Heinz Huber
Heinz Huber is a notable German writer, best known for his 1961 short story "The New Flat" (or "The New Apartment"), which poignantly captures the anxieties and aspirations of a generation grappling with the aftermath of World War II and the legacy of the Third Reich. His literary work is marked by a minimalist psychological narrative that offers a stark contrast to the fantastical elements prevalent in earlier German literature, such as the works of Franz Kafka. Instead of employing surrealism, Huber's storytelling is grounded in realism and social critique, providing a reflective commentary on the lives of emerging West German intellectuals.
Born in 1922, Huber's experiences during a tumultuous period in history inform his writing, as he portrays a dinner party among five middle-class West Germans struggling with the uncomfortable history that lingers over their conversations. The story delves into themes of moral, economic, and social conflict, emphasizing the challenges of forging a new identity in a society still haunted by its past. The narrative reflects on the mundane yet unsettling aspects of life, as represented by the apartment's renovation and the remnants of former occupants, symbolizing the enduring impact of history on the present. Overall, Huber's work serves as a significant exploration of a generation caught between the desire for recovery and the weight of historical trauma.
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Heinz Huber
Writer
- Born: June 7, 1922
- Died: February 8, 1968
Biography
Heinz Huber is one of those rare writers who, in a single literary production, managed to record the anxieties and aspirations of a generation that was at a pivotal historic juncture. Huber’s literary reputation rests on his frequently anthologized 1961 short story, variously translated as “The New Flat” or “The New Apartment.” A minimalist psychological narrative, the story really was nothing more than a record of the casual, and often awkward, social chit-chat at a dinner party among the new class of West German intellectuals emerging from the economic ruin of World War II, but it nevertheless captured that generation’s difficult adjustment to the legacy of the Third Reich.
What makes “The New Apartment” a signature achievement in the postwar German short story is its radical departure from the Märchen (or fairy tale) that had defined the genre for much of the twentieth century. Descended from the surreal fables of Franz Kafka, the prewar German short story frequently deployed startling, nightmarish fantasy to capture the early century’s sense of alienation and angst. By contrast, “The New Apartment” is realistic, more like reportage, with a sharp descriptive sense and a larger concern for social criticism.
Little is known about Huber himself, except that he was born in 1922, which positions him within the generation that would have come of age during Adolf Hitler’s regime and would contend with the devastating economic impact of World War II and the postwar international moral outrage over the regime’s policy of genocide. In postwar Germany, Huber worked in broadcasting, initially in radio but ultimately as a successful scriptwriter for German national television.
When “The New Apartment” appeared, it was hailed for its subtle dissection of postwar anxieties. Five middle-class West Germans, academics with a cultivated taste for what the Communist regime in East Germany would dismiss as decadent literature (Marcel Proust) and decadent music (jazz), gather for drinks but find conversation difficult; Hitler hangs uneasily over whatever stories they might offer about their families. Instead, they talk about the apartment itself, discussing how the new tenants had to wait until the former occupants had vacated. One of the former tenants was the clinically depressed widow of a frustrated painter who had spent her last years staring at the walls; the other tenant, the senile widow of a Nazi who had disappeared mysteriously, spent her last years feeding birds in the apartment, piling huge stacks of birdseed to attract them in through the open windows.
Huber emphasizes the lengths the new couple had to go to renovate the apartment, suggesting the adjustments that his generation faced. The cool, antiseptic look of the apartment, underscored by the tenants’ jazz music and the gray color, suggests the thinness of that generation, robbed of its roots and terrified of its future, positioned on the presumed front line of World War III. The couple admits they still find birdseed in the floorboards, suggesting the impossibility of any complete generational break. The unacknowledged conflict between the tenants and two of the guests, a couple still waiting for an apartment, however, speaks of the generation’s quiet faith in the recovery promised by capitalism.
In this unsettlingly intricate narrative, Huber framed the conflicts—moral, economic, and social—that defined a generation born too late to have embraced the initial promise of Nazism but forced to contend with its difficult legacy.