Memoirs of a Good-for-Nothing
Lately, the
books on the List have been having a dark streak with the possible exception of
“Tomcat Murr”, though even that had some sinister sides. “Memoirs of a Good-for-Nothing”
(“Memoirs…”) is the direct opposite. It is light and easy in every sense.
A (very?)
young man leaves his village carrying only the cloth he wears and his fiddle.
He gets a ride with two ladies and plays for them so nicely that they offer him
a job in the palace gardens. Soon he is even promoted to be a tollkeeper. The
young man, whose name we never learn is hopelessly in love with one of the
ladies, whom he keeps referring to a “my lovely lady”, but as he assumes she is
a countess, he never approaches her. Instead, he plays his fiddle and put
flowers for her wherever he can.
One night he
discovers that the other lady is the one looking for him and that his own “lovely
lady” is together with another man and his hope shatters. He immediately
embarks on a journey to Italy, gets kidnapped by bandits, are taken to a castle
in the mountains, where he is treated as a lord, barely escapes and hang out in
Rome. In Rome he thinks he has found his girl again and indeed he is told she
is looking for him, only to find out she already left for Austria, so now he
needs to get back home and find her there.
The
conclusion, which I shall not reveal here, includes so many revelations and
mistaken identities that I am entirely confused myself, but, happy ending, the
end.
This is
super light and super short, 120 easy pages, and anything that resembles a
crisis is resolved within a page or two. Our hero is never really in any
danger, or rather, no danger he cannot easily escape from, and he usually gets
by simply by playing some music. People are really nice to him and those that
are not, are just pretending. Meanwhile, the sun is always shining, people are
happy and well-fed and dancing is only just one song away. It actually sounds
very much like a Hollywood golden age musical.
It is so
brief, rushed and light that I cannot really say it made a lot of impression on
me. It is like a piece of candy, nice and sweet and gone in minutes. It is
difficult to be upset with it because it is so harmless, but at the same time,
the novel feels more like a synopsis of a much larger and deeper book. My guess
is that I will have forgotten about it in a few weeks.
Yet, this tiny
novel is praised as a masterpiece of late German Romanticism and apparently it presents
a lot of elements hailed as typical of this movement. Classless love, the
freedom, the appreciation of beauty, both natural and human made such as music
and painting. Eichendorff was a celebrated poet, and a lot of his poems are
included in the book, though I am not qualified to tell if the appreciation is
deserved.
I suppose
it is nice to also get some lighter and happier fare than the gloomy stuff of
late but there is simply not enough meat on this for me to truly recommend it.