The Tobacconist

Suspension of disbelief. A concept that most novelists use, if done successfully, to engage the reader and suspend them in a timeless void where nothing exists except them, the premise and the end. Some authors have the innate ability to conjure up conundrums, and in the case of The Tobacconist, an enigma is derived from the simplicity of the conceptual world Seethaler creates. Not only are we captivated by the diminutive nature of Franzs' life, but the novel itself is an interlude in time. A fleeting exposition of a young boys life, transformed by the dynamic world he lives in.
The Tobcacconist follows the life of Franz, a young Austrian country boy untouched by the jarring lifestyle of the Viennese city. With the resinous smell of the forest in his hair, clumps of cowshit on his boots, our protagonist leaves behind any semblance of familiarity and ventures into the heart of smokey Vienna to apprentice for Otto Trsnyek, a tobacconist. Trsnyek, a one-legged WWI veteran is a political firebrand. Instead of  quietly selling cigars and newspapers, he makes his opinions fairly blatant to those around him. However, the quickening annexation of Austria by Hitler sees to it that the Nazi movement plants its roots deep into societal foundation, and its not long before Trsnyek is branded as a "Jew lover" and persecuted accordingly.
Something that took me by complete surprise, and eventual appreciation was the inclusion of Sigmund Freud, a regular Jewish customer at the tobacconists. The shrewd, dying neurologist forms an unlikely connection with the insistent Franz. Franz convinces Freud to regularly sit on a park bench with him and is entirely intent on finding the method for happiness in return for hand rolled cheroots. Soon a confidant and mentor, Freud offers wisdom to the ways of love after Franz becomes smitten with a young Bohemian woman who has disappeared.

“So I’m asking you: have I gone mad?

 Or has the whole world gone mad?” 

The professor replies, “yes, the world has gone mad. 

And … have no illusions, it’s going to get a lot madder than this. 

The encapsulation of poignant moments is a testament to Seethalers uncanny ability to intertwine the most contrastive components in a harmonious portrait. The bombs tear the parks apart, the Nazis have occupied the Ringstrasse, yet a young country boy continues to stick his nonsensical dreams in the window shop of a tobacconist. 

A coming of age novel? An ode to the generation that has seen if not all, then most? Unrequited love, a love story of the innocence of first love and the willingness to lose yourself wholly for someone. To be all, or do all, that surely it'll make them love you in return. A story of the abhorrent ugliness of human nature. The terrorizing, terrifying acts of malice and hatred and fear. A story of those who stood and watched, and those who were forced to leave in order to live. A story of companionship and honour and cherishment, The Tobacconist is a must read. 

Read on losers.

“In mind’s eye the future appeared

 like the line of a far distant shore

 materializing out of the morning fog: 

still a little blurred and unclear, but promising and beautiful, too.”