The Tin Drum by Günter Grass, Ralph Manheim (Translator)

‘You can begin a story in the middle and create confusion by striking out boldly, backward and forward.’

Yes, I have just finished reading ‘The Tin Drum’ and yes, I was simultaneously amused, bemused and confused. At times. I think that Oskar Matzerath is one of the least reliable narrators I have yet encountered. So, what does he tell us?

The novel revolves around Oskar’s life, which he narrates while confined in a mental hospital. Oskar was born in 1924, in Danzig (now Gdańsk, Poland). Upon hearing his father declare that Oskar is to become a grocer, he decides never to grow up. And so, at the age of three, Oskar stops growing. He has a piercing shriek that can shatter glass, and a succession of red and white enamelled tin drums. After all, Oskar’s mother declared before he was born that he would be gifted a drum on his third birthday.

While beating a drum is a way of grabbing attention, it is also the way in which Oskar communicates. Oskar shifts between first and third person when referring to himself: a distancing technique, or a reminder of his unreliability as a narrator? Is Oskar insane, or preternaturally observant? And while I wonder about Oskar, World War II begins and ends. Oskar manipulates some people, contributes to the death of others, and is completely amoral. And yet, his memoirs kept me reading.

Oskar is a man in a child’s body, a man capable of manipulating his way through life as civilisation fractures around him. He is not likeable; he is not trustworthy, but he is representative of those who can reconcile existence with unspeakable horror.

I found this is a difficult and challenging novel to read, which may well explain why it has sat (unread) on my bookshelf for years. But now I have read it, I find it difficult to dismiss.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

Book 1 of 20 Books of Summer Winter