Joachim Sensenbrink, the creator and executive producer of “An Angel in Adversity,” Germany’s immensely popular reality TV show, has dispatched its beautiful, buxom, blonde host to Africa’s largest refugee camp. Nadeche Hackenbusch is a cynical, ambitious, phony, power-hungry, model/bimbo. The refugees auditioned for this new show must appeal to the conservative proclivities of the German TV audience: no beards or caps which suggest terrorists; applicants must have good shoes; no upbeat, happy refugees. He warns his staff:
“We’re making a programme about refugees, not stand-up comedy. . . . [If] anyone here thinks it’s not quite their cup of tea, they have my sympathy. . . . But let me tell you, this is a blue-ocean opportunity, once-in-a-life time thing, there’s never been anything like it. You’ll be talking about this to your grandchildren.”
These words will become painfully prophetic.
The Hungry and the Fat, Timur Vermes’ second novel translated into English, is an outlandish, take-no-prisoners satire that skewers timid politicians, greedy TV executives, and the general public’s thirst for global meaning disguised as entertainment. Its plotting is crisp, fast-moving, and entertaining. Its targets are treated with disdain, sarcasm, and reproach.
Nadeche is sent to a camp that has become a semi-permanent way station for refugees:
“The camp has scarcely been touched in fifteen years. There is enough security for survival, but not for a future. You can get along in the camp. . . . But nobody’s going to build a factory here. Nobody’s going to invest money in this mass of tents. . . . And nobody will offer work here, because there are no prospects other than dust and sand and drought.”
Good-looking Lionel, Nadeche’s local refugee camp guide, who is angling for a return ticket to Germany, hatches a simple, ingenious plan. He and Nadeche will lead 150,000 refugees on a long walk to Germany through the desert. Impossible? Not with procurement skills of the camp’s leading gangster, Mojo the Blue. Lionel challenges him to solve the logistics of supporting their ten to fifteen-kilometer daily walk for months and months. Seduced by his potential cut of 100 million dollars, Mojo ruthlessly forges an efficient system of lorries that furnishes food and water, removes trash and human waste, and provides shelter, medical care, and electricity (for recharging cellphones).
This caravan eventually stretches out over dozens of kilometers. The “Nadeche Hackenbusch Foundation for the Humans” milks corporate sponsorships. A government official marvels at the ingenuity of the refugees: “The lorries park up ahead, at regular intervals. This means the people can’t get lost because they walk past the trucks as if they were markers. Do you understand? The lorries provide water, and they also show the way.”
Everyone connected to the show is ecstatic: unbelievable ratings; overflowing ad revenues; a mesmerized German public. However, as weeks of walking stretch into months, anxiety sharpens. The caravan doubles to over 300,000 members; three lorries are designated for newborn babies. Sensenbrink obsesses about sickness, death, and rumors of prostitution. Cabinet leaders worry about the country’s response to such a flood of refugees. A government official admits to being trapped: “We’ve established that we’ve got a shitty hand. But that doesn’t mean others won’t make mistakes. . . . They might play the wrong card. New, unexpected players could come to the table. The situation is not altogether hopeless just because we can’t shoot anyone.”
How political is this novel? That question kept bouncing around my brain. Its outrageous satire lampoons actual issues that affect millions of people around the world: potential refugees in any number of areas, current refugees who are waiting for the opportunity for a better life. I can actually imagine that some actual world leader has already expressed the following fear admitted by a politician in this novel:
“She’s giving the refugees a face. . . . And then it’s all over. After that nobody’s going to be able to look at the refugee problem objectively again.”
Any Cop?: I greatly enjoyed this dark, cynical, relentless novel, even though its lagged a bit at times. Its fierce disregard for sacred cows reminded me of some of Tom Sharpe’s novels.
Chris Oleson
Bookmunch 