Grand Hotel by Vicki Baum
"Grand Hotel" by Vicki Baum is a novel set in a luxurious Berlin hotel during a chilly March, where the lives of various guests intersect in a tapestry of romance, ambition, and betrayal. Central to the story are Dr. Otternschlag, a war-scarred physician observing the bustling lobby with detachment; Baron Felix von Gaigern, a charming gambler with criminal inclinations; and Elisaveta Grusinskaya, a fading ballet dancer grappling with her waning career. The narrative unfolds as the baron is drawn to Grusinskaya's pearls and their fateful encounter leads to a whirlwind of emotions.
The plot thickens with Otto Kringelein, a terminally ill bookkeeper seeking to embrace life beyond his mundane existence, who befriends the baron and embarks on a series of adventures. Meanwhile, the ambitious director Preysing and his stenographer Flämmchen navigate their own moral complexities, culminating in a tragic confrontation. The novel explores themes of mortality, desire, and the contrasting experiences of its diverse characters, making it a poignant reflection on life’s fleeting moments and the human condition. Baum's work is recognized for its blend of serious themes within an accessible narrative framework, ultimately resonating with audiences both in literary and popular contexts.
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Grand Hotel by Vicki Baum
First published:Menschen im Hotel: Ein Kolportageroman mit Hintergründen, 1929 (English translation, 1930)
Type of work: Novel
Type of plot: Social realism
Time of plot: Mid-1920’s
Locale: Berlin
Principal characters
Felix von Gaigern , a charismatic cat burglarElisaveta Grusinskaya , a former Russian ballet dancerOtto Kringelein , a bookkeeper dying of stomach cancerFlämmchen , a striking, young office typistPreysing , the director of a cotton-processing factory, Otto’s employerOtternschlag , a doctor
The Story:
It is a chilly March, and through the endlessly revolving front doors of one of Berlin’s ritziest hotels, guests arrive and depart. Sitting alone in the lobby, Dr. Otternschlag sips cognac and watches the lobby’s furious activity with cool detachment. His face is scarred and he has a glass eye—he took a shell in the face during World War I. The dashing Baron Felix von Gaigern, a guest at the hotel, creates a buzz as he crosses the lobby, puffing an expensive cigar and peeling off heavy tips for the hotel employees. By trade, Gaigern is a gambler, by vocation he is a thief.
Gaigern is drawn to Elisaveta Grusinskaya, a Russian ballet dancer staying at the hotel who, despite her perfect figure and luminous presence, is long past her prime and now performs in half-empty theaters before indifferent audiences. What attracts Gaigern, however, is a strand of pearls the dancer reputedly keeps in her hotel room. He breaks into her room while he knows she is at the theater, but she surprises him. She had left the performance at intermission, overwhelmed by the realization of her career spiral. Far from being alarmed by the intruder, however, Grusinskaya falls under his charismatic charm; they make love. The next morning, Gaigern professes his love for the dancer and even tells her (although she is half asleep) that he is a thief. Before slipping out, he gallantly returns the strand of pearls.
Meanwhile, Otto Kringelein has checked into the hotel. A junior bookkeeper at a minor cotton-processing facility outside Berlin, he is living now way beyond his means. After he found out that he has terminal stomach cancer, he cashed in his retirement funds, determined at last to live his life, after an unremarkable life of providing for his family. He meets the baron in the hotel bar, and they strike up a friendship—Kringelein drawn to the baron’s energy, and the baron drawn, in part, by the prospects of a mark carrying a wad of money.
Over the next two days, the baron introduces the bookkeeper to excitement. They attend the ballet, they gamble in a casino, go flying, and attend a hotly contested prize fight, with Kringelein fighting off waves of pain. In a remarkable run of luck, Kringelein wins a tidy amount of money at the gaming tables.
A letter from Kringelein’s wife tells him that the cotton-processing company has refused a claim to repair the stove in their home (an apartment they rent from the company). Kringelein, incensed over the company’s treatment of him and his wife after he had served the company for twenty years, confronts Preysing, the director of the factory. Preysing is in Berlin and staying at the same hotel; he is on business to finalize a major deal. The confrontation between Kringelein and Preysing is heated, but in the end Kringelein backs down. The excitement causes him great physical duress, and he ends up in his hotel bed sedated with morphine administered by Dr. Otternschlag.
What Kringelein does not know, however, is that the deal has fallen through and that Preysing is facing economic ruin. Preysing had brought with him an office stenographer, Flämmchen, to help with the paperwork, but he has become entranced by her sultry sexiness. She is an aspiring actor who has done risqué modeling. Preysing, getting a haircut in the hotel, sees one of her ads in a magazine. He entices her to agree to go away with him on a “business trip” to England, and she coolly negotiates for remuneration and a new wardrobe in return for becoming his mistress.
Preysing and Flämmchen finalize their arrangements in Preysing’s hotel room, surprising the baron hiding in his room. The baron is hoping to rob Preysing, thinking he is a wealthy executive, to secure enough money to join Grusinskaya in Prague. In the ensuing confrontation, Preysing kills the baron accidentally when he hits him with a bronze inkstand. Flämmchen panics and runs out of the room naked, calling for help. Kringelein sees her and is stunned by her beauty, her vulnerability. He lets her into his room, and in an emotional exchange, the two find a powerful connection. Kringelein agrees to help. He goes to Preysing’s room but finds his boss unable to think clearly, certain that he can talk himself out of a murder charge (it was self-defense and the baron was an intruder) but sure that the presence of Flämmchen in his room will ruin him. Kringelein coolly advises him to call the police, contact a lawyer, and call his wife. Kringelein returns to his room, and he and Flämmchen agree to go away together. Despite being weeks away from his death, he is determined to live his last days fully and happily.
It is now morning, and in the lobby is Dr. Otternschlag. He is watching hotel guests arrive and depart.
Bibliography
Baum, Vicki. It Was All Quite Different: The Memoirs of Vicki Baum. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1964. A fascinating account of Grand Hotel’s evolution and Baum’s original conception of it as an experiment in the New Objectivity. Chronicles its success and its eventual transformation into both stage and film versions.
King, Lynda J. Best-Sellers by Design: Vicki Baum and the House of Ullstein. Detroit, Mich.: Wayne State University Press, 1988. Essential reading of Baum by a prolific scholar of her work. Explores Baum’s position within the critical tension between serious literature and middlebrow best sellers, and examines the enormous pressures of Baum’s commercial success.
‗‗‗‗‗‗‗. “Menschen im Hotel / Grand Hotel: Seventy Years of a Popular Culture Classic.” Journal of American and Comparative Cultures 23, no. 2 (Summer, 2000): 17-23. This journal article focuses on Grand Hotel’s immense popularity and on the relationship between serious and popular literature.
McCormick, Richard W. Gender and Sexuality in Weimar Modernity: Film, Literature, and “New Objectivity.” New York: Palgrave, 2002. An excellent overview of the new realism pioneered by Baum that places that movement within the context of its turn from expressionism. Particular emphasis on the movement’s realization of the figure of the New Woman.
Valencia, Heather. “A First-Rate Second-Rate Writer.” In German Novelists of the Weimar Republic: Intersections of Literature and Politics. Rochester, N.Y.: Camden House, 2006. A major reading of Baum—the title comes from Baum’s own description of herself. Looks at the irony in Grand Hotel, often overlooked, and Baum’s experimental use of character types.