It’s a fascinating topic – historically, culturally, socially, economically – and so I was immediately eager to seek out Levy’s work. (It is probably worth mentioning, too, the wonderful TV show Deutschland 83, alongside its brilliant second series, Deutschland 86). I wrote a blog post last year on my favourite related reads, and even dedicated my second-year Long Essay project (essentially half of a dissertation) to the topic of East German subversive music culture. I’ve been a tiny bit obsessed with the history of the GDR for a few years now. Marx, Engels and Me! In Berlin, January 2019 The premise seemed completely wonderful – especially since Saul quickly ends up travelling to Cold War East Germany himself.
Levy’s protagonist, Saul Adler, is a young, beautiful 28-year-old historian studying communist Eastern Europe and, in particular, the GDR (the East German Republic). It was simply the novel’s plot which drew me in.
That said – there was one longlisted work which caught my eye immediately: Deborah Levy’s The Man Who Saw Everything. I’d never read any Levy before (the shame!), and in fact had read very little about her or her work. That’s not to say these authors aren’t immensely deserving – I’m personally super excited about Elif Shafak and Kevin Barry’s longlisted works, and it would be hopeless to pretend that I’m not ecstatic about Atwood’s The Testaments – but this year’s list certainly lacks any big shock or surprise. The inclusion of Margaret Atwood, Salman Rushdie, Jeanette Winterson, and a whole host of other well-established authors makes it pretty difficult to get excited about. This year in particular, the Man Booker Prize longlist feels almost pointlessly predictable. While I understand the value of competitions in terms of marketing and elevation, I also believe, very strongly, that reading is a thoroughly subjective pleasure – and how on earth can you justify ranking subjective works of art? Who decides what is most notable? Isn’t it more about what brings you, the reader, personal joy and inspiration? It all just feels a tad commercialising, and the Booker is no exception. I’ve always had something of a weird gripe with literary prize culture. I don’t normally pay much attention to the Man Booker Prize lists.
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