En el verano de 1988, Paul Gompitz, camarero de Rostock, zarpó con su velero hacia Dinamarca dejando atrás Hiddensee, isla norteña de la por entonces República Democrática Alemana. Había esperado una noche propicia y unos vientos favorables para franquear por mar la frontera de la RDA y alcanzar las costas occidentales como hicieron otros muchos antes de él. Sin embargo, el caso del camarero de Rostock gozó de cierta repercusión en la prensa occidental, porque a diferencia de sus compatriotas huidos, Gompitz no manifestaba la intención de huir hacia la libertad de Occidente. A Gompitz no le resultaba insoportable la vida en el Este. Su temeraria travesía, planeada durante años, debía llevarlo a Trieste, y en último término a Siracusa, emulando el viaje que su adorado Seume inmortalizó en el Paseo a Siracusa en el año 1802.

Das ist ein schönes und verblüffendes Buch. Der DDR-Bürger Paul Gompitz möchte nach Italien reisen, auf der Spur des Reiseberichts von Seume aus dem Jahr 1902. Legal wird das aber nicht- er erhält einfach keine Reisegenehmigung. Also macht er es illegal, schafft jahrelang sein Westgeld nach draußen, segelt mit einem Boot nach von Hiddensee nach Gedser, macht sich von dort auf den Weg. Sieben Jahre haben seine Vorbereitungen gedauert, bis es endlich soweit ist. Er nimmt Lebensgefahr, Gefängnis und Beziehungsprobleme in Kauf, um nach Italien zu kommen.
Mir gefällt neben der schier unglaublichen (aber wahren!) Geschichte vor allem Gompitz´ Sichtweise, die so ganz anders ist als die Westsichtweise. Wir können jederzeit nach Italien reisen, machen uns kaum die Mühe einer intensiven Vorbereitung. Italien als Traumziel? Das ist doch heute schon viel zu nah- Traumziele sind höchstens noch in Asien oder Australien zu finden. Die westliche Sattheit wird in diesem Buch in Frage gestellt und tatsächlich den Gedanken eines funktionerenden Sozialismus gegenüber gestellt - es wäre ja auch einst möglich gewesen, etwas mehr DDR zu erhalten und etwas weniger BRD draus zu machen.
Das Vorbild für Paul Gompitz heißt übrigens Klaus Müller und hat mitlerweile auch selbst seine Geschichte aufgeschrieben. ( )

When I was growing up, it took me a long time before I realised that "iron curtain" was a metaphor. The German-German border was the most frightening and vivid manifestation of what the Cold War was about, and the picture conjured up by Churchill's famous words didn't seem any more extravagant than what I was told about this peculiar half-country, whose only apparent raison d'être was to prevent its own citizens from leaving...

Delius takes the frightening part of this picture for granted, and focusses on its absurdity in his lightly-fictionalised version of the true story of Klaus Müller (less prosaically named Paul Gompitz in the book) and his plan to visit Italy in the tradition established by another notable (if rather less hairy) Saxon eccentric, Johann Gottfried Seume, in 1802. Gompitz is presented to us as a Svejk-like figure, following his dream with a dogged, bizarre, but in some way also thoroughly reasonable determination. The plan is more than six years in the making, but when it comes down to it, he never shows impatience. If the right weather conditions don't arise, he will simply have to wait until next year. Of course, we, the readers, have the benefit of hindsight, and are anxiously watching the clock to see if he will be able to put his great project into effect before November 1989, when history makes it redundant. But Delius cleverly avoids any reference to this: we have to work the irony out for ourselves.

There are plenty of heroic stories of escapes from the DDR - many of which ended tragically, of course - but the great thing about Gompitz is that he doesn't want to escape, or to make a new life for himself in the West. He simply wants to do what any normal person in any normal, developed country can do: treat himself to the holiday he has dreamed of, and then come home and return to his normal life. By highlighting the complete disproportion between the extraordinary effort Gompitz puts in (and the risks he has to run) and the ordinariness of his objective, Delius gives us the clearest possible illustration of how far the DDR had managed to distort logic and reality by the 1980s.

There are some wonderful descriptions of the distorted world of the DDR - one that particularly stuck in my mind is the scene where Gompitz is lying on a nudist beach on the beautiful island of Hiddensee when he sees three naked men approaching and not only realises at once that they are Stasi, but is even able to spot which of the three is the officer. As Edwin says, it's also a fascinating sailing book, with a lot of convincing detail about how Gompitz made his escape in a 5m open sailing dinghy. I don't know the waters around Rügen, but I was able to follow it all on a chart, and it seemed to make sense. ( )

To readers who have no experience with the absurdities of living in the former German Democratic Republic, Der Spaziergang von Rostock nach Syrakus may appear to be a work of satire. It is, and is meant to be, notwithstanding the fact that the absurdity of life in the DDR was sadly very, very real. And while many of the main characters escapades, his reasonings and actions are fictional, and while not actually real, they most certainly seem to belong to the stock of likely, perhaps somewhat exaggerated, but very, very plausible actions and ways of thinking that belonged to that historic period. Therefore, future readers can read this short novel both as a satire and a source of understanding life in the then-German Democratic Republic (DDR).

Part of the satirical aspect of Der Spaziergang von Rostock nach Syrakus lies in the dramatic irony, that the reader already knows that the whole plot, as built up from 1981 to 1988 (- 1989) is obsolete in view of historic reality, as it would unfold after the summer of 1989. In 1981, the main character decides that he intends to travel to Italy, a country outside the so-called "East Block', beyond the reach of ordinary citizens. His journey is inspired by Johann Gottfried Seume's Spaziergang nach Syrakus im Jahre 1802. In the course of the novel, it becomes clear that there is no way Paul Gompitz can do this legally, i.e. with permission from the authorities, and therefore he decides to undertake his journey by illegal means, which, in practical terms meant that he had "to escape" from the GDR. The novel minutely describes the planning, preparation and execution of Gompitz's plan. Part of the sublime absurdity of the novel lies in the fact that Gompitz sincerely intends to voluntarily return to the GDR after his journey, a contingency the authorities barely know how to handle.

The novel can also be read as an absurd adventure, and may be of particular interest to people who like reading about sailing. ( )

‘In der Mitte seines Lebens, im Sommer 1981, beschliesst der Kellner Paul Gompitz aus Rostock, nach Syrakus auf der Insel Sizilien zu fahren. Der Weg nach Italien ist versperrt durch die höchste und ärgerlichste Grenze der Welt, und Gompitz ahnt noch keine List, sie zu durchbrechen. Er weiss nur, dass er Mauern und Drähte zweimal überwinden muss, denn er will, wenn das Abenteuer gelingen sollte, auf jeden Fall nach Rostock zurückkeheren.’

Na zo’n begin kan er niet veel meer fout gaan, en dat gebeurt ook niet. Een lichtvoetig verhaal, waarin zowel schrijver als hoofdpersoon met humor en poëzie de strijd aanbinden met een totalitaire staat en een bekrompen bureaucratie.

Een charmante vondst zijn de bovenschriften die het begin van ieder hoofdstuk inluiden en die min of meer de functie hebben van het koor in een Griekse tragedie. Een beetje dommig koor, dat wel, en niet zonder ironie. ( )