The title of this book roughly translates as "And all of that without love" and is taken from one of Fontane's poems. It sets the scene for this little book that is concerned with Fontane's female protagonists: All of them had to lead their lives without love. Some found someone they loved but weren't able or allowed to start or keep a relationship for various reasons, others did not even find someone they truly loved. This is not the real focus of the book, though.
One after the other, the author examines the female protagonists of the novels Effi Briest, Frau Jenny Treibel, Irrungen, Wirrungen, Die Poggenpuhls, L'adultera, Mathilde Möhring, Stine and Cécile. I have only read the first three novels mentioned here - Irrungen, Wirrungen, available in English as "On Tangled Paths" in a new translation from 2010, was one of my favourite books read in 2020 - so I was open-minded to learn more about Fontane. The foreword was promising, as the author explained that he wanted to provide a fresh and modern view of these women, that he wanted to show that Fontane's works are timeless and haven't aged, that they can be read within a contemporary context and they stand the test of time. I very much agree with this approach, only: This fresh view never came. From page to page, the author rambled on and on without focus.
There were aspects I agreed with - the importance of living your life independently, taking chances when you can because in the end you don't want to regret that you have wasted your life, the overemphasis on keeping up appearances that takes energy away from what you really want to do with your life. However, I can't see why the author thinks that this interpretation is breathtakingly new. When I first read Effi Briest aged 18, I felt all of this and I didn't need a man to explain it to me. There is something cringeworthy about some of the passages and something feels really off: On the one hand, the author celebrates himself as someone who finally understands these Fontane women and who loves these novels because of them. On the other hand, though, there are sexist undertones when he describes young teenage girls as silly things and b*tches and blames them for what happened to them because they didn't fight it. This comes close to victim-blaming sometimes and this was when I couldn't take the author serious anymore, PhD in German literature or not. It is a pity because I do agree with some of the commentary (it's so rambling that you cannot call it an analysis), but I expected a lot more from this.

A note on the cover: It is a painting by the Danish artist Vilhelm Hammershøi. I hadn't heard of him before, but I googled his paintings and absolutely love them - so something very good has come from this book in the end! ( )