When Discipline Was the Therapy: Hans Fallada’s The Drinker
Alcohol has had a long and checkered history in human affairs. Dating back millennia to ancient Egypt, its consumption has been associated with sacredness as well as frivolity.
Alcohol has had a long and checkered history in human affairs. Dating back millennia to ancient Egypt, its consumption has been associated with sacredness as well as frivolity. And since at least the ancient Greeks, moral authorities have argued for the virtues of moderation or outright abstinence in its consumption.
Alcohol has also, of course, played a prominent role in the history of health and medicine. It was long prescribed by physicians as a part of treatment regimens (eg. the wine and opium tincture, laudanum) At the same time, it became increasingly seen as a public health scourge, especially among the lower classes.
The physical effects of
So, it is somewhat disorienting perhaps to read
The novel is, to a great extent, autobiographical. Fallada wrote
Fallada’s writing is enjoying something of a renaissance these days, ever since the publisher Melville House took it upon itself in 2009 to begin releasing translations and new editions of several of the author’s novels. These include
Plight of the alcoholic in history
The Drinker is written from the perspective of Erwin Sommer, a successful and married 40-year-old businessman who, until his business suffers some major setbacks, hardly brought any liquor to his lips. Faced with financial woes, however, he finds comfort in drinking. He quickly begins to consume large amounts of hard liquor, begins lying to his wife and associates, and becomes increasingly unruly. As tensions erupt between him and his wife, he threatens her life, leading the authorities to seek his arrest. Along the way, he is taken advantage of by various riff-raff, lands in prison, and ultimately is committed to a treatment facility.
Sommer is a disquieting person to have as a guide into the mind of a man enamored with what he calls “Queen Alcohol.” He’s not terribly likable, more often than not blaming others for his problems and whining insufferably about his lot. Yet through Sommer’s inner wrangling and inflated self-reflections, Fallada captures the humor and sadness embedded in the obdurate logic common to many in a state of perpetual intoxication.
Fallada’s novel provides a glimpse into a world before self-help recovery movements such as Alcoholics Anonymous had become popular, where therapeutic regimens often differed little from those found in the penal system. Through Erwin Sommer, Fallada does gives an account of personal decline, but it quickly deviates from the narratives commonly found today.
To be sure, the novelist and the protagonist both see Sommer’s fate as a moral collapse, but conventional Christian ideals of virtue and vice do not command center stage. Rather, Sommer becomes increasingly aware of how his circumstances reduce him from an upstanding, civilized man to a base, primitive existence, one in which food, fear, and bare survival dominate one’s waking life. His downfall is felt and described in terms of the loss of bourgeois, middle-class privilege and sensibilities, measured against a social status hard-gained and all-too-easily lost.
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