Yesterday I brought The Tin Drum back to our local library.
I kind of rushed there, considering it was my last day and I had still ten pages to go.
In spite of this, as I got home I was sure I would meet Oskar the Drummer after dinner again. It was a familiar feeling, like something that is now part of your daily schedule.
Too bad, though, I didn’t have the actual book anymore so I had to elaborate our parting.
After all, I am mostly interested in how a book makes me feel once it is finished. Once it will have no stories left to tell me.
Günter Grass was definitely a winner in this respect, much like other great authors whose novels grabbed me, squeezed me and ultimately left me stunned.
Well, I missed Oskar and I missed his ramblings told simultaneously in first and third person. I missed the floods of thoughts madly overlapping and eventually summarizing, in a matter of seconds, a whole life.
As a typical INFP introvert I can’t but appreciate this type of character, who dissects reality down to its tiniest details.
In fact, as I read The Tin Drum, I realized I was creating far more associations than usual. I fixated on fragments of impressions and activated unusual idea associations. This may not make me look totally cool but I have long stopped hiding my true nature.
What’s more, I wasn’t expecting The Tin Drum to be set before, during and after WW2.
All the more, the life of a German character coming from the East. That’s when I realized it is one thing to use the phrases Eastern Germany/Western Germany, quite another to be aware of what really happened as story was being made.
If this weren’t enough, a couple of days later I open my work mail and what do I see? A LinkedIn request by a certain Bronskji. I smiled and couldn’t helpt but whisper to myself: ‘Oskars, that’s all you’re going to see!”.
The Tin Drum on Amazon UK