So are we, readers, swept up in the memories of an impassioned and fascinatingly erudite art lover ... Hans von Trotha has told a beautiful, complex story in Pollak’s Arm. In writing about it, the temptation is to keep quoting and quoting. There is so much in it; it’s crammed with precious treasures, as is Pollak’s apartment itself, and Pollak’s memory. Swept up, like K., it’s easy to forget, to be surprised at the book’s relative briefness. A mere 138 pages. Memories of perfect happiness, and an aching lament at how fleeting that happiness is.
Mr. von Trotha is a German historian and journalist, and this sturdy, somber novel, translated by Elisabeth Lauffer, holds one’s attention more for its exploration of classical antiquities than for any literary flourishes. Pollak’s late-night meditations turn often to the intersection of art and empire.
... a deceptive 138 pages, possible to read in one sitting but, once read, impossible to stop thinking about ... a quiet and surprising masterpiece set during World War II, certain to make readers think deeply about history, philosophy and art.
... a poignant ode to storytelling, bearing witness to historical memory from the Trojan War to World War II. German author Hans von Trotha presents an imaginative report by an envoy extending a Holocaust life preserver to Jewish archaeologist Ludwig Pollak ... At times, it’s difficult to determine who’s actually speaking, or to distinguish between past and present. He in one paragraph might refer to German writer Gerhart Hauptmann while in the next he suddenly means Pollak, and in the following K. is the speaker indicated by I. Yet it’s hard to find fault with this incredibly complex narrative. Von Trotha’s extensive knowledge of German history demonstrates there’s still much insight to be excavated from Nazi ruins. Elisabeth Lauffer, who won the 2014 Gutekunst Translation Prize, conveys von Trotha’s innovative approach skillfully from one language to another.
... a brilliant take on collector and curator Ludwig Pollak ... Against the backdrop of Rome falling to the fascists and the worsening violence against Jews, Pollak’s words gain intensity and resonance. There is to be found in here as well a cautionary tale about the beauty of art often being no match for the boot and the fist. This multilayered account of myth and injustice has much to offer.
Von Trotha had access to Pollak’s diaries, letters, and archival material, and he benefits from a smooth translation by Lauffer. He achieves much in this slim book, capturing a life enriched by its commitment to art and antiquities and a man who makes an unusual decision when faced with a crucial choice ... A work that weaves art and history into a fascinating tale.
