by Patrick Süskind
Baby Grenouille is dropped from his mother's womb onto the rubbish of gutted fish. He would have died there hadn't charity picked him up. It was 18th century Paris. And Paris stank. Sewerage flowed through the streets and its smell mixed with "the collective effluvium of 6 hundred thousand Parisians in the oppressive heat of summer." Only Grenouille had no smell of his own. Like a man without shadow, there was no space around him. People didn't notice him. He was a nobody.
But he had a gift. His nose was like an olfactory microscope. It could analyse smells down to its subtlest components. It could smell "the worm in the cauliflower, the money behind a beam and people on the other side of the street, or several streets away".
To find the ultimate smell, the essence underlying all other smells, became his obsession. Then he could create the smell of human-ness and douse himself in it. Then people would notice him. And he would add the odour of "a certain human being - those rare humans who inspire love". Then he would radiate divine magic and people would love him.
He got there via murder.
Suddenly, people fell into ecstasy by looking at him. They loved him to insanity. He was a god-like figure. Yet, Grenouille only felt contempt. Having never loved himself, their love didn't mean anything. He died under their frantic adulation.
This is a most intriguing book. Süskind's mastery of imagination and language is superb. A feast of exquisite writing. Behind Süskind's unique fantasy are serious themes, like the narrow-minded obsession with singular pursuits, and the easy manipulation of masses. When Grenouille is hailed like a divinity the "Sieg Heils!" of a fooled nation come to mind.
I believe this book did not gain the success it deserves. Probably because the main character stays throughout "a gifted abomination". He is described as a tick who bides his time; waiting for an opportunity. Then drop on it and use it. He knows no emotions. And the reader looks on, an observer - admiring every extraordinary page, but never emotionally involved.
But he had a gift. His nose was like an olfactory microscope. It could analyse smells down to its subtlest components. It could smell "the worm in the cauliflower, the money behind a beam and people on the other side of the street, or several streets away".
To find the ultimate smell, the essence underlying all other smells, became his obsession. Then he could create the smell of human-ness and douse himself in it. Then people would notice him. And he would add the odour of "a certain human being - those rare humans who inspire love". Then he would radiate divine magic and people would love him.
He got there via murder.
Suddenly, people fell into ecstasy by looking at him. They loved him to insanity. He was a god-like figure. Yet, Grenouille only felt contempt. Having never loved himself, their love didn't mean anything. He died under their frantic adulation.
This is a most intriguing book. Süskind's mastery of imagination and language is superb. A feast of exquisite writing. Behind Süskind's unique fantasy are serious themes, like the narrow-minded obsession with singular pursuits, and the easy manipulation of masses. When Grenouille is hailed like a divinity the "Sieg Heils!" of a fooled nation come to mind.
I believe this book did not gain the success it deserves. Probably because the main character stays throughout "a gifted abomination". He is described as a tick who bides his time; waiting for an opportunity. Then drop on it and use it. He knows no emotions. And the reader looks on, an observer - admiring every extraordinary page, but never emotionally involved.
Review by Klaus Jaritz
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