Here at last is a novel informed by exceptional intelligence. The blurb states that the author, Simon Mawer, was born in England, but it seems likely that his ancestry was Czech, since he is acquainted with the language and the customs of pre-war Czechoslovakia and has learned of its travails during the German and Russian occupations. And it is clear from his narrative that the country was both sophisticated and cultivated in its manifestations, influenced perhaps by its position at the heart of Europe and subject to both the best and the worst of its fashions. This alone would mark it as unusual: the clarity with which it is written is almost unfamiliar and certainly to be admired.
The Glass Room of the title is part of a futuristic house designed by a German architect, Rainer von Abt (this is not quite a fiction, since a prototype certainly exists). This house has been commissioned by Viktor and Liesel Landauer, and its most remarkable feature is the lower ground floor which consists almost entirely of broad windows looking out over the garden. Living quarters are on an upper floor. The furniture of the Glass Room consists of chrome pillars, an onyx screen, a piano and little else. Chairs can be moved in for gatherings and music recitals, of which there are many.
The household consists of Viktor and Liesel and their children. In time they are joined by Katalin, Viktor’s mistress, and her daughter Marika. This addition is necessitated by the German invasion and the beginnings of an era of displacement from which there is no real recovery. The Landauers are wealthy, while Katalin, who acts as nanny to the children, is entirely dependent.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in