Fatherland

“It was all so normal. Later, that was what would strike him most. It was like having an accident: before it, nothing out of the ordinary; then, the moment; and after it, a world that was changed forever.”

The limited third-person perspective focuses on March throughout the novel. His thoughts in retrospect about the incident reflect on the monumentality of finding Buhler’s body. His words foreshadow the danger of this case and its devastating impact on March.

“March, on the other hand, was divorced and lived alone. He had set aside the afternoon to spend with his son. But the long hours of the morning stretched ahead, a blank. The way he felt, it would be good to have something routine to distract him.”

This passage emphasizes March’s isolation: His job as an investigator has taken over his life, replacing even his wife and son. His thought that he needs “something routine to distract him” is ironic. The “routine” thing that he refers to is death (in this case, the body in the lake), highlighting how commonplace crime and murder are in both his life and this version of Berlin.

“Red lights pinpoint those towns big enough to warrant their own Kripo divisions. The center of Europe glows crimson. Further east, the lights gradually thin until, beyond Moscow, there are only a few isolated sparks, winking like camp fires in the blackness. It is a planetarium of crime.”

The figurative language in this passage, describing the maps at the police station, further conveys how crime and death have taken over Berlin. In March’s world, the entire city is “blackness” except for the lights, which represent the police departments and, by extension, the crime throughout the city. The metaphor, comparing the city to a “planetarium,” refers to crime as both commonplace and a source of awe.

“March glanced at his son. Pili was transfixed, his little dagger clutched tightly in his hand like a crucifix.”

This simile compares Pili’s dagger, which he received upon joining the Pimpfs, to a crucifix. These words convey how deeply entrenched Pili has become in the Nazi Party, even at the age of 10. To him, becoming part of the Party is a form of religion, and the Party is happy to indoctrinate children (the country’s most impressionable citizens) into its practices and force their allegiance from a young age.

“Black Sam Browne belt. Black cap with silver death’s head and Party eagle. Black leather gloves. March started at himself in the mirror, and a Sturmbannführer of the SS stared back.”

As March dons his SS uniform, an important motif in the novel, he looks into a mirror that symbolically represents the duality of his character. One version of March is an investigator, interested only in helping people by solving crime. The other version of himself, “[staring] back” at him from the mirror, is the one that he’s forced to be (an SS officer) even if he doesn’t truly believe in the Nazi Party’s corrupt practices.

“Bedrooms, bathrooms—everywhere had the same atmosphere of shabby luxury, of a grand life-style gone to seed. And everywhere, he noticed, there were paintings—landscapes, religious allegories, portraits—most of them thick with dust.”

Ironically, in the home of Buhler (one of the wealthiest retired members of the Nazi Party), March sees dirt and decay surrounding him. Buhler’s home physically embodies the hollowness of corruption and greed. Despite his success within the Nazi Party, Buhler was alone, isolated, and living in the degradation of his own wealth.

“With their cropped hair and their loose-fitting light gray drill uniforms, the class of SS cadets looked like convicts. They filed out noisily, with a scraping of chairs and a stamping of boots on rough wooden floor. A large portrait of the late Henrich Himmler smiled down on them benevolently.”

March’s view of the SS cadets further develops his feelings toward the Nazi Party and Nazi Germany as a whole. He uses a simile, comparing the cadets to “convicts,” which emphasizes his beliefs that they’re forced into the SS against their will. Through propaganda, indoctrination, and, ultimately, fear, the SS treats these young men like prisoners who have no choice but to join if they want to be successful.

“What would a sensible man have done? That was easy. A sensible man would have done what Max Jaeger did every day. He would have put on his hat and coat and gone home to his wife and children. But for March that was not an option. The empty apartment in Ansbacher-Strasse, the quarreling neighbors and yesterday’s newspaper, these held no attractions for him. He had narrowed his life to such a point that the only thing left was his work. If he betrayed that, what else was there?”

When March discovers that Stuckart, too, has died, he begins to understand the gravity of the situation. These words emphasize the internal conflict that he faces, thematically evoking The Value of Individual Responsibility in Fighting Corruption. March acknowledges that, on some level, he knows he should give up the investigation to protect himself. Instead, he values his job as an investigator too much (and the little good that he can do through his work) to turn away from discovering the truth.

“[March] had no plan, no real idea of what he might find. He recalled the Führer’s words—‘I go the way that Providence dictates with the assurance of a sleepwalker’—and he smiled.”

Despite March’s dislike of the Nazi Party and Hitler himself, ironically, he still recalls Hitler’s words as he considers his next steps in the investigation. This fact (and March’s “smile”) emphasize the impact of the Nazi Party on the people of Berlin. Hitler’s words are constantly studied, replayed, and broadcast, infiltrating the thoughts of even someone like March.

“Without the uniform he could have been anything—a lawyer, a banker, a eugenicist, an executioner. That was how it was with young men of his age. They had come off an assembly line of Pimpf, Hitler Youth, National Service, and Strength-Through-Joy. […] They were the regime’s workhorses, had known no authority but the Party and were as reliable and commonplace as Kripo’s Volkswagens.”

After March and Jaeger are taken from Stuckart’s apartment and spend a night in an interrogation room, two SS officers take them to meet with Globus and Nebe. Here, March reflects on the lack of identity of the two officers. His words thematically convey Fascism’s Tendency to Breed Corruption in how fascism steals the identities of SS loyalists and forces them to do its bidding. While these two men are people, their identity centers solely on their uniform and the sense of power the SS gives them.

“Close up, [Globus] was a bull in uniform. His neck strained at his collar. His hands hung at his sides, bunched in angry red fists. There was a mass of scar tissue on his left cheek, mottled crimson. Violence crackled around him in the dry air like static electricity. Every time Nebe struck a note, he winced. He wants to punch the old man, thought March, but he can’t. Nebe outranks him.”

The first description of Globus when he meets with March and Jaeger is almost humorous. He’s big, angry, and scarred, “bunching” his fists and barely resisting the urge to hit Nebe. This description emphasizes Globus’s status as the novel’s primary antagonist. The simile, which compares the “violence” around Globus to “static electricity,” underscores his power and the danger he poses to anyone who resists him.

“[March] took the envelope out of his pocket, squeezed it to check that the key was still in it and—on impulse—raised it to his nose. Her scent. He looked back over his shoulder. She was walking through the trees with her back to him. She disappeared for a moment, then reappeared; disappeared, reappeared—a tiny birdlike figure—bright blue plumage against the dreary wood.”

These words foreshadow March’s romantic relationship Charlie, as he unconsciously picks up her scent from the envelope. Her “bright blue” starkly contrasts with the dark and “dreary” world of Berlin. She provides him with a sense of hope and happiness, even if he can’t yet fully articulate why.

“Fault, thought March. How could you fault a ten-year-old? The boy needed a father figure. That was what the Party provided—stability, companionship, something to believe in all—all the things March should have given him and hadn’t.”

After Jaeger discovers that Pili wrote a statement against March, claiming that he was an asocial, Jaeger tells March that he should be upset with Pili. However, March’s thoughts emphasize the internal conflict that he faces. Although his family betrayed him, he recognizes how fascism has influenced his child. Additionally, he feels some responsibility for it, since he left his son to be indoctrinated into the Nazi Party, even replacing his own father with it.

“People were laughing in the drive beneath his window. A light moved across the lake. No Great Hall, no marching bands, no uniforms. For the first time in—what was it?—a year, at least, he was away from the iron and granite of Berlin. So. He held up his glass and studied the pale liquid. There were other lives, other cities.”

The shift in the setting, from Berlin to Zürich, provides March with new insight. Although he identifies from the start of the novel that he’s unhappy with Berlin, he has continued to live there and work for the SS. Now, when he leaves, he sees a starkly different reality, hearing laughter and seeing none of the devotion and obsession with Hitler and the Nazi Party. From this moment forward, March begins to imagine a reality in which he might start a new life outside of Germany.

“‘The truth? How do I know what the truth is?’ Suddenly she had raised her voice, was almost shouting. People at the next table were turning around. ‘We’re brought up to think of Germans as something from outer space. Truth doesn’t enter into it.’”

Charlie provides a unique insight into the theme of The Dissolution of Objective Truth. While Nazi Germany clearly uses propaganda and indoctrination to force allegiance with their government, Charlie points out that the same issue exists in the US. For them, Germany is the enemy and is always depicted as such, leaving no room for nuance in the perception of the Nazi regime.

“Halder pulled March into a doorway. A security guard was coming toward them, bent like a miner in an underground shaft, pushing a metal cart. March thought he was certain to see them, but he went straight past, grunting with effort. He stopped at the metal barrier and unlocked it. There was a glimpse of a furnace, a roar of flames, before the door clanged shut behind him.”

This brief moment in the archives provides further thematic detail on both Fascism’s Tendency to Breed Corruption and The Dissolution of Objective Truth. As March watches an archive worker walking through the halls, a simile compares him to a “miner.” Then, when the door opens, the sight of “flames” suggests that historical information from the archives is being destroyed. While misinformation propagated by the government is prominent throughout the text, this moment shows that the destruction of information is equally important in the government’s controlling the narrative and, ultimately, subjectively manufacturing the “truth.”

“The alliances and rivalries, traps and intrigues of three decades of Party rule wove in and out of these metal stacks; ten thousand webs, spun from paper threads, suspended in the cool air.”

The archive that March visits physically embodies the corruption and deceit within the Nazi Party. March metaphorically compares it to a labyrinth of spiders’ webs. The corruption goes beyond just what March sees in his life; rather, it’s years of lies and carefully planned deception interwoven through numerous government officials, organizations, and people.

“‘I don’t have to take this short of shit from you. Charlie—you’d better come back to the embassy with me. Now. We’ll get you on a flight out of Berlin tonight and just hope to Christ no one connects us with any of this.’ He waited. ‘Come on.’ […] Nightingale hauled himself out of the Volkswagen. ‘I should have never let myself be talked into this insanity. You’re a fool. As for him’—he nodded toward March—‘he’s a dead man.’”

After Luther is killed, Henry lashes out at both March and Charlie, insisting that he can no longer be part of their investigation. His words thematically contribute to The Value of Individual Responsibility in Fighting Corruption. After seeing a man murdered in front of him, Henry’s reaction is normal; the situation has become too dangerous for him to risk his own life. In turn, his character highlights the courage that March and Charlie show by continuing the investigation.

“Friedman had joined the Berlin Kripo at the same time as March. He had left it five years later, one step ahead of a corruption investigation. Now he wore handmade English suits, smoked duty-free Swiss cigars and made five times his official salary by methods long suspected but never proved. He was a merchant print, the airport his corrupt little kingdom.”

Minor characters like Friedman show how deeply rooted the corruption is within Berlin. He’s head of security at the airport yet manages to amass wealth and control through years in the position. Although he isn’t necessarily a bad person (he helps March in his investigation and gives him the briefcase, without double-checking March’s credentials), he still takes advantage of the broken system, highlighting how corruption trickles down to every facet of society.

“Some people won’t believe it—they wouldn’t believe it no matter how much evidence we had. But there’s enough here, I think, to stop Kennedy in his tracks. No summit. No reelection. No détente. And five years from now, or fifty years, this society will fall apart. You can’t build on a mass grave. Human beings are better than that—they have to be better than that—I do believe it—don’t you?”

As March questions how they’ll get the information out about the Final Solution and how they’ll make the public believe it, Charlie’s words thematically emphasize The Dissolution of Objective Truth. Her words have a tone of desperation, as she hopes that all their work will have an impact on the world when the truth comes out. The fact that she can’t be certain underscores how corrupt the world has become in this alternative history.

“March sat alone in the empty room, on the edge of the bed, holding her pillow. He waited until an hour had passed before putting on his uniform. He stood in front of the dressing-table mirror, buttoning his black tunic. It would be the last time he wore it, one way or the other.”

Charlie has left to try to escape to Switzerland, and March promised to follow shortly behind her. His actions in this section of the text become systematic and routine, while creating a mood of finality. He realizes that he has little hope for success or survival, yet displays no hint that this fact devastates or even upsets him. Instead, this moment was an inevitability throughout the novel, as even after they obtain proof to share with the world, the system they’re fighting is too corrupt and too strong to defeat completely.

“‘I didn’t know.’ Krebs dropped the notes onto the table as if they were contagious. ‘I didn’t know any of this.’

‘Of course you knew! You knew every time someone made a joke about “going East,” every time you heard a mother tell her children to behave or they’d go up the chimney. We knew when we moved into their houses, when we took over their property, their jobs. We knew but we didn’t have the facts.’ He pointed to the notes with his left hand. ‘Those put flesh on the bones. Put bones where there was just clear air.’”

The diction in this passage is important. After Krebs discovers the documents in March’s car, he tries to insist that he “didn’t know” the truth of the Final Solution and was unaware of the government’s murder of the Jewish people. When March responds, he initially uses the word “you,” accusing Krebs of having known, even if he couldn’t acknowledge it; however, as March continues, the word “you” shifts to “we.” This diction conveys March’s feelings of guilt for having ignored suspicion of the extent of his government’s atrocities for decades. He places blame on himself, Krebs, and, essentially, all German citizens (particularly those in government positions) for ignoring the truth.

“[March] hoped Max could not see his hand trembling. He rested the gun in his lap. It was good, he reassured himself. Really good. It proved they had not picked her up. Nor had they discovered where she was. Because if they had managed either, they would never have resorted to this.”

As March forces Jaeger to drive to the site of Auschwitz, he’s afraid and uncertain of the confrontation that he knows is coming. Despite this, his thoughts repeatedly drift back to Charlie, infiltrating all his actions and becoming his primary source of motivation. Although he knows that he’ll likely die, he focuses on giving Charlie time to escape, providing hope that his death will not be in vain. He reasons that if officials had caught up with her, they wouldn’t be trying everything they could to make him talk.