Not much of a who-done-it, German author Juli Zeh’s pensive novel, Dark Matter (translated by Christine Lo, 2010, Harvill Secker, London, 322 pages), grapples with bigger issues – about the nature of time, events and human existence. Such questions can trigger passionate discussion, but lack firm answers.
In the German city of Freiburg, detectives seek a murderer. Someone hung a cable across a roadway and decapitated a fast-moving cyclist. Readers know exactly who did it and even tag along as a troubled physicist named Sebastian commits the crime.
There’s no puzzle about his motivation either. Someone had kidnapped his son, Liam, and “ordered” the murder. How much blame does this killer deserve?
“It is always three-word sentences that change the life of a human being in a decisive manner. I love you. I hate you. Father is dead. I am pregnant. Liam has disappeared. Dabbeling must go. After a three-word sentence, one is totally alone.”
Clever readers can guess the kidnapper’s identity too. In this philosophical tale, tensions flow from emotional turmoil and from reactions to runaway events.
The plot emerges from Sebastian’s long friendship with Oskar, an arrogant fellow-scientist. “Send all the stupid people to war, he thinks, as he leans against the wall next to the toilets. Let them burn to a crisp in some African desert or in an Asian jungle, it really doesn’t matter. Another 50 years of peace and the people in this country will have regressed to the level of apes.”
After university, Sebastian and Oskar diverge in their lives and theories, yet a bond persists. Does friendship turn destructive?
Fascinatingly, Zeh plunks her main characters onto the edge of despair where they must dance along the precipice. Apart from Sebastian, the best “dancer” is Detective Schilf, an ailing eccentric who solves the murder, but craves to “make everything alright”.
The author shows enormous descriptive flair. For example, “The radio in the bathroom spat out a cacophony of sounds when he pressed the button, as if the noise had been stored up overnight.” Likewise, “The street lamps at the edge of the car park are wearing broad skirts of light.”
Such deft description creates a visual clarity few writers can match. “The lanes are still in shadow and the tables and chairs of the pavement cafes around the cathedral bunch together as if they fear the weekend crowds about to descend. The waitresses walk between them like herdsmen, shooing chairs into place, patting tables on the back and putting ashtrays on them.”
Even repeat appearances by Bonnie and Clyde, two ducks in a canal outside Sebastian’s home, hold significance. They float past “like flotsam and jetsam”. How much different is human behavior?
“Bonnie and Clyde – one head of brown and one of green – paddle along against the current, quacking away, always turning at the same spot, and allowing themselves to be carried downstream. On their conveyer belt, they travel faster than the people walking on the canal path and look up at them begging for bread.”
Born in 1974, Zeh lives in Brandenburg. She wrote one earlier book, Eagles and Angels. A former student of international law and creative writing, she has worked with the United Nations in New York. More recently, she earned several European writing awards.
Dark Matter delivers dark moments for its characters and thoughtful ones for readers. It’s profound and at times powerful.
Approval rating: 71 per cent.
For more information: www.rbooks.co.uk
(March 1, 2010)
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