It’s Called Research or About John Boyne’s ‚The Boy in the Striped Payjamas‘
I usually don’t rant about books. If I didn’t like it, I put it away and mark it off as experience. The thing is that when you read as much as I do you’re bound to have a few bad seeds in the mix and I rarely even have some. I guess that’s a) because I’m pretty forgiving and 2. because I’m usually good ad picking books that I like. Or it’s the last book of Pullman’s Dark Materials series. Then I openly rant about it on my blog. Because that was just too much to take and not say something.
I didn’t even hate John Boyne’s The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. I just got very, very nervous while reading it. Nervous as in Call-the-author-and-ask-him-what-the-hell-he-was-thinking-there nervous. All in all it was okay, but there were a couple of things that bugged me. Seriously bugged me (hence the nervous). Then the day after I finished it, I checked out the reviews at all the Amazons there is in the whole wide world (or at least three of them) and realized that not only wasn’t I the only one who noticed all the little things that were wrong with that book, but that I felt the urge to actually rant a bit about it, too. So here we go.
But before I start with the actual rant, please let me say something about my usual reading habits. More or less there are none. I don’t have a preferred genre, or I do, but not to the point that my bookshelves would instantly give away what it is. The general meaning of the last statement being that I will read most about anything you give me. I’m also usually not really critical. Most of what bugs me with a book I usually file under matter-of-taste. I was a bit angry with Wallander’s Before the Frost, because in my very opinion crime novels shouldn’t have so damn many plot holes and inconsistencies1. But that’s just me. I also like books of every length, not believing in what I know for a fact other people believe, namely that long books are good because they last longer. In my world this rule only applies to books by Walter Moers and J.K. Rowling, because those I actually really don’t want to end. Like ever. Every other book I want to end sooner or later, because it means I can start with the next promising one on my nightstand. I love children’s books a lot, too. So, long story short, given my reading preferences there was absolutely no reason, why I wouldn’t like The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas.
The blurb on the books back doesn’t reveal anything, but I had read a review and knew the gist of the story. While I’m not picky I agree with those reviewers that pointed out that not providing a blurb is just unfair to the potential buyer. Sure you don’t want to give away too much, but you should at least provide enough information to enable the reader (or just buyer, really) to decide whether this is a fitting book for them or whoever it is you’re getting it for. Especially when it’s a children’s book and hell, yeah, especially when it’s a children’s book dealing with the Holocaust.
But let’s finally cut right to it. Here’s the story and there are potential spoilers ahead, but not really: Bruno lives in Berlin with his sister and parents, but is forced to move to a place called Out-With (yep, we’ll get to that later, we will) because of his father’s job. Bruno hates the new house in Out-With which is in the middle of nowhere, and right next to a enormous wire fence. Behind this fence live hundreds or thousands people all wearing striped pyjamas. One day, Bruno explores the fence and meets a little boy called Shmuel who is just as old as he is and lives on the other side of the fence. Over the next year the two boys become friends which leads right to the twisty ending which I won’t give away, because that – aside from what I read other people thought about it – was one of the parts of the books I actually liked.
The main problems I had with this book was that nine-year-old Bruno just isn’t believable as a character. More than not believable, he is inconsistent. There’s this problem with children’s books that try to be educative by using a child’s point of view as a means of justification to explain things while allowing the child to be quite smart at other times. Or, in other words: Sometimes Bruno comes off as really stupid and the next moment he says really smart things and it just doesn’t fit. One of the things that bugged me most was the constant referring to Hitler as The Fury. I first didn’t even get it, then thought that maybe Bruno was really referring to Hitler being really scary, but it is actually explained as Bruno being unable to correctly understand and pronounce ‚Führer‘. Which, pardon me, but that’s just plain old BS. I’m not sure how difficult it is for non-German speakers to pronounce this word correctly, but for someone who’s mother tongue is supposed to be German, this word would have caused neither trouble in understanding nor pronouncing. The same goes for Auschwitz (the aforementioned Out-With), which might be a bit more difficult at first, but should be mastered by a nine-year-old in appropriate time just as well.
More than that, Bruno seems terribly ignorant of everything that goes on around him. He has never heard of Jews, has never seen a Star of David and seems at best vaguely aware that there is a war going on. Given that he was raised in Berlin and his father is a high-ranking official this seems more than absurd.
Another thing is that it seems that the author was just a bit too happy with a few expressions. In the end I read the words ‚his mouth made the shape of an O‘, ‚Hopeless Case‘, and that one really long sentence about his stuff being cleared out at least one time too many. Even for a children’s book it seemed awfully repetitive to me at times, right to the point where I was slightly annoyed with the author.
But before I get really petty at least once, let me tell you what my main problem with this book was. It really doesn’t know what it is supposed to be. Am I a remotely historically correct children’s book? Well, yes, I tried, but all that research was just so hard… Okay then, am I a fable about the wrongs done in WWII? Well, yes, but I’d like to use real names and places so there’s no misunderstanding as to what this is really about. Am I a novel to be read on a rainy Sunday afternoon? Well, sure, but I’d like to be kind of depressing really, and use really easy language like, you know, a child might use it. The point is, the author had a nice idea, but I’m not sure if the theory works in practice. For an educative children’s book about the Holocaust, it just seems too far from the truth. For a fable, it just is really too close to reality and a standard novel, it just isn’t.
It’s one of these moments when I wonder, did anybody actually proof-read this? I mean not in the sense of typos (although I found one in my edition, as far as I remember), but actually look for things that might come off as strange to the reader? Did anyone think about what the author wanted this book to be. Because it seemed to me that it tried to be everything and came out being a blurry something. I wouldn’t go so far as to actively not recommend it, but I don’t think I’m going to recommend it to anyone either.
And here’s one more thing that bothered me, but be warned, this is where I get really petty. There’s one scene where Bruno’s sister talks with a young soldier and mentions turning thirteen soon which would make her a teenager just like him (the soldier). Which might make sense in English, but not so much in German. I’m pretty sure that back in the 1940s the term teenager wasn’t used in Germany and more than that, we really don’t have an equivalent for it, especially not one that can simply be traced back to the number’s names as easily as teenager. I know this is just a minor thing, but it just shows that when you try to set a story in a very distinct setting, language and history wise, you need to do at least a bit of research if you want to be credible in the end.
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1Books in general should not empoy plot holes and inconsistencies as a featured means of style, but I think mysteries, crime novels and thrillers should be particularly careful.