sent to Ravensbruck. This is what the text said:
The vivisection experiments on 74 young female prisoners constitute one of Ravensbruck’s most sinister episodes. The experiments, conducted between August ’42 and August ’43, consisted of mutilating operations aimed at reproducing the injuries that caused the death of Reinhard Heydrich, the gauleiter of Czechoslovakia. Professor Gerhardt, having been unable to save Heydrich from a gaseous gangrene, wished to prove that the use of sulphonamides would have made no difference. So he deliberately infected the young women with viruses, and many of them died.
Passing over the inaccuracies (“gauleiter,” “Czechoslovakia,” “gaseous gangrene”), I now know that this story will never truly end for me, that I will always be learning new details relating to the extraordinary story of the assassination attempt on Heydrich on May 27, 1942, by Czechoslovak parachutists sent from London. “Above all, do not attempt to be exhaustive,” said Roland Barthes. There you go—some good advice I never took.
257
A rusty steamboat glides across the Baltic, like a Nezval poem. Jozef Gabcik is leaving behind the dark coastline of Poland and a few months spent inhabiting Krakow’s alleyways. He and the other ghosts of the Czechoslovak army have finally managed to set sail for France. They walk around the boat, tired, worried, uncertain, but at the same time joyful at the prospect of finally fighting the invader, although they don’t as yet know anything about the Foreign Legion, Algeria, the French campaign, or London fog. They bump into one another clumsily in the narrow gangways, searching for a cabin, a cigarette, or a familiar face. Gabcik leans on his elbows and watches the sea: such a strange sight for someone, like him, from a landlocked country. That’s probably why his gaze is not fixed on the horizon—too obvious a symbol of his future—but on the boat’s waterline, where the waves swell and crash against the hull, then retreat and crash again in a hypnotic, deceptive movement. “Got a light, comrade?” Gabcik recognizes the Moravian accent. The lighter’s flame illuminates his countryman’s face. A dimpled chin, lips made for smoking, and in the eyes—it’s quite striking—a little bit of the world’s goodness. “My name’s Jan,” he says. Smoke curls into the air and vanishes. Gabcik smiles silently. They’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other during the journey. Mixed with the shadows of the soldiers in civilian clothes who pace around the boat are other shadows: disoriented old men, misty-eyed lone women, well-behaved children holding a younger brother’s hand. A young woman who looks like Natacha stands on deck, her hands on the railing, one leg bent up at the knee, playing with the hem of her skirt. And me? I am also there, perhaps.
A Note About the Author
Laurent Binet was born in Paris in 1972. He is the author of
A Note About the Translator
Sam Taylor was born Nottinghamshire, England. He is the author of three books of fiction,
Copyright
18 West 18th Street, New York 10011
Copyright © 2009 by Editions Grasset et Fasquelle
Translation copyright © 2012 by Sam Taylor
All rights reserved
Originally published in 2009 by Editions Grasset et Fasquelle, France
English translation published in the United States by Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to reprint material from Milan Kundera’s Encounter, translated by Linda Asher, copyright © 2009; translation © 2010. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Binet, Laurent.
[HHhH. English]
HHhH / Laurent Binet ; translated from the French by Sam Taylor. — 1st American ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-374-16991-6 (alk. paper)
1. Heydrich, Reinhard, 1904–1942—Assassination—Fiction. 2. World War, 1939–1945—Underground movements—Czechoslovakia—Fiction. 3. World War, 1939–1945—Germany—Fiction. I. Taylor, Sam, 1970– II. Title.
PQ2702.I57 H4413 2012
843'.92—dc23
2011046063
First American edition, 2012
Parachute art by Adly Elewa
eISBN 9781429942768
Notes
1
Oradour-sur-Glane was a village in France whose 642 inhabitants were all massacred by SS troops in 1944.
2