Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Weimar Germany: Promise and Tragedy, by Eric D. Weitz


448 pages, Princeton University Press, ISBN-13: 978-0691016955

Whenever one thinks of “Weimar Germany” (and really now, who doesn’t?!) they usually dismiss it as merely the precursor to the Nazi era. This is a shame because Weimar Germany is itself an extremely interesting period well meriting extensive study on its own, and that is just what Eric D. Weitz, professor of history at the University of Minnesota, does in Weimar Germany: Promise and Tragedy. Most books on Weimar tend to focus on the political developments that led to Hitler’s rise, and while that is naturally covered in this book (the initial chapters focus upon the aborted German revolution and the political worlds), it is clearly secondary to other concerns of the author, as Weitz sees Weimar Germany as fundamentally being about trying to cope with modernism and all of the technological changes that swept life in the 1920’s and 1930’s. So instead of politics and the ever-present Nazi/Commie clashes in the street, there is sustained discussion of the mass printed media, radio, theater and film, architecture, photography, music and expressionist art, as well as political developments and the impact of economic crises on German life. Culture and the mass society is a constant focus here, including some interesting capsule discussions of individuals such as Thomas Mann, Bertold Brecht, Kurt Weill, Martin Heidegger and an absolutely fascinating figure of whom I had not previously been aware, the artist Hannah Hoch.

But all is not well with Weimar Germany, for while there is excellent coverage of culture, there is much that is still missing. The significance of the somewhat popular view of Weimar as a “Jew-Republic” is not well captured, and important politicians of the era – Friedrich Ebert, Gustav Stresemann and Karl Liebknecht, to name but a few – get only passing coverage (while I get that Weitz’s focus is not on the political realm, politics is still downstream from culture, to quote a phrase, and cannot be entirely dismissed out of hand; although Hindenburg rates a nice picture in uniform and jackboots). German science is curiously absent, with Einstein being mentioned only as a friend and guest of architect Erich Mendelsohn, and there is no mention of the significant contributions of Heisenberg or other German scientists, although many were already looking for other venues. In spite of many references to the German inflation of 1919 to 1923 and war reparations, coverage of economics is sparse; Hjalmar Schacht is never mentioned, while the Dawes, Locarno and Young plans are all mentioned with but few specifics.

But still, but still, but still…this long-overdue study of the Weimar era from different angles was sorely needed. For all its myriad problems, Weimar society was still free, democratic and vibrant, but with an underbelly of hate that knew no political bounds. Nobody liked it, from conservatives to communists, and nobody wanted to support it: the government was loathed by most even though it offered considerable freedom. For all that the Weimar Republic may still have lasted if not for the many political assassinations, hyperinflation in the 1920’s and, finally, the Great Depression in 1929, which proved to be its undoing. As Weitz points out, a democracy (and make no mistake, the Weimar Republic was a real democracy) can be usurped from inner forces and replaced by another more insidious force. The Weimar politicians were for the most part mediocre, addicted to maintaining a status quo and had uninspiring leadership – the Nazis were anything but.

Friday, February 22, 2019

“Uncrowned King: The Life of Prince Albert”, by Stanley Weintraub


496 pages, Free Press, ISBN-13: 978-0684834863

Seine Durchlaucht Prinz Franz Albert August Karl Emanuel von Sachsen-Coburg-Saalfeld, Herzog zu Sachsen…but known better to you and me as Albert, Prince Consort, was husband to Queen Victoria and the father of her nine children – the studhorse par excellence of the Victorian Era. Oh, don’t give me that look: the guy was very good at getting his tiny and overwrought monarchical bride knocked-up and did so on a semi-regular basis, so what else am I going to call him? Now pipe down, prude, and read on: Uncrowned King: The Life of Prince Albert by Stanley Weintraub is a biography of this still-little known man. I bought this book mainly because it was written by Weintraub, whose biography of Disraeli (reviewed par moi on April 18th, 2013; FYI) I enjoyed, for all its flaws (and I got it for cheap on the prodigious Barnes & Noble remnants pile). In Weintraub’s telling, Albert was a responsible, educated, thinking man, thrust into a situation both wonderful and intolerable (his marriage and lack of acceptance in England, respectively). Weintraub shows him as having enjoyed the one side and, through hard work and dedication, partially overcome the other (one is left to wonder, as Weintraub does, what would the monarchy be today had Albert lived as long as Victoria). On the basis of this book, it is not fair to say that Albert laid the foundation for the Pax Britannica; he did, however, through his fecundity, insight into both politics and industry, and though a great deal of hard work, aid the shaping of Europe through the First World War. Not a bad chap, over all, just an alright dude who died too soon – which is something that can be said of a great many other Victorians.


Tuesday, February 19, 2019

“Titan: God Machine”, written by Dan Abnett, illustrated by Anthony Williams and Andy Lanning


256 pages, Games Workshop, ISBN-13: 978-1844161232

Titan: God Machine is a graphic novel, reproduced here in black and white for the first half of the book greyscale for the second half. The subject is the adventures of the Warlord Titan Imperius Dictatio and its crew. Titans are the ultimate in 41st Millennium war machines, standing over 100’ tall and armed with volcano cannons, turbo lasers and gatling blasters (BFG’s, every God-Emperor lovin’ one of ‘em). They have but one purpose: to kill anything that potentially threatens the Imperium of Man. Imperius Dictatio is commanded by Princeps Ervin Hekate, who collects his field promotion when Dictatio’s original Princeps dies on the job. Hekate soon finds himself mentally bound to the great machine, and like the rest of his command crew, is equipped with grafted-on ports which provide a direct physical connection to the Titan. When this connection is active, Princeps Hekate controls the power of a mechanical god of war; when the link is broken, even for maintenance, he begins to suffer withdrawal symptoms akin to those of a drug addict. Hekate lives to fight and fights to live.

Dan Abnett has shown himself to be one of the better writers of action oriented SF, be it in comic book or novel form, but Titan: God Machine allows him so little room for development that he struggles to inject anything that might be described as a more than one-dimensional. What we’re presented with is centered around destruction: giant war machines that look like Transformers on steroids, traversing worlds and blowing the hell out of anything they encounter. The impact of the artwork suffers from being reduced in size, more so in the first half, as the transition to greyscale helps with the definition of scenes. An extended belch of almost non-stop action includes a campaign on Vivaporius, a world where a swarm of Alien-like creatures called the Tyranids dominate; here, the story briefly flickers into life when the Tyranid capture and possess another Warlord Titan. Unfortunately, just as this sequence is showing promise, it is abruptly cut short with another example of obergewalt. What I found particularly irritating is that every so often there’s a ghost-like glimpse of a real story, trying to get out, but all threads which in a better title and with more imaginative editing might’ve been developed into interesting sub-plots, inevitably fall under the glorification of wanton destruction. All that remains is a rather soulless emotionally truncated tale that will appeal only to those who think that war is fun and might is right. Anyone else, I suspect, who has previously enjoyed the complexity and quality of Abnett’s work, will recognize this as being the author on auto-pilot.