I haven’t enjoyed reading a novel as much as Wolfram Fleischhauer’s Schule der Lügen since, well, probably the last novel of his that I read (actually, I’ve read another two since that post, but the feeling was much the same). I felt real sadness when I turned over the final page on Saturday morning. Not only is it so beautifully written that just the action of reading is a pleasure (even though German’s not my first language), but it’s a thriller which thrills and satisfies on every level, a novel of ideas as well as a ripping yarn set in a real historical context breathtakingly researched and retold. It’s set initially in Berlin in 1926, but there are journeys in space and time and the mind which create a universe which is totally intoxicating. So much so, that the world of Edgar et al seemed more real than the one I inhabit currently. I can’t tell you anything about the novel which wouldn’t spoil the suspense, which is an indication of how bloody brilliant it is.
For much more eloquently-sung praises of a man I consider to be one of the best novelists I’ve ever read, see Andreas Eschbach’s tribute to Wolfram Fleischhauer (in German).
