‘VORBESTRAFT’: DIFFERING PERSPECTIVES ONREINTEGRATION AND RECIDIVISM IN NARRATIVES BY

STORM AND FALLADA

BARBARA BURNS

Department of Modern Languages, University of Strathclyde, Livingstone Tower, 26 Richmond Street, Glasgow, G1 1XH, UK

E-mail: b.burns@strath.ac.uk

Abst rac t

The article is a comparative examination of two works of German literature on the motifof the ex-convict: Theodor Storm’s novella Ein Doppelgänger (1886) and, some fifty yearslater, Hans Fallada’s novel Wer einmal aus dem Blechnapf frißt (1934). The writers’interest in the controversial subject of reintegration and recidivism springs from diamet-rically opposed starting points, for Storm was a lawyer and judge, while Fallada was anex-felon, but they share a humanitarian commitment to the plight of the disenfranchised.This study analyses the factors in each work which motivate the protagonist’s return tocrime, and considers how the respective portrayals reflect contemporary attitudes to lawand social order. It is argued that both authors through their creative writing challengefalse assumptions about crime and punishment, and anticipate the gradual modern imple-mentation of progressive ideas in the care and resettlement of offenders.

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Man hat zwar in den letzten Jahren Vereine gegründet, die den Zweck haben sollen,entlassene Sträflinge vor Not zu schützen und ihnen zur Arbeit zu verhelfen; aber leiderist die Beteiligung an diesem guten Werk eine sehr schwache, weil sich ein großer Teilder besser situierten Bevölkerung sagt, es ist weggeworfenes Geld.1

This comment, made by a Hamburg worker in 1896, illustrates publicattitudes to the ex-convict at the dawn of the modern development ofresettlement programmes for offenders. For anyone carrying the stigmaof a prison record, the chances of meaningful employment and a con-comitant sense of self-respect were severely reduced, and the threat ofrecidivism cast a shadow over daily existence. “Ein großer Teil aberkönnte gerettet werden,” the speaker cited above continues, “wenn nurder Versuch unternommen würde, jedoch geben sie ihre guten Vorsätzeauf, wenn sie der Hunger plagt und ihre Bemühungen um Arbeiterfolglos bleiben.” This problem began to exercise the minds ofsociologists and penal reformers towards the last quarter of the nineteenthcentury, but only infrequently did it find expression as a theme in Germanliterature. While writers such as Wilhelm Raabe, Theodor Fontane, MaxKretzer, Hermann Sudermann and Gerhart Hauptmann examined issuesof crime and justice in their work, their interest was in portraying the

Neophilologus

86: 437–453, 2002. 2002 Kluwer Academic Publishers. Printed in the Netherlands.

causation of the crime or the discovery of the perpetrator’s identity, ratherthan in the question of what became of the criminal after he had paidhis debt to society. It comes as no surprise that few authors took astheir starting point the release of a prisoner and depicted his progressas he tries to rehabilitate himself in the community, given that they hadto ensure their work was suitable for moderate, middle-class magazinessuch as Die Gartenlaube, Westermanns Monatshefte or the DeutscheRundschau, and could not risk the inclusion of subject matter that wasovertly critical of society and its institutions.

The challenge to strike the balance, however, between catering topublic taste in a literary composition, and at the same time taking aprincipled stance on behalf of the disadvantaged, was met by TheodorStorm (1817–1888) in his novella Ein Doppelgänger of 1886. Some fiftyyears later, Hans Fallada (Rudolf Ditzen, 1893–1947) addressed a similartheme in the novel Wer einmal aus dem Blechnapf frißt of 1934. Despitethe contrast in the two works’ literary style and tradition, and the starklydiverging experience of their authors, the resonances between them areremarkable. Both writers share a concern for the “little people” in society,for those exposed to the adversities of a pitiless and prejudiced world.After the original serialisation, Storm’s Ein Doppelgänger was printedalongside his novella Bötjer Basch in a volume entitled Bei kleinenLeuten, a wording that is notably similar to the title of Fallada’s mostfamous novel Kleiner Mann – was nun? of 1932. It is their mutualcommitment in general to humanitarian values and specifically to theplight of the disenfranchised ex-convict that furnishes the context ofthis examination which will compare and contrast the portrayal ofreintegration and recidivism in two works composed in Wilhelmine andNazi Germany respectively.

Storm’s professional background as a lawyer and judge providedinsight into this topic, for he had witnessed many cases of individualswho had been driven recurrently into conflict with the state as a resultof confounding circumstances. He nonetheless recognised the elementof risk in producing such a work, especially as it also represented anunusual departure for him into depicting the world of the working class.Shortly before its completion he described the novella in a letter toErich Schmidt as a “Wagstück”, and revealed something of hisreservations about it: “ich bin über die Berechtigung des Ganzen etwasin Zweifel gerathen. Die Hauptperson ist ein Arbeiter, ein jungerZüchtling”.2 The tale contains a clear indictment of a mistrustful andunforgiving society in which the protagonist, despite his best efforts towork hard and rebuild an honest reputation after release from prison,is eventually hounded to death. In order to remain true to his own con-ception of the poetic that rejected the exclusion of hope,3 Storm setsthe story within a positive framework which presents the rescue of the

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ex-convict’s daughter after her father’s death into a loving, secureenvironment where the hurts of the past can be healed. To an extentthis offsets the force of the inset tale and renders the piece morepalatable to his contemporary readership, but it does not detract fromthe effectiveness of a work that was quite radical for its time.

A number of Storm’s personal friends and regular correspondents keptsilence over this novella, perhaps disconcerted by its uncharacteristictheme, but other commentators were quick to recognise the author’s socialawareness and artistic incisiveness. The piece was commended by theSocial Democrat writer and critic Johannes Wedde who described it as“einen schneidigen Protest gegen Zustände, die so edle Volkskraft so jam-mervoll zu Grunde gehen lassen”.4 Wedde’s polemical use of the word“edel” in reference to a criminal is reminiscent of a comparable, albeitmore mildly expressed, comment made by Storm many years previ-ously about a young man, a repeat offender, who had appeared beforehim in court:

Der Mann interessierte mich. Es war etwas in seiner kraftvollen Erscheinung, daß ichimmer daran denken mußte, den haben die Verhältnisse auf diesen Platz gebracht. EtwasSonnenschein zur rechten Zeit hätte vielleicht eine sehr edle Menschenpflanze zurErscheinung gebracht.5

This ability to identify the potential for good in others and the desireto communicate the need for a more humane society are what moti-vated Storm to address the subject of crime and punishment in literaryform over two decades later. While Storm’s purpose is clearly not tocondemn the system of justice and correction which he had faithfullyserved throughout his career, he demonstrates a liberal attitude whichrecognises that criminal behaviour is the product of complex influences,and that not all offenders are thoroughly bad or incorrigible. Commentingon the novella in 1958, the East-German critic Fritz Böttger wrote:

das Problem, das der Dichter anschneidet, stammt mehr aus dem Erlebniskreis des Juristenals dem des Soziologen, es ist dasselbe, das fünfzig Jahre später Hans Fallada aus-führlich in dem Roman “Wer einmal aus dem Blechnapf frißt” behandeln wird: Warumwird ein tüchtiger, in jeder Weise normaler Mensch, der für einen Jugendstreich eine harteZuchthausstrafe abbüßen mußte, zu einem von der bürgerlichen Gesellschaft Verworfenen,zu einem ewigen Verbrecher, der seine verspielte “bürgerliche” Ehre nicht wiederfindenkann?6

This mention of Fallada’s novel of 1934 is not further developed byBöttger, nor has the opportunity subsequently been taken by scholarsto consider his comparison in greater depth.

Fallada, unlike Storm, did not follow in his father’s footsteps inbecoming a lawyer; indeed his interest in the theme of recidivism springsfrom a starting point diametrically opposed to that of Storm, for he

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himself was an ex-felon. As a disturbed adolescent, he killed a class-mate in a duel at the age of eighteen, and although the charge of murderwas dropped because of his psychiatric state, the affair resulted in astay of some two and a half years in a sanatorium. Fallada’s struggleto recover his mental health and respectability lasted a long time, andin the following decade he was no stranger to treatment institutions.Eventually the cost of a drug habit caused him to swindle his employer,and in 1923 he was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment forembezzlement. After his release, his addiction to alcohol, nicotine,morphine and cocaine escalated again, he returned to the same criminalactivities, and this time for a string of offences the court pronounced asentence of two and a half years in prison.

Fallada’s response to the problems he witnessed within the penalsystem did not immediately take a literary form, but rather was firstexpressed in a more direct and urgent manner. An essay entitled “Stimmeaus den Gefängnissen”, on the need for prison reform, was publishedin the liberal magazine Das Tage-Buch in 1925. This is a forthrightpiece in which he describes the system as being “längst ein toter Körper,versteinertes Gerippe”7 and criticises the dehumanising treatment of pris-oners awaiting trial, the lack of emphasis on education and rehabilitation,and the cryptic bureaucracy of the remission system. Two further articleswhich he sent to various newspapers near the end of his second prisonterm were rejected, but he continued to speak out strongly against prac-tices he considered unjust or unbeneficial. In a paper intended for useas an address to the conference of the “Reichsverband für Gerichtshilfe,Gefangenen- und Entlassenenfürsorge” in 1928, he expressed his viewson the resettlement of offenders and made a strong appeal for the intro-duction of strategies to assist men in readjusting to freedom:

Entlaßt Gefangene, die längere Freiheitsstrafen verbüßt haben, nicht übergangslos ausden Anstalten hinaus! Der Mann, der eben noch keinen Schritt ohne Erlaubnis tundurfte, der durch Jahre und Jahre jede selbständige Regung unterdrücken mußte, ist demAnsturm von Gefühlen, Sorgen, Eindrücken draußen nicht gewachsen. Schafft alsoÜbergangsstationen [. . .], in denen der Gefangene ohne Rücksicht auf seineStufengehörigkeit langsam lernt, sich frei zu fühlen, sich in der Freiheit zu bewegen,mit Geld umzugehen.8

These same concerns underpin Fallada’s subsequent literary treatmentof the subject. He writes Wer einmal aus dem Blechnapf frißt (1934) fromthe perspective of the offender, and by opening the work with aportrayal of the reality of everyday prison life for Willi Kufalt beforehis release, amplifies the sense of apprehension that fills him on reen-tering the uncertain world outside. One of Fallada’s avowed aims inwriting the book was to improve the situation of such individuals, ninetypercent of whom, he claimed, revert to crime.9 As the reader follows

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the progress of the fallible and ill-equipped protagonist, the precariousnature of supposed improvements in his situation is accentuated, andin time the inevitability of his slide back into crime becomes apparent.

Although both Storm and Fallada are careful in their work to avoidreferring to specific details of criminal law and penal practice in theperiod in which their stories are set, their portrayals reflect prevalent atti-tudes to crime, law and social order. In Ein Doppelgänger, John Hansenis convicted of burglary with assault, but the textual evidence scarcelysubstantiates Ingrid Schuster’s assertion that social factors are to blameat this early stage.10 Frank Braun’s judgement, that “character, not socialenvironment, furnishes the basic motivation”,11 is more appropriate, forthe reckless deed is committed out of boredom and a pent-up desirefor adventure. John’s insistence that “Spaß sollte dabei sein” (533),12

together with his guileless act of giving away the stolen watch as aconfirmation present, clearly demonstrate that he is neither greedy norevil at heart, and indeed the giving of the gift reveals his desire toconform to accepted community values. Despite the sympathy expressedby the town’s senior figures, however, who recognise that the offencewas perpetrated “weniger um den Gewinn als um den Sport dabei” (535),John Hansen comes up against the full force of the law. This was notrivial matter in Germany at the time, for in response to the rising crimerate in the first half of the nineteenth century, penalties for theft weretoughened, and attempts to liberalise the criminal code and penal insti-tutions were frustrated by the Prussian nobility.13 Thus the authoritiesaccentuated the importance of deterrence rather than rehabilitation, andstated the aim of imprisonment to be:

through the removal of some of the pleasures of life, through strenuous, even physicallyexhausting work, and through accustoming him to discipline and submission, to producesuch an effect on the sentiments of the criminal that when his period of imprisonmentcomes to an end, he will prefer a lawful and useful life in civil society to the state of incar-ceration and forced labour, and will recognise in penal institutions something harsherthan a place of refuge for the poverty-striken.14

Clearly John Hansen in Ein Doppelgänger is a chastened figure atthe end of his six-year prison sentence; he is unwavering in hisdetermination to find honest work and avoid reoffending, but it is alsoobvious from the “Grimm und Trotz” in his dark eyes that he broodsangrily over his enforced humiliation, and that reintegration into the com-munity will not come easily to him. Moreover his private struggles arecompounded by the unwillingness of employers to engage him, and bythe ostracism of his fellow men. They dub him John “Glückstadt” afterthe name of the place where he was imprisoned, and resort in theirignorance to clichés such as “Der Mensch sieht gefährlich aus, [. . .]ich möchte in der Nacht ihm nicht allein begegnen!” (535). The expressed

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intention of the state that he should “prefer a lawful and useful life incivil society” may have been duly realised, but Storm poignantly under-scores both the inadequacy and the irrelevance of such an achievementin respect of the ex-convict when the rest of society not only fails tohelp him, but actively refuses to let him conduct this “useful life”: “Immerfeindlicher stand ihm die Welt entgegen; wo er ihrer bedurfte, wo ersie ansprach, immer hörte er den Vorwurf seiner jungen Schande alsdie Antwort” (545). The fact that it is a Gendarm who exacerbates John’sproblems represents a bitter twist in the story: having seen John, albeitquite innocently, in the company of his former accomplice, he exploitshis official role to incite renewed suspicion and antagonism in the area.Although the implicit criticism of the abuse of police power is restrictedhere to one person, Storm’s depiction is fully consistent with reality atthe time in which the tale is set.15 The extent of police jurisdiction inthe first half of the nineteenth century is well documented, and partic-ularly noteworthy in the present context was their obligation to placeunder observation individuals “die wegen ihres bisherigen Lebenswandelsoder durch den Mangel eines rechtlichen Broterwerbs der öffentlichenoder privaten Sicherheit gefährlich sind”.16 But while John Hansen mightbe seen as representative of many law-abiding people who were stig-matised by such practices and wrongly regarded as a threat to society,Storm avoids censure of specific institutions. Ingrid Schuster brieflyaddresses the issue of the author’s sociopolitical standpoint when shewrites:

er prangert nicht das ökonomische System, sondern die Grausamkeit undSelbstgerechtigkeit der Gesellschaft an. Zwar geht er nicht so weit, eine “Resozialisierung”ehemaliger Häftlinge im modernen Sinn zu fordern, doch ist seine Kritik deutlich genug.17

Through the artistic medium of his novella, Storm undeniably commu-nicates at least a sense of the need for improvement in the care ofex-convicts, even if he does not also convey, like Fallada, a waningconfidence in established residential methods of treating offenders.

The reader who turns from Storm’s Ein Doppelgänger to Fallada’s Wereinmal aus dem Blechnapf frißt anticipating some evidence of a betterprospect for men leaving prison nearly half a century later in the early1930s,18 is disappointed and even disturbed. Despite the ReichsrechtlicheGrundsätze über den Vollzug von Freiheitsstrafen, an agreement betweenthe various German states on 7 June 1923 which “placed the problemof rehabilitation in the center of the penal system, at least in theory”,19

in practice little seemed to have changed. After serving five years forembezzlement and forgery, Willi Kufalt is portrayed on the morning ofhis discharge as a highly fearful and vulnerable individual. At this crucialpoint, when the purpose of his incarceration has supposedly beenfulfilled and he is in theory a reformed character, ready to make a fresh

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start in life, the hollowness of such high moral objectives is cynicallyhighlighted as the author incorporates a section of the penal code intothe text of the novel. Kufalt picks up the institutional booklet in hiscell and reads:

Bei dem Vollzuge der Strafen sind mit der Zufügung des Strafübels und mit derAufrechterhaltung von Zucht und Ordnung geistige und sittliche Hebung, Erhaltung derGesundheit und Arbeitskraft anzustreben. Auf Erziehung zu einem geordneten,gesetzmäßigen Leben nach der Entlassung ist besonders hinzuwirken. Das Ehrgefühl istzu schonen und zu stärken. (96–97)20

The vast gulf between theory and practice is ironically implied by theother, brutally realistic words that occupy Kufalt’s mind on this day: “Wereinmal aus dem Blechnapf frißt, frißt immer wieder daraus!” (96). Byjuxtaposing an excerpt from an official policy document and the fullversion of the pessimistic saying that forms the title of the work, Falladasets the focus for his tale and prefigures the inevitable conflict betweenreintegration and recidivism that will ensue.

While an ex-convict’s behaviour after release can reveal as much abouttheir own personality as about the kind of penal system they have beensubjected to, Fallada’s novel is permeated with the sense that it is theartificial, highly regulated nature of prison existence that crushes men’sspirits and renders them in time incapable of independent, responsiblethoughts and actions. It is interesting that similar views were concur-rently being expressed within the discipline of criminology. In 1932,for example, Werner Gentz, Professor of Criminal Law at the Universityof Berlin, published an article entitled “The Problem of Punishment inGermany”, in which he described the misconceptions surrounding theeffectiveness of the current system and issued a plea for better provi-sion for the rehabilitation of prisoners.21 The defects of the punishmentsystem identified by Gentz are the same ones which impinge severelyon Fallada’s protagonist Willi Kufalt; indeed the writer signifies wrylythat offenders themselves have long battled with the reality of theseproblems that the outside world does not comprehend:

Sie waren so komisch, diese Menschen draußen, irgendwie kapierten sie etwas nicht,von dem jeder Bestrafte wußte. Lebensuntüchtig, verkorkst, ein Schädling, Feind derGesellschaft – nun ja. Nun ja. Hier saß er, Willi Kufalt, um die Dreißig, aber entschlossenwie ein Vierzehnjähriger in der Pubertät, vor jedem Problem Reißaus zu nehmen. Warer so gewesen? Nein, so war er geworden, so war er gemacht worden! So hatten sie ihnfertiggemacht! (234)

Such an indictment of the penal system is seldom so blatantly expressedin the novel, but throughout it runs an ominous sense that every freshventure embarked upon by Kufalt will eventually founder because hisprison experience has robbed him of the self-reliance he needs to succeed.

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Despite periodic encouragements, he is aware of his limitations and hasbecome conditioned to the defeatist attitude encapsulated in the slogan:“Ich war ein Strafgefangener, ich bin ein Strafgefangener, ich werdeein Strafgefangener sein. Alle.” (274).

A place in a home for released offenders is offered to Kufalt with greatcondescension by the prison chaplain and painted as a privilege ofwhich he is not worthy. Although it is run by a religious charity, however,the institution with its unreasonable house rules, strict curfew, austereworking conditions and paltry wages for strenuous typing work provesto be “singularly lacking in Christian charity”.22 The fact that this sectionof the story is so powerfully written can perhaps be attributed to Fallada’spersonal commitment to this particular issue. In his address on the reset-tlement of prisoners already referred to above, he pleaded:

Schafft für die Entlassenen, denen von der Anstalt keine Arbeit zu vermitteln war,Übergangsheime, in denen ehemalige Gefangene Kost, Wohnung und eine Arbeit finden,die sie freut. Zieht diese Heime nicht anstaltsmäßig auf, vermeidet alles, was ihn an dieAnstalt erinnert.23

The reality of Kufalt’s living conditions is far removed from this ideal,but his foolhardy attempt to free himself by joining his friends in settingup a rival business depends on a tissue of lies to conceal their identi-ties as ex-felons, and so their ill-judged enterprise is doomed ultimatelyto fail. Despite this, the tale engages the reader’s sympathies in such away that each defeat suffered by the hapless protagonist, whetherdeserved or not, is perceived as an injustice. Such is Fallada’sinversion of the conventional concepts of right and wrong in the earlypart of this novel that the misdemeanours of Kufalt and his friends intheir attempt to establish themselves independently are presented asexamples of resourcefulness, while the efforts of the state or a chari-table institution to assert their control appear vengeful and inhumane.24

It is notable that Storm and Fallada share a predilection for strongfemale characters who function as a key sustaining force in the livesof the struggling male protagonists. The two writers have in commonan appreciation of the importance of women, both privately and in theirliterary creations. Storm’s famous comment “Liebe ist nichts als die Angstdes sterblichen Menschen vor dem Alleinsein”,25 rather than being astatement of cynicism, is an honest expression of human vulnerabilityand longing. In the absence of faith in a benevolent God, the benefitsof love and family life were to him a strong solace in a hostile andimpersonal world, and his work contains many resilient women char-acters, who by providing intimacy and security for their partners serveas buffers against the harshness of external reality. This is illustratedin Ein Doppelgänger in the figure of Hanna, an attractive but prag-

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matic girl who marries John despite his criminal record and is sufficientlyrobust to cope even with his violent moods. Although their situation isfar from idyllic, Storm portrays how it is crucially the solidarity of adevoted spouse that enables the ex-convict to retain a modicum of dignity.The marital relationship portrayed here is not unlike that of Lämmchenand Pinneberg in Fallada’s 1932 novel Kleiner Mann – was nun?, towhich we will return. Of John Hansen we read: “Trotz Not und Schuldwar die enge Kate noch immer sein Heim und seine Burg; denn vonden beiden Frauen dort rührte keine an seiner Wunde, nur dort nochwar er davor sicher” (550). The repetition of the word “noch” in thissentence, however, accentuates the impression that even this private hap-piness will not last under the implacable pressure of the forces set againstthem. As John is shunned by fellow workers and potential employersalike, and proper reintegration into the community proves impossible, thesympathetic mayor observes his hopeless plight and is fully consciousof the attendant possibility that he may reoffend:

“er könnte sogar wohl toll darüber werden, vielleicht noch einmal ein Verbrecher; denndas Rätsel heißt: Wie find ich meine verspielte Ehre wieder? – Er wird es niemals lösen.”(541)

If one entertains the suggestion of other commentators that the mayoris a spokesman for Storm himself,26 the pessimism of such a statement,coming from the most liberal and charitable figure in the novella, presentsa gloomy authorial view of society’s ability to recognise contrition andoffer the ex-convict a second chance. The commentator Otto von Fisennesums up the nature of John’s dilemma thus: “Ihn stempelt nicht seine Tat,sondern seine Strafe, die doch die Tat hat sühnen sollen, zumVerbrecher.”27 More recently, and in the same vein, Eckart Pastor has pre-sented John as an antithetical John-the-Baptist figure. He describes himas:

ein Anti-Johannes [. . .], dem eine Bußtaufe zur Vergebung der Sünden verweigert ist,dem, anders als dem biblischen Täufer bei der Taufe Christi, der Himmel verschlossenbleibt, dem kein Erlöser erscheint und dessen Weg nicht ins himmlische Jerusalem führt,sondern der von Glückstadt, seinem Strafort, nicht loskommt.28

Although the comparison between John Hansen and his biblical namesakemay seem somewhat far-fetched, the point that his status as an ex-feloncan never be obliterated is unanswerable.

References in the text to the perpetual reproach of John’s prison recordare manifold. When the time comes for a child to be born, the prospectholds no joy for him, and as his wife lies in labour, we read that “ihnschauderte; er sah sich plötzlich wieder in der Züchtlingsjacke” (543).This picture is ambivalent; it could be interpreted as a flashback to his

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prison sentence, triggered by the constant reminders from the commu-nity around him that he will never expunge the guilt attached to his crime,and implying that the strain of the sheer struggle to survive will denyhim the normal consolations of family life. Alternatively, the image mightbe understood as a premonition of the inevitability of recidivism, whenhaving another mouth to feed would stretch his resources beyond theirlimit and drive him back to some form of theft. However this refer-ence to prison is read, it is clear that the reality of John Hansen’spredicament as an outcast in society increases the likelihood of a dys-functional domestic situation. Within a few moments of contemplatinghis vision of incarceration, John’s apprehension of the callousness ofhis fellow man is borne out in the attitude of the midwife who refusesto hurry, insisting on finishing her coffee before coming to tend to Hanna,and echoing the public vilification of John’s family in her words: “anso was stirbt Euresgleichen nicht!” (544). John’s first thought on the birthof his daughter shows that the menacing reminder of prison is stillforemost in his mind: “ ‘Eine Züchtlingstochter!’ murmelte er; dann fieler vor dem Bette auf die Kniee: ‘Möcht’ Gott sie wieder zu sich nehmen!’”(545). This prayer, in its shocking expression of despair, contrastsstrongly with the positive parental sentiments more typically depictedby Storm.29 The uncharacteristically disconsolate response to parent-hood portrayed in Ein Doppelgänger therefore points up Storm’s attemptto scrutinise the broader implications of the ostracism of the ex-offender,to show that not only the individual, but also the social unit of thefamily is threatened. John’s wife Hanna and his daughter Christine,who have committed no crime, suffer extreme hardship and physicalabuse because the rest of society, to whom John has already paid his debt,mistrust and exclude him, and thus strain his self-control to breakingpoint.

When John eventually kills Hanna in a fit of rage, it is becauseimpending starvation have caused her in a moment of aggravation to referto her husband’s former occupation of spinning wool in prison. Hercynical suggestion that they reactivate this old skill to earn money, rep-resents for John a callous reminder of his “Vorbestraftheit”, and thisbetrayal of his shaky self-esteem is more than he can tolerate. Actingin blind retaliation, he kills the only person who can protect him fromhopelessness and from the temptation to reoffend. Left alone with theirchild, he eventually is compelled to steal some wood in order to heattheir freezing cabin on Christmas day. By this point, however, in hisdesperate attempt to protect his child, he is no longer portrayed as havinga free choice between right and wrong. Wolfgang Tschorn writes: “Sokönnen seine Versuche, sich ‘normal’ zu verhalten, nur scheitern durchdie Notwendigkeit, zu überleben”.30 Thus Storm presents what hedescribed in another novella as “die Familie in der Zerstörung”.31 The

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family as a bastion of congenial and civilised values is undermined tothe point of destruction when it is assailed by threatening outside forcesof prejudice and hatred. Even though an idealised domestic situation isportrayed in the framework narrative as an antidote to John Hansen’sdisturbing fate, the idea that the destitute child of an ex-convict shouldbe transplanted into a bourgeois world of total provision and protec-tion is the stuff that fairy tales are made of and, as Schunicht writes,completely contradicts the grim social reality of the late nineteenthcentury.32

For Fallada, as for Storm, the encouragements of married life wereof fundamental importance. The experience of conjugal warmth andsecurity, eventually attained after a stormy growth to adult responsibility,was central to his psychological balance and well-being. In 1933 hedescribed his wife Suse in a letter to his parents as the most wonderfulwoman in the world, who had given him the strength and courage togo on working.33 His most celebrated literary outworking of this is ofcourse in the figure of Lämmchen in Kleiner Mann – was nun?. As theplucky and devoted wife of the ill-fated protagonist, her characterisa-tion was widely regarded as a main determinant in the novel’s success.34

In the words of a contemporary reviewer of the work in 1932, the entirestory is embued with “der zarte und doch kräftige Hauch eines Liebes-und Eheverhältnisses, in dem die Frau die Lebensmutigere ist und damitdie Trägerin in die Zukunft”.35 It is precisely this kind of supportive bondthat Willi Kufalt, the “beschattete Bruder des kleinen Mannes Pinneberg”,as Fallada calls him in the preface, needs and seeks after his release fromprison. After a faltering and perplexed start in reestablishing relationswith the opposite sex, he ultimately demonstrates himself to be dif-ferent from other offenders whose deprivation from female contact incaptivity has caused the image of women to be degraded in their mindsto objects of sexual gratification. In his willingness to commit himselfto a long-term partnership, Kufalt shows that he has not becomedesocialised to the same extent as some. The down-to-earth young Hilde,whom other men shun as she is the mother of an illegitimate child, isin turn susceptible to Kufalt’s proposal because of her desire to regainrespectability through marriage. The relationship, however, is doomedto fail as it is not based on mutual acceptance of each other’s pastmistakes. Kufalt lacks the inner resources to face up squarely to reality,and is typically fearful of telling her the truth and exposing himself torejection. Almost in a blind hope that things will work out tolerably inthe end, he suppresses any intuitive awareness that his current happi-ness at Christmas is a delusion.

Hilde lächelte, ihre Backen waren rot, sie war sehr glücklich, und alles war sounwahrscheinlich friedlich und geborgen mit dem weißgezuckerten Stollen und dem

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Karpfen in Bier, als gäbe es gar keine Welt voller Gefahren, gäbe es nicht Verbrechen,Not, Kittchen, Vorbestraftheit. (350)

When Hilde discovers the truth about Kufalt, the illusory harmonybetween them is destroyed and their engagement is abruptly terminated.This marks the beginning of the end for the ex-convict, for his attemptto rehabilitate himself by subscribing to the social norms of marriage andfamily life has been bungled, and he finds himself alone again.

The latter part of the novel is marked by a crushing sense of defeatin the mind of the protagonist. Disabused of the naïve idea that he cansurvive on the right side of the law, he perceives the futility of his originalgood intentions, for he is “wie ein Mann ohne Hände”, crippled by hisprison experience:

Fünf Jahre war ihm alles abgenommen, nicht einmal selbständig denken durfte er, erhatte nur zu tun, was ihm befohlen wurde, und nun sollte er alles allein tun . . . nein, eswurde nichts, ohne Hände!

Was hatte Arbeiten, Demütigsein, Entbehren für einen Sinn, wenn man doch scheit-erte?! [. . .]

Vorbestraft bleibt vorbestraft. Die humanste Strafe war: man richtete alle gleich hin.(419–420)

As Kufalt moves into the criminal underworld, his alienation from normalsociety is intensified. The extent of his emotional disturbance becomesapparent through the satisfaction he achieves from mugging youngwomen and knowing that at last others apart from him are having suf-fering and pain inflicted on them. Now starved of human love, hisfeelings of inner warmth and well-being as he returns home after theseattacks are a deviant distortion of the contentment he previously derivedfrom his relationship with Hilde. Thus Fallada uncompromisingly depictsthe depravity of the criminal mind and the apparent irreversibility ofKufalt’s fate when recidivism becomes entrenched.

The ex-convict’s gravitational return to crime is portrayed both as apredictable outcome of his inability to find a proper place in workingsociety,36 and as a manifestation of the subconscious need to seek insti-tutional shelter again. Kufalt’s difficult and uncertain months of freedomare interspersed with wistful memories of the security of life in prison.He recalls it as a “selige Insel” in the “graunebligen Meer seines Lebens”,and as a “herrliche, ruhige Zeit” when he did not have to worry aboutmoney, food, work or a place to stay (274). The closing lines of the novel,describing Kufalt’s feelings as he settles down to sleep on his first nightback in confinement, are deliberately provocative:

Fein, wenn man wieder so zu Hause ist. Keine Sorgen mehr. Fast, wie man früher nachHause kam, mit Vater zur Mutter.

Fast?

448 Barbara Burns

Eigentlich noch besser. Hier hat man ganz seine Ruhe. Hier quatscht keiner auf einenlos. Hier braucht man nichts zu beschließen, hier hat man sich nicht so zusammen-zunehmen.

Schön, so ‘ne Ordnung. Wirklich ganz zu Haus.Und Willi Kufalt schläft sachte, friedlich lächelnd ein. (504)

Thus the protagonist completes the vicious circle in which he isentrapped. His hardened prison associate who had predicted even beforehis release “du hältst es ja doch nicht durch” (47) is proved right, butthe ironic aura of relief with which the ending is suffused scarcelymasks the scathing undertones of the tale.

Fallada does not express any criticism of the effectiveness of cor-rectional institutions here that criminologists were not also beginningto articulate at the same time. The failure to focus on the rehabilitationand reintegration of prisoners was recognised by those seeking reformand who compared the outdated practices in Germany to developmentsin Britain and America.37 Fallada was aware, however, that the contentof his novel was controversial,38 and that any implicit censure of criminaljustice procedures in the Nazi state would be dangerous for an authorwho wanted to continue living and writing there.39 For this reason, despitethe reservations expressed by his publisher Rowohlt, he insisted onwriting a preface to the work which was intended to deflect potential dis-approval by claiming that the monstrous flaws in the penal systemportrayed in the story were now relegated to the past as a result of thegreat transition in German society that had taken place while the bookwas being written. Such a blatant cover-up was immediately discernedby Thomas Mann who read the novel in Switzerland within a monthof its publication and observed in his diary: “Um in Deutschland möglichzu sein, muß ein Buch seine menschenfreundliche Gesinnung in einerEinleitung verleugnen und in den Boden treten.”40 This vexed commentnot only underlines the bitter political reality for many writers at the time,but also the strength of the novel’s social import which was clearlyrecognised by Fallada’s contemporaries.41

Just as critics of Fallada expressed consternation at his use of a literarydisclaimer that apparently invalidated the main thrust of his work, sotoo commentators on Storm were frustrated by an idyllic frameworknarrative that seemed to neutralise the harshness of the inset tale.42 Thejudgement of Eckart Pastor, however, that the novella is an “eben dochgescheitertes Wagstück”43 accords little merit to a courageous work thatpushes out the boundaries of Poetic Realism in its subject matter atleast, and issues a challenge to the proponents of bigotry and discrimi-nation in society. Although Ein Doppelgänger has been favourablycompared to great examples of Naturalist writing,44 the resemblancesare limited to thematic aspects, for it would have been incompatiblewith Storm’s conception of art for him to have yielded entirely in his

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portrayal of the fate of the ex-convict to a gloomy and embittereddeterminism. His tendency was also to avoid the literary representationof issues into which his career as a lawyer gave him particular insight.The words of Fisenne, that Ein Doppelgänger is written “mit dem Herzeneines Dichters, aber mit dem Geiste eines Richters”,45 convey an appro-priate sense of the combination of legal experience and artisticdiscernment that together inform and inspire the novella.

Jürgen Manthey in his biography of Fallada describes Wer einmalaus dem Blechnapf frißt as “ganz gewiß der beste Gefängnisroman imdeutschen Sprachbereich”,46 but this accolade, for all its effusiveness,does not recognise the full scope of a work which affords more thanjust a vivid insight into prison life. The bulk of the novel is a portrayalof the ex-offender’s fruitless attempts at resettlement in the commu-nity, his failure being due not only to the prejudice of others, but alsoto his own loss of confidence and of normal interpersonal skills duringimprisonment. The recurrent image of Kufalt’s having becomehandicapped or “screwed up” (“verkorkst”) as a result of his enforcedremoval from normal society, sits uncomfortably with the establish-mentarian expectation that he should be a reformed character, betterequipped to lead an honest lifestyle. Fallada was ideally placed to chal-lenge such false assumptions through the vehicle of creative literature,for he was intimately acquainted with both sides of the argument: as aconvicted criminal he had personally witnessed the shortcomings of theprison system on the inside, while on the outside he had struggled withthe attitude of his own father who as a high court judge representedand endorsed the ethos of the criminal justice process. Despite the gradualmodern implementation of progressive ideas in the care and resettle-ment of offenders, Fallada’s 1934 novel retains its powerful artisticimpact. Consistent high sales figures attest to the fact that histreatment of the subject has continued to find resonance among thereading public throughout the decades,47 and it might even be argued thattoday’s evidence of recidivism as a continuing social problem confirmsthe sustained relevance of his message.

The two works by Storm and Fallada examined above demonstratethat their authors share a concern for the plight of the “little man”, threat-ened by circumstances over which he has no control. Their differenttreatments of the theme of reintegration and recidivism reflect boththeir individual styles and the literary tastes of the time at which theywrote. Fallada, publishing almost fifty years after Storm, is lessconstrained by the sensibilities of his readership than his predecessor, foras a result most notably of Döblin’s great novel Berlin Alexanderplatz(1928), the criminal class had acquired greater literary “respectability”since Storm’s time. In Fallada, the grim reality of prison existence isnot simply referred to in passing as in Storm, but is depicted in detail,

450 Barbara Burns

and the thought processes in the mind of the prisoner both before andafter release are fully explored. Also, while Storm restricts the main focusof his criticism to the intolerance and unforgiving nature of the com-munity towards the individual who has already paid his due, Fallada’sanalysis of responsibility for the relapse of the ex-prisoner is morecomplex and reflects twentieth-century debate on penal reform. Thetwo writers, however, display a mutual commitment to countering theforces of prejudice and upholding human dignity. Their work addressesin literary form a subject that for most middle-class readers is unfa-miliar and fraught with misconceptions, and affords a penetrating insightinto the meaning of the formidable word “vorbestraft”.

Notes

1. Evans, Richard J., ed. Kneipengespräche im Kaiserreich. Die Stimmungsberichteder Hamburger Politischen Polizei 1892–1914. Reinbek: Rowohlt, 1989, p. 222.

2. Letter of 16.9.1886. Laage, K. E., ed. Theodor Storm – Erich Schmidt Briefwechsel.Berlin: Schmidt, 1976, II, p. 140.

3. Ten years previously, on 26.5.1978, Storm had written to Hermione von Preuschen:“Aber das Glück ist auch zum Menschenleben durchaus nicht nötig, nur die treue Schwesterdesselben, die Hoffnung, können wir nicht entbehren. Im Leben nicht und nicht in derKunst.” “Theodor Storms Briefe an Hermione von Preuschen”, Ranft, G., ed. Schriftender Theodor-Storm-Gesellschaft 22 (1973): 55–94, p. 79.

4. Wedde, Johannes. Theodor Storm. Einige Züge zu seinem Bilde. Hamburg, 1888,pp. 26–27.

5. Storm, Gertrud, ed. Theodor Storm. Briefe an seine Frau. Braunschweig:Westermann, 1915, pp. 166–167.

6. Böttger, Fritz. Theodor Storm in seiner Zeit. Berlin: Verlag der Nation, 1958, p.346.

7. Fallada, Hans. “Stimme aus den Gefängnissen”, in Das Tage-Buch, 6:1 (1925),9–15, p. 15. Two further essays by Fallada on criminal justice issues were published inDas Tage-Buch in 1925. See Williams, Jenny. More Lives than One. A Biography ofHans Fallada. London: Libris, 1998, p. 73.

8. Cited in Crepon, Tom and Dwars, Marianne. An der Schwale liegt (k)ein Märchen.Neumünster: Wachholtz, 1993, pp. 22–23.

9. Letter from Rudolf Ditzen to his parents Wilhelm and Elisabeth Ditzen, 8-1-1933;cited in Williams Jenny, p. 133.

10. See Schuster, Ingrid. Theodor Storm. Die zeitkritische Dimension seiner Novellen.Bonn: Bouvier, 1971, p. 167.

11. Braun, Frank X. “Theodor Storm’s ‘Doppelgänger’”. Germanic Review 32 (1957):267–272, p. 269.

12. Page references for citations from Ein Doppelgänger are taken from Laage,K. E. and Lohmeier, D., eds. Theodor Storm: Sämtliche Werke in vier Bänden. Frankfurtam Main: Deutscher Klassiker Verlag, 1988. Vol. 3.

13. See Blasius, Dirk. Bürgerliche Gesellschaft und Kriminalität: Zur SozialgeschichtePreussens im Vormärz. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1976, pp. 137–138.

14. Cited in Evans and Richard J. Rethinking German History. London: Allen &Unwin, 1987, p. 168. The statement is a translation of part of a Potsdam Governmentreport of 1830.

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15. Based on the textual references to chicory cultivation, Laage places the actionbetween 1825 and 1856. See Laage, K. E. and Lohmeier, D., 1988, Vol. 3, p. 1008.

16. Circular enactment of 12.9.1815. Cited in Lüdtke, Alf. “Staatliche Gewalt undpolizeiliche Praxis: Preußen im Vormärz”, in Niethammer, Lutz et al. BürgerlicheGesellschaft in Deutschland. Historische Einblicke, Fragen, Perspektiven. Frankfurt/Main:Fischer, 1990, p. 185.

17. Schuster, Ingrid, 1971, p. 168.18. Fallada was advised by his brother-in-law, Fritz Bechert, to set the novel before

30 January 1933, as stiffer sentences than the one served by Kufalt were introduced atthis time.

19. Rusche, Georg and Kirchheimer, Otto. Punishment and Social Structure. NewYork: Russell, 1968, p. 164.

20. Page references for citations from Wer einmal aus dem Blechnapf frißt are takenfrom the 1958 edition of the novel published by Aufbau in Berlin.

21. Stressing the discrepancy between the aims and the outcomes of confinement,he presented a challenging assessment of former developments:

Thousands of cells were built, in which the prisoners were isolated from the outsideworld [. . .]. It was believed by this to check all evil and prepare the way for allgood influences, [. . .] but, still, stupid, shattered, weak men came out.

Gentz, Werner. “The Problem of Punishment in Germany.” Journal of Criminal Lawand Criminology 22 (1932): 873–894, p. 876.

22. Williams, Jenny, 1998, p. 147.23. See note 8.24. In the later stages of the novel, however, when Kufalt turns to serious crime

perpetrated against individuals, Fallada manipulates the narrative so that the reader’s moralscruples are reactivated, and Kufalt’s subsequent arrest and sentencing are seen asnecessary and inevitable.

25. This comes from the novella Im Schloß. Laage, K. E. and Lohmeier, D., 1987,vol. 1, p. 508.

26. See, for example, Braun, Frank X., 1957, p. 270; also Tschorn, Wolfgang. Idylleund Verfall. Die Realität der Familie im Werk Theodor Storms. Bonn: Bouvier, 1978,p. 166.

27. von Fisenne, Otto. “Theodor Storm als Jurist,” Schriften der Theodor-StormGesellschaft, 8 (1959), 9–47, p. 39.

28. Pastor, Eckart. Die Sprache der Erinnerung. Zu den Novellen von Theodor Storm.Frankfurt am Main: Athenäum, 1988, p. 181.

29. Two years later in Der Schimmelreiter, for example, we read of the protagonistHauke Haien: “und an der Wiege seines Kindes lag er Abends und Morgens auf den Knien,als sei dort die Stätte seines ewigen Heils”. Laage, K. E. and Lohmeier, D., 1988, vol.3, p. 718.

30. Tschorn, Wolfgang. 1978, p. 166.31. Letter of 8.6.1881 from Storm to Albert Nieß. Goldammer, P., ed. Theodor Storm.

Briefe. Berlin and Weimar: Aufbau, 1972, Vol. 2, p. 220. The comment refers to the novellaDer Herr Etatsrat.

32. Schunicht, Manfred. “Theodor Storm: ‘Ein Doppelgänger’” in Kolkenbrock-Netz,Jutta, ed. Wege der Literaturwissenschaft. Bonn: Bouvier, 1985: 174–183, p. 181.

33. Letter to his parents of 31 Aug 1933, cited by Williams, Jenny, 1998, p. 144.34. See Williams, Jenny. “Some Thoughts on the Success of Hans Fallada’s Kleiner

Mann – was nun?” German Life and Letters 40 (1987): 306–318.35. Schröder, Karl. “Kleiner Mann – was nun?” Die Bücherwarte, Berlin 1932, H.7,

98.36. The reluctance of employers to hire ex-prisoners is portrayed in the novel with

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grim realism. Kufalt is mistrusted and fobbed off, and even the editor Malte Scialoja,who initially promises to help, in the end attempts to get rid of Kufalt with a derisory offerof three marks if he will promise to leave and not return (297). Fallada illustrates insuch encounters the widespread negative attitude to ex-offenders seeking work. See alsoRollmann, C. “Keep Your Convicts.” The Forum, 97 (1937): 102–105.

37. See Gentz, Werner. 1932, p. 894.38. Letter to his parents of November 1933, cited by Williams, Jenny, 1998, p. 149.39. Fallada had good reason to be cautious, for even during the writing of the novel,

he spent a week in prison being questioned on suspicion of treasonable activities. Hewas released when the Nazi authorities were satisfied that the accusation had been falselymade against him, but the incident and its timing precisely as he was composing such acensorious work, must have sharpened his perception of the need to proceed carefully.

40. Thomas Mann, diary entry of 14.3.1934. de Mendelsohn, P., ed. Tagebücher1933–1934. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1977, pp. 356–357.

41. In a review of the novel in the journal Internationale Literatur in 1934, thewriter Albert Ehrenstein praises its realism and dismisses the preface as “Ölung desZensors” and “politisches Schutzmäntelchen”. Cited by von Studnitz, Cecilia. Es warwie ein Rausch: Fallada und sein Leben. Düsseldorf: Droste, 1997, p. 245.

42. For an analysis of different critics’ responses to the framework narrative, seeBurns, B. Theory and Patterns of Tragedy in the later Novellen of Theodor Storm. Stuttgart:Heinz, 1996, pp. 105–112.

43. Pastor, Eckart, 1988, p. 163.44. Alfred Biese compares the novella to Zola’s Germinal in “Theodor Storm”,

Preußische Jahrbücher 60 (1887): 219–228, p. 228. The French Storm scholar RobertPitrou calls John Hansen a “Jean Valjean du Nord” in La vie et l’oeuvre de Theodor Storm.Paris: Alcan, 1920, p.699. (The reference is to Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables).

45. von Fisenne, Otto, 1959, p. 38.46. Manthey, Jürgen. Hans Fallada. Reinbek: Rowohlt, 1963, p. 105.47. Sales figures for the novel up to 1973 are documented by J. C. Thöming in

“Hans Fallada. Seismograph gesellschaftlicher Krisen”, in Wagener, H.,. ed. ZeitkritischeRomane des 20. Jahrhunderts. Stuttgart: Reclam, 1975, pp. 97–123, 99–100. The workcontinues to sell in the rororo-Taschenbuch edition.

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