The Greater Hope by Ilse Aichinger (review)

Geoff Wilkes’s The Greater Hope, the recent and eminently readable translation of Ilse Aichinger’s only novel Die größere Hoffnung, published in 1948, is one of the first Austrian literary works to chronicle the persecution of Austrian Jews before and after the Anschluss. Wilkes’s translation comes at a critical time in history, a time of political unrest when xenophobic populism and rhetoric is again on the rise, not only in Austria but throughout Europe, the United States, and elsewhere. Aichinger’s novel was first translated by Cornelia Schaeffer in 1964 as Herod’s Children, but that translation is now out of print and therefore inaccessible to a deserving global readership. Wilkes’s contemporary translation captures Aichinger’s unique imaginative voice, one that critics have described as surrealist due to the complex layering and interweaving of dream sequences, dialogue, and plot. I would also argue that Aichinger draws on the imagery and narrative structure of the German-language fairy tale or legend, even referring to the underlying terror in “Little Red Riding Hood” as a metaphor to set the stage for Ellen’s grandmother’s intentional suicide in the face of a possible deportation (a narrative that counters Aichinger’s grandmother’s deportation in May 1942 and murder in Minsk). Wilkes’s ability to interpret Aichinger’s insistent tone gives English-speaking readers the opportunity to share in Aichinger’s coming to terms with her psychological and emotional response to being a persecuted Jewish teenager in Vienna. Wilkes himself notes that his text differs vastly from Schaeffer’s translation. While he does acknowledge consulting Schaeffer’s translation in the later stages of his translation work, having taken on her translation of “bürgen für” as “to vouch for,” (221), Wilkes’s text has a lyrical quality that engages the reader and evokes the intensity and longing of Aichinger’s literary voice. Wilkes has translated Aichinger’s German title Die größere Hoffnung more literally as The Greater Hope, inviting readers to focus on Aichinger’s quest for humanity during the Holocaust and in postwar Austria. Schaeffer can be credited for having brought Aichinger’s story to an English-speaking readership during a time when Aichinger’s voice was under-represented even in the German-speaking realm. However, her title, Herod’s Children, may have unintentionally evoked the perception of otherness both forced upon and then felt by the novel’s main characters, underscoring the false dichotomy cast by the Austro-Fascist regime between Austrian non-Jews and Jews. Wilkes’s choice of words assures the reader that this perceived otherness of the Austrian Jew is vindicated by the hope for peace and humanity against all odds that Aichinger instills in her main character Ellen, even beyond her tragic death. The conclusion of the novel involves the collapse of a bridge during which Ellen and her friend Georg share a moment of hope that precedes Ellen’s death by an exploding shell. Shortly before, Ellen shouts: “Georg, the bridge has collapsed!” to which Georg replies: “We’ll rebuild it!” When Ellen asks: “What shall we call it?” Georg answers: “The greater hope, our hope” (220). Wilkes reinforces the hope carried by children of war but also Aichinger’s own drive to write the novel out of necessity in order to emotionally survive the Holocaust. The novel draws to a close with the continued message of hope: “The battle for the bridges continued. Above them stood the morning star” (220). The phrasing of these last lines is measured, conveying certitude about hope and life beyond human suffering that counters the ongoing battle and Ellen’s brutal and abrupt death.

A further treat, in addition to the translation, is Gail Wiltshire’s afterword, which provides readers with the rich history and context of the novel, spanning its conception to Aichinger’s legacy today. It is here, for example, that readers can learn of Aichinger’s original proposal for the novel’s title: “The Baptism of...