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<strong>Spike</strong> | 15 YEARS OF BOOKS, MUSIC, ART, IDEAS | www.spikemagazine.com<br />

Review [published October 2002]<br />

Cees Nooteboom: All Souls’ Day<br />

Stephen Mitchelmore<br />

“The shortcut does not allow one to arrive someplace<br />

more directly (more quickly), but rather to lose the way<br />

that ought to lead there.” – Maurice Blanchot<br />

How does one deal with trauma? It’s a common<br />

question. Arthur Daane, roving documentary cameraman<br />

and protagonist of Cees Nooteboom’s latest novel,<br />

asks it too. He thinks of some of the traumatic events<br />

of his time:<br />

“The woman who happened to be passing by when<br />

the bomb exploded in Madrid, the seven Trappist monks<br />

whose throats were cut in Algiers, the 20 boys gunned<br />

down before their parents’ eyes in Colombia, the entire<br />

trainful of commuters hacked to death with machetes<br />

in a five-minute burst of orgiastic fury in Johannesburg,<br />

the 200 passengers on the plane that exploded above<br />

the sea, the two, three or 6,000 men and boys killed<br />

in Srebrenica, the hundreds of thousand of woman and<br />

children slain in Rwanda, Burundi, Liberia, Angola.”<br />

The list could go on and on. And that fact, Daane<br />

thinks, is perhaps the worst. “For one moment, a day, a<br />

week, they were front-page news, for several seconds<br />

they flowed through cables in every part of the globe,<br />

BUY Cees Nooteboom books online from and<br />

and then it began, the black, delete-button darkness of<br />

oblivion.” Amnesia sets in “as if … humanity wasn’t<br />

interested in individual names, only the blind survival<br />

of the species.”<br />

Daane is, as you might have guessed, a melancholy<br />

soul. But his otherwise mundane ruminations have a<br />

traumatic resonance. Some time before the novel begins,<br />

his wife and child were killed in a place crash.<br />

Alone, in time between jobs, he wanders the streets of<br />

Berlin with his camera, recording quiet moments at<br />

dawn or dusk in a city full of ghosts. This is his way<br />

of resisting amnesia, and yet it is also his way of forgetting<br />

(“dealing with” one might say) the permanent<br />

absence of his family. The paradox is central to his melancholy<br />

and to this novel. How can he move on without<br />

obliterating their individual names? The temptation is<br />

to dive into work, into experience and other forms of<br />

forgetfulness, but to do that, he thinks, would, in turn,<br />

lead to the sleep of reason, thereby summoning up the<br />

nightmares already spoken of.<br />

In first half of the novel, we follow Arthur on his<br />

wandering. He visits friends in a bar, gets caught up<br />

377<br />

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