Kurt Tucholsky was born in 1890 and ended his life in 1935, with fascism unmistakably becoming the dominant political force in Germany. He worked mostly as a journalist, writing poems, travel articles, book reviews and polemical commentaries. Later, from his exile in Sweden, he provided text to go with the illustrations of the famous German photomontage artist John Heartfield, and together they aggressively and desperately attacked German nationalism and emerging fascism.

Castle Gripsholm is Tucholsky’s only novel. With the description of an idyllic holiday, unaffected by a political context, it makes a strong contrast to Tucholsky’s critical and politically committed journalism. It is a short novel that captures the enchantment conveyed by its subtitle a summer story.

Whilst he describes a five week holiday in Sweden, Tucholsky himself was living there, and, unlike the heroes of his story, he knew that he was not going to return to Germany after one summer, and most likely not at all. The novel was finally published in 1931, — two years before his books were burned and he lost his citizenship, and only four years before his suicide. He was buried in the churchyard at Mariefred, a place that he describes in the novel, and that is only a short walk from the actual Castle Gripsholm.

At the onset of summer, Kurt, a young writer, sets out with ‘the Princess’ to spend five weeks, their summer holiday, in

Sweden. The princess is really called Lydia and works as ‘the secretary of a monstrously fat boss’ who is in the soap business. They spend their days in blissful harmony, see Stockholm, go on excursions and hire a guide-cum-translator who finally leads them to the ideal place; Castle Gripsholm. Their guide arranges for them to be put up for little money in the annex of the castle and then leaves them to it: doing nothing and forgetting about Berlin, bosses, offices. For a week, they are joined by a friend, Karlchen, in their now positively bucolic idyll.

They tread lightly, avoiding all heaviness. Because they know how uncertain their future is, they make the best of what they have got. So they happily, self-sufficiently live the day, enjoy their time together and do not search for each other’s shortcomings. When Billie, a friend of the Princess, arrives, the relationship turns into a threesome, but this only deepens their friendship and strangely contains either hurt or pain.

This harmonic life gets a more serious dimension when they happen upon Ada, a maltreated little girl from a children’s home run by a despotic headmistress. The Princess and Kurt, supported by Billie, now make it their vocation to free the little girl from her surroundings, and, after much hassle they finally succeed in uniting little Ada with her mother.

What makes the book so touching is that it reads like a wish, a dream — that Kurt Tucholsky, like the narrator, could spend some time of carefree bliss, that he could return to Germany untroubled and continue his work, that the most threatening monster to be fought and defeated might be some scary headmistress. Kurt, the narrator, is aware that this holiday cannot be extended indefinitely, believing and accepting that happiness is only ever possible for a brief time. In much the same way Tucholsky knew that his novel was a flight from an unpleasant reality to a place full of light, love, friendship and good food. Whilst in the novel only a summer holiday comes to its end, for its writer there was more at stake.

‘The long hours where nothing happened, only the wind fanning my body, the sun shining. The long hours where I gazed at the water, the leaves hissing gently, and the lake splashed against the shore; empty hours in which energy, intellect, health and strength can be replenished from the reservoir of nothingness, from that mysterious store which will one day be empty. «I’m afraid,» the storeman will say, «we have nothing left...» and I suppose that’s when I shall have to lie down.’ p123.