into labour when the ship goes down. In the end her son Paul is born on board of a rescue boat.

Paul is divorced, mediocre journalist, who has, to say it mildly, a difficult relationship with his mother. One day he finds a site on the Internet that describes the ship that determined his life (his mother cannot talk about anything else). He finds that the site, with neonazi characteristics, is made by his son Konnie. And then the story goes almost inevitably to its dramatic conclusion.

The book is called Crabwalk because the story of the ship and the family are not told in chronological order, but by walking sideways. Still, the story goes forward, just like a crab walks. This is also because Paul tells the story of the Wilhelm Gustloff working with the information that he finds on the internetsite of his son.

This is a brilliantly written book, because one never gets lost between or within story lines despite the large number of considerable time leaps. Also, this book describes a little known ship tragedy (more than 5 times the numbers of death as the Titanic!) and gives an insight into the distorted minds of German neonazi's. An excellent read.

Grass uses wonderful, dense, invented words and peppers his novel with wonderful, dense, twisted imagery. Which is why I admire the work and why I was determined to finish the book although it was as intellectually heavy as a brick and occassionally tried my patience. This is not a book for an MTV-hyperactive attention span. More than a reflection of German mentality, it is a journey into the German mind, because so many times it follows a stream-of-consciousness approach. Sometimes it feels as if you're on a rollercoaster ride through the tunnels of a character's mind. Which is why I hated it too. I felt that many times the book became self-indulgent... that is, Grass wasn't writing for the reader but for himself or as a catharsis for his characters.

I only realized Dog Years was part of a trilogy after I bought it, and I enjoyed The Tin Drum much more because I read it after seeing the movie (it relieved the mind from loads of exertion). Although I am immensely relieved to have finally finished Dog Years, I still can't wait to read the other book of the trilogy, Cat and Mouse. Love to hate Grass.

First: If you decide to tackle the Danzig Trilogy, Reddick's critical analysis is indispensable. I suggest tackling it the same way I did: read The Tin Drum, start Reddick's book at the same time you start Cat and Mouse (Reddick reads faster than Grass, and you'll get through a lot of Reddick while tackling Grass), and when you've caught up, read Reddick's section on Dog Years and the actual novel concurrently.

Those of you who feel the revelation of anything having to do with a book before you get to that part in the book is a spoiler should probably avoid this technique; Reddick revelas the major "mystery" in Dog Years towards the end of his section on Cat and Mouse. However, one cannot really consider Dog Years a mystery, despite the various things that happen within it; while there are some elements to it that keep the reader guessing, Dog Years is, more than anything, a savage satire on Germany during the WW2 years. And as such, finding out the main mystery-that's-not-a-mystery should not detract at all from one's appreciation of the book itself.

Dog Years can also stand on its own, without being read as a part of the Danzig Trilogy, but the reader's appreciation of many facets of this novel-- most notably Edouard Amsel's character and the satire itself-- are more easily appreciated when you have The Tin Drum and Cat and Mouse under your belt as comparisons. Amsel, the main protagonist of Dog Years, stands as a direct comparison to both Oskar and Mahlke, and his character is more easily understood when those two have already been assimilated by the reader.

The plot of Dog Years is a simple enough one; it charts, through the use of three narrators, the frindship of Edouard Amsel and Walter Matern from grade school through their early thirties. Amsel, the intellectual one, is picked on constantly by his classmates (including Matern) until one day, for no apparent reason, Matern befriends Amsel and chases away the others. It's a typical buddy-relationship in that Amsel is the brains and Matern is the brawn, but we don't get the bonding we've come to expect from seeing too many Hollywood buddy films. The relationship between Matern and Amsel is far more complex than that, and Reddick has done a passable job of interpreting it, one which I won't attempt to recreate here (it would be ludicrous to attempt something that complex in such a forum as a review). In an odd lapse, though-- especially given how much emphasis Reddick has put on Grass' enmity and stire of the Roman Catholic Church in the previous two books-- Reddick seems to have overlooked one of the most obvious interpretations of Amsel's character (and also that of the more minor protagonist Jenny Brunies), as a christ figure. In the novel's central scene, both Amsel and Brunies (who are both made out, in the first half of the novel, to be almost comically fat) undergo a transformation that transforms Brunies into a ballet sensation and Amsel into another character entirely, the omnipotent Goldmouth; while there is no physical crucifixion here, the path taken by Amsel's character through the rest of the novel certainly implies the path of christ after the resurrection, until his assumption into, in this case, Berlin. For the next hundred or so pages, Goldmouth is never actually seen, only referred to in the good deeds he does for others, and he achieves an almost legendary status among the rank and file for his goodness, his power (in postwar germany, his power is in his connections; who he knows), and the fact that no one really sees him much, but everyone is aware of his presence and his acts. However, Reddick, in his attempt to (successfully) parallel Amsel's character with that of Grass himself, never examines this aspect of Amsel.

This lack also leads to Reddick drawing the conclusion that Dog Years is the weakest of the three books, while still proclaiming that as a whole they rank as the finest piece of modern German literature extant today. I feel Reddick is giving Dog Years short shrift here; while the book does, in fact, have its faults, they are faults shared by the other two novels as well, and I came away from Dog Years thinking that, to the contrary, it was the strongest and most absorbing of the three. While it was more difficult than the other two, it was also more rewarding and more absorbing; it's not often I'll put in three months on one novel, but at no time did I feel that it ever stopped moving me along, and at no time did I ever feel that it was time to put the book down for good.

Keeping this seeming oversight of Reddick's in mind, I still have to recommend his book as a perfect accompaniment to Grass' most famous three novels, and all four of them deserve the attention of every serious student of literature.

As good as 'Tin Drum' but far more accessible and direct in its impact on the darkness and light in the German psyche. The only author from Germany to honestly address the issues of what led to WWII and its aftermath. There is a hilarious and brilliant passage towards the end of the second part of the book which takes a savage poke at Heidegger and German love for abstraction. A gem of a book.

I began reading this book not knowing much of what it was about or where it would lead me. The brief yearly vignettes that Grass paints are just enough for the reader to gain a sense of time, place, and emotion. As a progressive work, the chapters unfold year by year to yield a personalized account - individual by individual - of what the twentieth century was like in Germany. Having studied the language and worked in Stuttgart, I was familiar with many of the references to cities, events, and jargon that the casual reader might miss. I would recommend the work as a quality introduction (albeit not a historical factbook or almanac) to Germany's recent history. In its historical fiction it reads like a novel - intricate, yet accessible. A worthwhile read from a highly talented writer.

Gunters Grass's My Century is a Mann-version-ran-amuck, where it has been sieved from the leitmotifs, or the moralizing, contemplating characters who are sank in reverie, nor the dramatic events, but it has only been extracted for its trenchant tales of reality and destiny.

At first glance, this historical narrative, told by people who are less historical themselves (but are the true victims and victors of history) are ambiguous as they are told from different perspectives of experience. More often than not, this gigantic work of serious fiction would get down to a surprising cerebral exercise on Germany and Gunter Grass's recalcitrant philosophies, nevertheless once you can muster enough reason out from the chunk of tales, the narratives will plod into cyclical, and amazingly connected events. It purveys some alternatively fresh ideas on history, and art and science as well as states of mind in a particularly curious age.

This surely is a heavy masterpiece, like mapping a more than fuzzy neural networks of our significant history. Don't beef if this major and ambitious work wont give a too pleasurable read, because it wont until you have all the time to explore what are under those Grass-inflicted details.

Gunter Grass won last's years Nobel and Principe Asturias prizes for his long standing, fully compromised career as a writer. His last work so far is "My century", a collection of 100 vignettes, one for each year of the XXth century. Some of this vignettes (not all of them are stories as such) are interrelated, specially those portraying both World Wars and, nearing the end of the book, some which explain Grass' personal circumstances around the time. Mr. Grass requires a certain amount of complicity and knowledge from his readers, so this is no easy book you can read while lying on the beach (you can actually read it anywhere, but you know what I mean). I strongly disagree with those who think that this makes it an impossible book. Mr Grass prose can be at times fairly elaborated, and he is addressing a reader who's going to try to be on pair with him all along. Having said that, I wouldn't be surprised if there already were anotated editions of this book for German history high school students.This in ambitious book, and obviously some of its parts will appeal diferent readers. Just don't let anyone convince you that such an intelligent and articulate piece of writing can't be entertaining as well. "My century" is all this, and probably a lot more.

It is often said in both literature and music that large scale works need a small number of simple themes.
In despite of Grass' immense abilities, this book showed me that even one of our greatest living writers can get lost in a swamp of his own making.

Hot on the heels of his highly engaging "My Century", in which he gave an overview of 20th century German history in 100 short stories, Grass decided to write a novel focusing on the German reunification and to place it in the context of about 150 years of national history. To provide the link between present and past the protagonist Theo Wuttke, a soon to be 70 year old filing clerk, has an alter ego Fonty, who happens to be the reincarnation of late 19th century writer Theodore Fontane. So far, so good. Based on the first 50 pages of this book I had expected that Grass had chosen Wuttke/Fonty as a symbol of the German nation as he did with Oskar in the Tin Drum. Alas, while the book ends with Fonty's liberation, the next 700 pages (I read the original German version) contain one great scene, a number of good nuggets, but too little of a book one has come to expect of Grass.

As a counterbalance to Wuttke's often fond reminiscences of the former Eastern Germany he is still in daily contact with his former designated Stasi spy Hoftaller, who knows every detail of Fonty's political and maritally infidel past and seems to require Wuttke to retain his own identity. Add to the mix the disgruntled Mrs. Wuttke, the soon the be married Ms. Wuttke, her capitalist husband, the French illegitimate grandchild and many an obscure reference to the works of Fontane and things get worse. Topple it of with continuous time traveling of Fonty between Wuttke and Fontane and the reader ends up in quicksand. Moreover, the text is at least 30% too long and often gets lost in tens of pages of superfluous diversions.

In Germany this book caused quite a stir due to its view of the "West taking over the East". I had the opportunity to walk the streets of East Berlin three months before the wall came down. While Grass makes some valid points about Western Patronization, anyone having first person experience with the former Eastern Germany will just respond with a highly appropriate "so what".

Finally a note on the translation. While Grass is notorious for his long and complicated sentences he has outdone himself here. On top of that there are endless pages of stream of conscious conversations. The translator has done an admirable job in untangling, predigesting and finally translating. As such, the translation is definitely more easily readable than the original. Yet, a lot of the rhythm and flavor which defines Grass gets lost.

In all a virtuoso, yet unfocused effort. While the wedding banquet scene is on par with Gunter's best and intimate knowledge of Fontane's works may lead to greater appreciation of this text, I did not feel appropriately rewarded for the effort that reading it took.

The way to get the most out of this novel is to be both well-versed in German literature (especially the work of Fontana), as well as to be knowledgeable about the history of Germany, and of Berlin in particluar. For me, to read this book was to embark on a rigourous journey of two extremes:
On the one hand, I did not understand and thus could not appreciate the no doubt rich literary commentaries and allusions that surrounded Fontana; I am simply not conversant with his writing. All I could do in those parts of the novel was read what was written, and wish that I had read Effi Briest, etc. first.
On the other hand, I was at times mesmerized by the depth and breadth of Grass's probing and questioning of historical issues pertaining to Germany and Berlin. By my having spent the equivalent of almost a year in Germany, including time in Berlin in the 70's, 80's and 90's, I was able to grasp Grass's commentary on the transformation of Germany and Berlin into one country and city, respectively, from their previously divided conditions. Grass makes all sorts of subtle and clever references to certain streets, neighbourhoods and buildings ("the hall of tears") in Berlin, as well as to various historical incidents and figures (e.g. the "Goatee": Walter Ulbricht), referring to them by their locally-known idioms or nicknames; this rich aspect of the novel, which, gratifyingly, made me feel very close to the author and to the story, will likely be lost on readers without a firm grounding in 20th century German history. The historical commentary is usually highly concentrated, at times hypnotic in its relentlessness and directness; I often found myself mentally exhausted from having to concentrate as much as I needed to, to follow the threads of discussion and inquiry. Invariably, though, I wanted to do nothing more than keep reading, so compelling is Grass's writing style.
I did not want the book to end; I did not want to say goodbye to Wuttke|Fonty. I was sad that the exhilarating experience of reading this novel was over. I felt a certain wistfulness toward Germany, its people and its turbulent history. One can tell that Grass both loves his country, and is most wary of its history and circumstances.
One needs to invest a lot of emotional and intellectual energy to get through this novel, but so long as the reader is conversant with German literature, German history, or, ideally, both, it is well worth the effort.

Here we are, another masterpiece from one of Germany's greatest contemporary novelists.

This work, which first appeared in Germany in 1995, is Grass's treatment of Germany's reunification. Among the novel's central themes is this: that through successive periods of history some things never change. They may be harder to spot, they may have a different name, they may be lurking in a cellar where no one wishes to find them, but they are there all the same. Grass here uses the medium of the novel to assert that the celebrations of 1989-1990 ignored the dark side of the German national identity.

He accomplishes this by invoking minutiae from throughout German history, all of which is related through the novel's two central characters: Wuttke, who believes himself to be the nineteenth-century writer Theodore Fontane; and Hoftaller, a former East German police agent who is Wuttke's "shadow". What emerges is a fascinating montage where elements from both past and present intermingle, which is what Grass wants us to believe anyway: that what is "past" isn't really in the past at all.

A variety of symbols reinforce this message. Much of the novel takes place in a quintessentially symbolic building in central Berlin: a building which originally housed the Third Reich's Aviation Ministry, then East Germany's "House of Ministries," and now (although not mentioned in the novel) the Federal Ministry of Finance. Within this building one finds the "Paternoster," an old elevator system which Wuttke attempts to save from being replaced by modern high speed elevators, and which carries a symbolic import of its own: it represents the rise and fall of various people within the building, the memory or in the novel the "Archives" of Germany.

At more than 650 pages this is a formidable undertaking but in the end well worth the effort. A reader not terrible familiar with German history or literature may find many of the references terribly confusing or elusive. But here is Grass at his finest--his wit, his insight, his courage to poke fun at everything the Germans have considered sacred: from the former chancellor and "hero" of reunification Helmut Kohl to contemporary author Christa Wolf.

Long, massive, exhaustive narrative of the life of Oscar Matzerath, an eccentric boy who at the age of 3 decides he will no longer grow and "drums" his feelings and passions by means of a drum. He is not a normal character, but rather a means through with G.Grass, using extensive obscure symbolism, repulsive fantasies, surrealism and metaphors, expresses the horrors of German/Polish society during the reign of nasism. O.Matzerath in fact is bizare, absurd, grotesque, and disturbing. G.Grass is a master of skilful prose revealing the poet writer as well, in a baroque/rococo style which intoxicates the reader. The book is not pleasant reading, with schoking passages. Deceptive in terms of expectations for a Nobel Prize winner. If you are willing to endure the challenge of reading "The Tin Drum," take your chance!

The Tin Drum is definitely not for everyone, a warning I've already seen repeated several times. It is exhausting, unconventional, and long, but if your willing to put the time into reading it, it is a rewarding experience, 600 pages of humanity in all it's beauty and horror.

Oskar is a strange character, but very intriguing. At times, I felt like I could completely relate to him, only to be completely shocked and disgusted by his actions.There were times when I was physically nauseated by this book: the children's stew, the horse head and eels, the mushroom smell of Maria and his grandmother, the pin and Matzerath. Any book that can have that sort of affect on it's reader is powerful.

You shouldn't read the Tin Drum if you're looking for a captivating plot, though at times the plot is captivating. What is really special about Grass' writing are his characterizations which said more about Eastern Europe before/during/after the Nazi era than any plot could've. Though some call this book too fantastic, I think it beautifully and honestly illustrates that period and those people who have been warped by WWII propaganda, the average people living under Nazi rule: grocers, artists, and families; Grass brings them to life. Oskar on the other hand does not seem average, but then again he's not meant to be. This is fiction afterall. If you want a book to dutifully relate Nazi-ruled Eastern Europe read an encyclopedia. If you want to meet people, read the Tin Drum.

There is so much to say about this novel -- Grass's first -- that perhaps there is nothing to say about it. It is simultaneously moving and hilarious, joking and didactic, full of joy and melancholy. Oskar is a man-child largely devoid of chronological progress: he was born fully mentally developed, and stopped physically developing after the age of 3. Oskar is, therefore, in the language of the mathematicians, held constant. Everything around Oskar revolves and changes, and he only stands and observes, screaming, and beating his tin drum. Gunter Grass is a master of being intellectual in warm, human tones, and embedding strong social morals within a lighthearted, quick-paced story. Overall, this book is immensely enjoyable and thought-provoking, more so than anything I had read in a long, long time. Grass's Nobel was well-deserved; too bad it took him so long to get it.