The Curious Brilliance of Fictional Historic Political Fantastic Realism: A review of Daniel Kehlmann’s Tyll by Jasper Evans
“Above us Tyll Ulenspiegel turned slowly and carelessly – not like someone in danger but like someone looking around with curiosity. He stood with his right foot lengthwise on the rope, his left crosswise, his knees slightly bent and his fists on his hips. And all of us, looking up, suddenly understood what lightness was. We really understood what life could be like for someone who really did whatever he wanted, who believe in nothing and obeyed no one; we understood what it would be like to be such a person, and we understood that we would never be such people.”
Tyll, by Daniel Kehlmann (translated by Ross Benjamin) is more than a work retelling the myth of a German folk hero. It is more than a work of Historical Fiction. It is a reflection on the Thirty Years’ War, which erupted in Europe following the ascension of Frederick V of the Palatinate to the Bohemian throne in Prague in 1619. He was deposed and fled for his life in 1620 after only a short winter and spring as King, earning him the derisive epithet in history ‘The Winter King.’ Frederick and his wife Elizabeth (named after her great aunt, Queen Elizabeth I of England) are characters in the novel, as are a host of other figures from the Thirty Years’ War. Through their lives and accounts, and the chaotic presence of Tyll, the archetypal fool and mythical travelling performer, elevated by Khelmann to a fascinating and richly realised identity, the book made me think about European national and regional identity. The images of class, life in rural communities, politics, monarchy, nation building, and the horror of warfare, are so cutting that I was actually shocked by something in every chapter. I’ve been reading and watching as much challenging material as I could get my hands on since I was 7 years old. I read far out of my age range, with little supervision. I was probably exposed to some unhealthy stuff too early, and as a result I have a sometimes-jaded perception. It is very hard to surprise, let alone shock me. But Tyll did it. The most wonderful thing is that the book didn’t shock with gratuitous violence or sexuality, or sudden changes in tone or pace that would have been jarring. It sucker punched me with such subtlety and natural rhythm of storytelling structure that I never saw the blows coming. I could never predict how I was going to be moved by this book until it had already happened. It was the most pleasant beating I have ever been given by a writer; thank you Daniel Kehlmann.
This isn’t the kind of book I can talk about too much in terms of plot. It’s worth the unspoilt read. I can say that the language is fantastic. I’m traditionally a fantasy fiction glutton and the tone of this book landed right in my comfort zone, which funnily enough allowed it to deliver a story that was intensely historically researched and culturally relevant to contemporary Europe. That’s not typically my area of interest at all but I ended up loving it, which just goes to show there are no boring subjects, just boring writers. Hands up if you’re guilty.
The English translation of Tyll is sneaky and brilliant writing by Kehlmann and Benjamin. I enjoyed every page so much. The quality of every translation on the prize shortlist was, of course, fantastic but they really pulled off something special here. Perhaps I’m only so excited about this because it particularly used my favourite tone of writing, but I challenge anyone to read a chapter of this book and not get utterly enthralled in the lives of these characters. The viewpoints are visceral, balancing action and inner monologue pristinely for each character. The voices are clear, threatening, individual and humorous. Finally, the structure of the story jumps back and forth across time and perspective as people intersect with the life of the legendary jester. I began to care so much about the boy who grew up to become the legend. The book has that range of scope. Sweeping national changes, told through intimate personal stories.
The character is entirely fictional and can be traced back to folklore and literature present at least a hundred years prior to the Thirty Years’ War. Knowing that, I guess it isn’t exactly a real person or character named Tyll that I care about so much now, it’s what the character represents to me. As the quote at the start describes, it’s the person who seems lighter than air, truly free; the figure who is able to look at the world penetratingly from a space outside and above, almost supernaturally. Understanding what someone has to do to achieve that, and what they must sacrifice along the way, makes for a painful and utterly great story. Kehlmann has written something that is fictional but feels so truthful. Their styles are different but, in that sense, it reads almost like something from Jonathan Franzen. I really think this a brilliant book and one of the most entertaining reads I have experienced on this shortlist. I can’t recommend it highly enough.
by Jasper Evans