I found this book pretty much unreadable. Long, convoluted sentences, impressionistic prose, stream-of-consciousness pretension. Two novellas loosely linked by being about two women facing choices about love and sex, but otherwise not really being about anything except their tedious inner thoughts. Apparently even Musil didn’t think the two novellas were a success. I don’t mind working hard at a book but the reward must be worth the effort and in this case it wasn’t. I cared nothing for the two women portrayed and was merely irritated by the style. Thumbs down for me.

This book, composed of two novellas, is short and brutal. There is very little in the way of plot and character, and very long in twisting sentences, odd word choices, and difficult pages. Page after page I was lost and the entire time I thought I could pick it up anywhere and still get the same experience. The interesting thing that is pointed out in the translator's note at the end is that all of this, this sense of being able to read the pages in any order is what Musil intended. For most of the time I thought that the translator was at fault for the difficulty of this book, but then I learn at the end that the entire thing is a labor of love, that Peter Wortsman, the translator, deserves accolades for tackling these two pieces that are admittedly difficult and confusing by Musil, and for Wortsman to stick with it and try to translate not only the novellas but the vision of Musil says something to the art of translation. I cannot say that I loved this, but I appreciate what it is.

These two novellas, "The Culmination of Love" and "The Temptation of Silent Veronica", are centered around two women, both with ideas and sadness about partnership and love. The stories are short but they take forever to get through because most of the pages are spent in deep contemplation, thoughts swirling in a whirlwind that sometimes comes back around but sometimes just floats away, and both are difficult. I cannot say that I enjoyed this reading experience one bit, but after reading the note at the end, I can say that I appreciate the work.

I received this as an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

My first experience with this author, and it was worth it. A difficult book to read and keep track, nonetheless is filled with meaning and an innovative style. It sure made me want to grab is more acclaimed book, and see what fruits this experiment of a book bore.

A superb new translation of a 20th century classic of experimental literary Modernism. These novellas deserve as much attention as the better-known 'Confusions of Young Törless' and 'Man Without Qualities'; and this edition is the best among existing translations and perhaps the best entry point into Musil's fiction for beginners.

After finishing this book, I considered carefully whether to write a review, simply because I found it unrelievedly tedious and unbearably irritating. As a rule, I’m reluctant to post a negative critique unless I’m able to make at least one positive comment, however, after mulling it over, I decided Robert Musil’s second book must have some agreeable qualities or why else go to the trouble of resurrecting it over 100 years after its original publication? I therefore decided it was probably a matter of taste and would likely appeal to others. It deserved a fair appraisal.

Translated from German by Peter Wortsman (he also contributes an Afterword), Intimate Ties (originally Vereinigungen), is in fact two novellas that were first published in 1911. The two stories were declared innovative works by a handful of early Expressionist writers but were vilified by critics as “chapter after chapter of abstract psychoanalyses” of two “hysterical” women presented in “thick patches of fog.”

Worstsman describes the book as “a soul-searching experiment”, written “in the wake of the stunning and popular success of his debut novel, Die Verwirrungen des Zöglings Törleß (1906), (The Confusions of Young Törless),” which was later adapted for the big screen as Der junge Törless. He warns one to “read at your own risk” as “those expecting a traditional narrative thread may well be frustrated by the near total absence of signposts and touchstones.”

It wasn’t so much a lack of signposts that frustrated me as the long, convoluted sentences that seemed to go on interminably and lead one down a whinging path to nowhere. Even the author admitted that he could only bare to “dip into one or two pages” at a time. He thought of it as a “verbal collage” but I found his prose pretentious, humourless and rather silly.

The first novella, The Consummation of Love, concerns a married woman’s romantic tribulations (her husband is too busy to join her on a journey) leading to her infidelity. The second, The Temptation of Silent Veronica, is about a troubled, sexually repressed young woman’s traumatic childhood memory of a near brush with a randy Saint Bernard dog and her indecision, bordering on madness, over which of two potential lovers to choose.

Musil’s stream of consciousness narrative attempts to portray the confusion of thoughts and emotions experienced by the women, but he’s no Joyce or Woolf – although, to be fair, he was an early precursor of the technique. His book also has its admirers: the Chicago Tribune called it “funny, sad and true”, and The New York Times Book Review declared it “virtuosic”. So, as I say, much depends on whether one is partial to obsessive, inward narratives that take themselves very seriously.

When first published, Intimate Ties was a commercial flop. Perhaps it will find a more sympathetic readership the second time round.

Hard to rate, hard to understand. My first Musil, and a self-confessed experiment that baffled people who had received other work well. From the translator's Afterword: 'What started out as an attempt to quickly whip off a text to placate an eager publisher stretched into a soul-searching experiment in the course of which, as he wrote in his journal, "I almost drove myself out of my mind".'

'Two erotic novellas': Modernist, stream-of-consciousness erotica, eventually. <i>Intimate Distance</i> was the translator's alternate choice for a title, and seems to me to better suit stories where women are disengaged from men, even in the first story's apparent passionate marriage. She reminisces on her loose years before marriage and drifts towards an under-motivated infidelity. Great cover. The second story has a beast obsession and a near(?) sexual encounter with a dog, so that explains that.

I can't comment on the translation -- unless/until I try the other translations available in [book:Five Women|191939]. The translator says he has to imitate Musil's dead ends, unfinished thoughts and ill successes, and he was glad when it was over.

Verdict: Interesting.

ARC from the publisher through NetGalley.

Intimate Ties (2018. Original: Vereinigungen, 1911) comprises two novellas centred on repressed sexuality, taboo, and female desire.
In The Culmination of Love (Die Vollendung der Liebe), thirty-year-old Claudine leaves her husband at home and sets off on a train journey to visit her daughter at a boarding school. She is musing on her past love affairs, when a heavy snowfall forces her to delay her journey and to sleep overnight in a hotel. Overcome by a desire to feel passion once again, Claudine perversely starts to consider infidelity as a twisted way to sanction her love and to consummate her wedding vows: “a state that was like giving herself to everyone and yet belonging only to the one beloved”
In The Temptation of Quiet Veronica (Die Versuchung der stillen Veronika), the eponymous protagonist lives with an aunt. When the novel opens, she is talking with a younger friend, the cerebral, would-be-priest Johannes, about another man, the more sensual Demeter. We have the feeling that the latter somehow threatens their moral conceptions, and that Johannes and Veronica are both attracted to and repelled by him. Then, Johannes leaves, and Veronica believes he is going to commit suicide. She starts to muse about her inability to consummate a relationship with men, as well as her memories of being erotically attracted to animals as a child.
The narrative evolves in stream of consciousness, as a sequence in a dream, and things seem to happen from the inside out: Musil is not as concerned with plot as he is with setting a particular mood, and enveloping us in it, like he does with his characters. Reading this book in translation adds yet a layer of strangeness to the whole experience: like trying to transpose a writing style (which is already challenging in its original German) not only to a different language, but also to a different narrative tradition.
Both Claudine and Veronica’s sexualities are equated to animalistic desire and taboo practices: they are both, at once, the angel and the beast. They are fascinated and tempted by the lust they feel, and, at the same time, they feel disgusted at picturing themselves as subjects of desire: “the only thing that matters is that one should be like the act and not like the person enacting it.”
In a blurring of images and feelings, Musil further complicates his protagonists’ already nuanced relationship to sex: instead of two conflicting realms, body and mind feed each other as one: the bestial impulses are prompted not by the body but by thoughts, and those, in turn, seem to be as devoid of freedom and choice as a necessary bodily function. As much as he was testing the limits of language, the book feels very much as if the author were also probing the limits of what people can do and still consider themselves as human.

These two short novellas by Robert Musil explore sensuality and desire from the point of view of two female protagonists. Musil's writing is far more interested in mood, thought and philosophy than plot, so on the face of things these stories are extremely slow. Nothing much happens. Though, of course, in the inner worlds of these characters - as in life - below the surface we have virtual tempests growing.
Modern readers might find serious problems with these novellas. The first is the style, which to be frank does a lot of telling and telling and telling. There's also the slightly archaic use of language, which means that the dialogue between characters is far from naturalistic and come across as hugely declamatory, if I can put it that way. The second point of contention is that we have an early twentieth century view of women and female sexuality. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Books and writing can't help be of their time, and in his way Musil of course helped advance society's acceptance of things that were once preferred to be kept locked away. So kudos for the themes approached so clearly.
Overall I found these novellas a difficult read, and I had to force myself to persevere, but they're certainly not without interest.

This is a new translation of a book originally published in 1911 by a writer called Robert Musil. It contains two novellas which basically explore aspects of female sexuality and erotic arousal, written in a dense sensuous style and with the flimsiest of plots. The first one, translated as The Culmination of Love, is about Claudine who without her husband sets off on a train journey to visit her daughter’s school. This reminds her of what seems to be a wild past and those memories coupled with a heavy snowfall which causes her to delay her return bring her to a point where she gives herself to a stranger for whom she has no particular regard. She is totally overcome by a desire to revisit the sensations of her past.

That’s a complicated plot in comparison to the second novella, The Temptation of Silent Veronica where Veronica lives with an old maiden aunt and two younger men Johannes and Demeter. The first of these is fairly cerebral and hankers after becoming a priest while the second is viewed by Veronica as being a bit more raunchy and physical. Despite being erotically turned on as a child by a dog (I kid you not) and later by a randy rooster she seems unable to consummate relationships with either man and is fairly eaten up inside.

Clearly, Musil wants to evoke repressed female sexuality in both stories and you could certainly describe the buildup of the tension in Claudine as erotic and sexually charged. The same goes for Veronica who fantasises about being almost naked at a door while a man passes by on the other side and how ‘the trembling of her hand must have flitted through and stroked the clothes of the passerby’.

That raises the question of who does Musil think he is to write about female sexuality in this way. Although his justification is that he is exploring the limits of language you might think this book would be better written by a woman and it would be interesting to know if a female perspective would find these accounts erotic.

Apart from a rolling train journey, his characters describe their longing through strange buildings and rooms, animals and beasts, semi mystical orgies and dream sequences. They are frankly up for it but have great difficulty getting there!

Are these good stories? I enjoyed them for the slow burn of these women’s lusts and desires and it is an interesting question as to whether DH Lawrence could ever have come across them. However, both stories are essentially fragments so the characters are not developed as they might be in novels. The other thing that makes them interesting is that we talk in an offhand way about the prudish suppression of feeling, sexuality and emotions of this period but Musil brings that experience to life.