Hospital of the Transfiguration [Paperback]

Reading Lem invariably generates an experience which is not the same as that produced by any other writer. This is not to say that he surpasses them - although sometimes this is so - but beyond doubt the texture and rhythm of Lem is unmistakable. When I first read his books, some time ago, I assumed that this was at least in part an artefact of the translation, or possibly a characteristic of Polish writing. How any person could set about the task of translating any work of fiction escapes me. It seems like a task equal to that of writing the work in the first place. How the translator approaches the deliberately arcane and word-rich worlds of Lem is even more a mystery. However, I have now read more Lem, and some works by other Polish writers. I am now sure that the quality of his translated work is consistent enough to at least merit the assumption that the effect on the reader is intended.

The Hospital of the Transfiguration is an unusual work for Lem in that, on the face of it, it is a mainstream novel, realistic and historical. It is set in a psychiatric hospital in occupied Poland, shortly after the invasion of the Nazis. For most of the story, in typical Lem style, this enormous fact is almost invisible, as the routine of the hospital creaks onward. At first the reader, alarmed by the oncoming Nazis, almost wills the characters to take action. We know all too well the likely fate of psychiatric patients at that time in history. But they do not. Before long, the Nazi threat seems to recede. Even though the main character makes a few forays into the wider world, and sees the gathering clouds for himself, the secure cocoon of the hospital seems to keep him and thus the reader from any suspicion of what might be approaching.

The body of the book is a series of episodes in the life of a junior doctor at the hospital, who has little understanding of the patients, staff or treatments. He is drawn into the endless, pointless arguments amongst colleagues, and soon it becomes clear that the rest of the staff have little more idea of what is going on. The routine, the paperwork and the protocols and manners of medicine seem to be the only thing holding the entire edifice together. A few patients are cured, many more are not. The rather brutal treatments of the period are illustrated, with little comment. In one symbolic scene, a patient is obviously in need of a brain operation, but the surgeon, for no apparent reason, delays the task for days and weeks, observing and commentating on the patient's fast deteriorating state. When he finally operates, the graphically described operation is gory, futile, increasingly desperate, and the fatal outcome obvious before it begins.

Predictably, the story of the failed operation is revealed as the story of the hospital. When the Nazis do finally arrive, in the last few pages of the book, the prognosis is not dissimilar, and the results are no surprise. However, to the doctors and patients of the hospital, the invasion of the relentlessly cruel and merciless Germans is a bolt from the blue. The horror of war is visited upon the little community, without dilution, in a few, devastating paragraphs. The young doctor flees the doomed hospital and after a few, bewildering scenes the story ends, unresolved but very final. Breathless, the reader is almost flung from the book, revolted by the horrible ending but soon realising what it means. The power of this story is not in the brutal denouement itself, which was clearly signposted throughout the book. The moral the book hammers home without mercy is delivered through the meandering tale before it. Everyone knew what was coming, but, like the surgeon, they did nothing. What is more, they convinced themselves, each other, and the reader to go along with it. When the Germans arrive, they arrive to deliver a message which has already been heard, but not heeded. The story of the hospital is clearly also the story of Lem's own country at that time. The story provides, by a barely distorted reflection, an unprecedented insight into the agony of the occupation in Poland. This direct historical message is given in a voice seldom heard in this language - its translation was, perhaps, a more important act than it seemed.

Lem's novel playing in WW2 is gripping and great. It already confronts the reader with challenging questions and reading it gives an experience you will never forget.

This is one of his earliest, and it kinda let me down. A guy working in an insane asylum. Kinda haunting at times, not terribly interesting though. It sounds as if Sekulowski is supposed to be saying some really neat stuff, but it all sounds like a bunch of fluff to me. Not the greatest, but it's Lem.