Putting Stones in Place: Anne Duden and German Acts of Memory

by Margaret McCarthy
Putting Stones in Place: Anne Duden and German Acts of Memory
Margaret McCarthy
The German Quarterly
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Davidson College

Putting Stones in Place:

Anne Duden and German Acts of Memory'

"If ever there were a Sisyphean image of hopelessly

heaving weight upward, it is the German with his burden

of history. Damned if you do; damned if you don't."

-Tom L. Freudenheim (146)

Germany's current memory boom, most notably the construction of the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin, attests to the continued labor of vergangenheitsbewaltigung. Often enough, however, stones put in place to recall the past provoke familiar grousing about "German difficulties in 'getting it right'" (Fulbrook 41). History presumably recedes beneath inanimate abstractions in stone or, as Andreas Huyssen argues, takes the form of "radiating" waste in need of Entsorgung (193).2 Either way, the verdict is equally damning.

The metaphysics of stone and waste also figures prominently in the literary work of Anne Duden, particularly her short story "Ubergang" (1982), one of several short stories in a collection with the same title and perhaps Duden's best known work. Significantly, Duden's text recasts Sisyphus' work of "hopelessly heaving weight upward" (Freudenheim 146) as an act of abjection. When a nameless female protagonist's face is shattered in an accident, she vomits the effects of German history buried in her body. After her physical boundaries have been brutally resurrected by physicians, she imagines herself drowning in a Steinmeer (89). Despite its dystopian nature, this process nonetheless provides a powerful language for the purposes of Vergangenheitsbewaltigung. The act of abjection in which the protagonist's voice emerges reveals a complicated positionality. While vomiting re-establishes besieged boundaries and the semblance of a differentiated self, the protagonist also recognizes an inexplicable commingling of self and other in what she voids. Expelling the abject and having her face reconstructed, in turn, hide damning evidence of German history and metaphorically turn her to stone.

This process of abjection and turning into stone has particularly interesting ramifications if one considers Berlin's present frenzied construction,

The German Quarterly 77.2(Spring 2004) 210

during which buried history has a way of periodically disgorging itself, like the Goebbels bunker unearthed beneath the site of the Holocaust Memorial. Another example is the "Topography of Terror" at the Prinz-Albrecht-Gelande, which, with its excavated, subterranean rooms where the Gestapo tortured and murdered, also gains suggestiveness given Duden's metaphorics. A dilapidated structure which a bulldozer could easily topple, these rooms stand as an open hole in the face of Berlin -a past neither buried nor carted away. Duden's text reminds us to position German identity alongside of German history in precisely those ambiguous, discomforting spaces which challenge easy distinctions and symbolic designations. It remains for each generation to keep the traces of German history exposed and to work towards its own symbolic renditions of perpetually troubled historical, geographic, and psychic boundaries. The short story "Ubergang" equates the alternatives -burying or removing history -with a symbolic form of disease and death respectively.

In the following I will offer a close reading of "Ubergang" which first examines the mechanics of a "vacuum mouth" -the means by which an abject history enters the protagonist's body. I will pay close attention to the positionality of the voice which ultimately rides out of the body on the back of abject emissions, if only to disappear in a ruinous landscape of rubble. Despite an all-out assault on the protagonist's boundaries and a response akin to a mechanical act of self-preservation, she nonetheless conjures up differentiated, mournful relations between Germans and Holocaust victims. Based on the film Berlin Babylon (Hubertus Siegert, 1996-2000), I will conclude with remarks on Berlin's present-day landscape, particularly the new Reichstag dome, Potsdamer Platz, the "Topography of Terror," and Peter Eisenman's Holocaust monument. Duden's text not only offers rich metaphorical implications for abject history and stone, bulldozers and glass, it also helps us to understand how German identity is currently positioning itself along architectural nodal points, at times transparent, messy or ossified, in relation to history.

At the risk of stating the obvious, stone has a number of characteristics which make it a particularly misguided medium for remembering the past. Rigid, lifeless and indifferent, stone provides at best a proper, if symbolic and long-overdue burial for millions of Holocaust victims who were murdered and simply disposed of. A case in point are the 2,000 granite pillars which will comprise Peter Eisenman's Holocaust Memorial in Berlin and which are short and squat enough to resemble tombstones. If, as Dan Diner argues, the effects of the Holocaust erupt with regularity in Germany (302), Eisenman's monument seems to pin its victims beneath a sea of stone. Of course, any kind of Schlussstrich constitutes one of the most familiar forms of "not getting it right." Such an act both petrifies the past and potentially its onlookers: One need only remember Sonja Wegmus's vociferous protests in Das schreckliche Madchen (Michael Verhoeven, 1991) when during a ceremony in her honor, the town fathers reveal a ceremonial bust of her, a gesture which both celebrates and silences efforts to reveal her town's Nazi past. Historically, clearing away mountains of rubble facilitated the collective amnesia that characterized the 1950s. Thus psychic petrification seems a potential danger to onlookers when Eisenman's monument becomes the medium for gazing backwards at German history.

Similarly, tending to the sites of a murderous past also can be read as capping history with symbolic burial stones. In weiter leben. Eine ]ugend, Ruth Kluger, a survivor of both Theresienstadt and Auschwitz, writes of two Germanistik students, tartly referred to as "meine Zaunanstreicher," who spend their year of civil service painting the fences of Auschwitz white. Implicit for Kluger in this Museumskultur is an anxious effort to demarcate a presumably singular past and its ghosts, rather than conjure them into our midst.f Demarcation works in tandem with sanitation, perhaps most evident when Entsorgung removes a messy past, but also in Kluger's descriptions of Dachau's present-day appearance: "Da war alles sauber und ordentlich, und man brauchte schon mehr Phantasie, als die meisten Menschen haben, um sich vorzustellen, was dort vor vierzig [ahren gespielt wurde" (77).4 Demarcating and sanitizing history renders it a discrete object of analysis, something separated off and didactically distilled. Peter Zumthor, designer of the building which will accompany the "Topography of Terror," finds such didacticism particularlydestructive.f The venom directed at a figure like Leah Rosh, tireless promoter of Holocaust awareness, bespeaks an enforced didacticism which constitutes a particularly annoying form of "not getting it right." What gets lost between white fences at Auschwitz and Leah Rosh as "Gedenkdomina" is the imagination which Kluger invokes, or ways of recalling history that encroach on the present and our own psychic and bodily boundaries. Lost in a petrified past are bodily traces which themselves question boundaries. Kluger writes on the present-day form of German concentration camps: "Das mindeste, was dazu gehorte, ware die Ausdunstung menschlicher Kerper, der Geruch und die Ausstrahlung von Angst, die geballte Aggressivitat, das reduzierte Leben" (77). By setting a petrified past against putrefying bodies in a tension of inanimate versus animate matter, Kluger conjures up history with more animated metaphors than those culled from stone. She aims for affect, a bodily response which is also the preferred aim of many Holocaust monuments and memorials, including Eisenman's.7Affect proffers the illusion of a past and present which literally touch, as if brutalized bodies from a distant past could telegraph their presence to animate, in turn, our own visceral response. Dan Diner's description of Germany's periodic "cross-generational convulsions" (304) regarding the Holocaust also suggests instinctive, physiological responses, as if Kluger's rotten bodies were still festering within the collective German body. And as significant a body as the German parliament has recognized this continued co-existence.

In January 2000, Speaker of Parliament Wolfgang Thierse declared before the Bundestag that Germany would commemorate the attempted annihilation of European Jewry with a Holocaust memorial because modern German identity is inextricably tied to the horrors that Hitler perpetrated (The New York Times, 28 January 2000, A3, col. 1). Elie Wiesel, also present, had made the same point earlier: "No people ever inflicted such suffering as your people on mine in such a short period. Until the end of time, Auschwitz is part of your history and mine" (New York Times/ 28 January 2000, A3, col.1). Diner has invoked the abject nature of this bond, arguing that a sense of guilt"... simply clings, mildew-like, to all those who feel part of Germany's collective memory" (304). An obvious danger arises when the abject prompts affect, namely an inevitable Entsorgung to preserve the clean and proper boundaries of German selfhood.fAnd up to a point, "Ubergang" provides dramatic evidence of this process in action. One wonders, however, whether there are alternative ways to recall Germany's most abject historical epoch which do not include the use of metaphors of waste or stone, and which perhaps employ images of consumption, not disposal.

Several passages in weiter leben do, in fact, offer an imagined alternative. In these passages, Kluger compares remembering to cooking and to witchcraft, each providing a means to lure ghosts with "Fleisch der Gegenwart" (79). By offering up their own bodies as "Reibeflachen," Kluger's female conjurers not only resuscitate the dead, but enable past and present to touch in ways that prompt more than a visceral response. Instead, they make visible unexpected "Zusammenhange" (80) which bridge past and present in dynamic, unexpected ways. Remembering in Kluger's formulation is thus explicitly women's work, which brings us back to Duden's text, but also into a murkier realm. Unlike Kluger's women, Duden's protagonist lacks all traces of agency, her passive body instead becoming a sieve for history. Vomiting appears to be her only recourse, as Entsorgung serves as a form of self-defense. Casting Germans as victims, as Duden can be seen doing with her female character, constitutes one of the most notorious forms of "not getting it right." And indeed, Duden's text achieved a somewhat tainted status following debates between Sigrid Weigel and Leslie Adelson about the protagonist's relationship to German history. Yet, what transpires in the text requires a very careful look at the work of memory in all its particulars, especially at the question of how the protagonist imagines it. James E.Young argues that the literary and historical truths of the Holocaust cannot be separated, because such truths, whether interpretive or factual, " ... inhere in the ways we understand, interpret, and write its history" (1). The notion that fiction is both equal to and inseparable from fact also inheres more generally in the ways that we position identity, individual or collective, in relation to history. One could then challenge the protagonist's passivity with careful attention to her narrative agency, or how she conceives her selfhood over and against Holocaust victims. Evidence of any kind of agency at all, however, is scant given the story's initial events, which cast her through and through as a victim of indiscriminate evil.

In "Ubergang," black American GIs harrass the protagonist and her friends in a Berlin discotheque, then hurl a brick through her windshield as she attempts to get away in her car. In the tale that follows, her body is alternately flung out in all directions, then violently imprisoned. Readers first are confronted with all the saliva, blood, vomit, and sweat that her body produces in the aftermath of the accident, then the doctors' efforts to wire her jaw shut and remove her bodily effluvia, thereby attempting to re-establish firm corporeal boundaries for the patient. Traditional models of identity construction -most obviously Lacan' s mirror scene -aim for a sturdy selfhood via theinternalizationofbodilyimagoes.Duden'stext,however, alters this process in significant ways. First, it substitutes the mouth for the eyes, so that internalized forms are "swallowed," "digested" and "excreted." The specifics of the mouth in Duden's text are more radical. Having been shattered, it is part of a partially destroyed face where internalization occurs across the entire surface. Thus, too much of her external surroundings seeps in and the abject, in turn, rises up from within. Second, the protagonist finds few idealized imagoes to internalize; instead, she encounters dead animals squashed flat on the Autobahn and putrefying corpses only partially buried by German history. In her apartment courtyard, a toxic green sheen covers everything, and one senses the legacy of German history -a globally contaminated environment in which the Holocaust is less something to manage than part of the medium in which the protagonist exists.? Most importantly, in a process of internalization and abjection run amok, selfhood remains in a perilous state where inside and outside, self and other remain difficult to separate. More globally, in "Ubergang" black quite literally meets white, history meets present, and all binaries break down. Not surprisingly, many textual ambiguities and contradictions accompany fraught proximities, which may account for Sigrid Weigel's and LeslieAdelson's alternately celebratory and circumspect reactions to the text.

Examining women's writing following the period of New Subjectivity, Weigel singled out Duden's text for the protagonist's radical subjectivity, which, she argued, manifests a violent symbolic inscription via physical injuries inflicted on the female body and psyche. Further, Weigel argues that "Ubergang" provides a striking example of a shattered body and subjectivity where the narration"... draws the world inward in order to absorb and record it with all the senses ... " (19). The protagonist remains, however, incapable of self-expression; instead she"... is written, ... is narrated, without being able to make her own text" (126). The text thus demonstrates what French feminists once called the negativity of femininity, since the protagonist's inability to express her subjectivity relegates her to the 'Anderswo-Sein" of women residing outside of patriarchally inscribed structures (128). "Ubergang" thus becomes proof positive of the damage done by patriarchal structures, as well as a literary affirmation of feminist theory from the 1980s.

That the protagonist initially lacks a voice is abundantly clear. "Ubergang" begins in a third-person singular voice with a concise, objective account of an extremely violent confrontation: "In der Nacht von Samstag auf Sonntag wurde in einer Diskothek in West-Berlin ein 25jahriger Mann von einer Gruppe schwarzer GIs zusammengeschlagen" (61). The text then describes in more metaphorical language a violent collision of bodies in which voice disappears. Instead, readers are presented with an assault where attackers and attacked, here the protagonist's brother, become a tangled web of indistinguishable body parts:

InderErinnerunggabesnureinedichteMasse,Armeund Pauste,diesichhervortaten, aufKopfundBauchdesjungenManneszielten,derzuwimmern begonnen hatte und unter den Schlagen und Stofsen zuckte und sich krummte und baldschiefzusammengesunken,den Kopfhalb auf dem Schofs der Freundin,zu Pufsen der Mauer lag. Kopfe schoben sich vor und wichen wieder zuruck, ohne dasssichtbargewordenware,welcheArmezu welchenKopfen gehorten.(61-62)

If jumbled bodies blur the line between victims and aggressors, blacks and whites, the protagonist soon finds her own bodily contours dissolving. When the brick hits her mouth, that ambiguous organ linking inside and out, it explodes into "aufgerissenes und geplatztes Weiches"(65). The body as shell appears to crack, as shards of glass rain down on the protagonist: "Bis in die Haare und Kleidungsfalten waren die Glassplitter geflogen, bei jeder Bewegung losten sich einige und fielen auf das Pflaster" (64). The body's fluid underside -its blood, slime, saliva and vomit -then erupts through the mouth as a "zaher Fluss" of "dicke, nicht mehr endende Schleimfaden" (65). Both the violence itself and its aftermath disturb racial, psychic and bodily boundaries. If a certain textual messiness makes it difficult to sort out all the political implications of what ensues, LeslieAdelson has carefully atomized the text's racial dimensions in all their permutations.

First and formost, Adelson challenges the implicit racism in the representation of black GIs as "unmitigated evil" (51) untempered by any trace of reason. She argues, however, that blackness in "Ubergang" figures both negatively and positively, representing both "ruthless, unexplained violence" and an oppressed group with which the protagonist later identifies. Blackness thus both silences her and represents the silences from which she, as a woman, speaks when she "fills that darkness with her own presence and her struggle for articulation" (47). In this manner, "evil becomes good, absence assumes presence, and silence speaks" (51). Problematic for Adelson in Duden's appropriation of blackness are a white society's positive and negative, but essentially racist assumptions about otherness. No matter how it is represented, otherness functions primarily as a means for the dominant culture to define itself, and not the groups it marginalizes.

Weigel's and Adelson's varying responses to the text -the former emphasizing a universal feminine, the later positionality and power structures -represent historically contingent forms of feminism out of sync with one another. Weigel's reading reveals the search for eixecriture feminine during the 1980s, whereas Adelson speaks from postcolonial sensitivities that emerged in the late 1980s and into the 1990s. While Weigel correctly emphasizes collateral damages and the silencing of a historically disadvantaged group, Adelson is also correct in pointing out that female experience is neither timeless nor undifferentiated from other oppressed groups. Taken together, one witnesses nonsynchronous forms of feminism yielding, as any age would, varying interpretations of a literary text. My own reading of "Obergang" as a dystopian poetics with political import recognizes an undeniably damaged, dammed-up selfhood, yet presumes to find a voice which, at times and in relation to Holocaust victims, does, in fact, rise above the status of actual or potential victim. To better understand that murky realm of identity formation, one must return to that problematic opening called the vacuum mouth and first ask: in what way does "imbibing" victims -specifically those putrefying corpses -constitute a problematic form of identifying with them? And further: precisely what kind of voice/identity emerges when these victims are later expelled through the mouth?

Identification as a significant factor in German Vergangenheitsbewiiltigung emerges in the writings of Margarete and Alexander Mitscherlich. That Germans did not experience an extended period of depression following the Second World War revealed, they argued, an inability to mourn. Proper mourning requires the recognition that the lost object was, in fact, distinct from one's self. Melancholy, on the other hand, occurs when boundaries between self and beloved other were never fully constituted, the subject instead finding a mirror of self in the object, while wilfully excising any forms perceived as other. That Germans were so unable to mourn, the Mitcherlichs argued, revealed both a denial of the past and narcissistic identifications with Hitler and National Socialism merely rerouted to the victim.'? As Eric Santner has argued, Germans remained incapable of "mourning as Germans for those whom they had excluded and exterminated in their mad efforts to produce their 'Cerrnanness" (6). In other words, Germans had to first learn to say "I" and separate themselves from the victims of National Socialism before they could feel empathy and mourn for them.

Parallels between "Ubergang" and the Mitscherlich's paradigm are certainly evident, particularly given Adelson's understanding of the text's alternating anxiety over and identification with blackness as alterity. What complicates this mechanism in Duden's text, however, is the way "swallowing" recasts a troubled or joyous relationship with a mirror in Lacan's formulation as a bodily mechanism. This switch may be self-serving, since swallowing as reflex diminishes whatever volition, conscious or not, may prompt an act of internalization. In other words, swallowing has to occur, even if sometimes of unpleasant matter. "Ubergang," in fact, casts this form of identification as a mechanistic process in overdrive, since the protagonist's mouth becomes an Allesfresser which swallows everything, from victims to dead animals on the Autobahn:

Der Vakuummund wurde zum wichtigsten Organ. Er lernte nur eines: aufzunehmen und nach innen wegzuschlucken. Das Umgekehrte funktionierte nicht. Er war unfahig zum Ausdruck. Das einwarts Gegessene wurde zur Grammatik einer schwerzungigen, nicht zu sich kommenden Sprache, einer Sprache im Traumzustand, jenseits der Sinn-und Formenschwelle. Augenlos und dunkel.


On the one hand, the vacuum mouth's inability to express itself in conventional, linguistic form affirms Weigel's gender-oriented understanding of the text. At the same time, a language both "augenlos und dunkel" recalls the GIs and Adelson's argument about the protagonist learning to speak through their oppression, as gender constructs itself against a racial backdrop. Yet the vacuum mouth itself, so my suggestion, can be best understood if gender falls back in line with Germanness more generally.

Certainly, the indiscriminate, omnivorous ingestion of the vacuum

mouth complicates the relationship between complicity and victimhood,

perhaps the most fraught binary for German selfhood. Unlike the brick that

smashed the protagonist's face and can be read as a metaphor for history

forcing its way in, a vacuum mouth suggests an ambiguous tool of collusion,

namely a learned reflex, which is theoretically capable of performing several

important functions in the post-World War II landscape which the protag

onist inhabits. Most obviously, gobbling up everything in the landscape

simply hides damning evidence of the Holocaust. Recalling the Mitscher

Iichs' argument, the question arises whether such imagery also signals a

German self incapable of differentiating among objects internalized for self

preserving ends.l! In the Mitscherlichs' argument, Germans became very

adept at internalizing the pain and trauma of Holocaust victims and registering it as their own. If a vacuum mouth conveniently hides evidence and facilitates dubious identifications, "Ubergang," however, shows us again and again the extreme bodily distress that results. Therefore, if Germans are adept at appropriating victim status, the price is a besieged and gravely ill body. Read in this vein, Duden's text can be seen as containing a subtle critique of Germans' inability to mourn the Holocaust properly. Weigel, of course, links an internalized history and its sickening, corporeal aftermath to a siege on women in particular. As I will discuss, the text does support this gendered reading in several places. Given that the protagonist alternately figures as both agent and victim of the way history enters her body, it is hard to determine whether the critique in "Ubergang" focuses on the process itself in its various forms, its agents (whoever they may be), or its aftermath. At the very least, readers witness the protagonist's earnest efforts to reverse the mechanics of the vacuum mouth by vomiting.

In one passage, the protagonist speaks with great precision about what she has swallowed, namely mountains of dead corpses, along with "ihre Migranen, Kotzanfalle und Krampfadern, ihre Niederlagen und Traurigkeiten, die Blasse ihrer Gesichter und die Schweifsfufse am Abend" (77). Striking here is the repetition of the adjectival pronoun "ihr," which underscores the basic linguistic separation between self and other. What also emerges are the bodily traces Kluger misses in the present-day form of concentration camps, with mountains of dead corpses recalling footage from documentaries like Night and Fog. Striking as well is how carefully the protagonist captures abject details not often expressed in words, as if the vacuum mouth were, in fact, capable of expression. If the protagonist learned or was forced to swallow the effects of the Holocaust, she nonetheless recognizes her membership in the "Spezies der Verantwortlichen.fl-differentiates herself from Holocaust victims, and searches for a language to release the unspeakable, noxious forms within. Such actions, of course, speak more to her German identity than to her gender.

What facilitates her efforts, paradoxically, is the initial act of violence which cracks her external shell.l'' No longer capable of swallowing, digesting, and excreting in an orderly, unconscious way, the protagonist finally perceives a foreign body etching pathways within:

Dabei konnte ich doch von Gluck sagen, dass nun endlich auch meine Anatomie einen Knacks bekommen hatte, dass der Kerper aufzuholen beginnen konnte, was bis dahin allein meinem Gehirnkopf vorbehalten war, namlich dem grenzenlosen Chaos der Welt auf allen Schleichwegen und uberallhin zu folgen, wo es sich bemerkbar machte, es also auch in mich einbrechen und in mir wuten zu lassen. (67)

Painful ingestion differs significantly from the mere act of swallowing, since the object continually registers its presence by leaving "messerscharfe Einschnitte" in the "qualligen Weichteilen der aufgeschlagenen Cesichtshohle" (68). Crucial, however, is that pain not be perceived as the effect of one's own misfortunes. Since "das grenzenlose Chaos der Welt" is only vaguely defined here, it is hard to know whose pain is invoked. Only in those abject images of corpses does the possibility of self and other, past and present touching, arise, particularly within a body which responds viscerally to the past. Pain combined with an image of the protagonist's body as Triimmeruberreste suggests a somewhat different outcome to Germany's own Stunde Null: rather than shoring up the self by maniacallyclearing rubble and rebuilding walls, the outcome could have been a willingess to reflect on the effects of National Socialism. What hinders this process in the case of the protagonist, however, are the physicians who favor the former strategyof rebuilding the protagonist's jaw.

They begin by salvaging solid body parts, like the protagonist's remaining teeth, from the blood and vomit that engulf them. Again and again, however, the text links this process to the violence of the original assault. Her head is bandaged to allow new skin to form, and tubes which she likens to gallows brutally revive the process of wegschlucken which she can no longer perform on her own. Later, a nurse places a Miindungsschoner into her mouth, a phallic, knife-like instrument which both impales the protagonist and brutally clears a path back into her body. Repeated parallels between the initial act of destruction and an equally savage reconstruction bring us back to the problem of victimhood. Black GIs and white doctors signal opposite sides of the same coin: "the black hole"!" of German history "penetrating" the protagonist and the equally savage forces that hide the damage with artificially resurrected boundaries. Gone are the ambiguities of the vacuum mouth, an organ which belongs to females and males alike. Instead, we find history transmitted via a literal and figurative rape of the mouth which silences the protagonist and must remain unspoken. Even if she accepts membership in the guilty species, such imagery clearly casts her as victim, as national identity takes a backseat to gender. If "Obergang" remains ambiguous about the way history enters the protagonist's body, the expulsion that follows also reveals, via maddeningly oblique metaphors, an indeterminate posi tionality.

The medically sanctioned assault continues when words spoken around the protagonist's hospital bed hit her "wie ein Ceschofs" (74). Her response constitutes a symbolic and physiological shot back:

Erinnerung -Anstrengung -Identitat. Das Ceschofs hatte einen inneren, zentral gelegenen Sack durchschlagen, eine bis dahin sicher abgekapselte Blase. Mit unwiderstehlichem Druck drangte ihr Inhalt aufwarts -es war zu spat, es gab kein Aufhalten mehr. Er prefste sich quallig ausdehnend die Kehle hoch -ich mochte tot sein -, ri~ den bandagierten Hollenrachen, der nichts als geschlossen und bewegungslos sein wollte, mit wuster Kraft und Gewalt auf, so dass ein Stechen, Ziehen, Rucken und Schneiden die hintersten Winkel des Gehirnsdurchfetzte, und walzte sich dann als schleimig schwarz-rote Substanz wie RotweinmitdaruntergeschlagenemEiineineWanne. InderNierenschaleschwappte er eine Weilehin und her, eine Masse noch lebenden Aufruhrs. Mein Kopf fiel zuruck auf das Kissen. Er harte und fuhlte sich an, als poltere er tiber mehrere Steine nacheinander, ehe er aufschlug. Ich war angekommen. (75)

Memory culminates here in "identity" and that final declaration "I had arrived," as the protagonist's voice emerges in a violent expulsion. On one level, vomiting should restore the protagonist's psychic and physical health simply by reversing the trajectory of the vacuum mouth. What effects this process has on her German identity, though, is key; even if it remains enigmatic. The mature self, as the Mitscherlichs argue, is capable of separating self from other, aprocessnecessaryifHolocaustvictimsareto beproperly mourned. Ifvomiting serves as a primitive means for establishing corporeal and subjective boundaries," the violence of the passage above, however, describes not so much a separation as a detonation, and perhaps less an affective, mournful response than an act of self-preservation. At the same time, a mature self also recognizes the inherent instability of its own boundaries, that selfhood will vacillate in a field of shifting coordinates between the "I" and the manyothers it encounters. And here, the fact that the protagonist does not disown what she disgorges is significant. Instead, she attempts to name the unspeakablethat "still living" matter sloshing around in the bowl. The protagonist imagines her vomit not as primordial bodily matter, but a mix of contrary elements: an egg, a basic food source produced by a living creature, and wine, a product of culture, of highly refined fermentation processes. If the egg suggests a birth, it is of a bounded self that simultaneously produces evidence of a conjoined self. In other words, those disparate forms in the bowl provide a primitive rendering of the way that self and other, most often figured elsewhere in the text as self and its abject history, remain perpetuallyentangled.

What exactly does this whole process signify in "Ubergang"? One could extrapolate that the mature German self is capable of recognizing its own boundaries and saying "I," yet does not disavow its continued coexistence with a catastrophic history and its aftermath. The text's overall abstruse nature, however, renders a single, absolute message unlikely, and a number of problems remain. At the beginning of this essay, I spoke of the need for each generation to render symbolically all those discomforting, ambiguous spaces which challenge easy distinctions and representation itself. The primitive act of separation in vomiting, is, of course, a necessary first step for bringing fraught proximities to light and potentially into the field of representation. If "Ubergang" reveals the messy, inexplicable nature of such proximities, it hardly traces the many ways Germany has dealt with and continues to deal with the Holocaust, or those repetitive, Sisyphean exertions which Freudenheim invokes. While the text provided Adelson ample material for analyzing blacks and blackness in a gendered German imaginary, Jews and other Holocaust victims figure solely as past history. What German-Jewish entanglements might look like today, for instance, remains open und unexplored.l? And lastly, blending self and other in a specifically abject form may potentially predestine this particular Begegnung for the garbage heap. At best, an oblique critique emerges when the protagonist turns into a ruin, revealing the price of excising troubled boundaries. The images of stones which emerge at the end of the passage quoted above initiate a process which soon leads to the protagonist's own desiccation.

In the text's final sections, the protagonist's fluid selfhood solidifies into a brittle mass which is often related to building materials. As doctors remove wires from her jaw, she observes: "Bagger und Planierraupen schienen sich durch das Kopfgelande zu schieben und zu wuhlen. Balken krachten, Decken sturzten ein, Halterungen barsten und zersplitterten" (101). In another scene, she imagines her face splintering into tiny shards of glass, as her interlocutor remarks: "Das wufste ich gar nicht, dass sie dich mit Glas repariert haben" (93). Against a vaguely war-like backdrop of soldiers on buses, evacuated structures and gaseous forms, she remains a vulnerable edifice whose specious stability could shatter or crumble at any moment. When architecture becomes the template for modeling selfhood, a number of pitfalls may arise. Since acts of construction and destruction perpetually blur in "Obergang," identity-construction becomes a very slipshod affair. On the one hand, the mature self, as I argued, recognizes boundaries between self and other, as if it were a free-standing edifice taking up a particular location in space. Boundaries put in place to oust alterity, however, will sooner or later give way. In a world where selfhood perpetually redefines itself across a range of often unstable categories, boundaries are, of course, constantly shifting. As such, the protagonist's varying selves -as a female, as white, as German -conjure up a positionality that is often hard to pin down. Attempting to determine and define her identity with finality again constructs specious distinctions which cannot always hold. Tellingly, the protagonist's newly fashioned contours are extremely flimsy, as a loose wall of teeth remains in gums like butter.

Most importantly, when hard and fast boundaries banish evidence of overlapping positionalities, life itself flees the premises:

Ich war eine gegen die Oase abgeschottete Wuste geworden. Einmal den Mund aufreifsen und von Flussigem durch-und uberspult werden, die Sackgasse aufsprengen, den Hinterhof, den Stadtring. Zerbersten, durchatmen, ins offene Steinmeer schwimmen und da ertrinken. (98)

Having been denuded of bodilyeffluvia and sloppily sealed up, the protagonist becomes one with a petrified and ruined city landscape. The enclosed form of the structures with which the protagonist merges -the cul-de-sac, the rear courtyard, the city ringroad -represent an architecture that both mirrors a circumscribed selfhood and installs a further bulwark against alterity. That theprotagonistimaginesdetonatingthislandscapeprovides one finalcritique and again points to a brittleness which cannot hold. Ultimately; "Ubergang" suggests that when the waste which houses troubled boundaries is removed, selfhood will turn to stone, if not a ruin.

Yet the question that I posed at the beginning of this essay still remains, namely whether history can take a form other than abject waste or inert stone, perhaps one both less detrimental to selfhood and one that may even cultivate Kluger's more constructive types of "Zusammenhange." Berlin's present overzealous construction, as I will demonstrate, necessarily alters the coordinates of Vergangenheitsbewaltigung which position history and selfhood. Given the pitfalls which "Ubergang" links to an architectonic identity, questions arise about history's fate where ambitious building projects provide the accoutrements of an evolving German self.


Since the early 1990s, cranes have populated the Berlin skyline, performing a face lift that will extend until at least 2009 when renovations on the Museumsinsel are completed. Germany's new face finds some of its most prominent features in and around Berlin-Mine, where historical memory currently squares off against gleaming, futuristic structures in an encounter of granite and glass staged by foreign architects who include Sir Norman Foster, Renzo Piano, Frank Gehry, and again Peter Eisenman. The predictable question is whether visually spectacular edifices deflect attention away from an unattractive history. Or is it possible to find more complicated metaphors for understanding German selfhood vis-a-visGerman history, where the former does not necessarily remove or disrespect the latter in the name of self-image or self-preservation'(

The recent documentary Berlin Babylon offers its own mix of familiar, if gloomy metaphors, some of which recall the indeterminateness of Duden's text. In this film, Berlin over the last sixty years emerges as a confused site with as much wreckage and collapse, both through Allied bombings and wantonly destructive city planning, as construction. In post-unification Berlin, airborne and underwater construction workers perform their own Sisyphean labor, whether perched on the Radio Tower in the film's opening shots or submerged in the watery underworld of the Spree. The film casts their efforts, however, as less noble than simply futile: The Tower of Babel quotation at the film's beginning invokes hubris and an inevitable fall around the monstrously large construction sites and pompous building dedications depicted throughout. Repetitive Babylonian cacophony in the form of crashing beams and shattering glass, mirrored acoustically in the soundtrack by Einstiirzende Neubauten, invoke the ambiguities of a Berlin both besieged and expanding. Moreover, such chaos presumably disdains the past, as the film repeatedly conjures up Walter Benjamin's forlorn Angel of History: Not only does German actress Angela Winkler recite Benjamin's famous lines in voice-over, but repeated horizontal panning shots from above create the feel of an angel hovering. Seen from this perspective, messy, ambitious construction sites depict the text's notion of progress as a pile of rubbish which grows beneath the Angel's rueful gaze. What gets lost in the film's overblown metaphors, however, is any credit due to Berlin for those sites where history is very much in evidence. By dwelling on the confusions of Berlin-Mitte, Berlin Babylon mostly ignores the surfeit of memory sites already existing, for instance, in western sections of thecity.'? More importantly, it misses out on the way that futuristic buildings of glass, and even Eisenman's stone monument, can, in fact, refract German history if the film's predictable metaphors are read differently.

The centerpiece of the new Berlin is no doubt Sir Norman Foster's glass dome atop the refurbished Reichstag. Here and at the neighboring Potsdamer Platz, the complicated semiotics of glass are key. "Ubergang," one recalls, cast glass as a shoddy building block of self for providing a brittle, breakable exterior. Not simply a similarly specious bulwark, the glassReichstag dome instead reveals a proximity which would level difference, as politicians and a general populace come together under the same roof. Moreover, glass offers vistas to other new government buildings around the Reichstag and down into its immense foyer, conjuring up a Weltoffenheit which is central to Germany's evolving image. If Germany presumably has nothing to hide, it requires a glass dome which also puts visibility dramatically on display, letting us see others in the act of seeing, in a double hedge against a dark history. At the same time, the sight of bodies tarrying on ramps under glass like butterflies in a jar seems to invite reflections on German identity. Obviously, caging endless hordes of Schuler hardly renders Germanness in any self-evident way. But glass as the window onto Berlin's complicated topography does reveal several historical sites and modern edifices which are also integral to Germany's evolving image. If their meanings are hardly transparent and potentially invidious, they remain integral components of the "nothing to hide" semantics of the dome. Given the importance of the dome's vistas, glass is thus neither bulwark of self, nor does it represent, as Berlin Babylon would have it, some kind of sleek, modern ephemerality which is indifferent to history.

Not far off, Potsdamer Platz seems in places like a miniature city of glass, most obviously in Renzo Piano's boat-shaped building up front and in the Sony Center's huge glass arena, itself a structure which superficially recalls the Reichstag dome and thus deserves careful attention. Lacking the same expansive vistas, though, the arena would seem to promote a gaze that stops at one's own reflection in a potentially dubious dynamic. Eric Santner has written about the dangers of German efforts to fashion an identity continuous with itself by banishing all forms of alterity.I'' And indeed, it is very tempting to read the Sony Center's arena as the Lacanian equivalent of the "orgasmatron" from the Woody Allen film Sleeper (1972), or a space where Germans go for a quick solo encounter of self with self. Yet shoring up German selfhood is less than simple in a setting where Germanness is hardly refracted in an ardent way. When one of the talking heads in Berlin Babylon mentions visiting the opening of Potsdamer Platz, another sniffs, "ach [a, die Shopping Mall," a response which reduces the entire complex to a blandly generic cross-over product with decidedly un-German roots. And here some potentially thorny issues arise.

Peter Schneider has written critically about the need to build a politically correct Berlin, or a city minus any traces of National Socialist style architecture.l? One could thus argue that, instead of fostering a narcissistic encounter of self with self that ousts alterity, the Sony Center arena provides the optimal visual conditions for German identity to vanish, as if glass and foreign architects could deflect attention away from German identity and history. The familiar charge here is that such a vanishing act provides an easy way out for Germans who, as Sabine Colz has jocularly observed, sense that being German is not something one should do too publicly (47). But either being too German or avoiding the charge of Germanness altogether brings us right back to Freudenheim's remark "damned if you do, damned if you don't." What may help, though, is recalling the presence of the Filmmuseum in the Sony-Center. It provides an extraordinary repository for German selfhood and history, if not as hard and fast entities, then as they have been variously projected over time. Given the arena's proximity to the Filmmuseum, the former may be less a stage for narcissistic or vanishing acts than itself a Lichtspiel where German selfhood is projected in twenty-first-century, pan-European form. While history may only be obliquely in evidence at Potsdamer Platz, one only need walk two blocks to the "Topography of Terror" to find it in more concrete form.

Unearthed in the late 1980s, this site is part of the larger Prinz-AlbrechtCeldnde which housed some of the central security organs of National Socialism, including the Gestapo and 55.At first glance, the "Topography of Terror" counters Potsdamer Platz in several respects. History is more than an ephemeral projection here, resembling instead what Kluger calls aZeitschaft, or what a place was during a particular moment in time and can never be again. Rickety, subterranean rooms create an eerie effect, with chipped tiles on walls evoking the once sanitary, clinical realm where innumerable victims were brutalized. Unlike Potsdamer Platz, the Topography's wobbly structures occupy space in a much more tentative, irresolute manner. In fact, the way the whole complex resembles both a typical Berlin Niemandsland and a nascent construction site creates an aura of transition. The presence of the Wall along the site's northern perimeter in the Niederkirchnerstra~e, for instance, reveals two separate historical moments encroaching on one another.P Against the backdrop of Duden's text, one could again read this site as an open hole in Berlin's face, or the locus of an erupting body where a partially digested history manifests itself. At the same time, though, evidence of evolving documentation alters the effect, as if history were more than some abject form dumped in the landscape. Rather, it becomes a work in progress existing in that no-man's land between exposed artefacts and their symbolic rendition. In this manner, the "Topography of Terror," like Potsdamer Platzas locus to a Lichtspie/, obliquely suggests that history is part projection, and not simply a concrete, material entity. The site's present irresoluteness also reveals the delicacy of a historian's task, which is not only coaxing often confusing historical accretions from the earth, but carefully constructing a mediating frame flexible enough to handle uncertain bound


As of January 2004, 250 granite pillars have been erected at the site of the new Holocaust Memorial beside the Brandenburg Gate. It will open officially on May 8 of this year, the date which also marks Germany's capitulation at the end of World War 11.21 Potentially yet another monumentally pompous, self-important edifice, it, too, requires an altered metaphorical vantage point.P Given the protagonist's fate in "Ubergang," it would be easy to understand this sea of stones as what remains in petrified form when troubled proximities are excised. Interestingly, however, Eisenman conceives of his memorial in very different terms which nonetheless speak to Duden's text. When the Goebbels's bunker was discovered beneath the site, Eisenman's first impulse was to build the monument right into it. In this manner, he could have altered the trajectory in "Ubergang" whereby a rotten history penetrated the protagonist, instead creating a symbolic avalanche of Holocaust victims invading the space of the bunker. Dissuaded from staging such an encounter, Eisenman may, in fact, provide the raw materials for another sort of Begegnung which instead brings together past and present in an even more invidious manner. In a recent newspaper interview, Eisenman has described the way he himself has often been a Zie/scheibe for those critical of his architectural style. Equally important, he is not at all distressed that his monument may well serve the same function for Neo-Nazis and extreme ring-wing political factions. On the contrary, he muses: "Wenn es Rechtsradikalismus gibt, dann hat es keinen Zweck, ihn zu unterdrucken. Warum sollte das Holocaust-Mahnmal nicht der Ort sein, an dem diese Energie zum Ausdruck kommt und wo sie sichtbar wird?" (Die Zeit, 5/2001, 41).

Conceived in this way, petrified stone turns porous and recalls Kluger's Reibefliichen, even if it fosters an encounter which is hardly appetizing. Important to remember, though, is that while Holocaust victims are dead and gone, anti-semitism is not. In this sense, Eisenman's monument would be less the site of a Sch/ussstrich than of possible inscriptions which dramatically reveal troubled, not closed boundaries between Germans and Jews. Visitors to Eisenman's monument would thus be called upon to pay respect to the dead and reflect on ways of managing noxious historical elements that continue to exist in Germany and elsewhere. Equally importantly, if the new Germany has "nothing to hide" it requires both the glassReichstag dome and Eisenman's stone monument as visual counterpoints. Each provides a screen through and on which German selfhood and history can meet and evolve in a whole range of constructive, destructive, and unpredictable ways. So long as such relations, no matter how ambiguous or discomforting, are displayed rather than denied, the work ofVergangenheitsbewaltigung in Germany will continue.


11 am indebted to Susanne Baackmann, whose work has provocatively linked Duden's texts to German Holocaust monuments, for both inspiring this essay and for important feedback. In particular, I would like to reference her presentation entitled "Locating Memory: Bodies, Dead and Alive: Anne Duden's 'Das [udasschaf'," presented at the GSA Conference 1997 in Washington, D.C. Scott Denham's editorial skills and Holocaust expertise were also extremely helpful in shaping this essay.

2 Huyssen writes: "The more monuments there are, the more the past becomes invisible, the easier to forget ... Indeed, many critics describe Germany's current obsession with monuments and memorials as the not so subtle attempt at Entsorgung, the public disposal of radiating waste" (193).

3The Historikerstreit notwithstanding, Klugerinsists on the importanceofmaking comparisons between then and now: "Abgekapselte Monaden waren wir, gabe es nicht den Vergleich und die Unterscheidung, Brucken von Einmaligkeit zu Einmaligkeit. Im Grunde wissen wir aIle, [uden wie Christen: Teile dessen, was in den KZs geschah, wiederholten sich vielerorts, heute und gestern, und die KZs waren selbst Nachahmungen ... von Vorgestrigem" (70).

4In words that echo Kluger's, Mary Fulbrook describes Dachau as a u •.. highly sanitized, orderly and hygienic version of the past: clean, neat, calm and in no wayan adequate representation of what had actually taken place on this territory nearly half a century before" (40).

5 Zumthor has stated how he tried to explain to the curators of the exhibit being constructed at the "Topography of Terror," u ... wie unmoglich es ist, was sie mit diesem Ort machen -dass sie ihn mit ihrer Didaktisierung zerstoren" (Die Zeit 45/2001:47).

6 KlausHarpprecht, forexample, writes: "Vielleichtlerntdie'Trauerarbeiterinder Nation' und unsere 'Gedenkdomina' nun endlich, was Trauer, die glaubwurdig sein will, und die Pflicht des Erinnerns als Erstes und Letztes verlangen: einen Hauch von Demut" tSuddeutsche Zeitung, 8 July 2001,9).

7Eisenman has stated: "Der Besucher solI sich fragen: Was ist das hier? Was bedeutet das? Wo befinde ich mich eigentlich? Genau dieses Gefuhl will ich erzeugen, diese Verlorenheit, diese Orientierungslosigkeit, die vergebliche Suche nach dem klaren Sinn. Die kognitive Erfahrung tritt hinter die affektive Erfahrung zuruck" (Die Zeit, 5/2001: 41).

8Of course the abject is never so easily banished. As Kristeva writes, "We may call it a border; abjection is above all ambiguity. Because, while releasing a hold, it does not radically cut off the subject from what threatens it -on the contrary abjection acknowledges it to be in perpetual danger" (9).

9 Eric Sandner has written about the difficulties of "self-constitution" for postwar generations, specifically due to ambivalent feelings towards symbolic resources: "It is as if with every word, every name one took into one's mouth, every totem one tried to internalize, one spit up ashes ... " (45), he muses, describing a poisoned environment which is reminiscent of the protagonist's.

10 "Identification with the innocent victim is very frequently substituted for mourning;thisisaboveallalogicaldefense againstguilt...To theconsciousmindthe past then appears as follows: We made many sacrifices, suffered the war, and were discriminated against for a long time afterward; yet we were innocent, since everything that is now held against us we did under orders. This strengthens the feeling of being oneself the victim of evil forces; first the evil Jews, then the evil Nazis, and finally the evil Russians" (45--46).

11UliLinke's workisparticularlyrelevantin thiscontext. In German Bodies. Race and Representation after Hitler, she writes about the way the discourse of the left in Germany at times eerily appropriates the trauma and fate of Jews during the Holocaust. Specifically, she writes of an imaginary created by the political party, the Greens, in which Germany becomes a "dangerous locale ... filled with poisonous and noxious substances," or "a site perpetually threatened by lethal waste products.... which attack the natural world ... and smother and infest the body" (163). As Linke observes, such a repertoire of symbols, images, and metaphors, "when used uncritically as templates of protest, curiously replicate the surface messages of a murderous discourse" (167).

12The protagonist sta tes: "Ich wargerade dreiunddreifsig Jahre alt geworden, als ich mir endlich eingestehen konnte, was ich lange schon geschluckt hatte, namlich dass es um Ausrottung ging. Die Spezies, zu der ich gehorte, kam zu allerletzt dran; es war zugleich die Spezies der Verantwortlichen" (68).

13Which once again brings us back to the complicated issues of race which Adelson raises. If a brick smashing the protagonist's face suggests an extreme version of the way she (forcibly) learnedto swallow an abjecthistory, whyareblacksthe agents ofwhat iscast as an implicitly German act? It is very hard to avoid the chargeof racism unless one does a very straightforward, historical (and generous) reading which puts blacks back among the ranks of allied forces who paradoxically "liberated" Germany via mass destruction.

14 In speculating on the various ways one could understand blackness in the text, Adelsonreferstothe "blackholesofhistory thatmine theGermanprotagonist'schildhood experience of World War II ... " (47).

15 Julia Kristeva writes about an early, presymbolic moment of identity formation where the subject can only assert a separate identity by expelling a part of itself in the act of vomiting: "I expel myself out, I abject myself with the same motion through which'!' claim to establish myself" (3).

16 For an analysis of Jewish presence in Germany today, see Karen Remmler.

17In Kreuzberg, of course, the]udisches Museum is an extremely important presence in the new Berlin. Myriad historical artifacts create the feel of an attic full of family heirlooms. Jagged tears along the sides of the building seem like a self-conscious rendition of Jewish history confined to a strong-box wrapped in barbed wire.

18 Seehis discussion of the Historikerstreit in Santner, particularly pp. 50-54.

19Schneiderobserves: "LacherlicheGegensatzpaarebildetensichheraus:Glas,Stahl und Aluminiumfenster standen fur Pluralitat, Stein, Blockbau und Holzleiste fur reaktionare Gesinnung und monolithische Gesellschaftsstrukturen.... Als Sieger in der Offentlichkeit erschien derjenige, der am erfolgreichsten die ideologische Waffe zu fuhren verstand, sodass die Frage nach der Schonheit und der Bewohnbarkeit eines Cebaudes oder Stadtteils ersetzt wurde durch die andere, ob es der Vergangenheitsbewaltigung diene. Das schlechte Gewissen aber ist nicht unbedingt ein guter Baumeister" (84-85).

20 The Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gediichtniskirche and the Anhalter Bahnhof are also useful points of reference here, both being partially destroyed buildings left standing in Berlin. Neither looks as precarious as the "Topography of Terror;" instead, both edificesvaguelyrecallfaux 19th-centuryruinsputin placetoinvoke along-gonehistorical moment. As much as they reveal the destructiveness of war, they may also evoke a truncatedimperialism whichstillinspiresnostalgia. I thankBessDawsonforsuggesting this reading of the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gediichtniskirche.

21 Controversy arose, however, around the company Degussa responsible for providing an anti-graffiti coating for the monument. It involved both illegal pricing and the revelation that Degussa's subsidiary firm, Degesch, produced the poisonous gas Zyklon Bwhich was used to gas millions of Jews and other Holocaust victims. Interestingly, Eisenman supported Degussa: "Es geht darum, dass wir uns 60 Jahre nach dem Holocaust nicht mehr zu Geiseln der Political Correctness machen lassen durfen, Ware das Projekt schon in dem Geist begonnen worden, in dem es nun fortgefuhrt zu werden droht, hatte ich nie mitgewirkt" <<http://www.zeit.de/2003/45/Eisenman>>.

22 Huyssen writes about the ironic way in which a politically suspect monumentality seems to be making its return in Germany's present cult of monuments, necessitating an entirely new discussion of the term. See "Monumental Seduction."

Works Cited

Adelson, Leslie. Making Bodies, Making History. Feminism andGerman Identity. Lincoln:U of

Nebraska ~ 1993. Assheuer, Thomas, Hanno Rauterberg and Ullrich Schwarz. "Was ist noch kritisch? Der Architekt Peter Eisenman uber judische Identitat, Demonstrationsfreiheit fur Neonazisam Holocaust-Mahnmalund den Irrwitzeinesneuen BerlinerSchlosses." Die Zeit OS/2001. 41.

Cohen, Roger. "WieselUrgesGermanytoAskForgiveness." NewYork Times, 28 Jan. 2000. A3, col. 1. Diner,Dan. "OnGuiltDiscourseandOtherNarratives.EpistemologicalObservationsregarding the Holocaust." History andMemory 9 (1997):301-20.

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Freudenheim, TomL. "Confronting Memoryand Museums." ANewGermany inaNewEurope. Ed. Todd Herzogand Sander L. Gilman. New York: Routledge, 2001. 143--65. Fulbrook, Mary. German National Identity after the Holocaust. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1999. Colz,Sabine. "HowEthnicAmI?"PMLA 113.1 (1998): 46-51. Harpprecht, Klaus. "EinHauchvonDemut.[emehrsichLeaRoshzu Chef-Racherinder

Shoaaufschwingt, destomehrschadetsiedemAndenken-EinZwischenruf." Suddeutsche Zeitung 8July2001: 9.

Huyssen, "Monumental Seduction." Acts of Memory. Cultural Recall in the Present. Eds. Mieke Bal, Jonathan Crewe, and Leo Spitzer. Hanover: UP of New England, 1999. 191-207.

Kluger, Ruth. weiter leben. Einejugend. Munich: DeutscherTaschenbuch Verlag, 1994.

Kristeva, Julia. Powers ofHorror. An Essay on Abjection. Trans. LeonS. Roudiez. New York: Columbia U~ 1982. Linke, UIi. German Bodies. Race andRepresentation after Hitler.NewYork: Routledge, 1999. Mitscherlich, Alexander and Margarete. The Inability toMourn: Principles ofCollective Behav

ior. Trans. Beverly R. Placzek. New York: Grove Press, 1975. "Peter Zumthor kritisiert diePlane desgeplantenHolocaust-Mahnmals." (noauthor) Die Zeit, 45/2001. 47.

Remmler, Karin. "Reclaiming Space: Jewish Women in GermanyToday." Writing NewIdentities. Cender Nation, andImmigration inContemporary Europe. Eds. Gisela Brinker-Gabler and Sidonie Smith. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota ~ 1997. 171-95.

Santner, Eric L. Stranded Objects. Mourning, Memorv, andFilm inPostwar Germany. Ithaca: Cornell U~ 1990. Schneider, Peter. Die Dietatur der Geschwindigkeit. AusfiugelZwischenrufe. Reinbek beiHamburg: RowohltTaschenbuch Verlag, 2000. Weigel, Sigrid. StimmederMedusa: SchreibweiseninderGegenwartsliteraturvon Frauen. Hamburg: Rowohlts Enzyklopadie, 1989. Young, James E. Writing andRewriting the Holocaust: Narrative andthe Consequences ofInterpretation. Indianapolis: Indiana U~ 1988.

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