When I was in first grade, my mom got a copy of this through the Book of the Month Club. As an ambitious reader and lover of animal stories, it caught my eye and I asked Mom if it really was about a fox living in someone's attic, and she said, no, it wasn't that kind of story. Well, 60 years later, I finally got around to finding out for myself that yes, it is in fact a book containing an actual fox of the vulpine variety padding about castle corridors, as well as a predatory human variant.

This dense novel is meandering, discursive, with an interlinked cast of English and German households in the early 1920's. England is "waking from a bad dream," its young men suddenly at sea with the idea that they suddenly have 60 years of life to fill they didn't expect; Germany, plunging "deeper into nightmare," some of its young men continuing to murder in remote places on their own with vengeance in their blood. A monarchy falls, then is sort of restored, and a strange bug-eyed pasty-faced little weirdo delivers hour-long political rants at social affairs while stuffing his face with cream cakes, and tries to bring down the government from the tabletops of a beer hall. A callow, sweet young Welshman spared the trenches by a few days, visits German cousins, and falls headlong for a devout, beautiful girl who goes blind overnight, as he invents rollicking games with the children. The wife of a dying veteran loses one child in a mysterious accident in a marsh shortly before giving birth to another, her grief twisting her feelings for the newborn into indifference and resentment. The cake-eating weirdo, hiding out in another attic room, writhes in delirium and pain as the police are searching for him, to be hauled away tangled in a blue bathrobe. The human sociopath plans more bloodshed from his attic, where the little fox creeps and yips, rather as the blind girl does, emitting small cries to try to orient herself as she gropes up the attic stairs.

Much of the writing is gorgeous - the opening marsh scenes reminiscent of Pip's terrified stumble through the churchyard of Great Expectations. There are ruminations on the complexities of the human individual ("I-ness") and how it fits - or rejects - its "penumbra" of connected others ("We-ness"), and the sometimes lethal rejection of Others outside that sheltering penumbra - lethal both to "Them" as well as the "I" and the "We." Some parts are slow and opaque; others crisp and charming, poignant and tragic. Repays patient attention with much reward. ( )

“At nightfall the days drowsing doubts, like roosting owls, tend to take wing and hoot.” It is not often that I encounter superlative craft like this serving superlative story-telling. Such is the deep satisfaction I encountered in Richard Hughes’ novel, The Fox in the Attic. I was unprepared for how skillfully Hughes gradually develops the story of a young Englishman’s visit to his aristocratic German cousin in 1923 post-World War I Germany. The descriptions of the German family, especially the children, are beautifully developed and written. No surprise here, coming from the author of, A High Wind in Jamaica. Hughes’s description of Hitler during and after the attempted putsch creates a lasting, disturbing shutter. His initial psychological section early in the novel, explaining how the “I,” and the, “they,” develop as we mature into normal adulthood, is later applied to his young cousin’s religious love of God, then terrifyingly applied to Hitler. “I am, none else besides me.” “The universe contained no other persons than him, only things….”, This novel is no less relevant to the world of 2023 as it was to the world of 1923 when Hughes published it in 1961. I would urge patience with early sections of the novel, its description of rural Wales along with certain English words unfamiliar to some Americans. You will find their meaning in a decent dictionary. The patience and tolerance is well worth any effort in this well-crafted masterpiece. FYI, if necessary. Much of the novel occurs in Munich, Germany, 1923. For those who question the space Hughes devoted to the attempted Hitler-putsch, they should be aware that the putsch-attempt occurred in Munich, Germany, 1923. Any worthy novelist would find it impossible to avoid devoting space to the putsch if their setting was Munich in the year of 1923. ( )

This is a bit of a strange read. It gives little glimpses here and there... of the young, just beginning Hitler, for one. The protagonist, Augustine, is 23 years old, heir to an estate that he doesn't care about. He is obviously too young to Know himself, or what he wants. Escaping from the uncomfortable atmosphere of the village by his home, he goes to visit relations in Germany, in the country outside Munich. He is puzzled by the people and their culture, and seems to knock about without any aim. The language describing the scenery and characters is beautiful; you can feel how hard the author worked to get these words "just so." ( )

Conceived as the first volume of The Human Predicament, a historical novel in three parts (only some notes towards the third part exist) that describes his own formative years, the times between the two wars - R.H. was born in 1900 - and is set in England as well as in Bavaria. The foreground characters, the young Augustine like the author just too young to have served, the main protagonist and present lord of the Wales family seat, his older brother being killed in the war, and their aristocratic German cousins are fictitious but - importantly - R.H., so he assures the reader, made every effort to present historical characters and events as accurately as it was possible for him.

The narration starts in 1923, 5 years after the war und this first part of the intended trilogy ends shortly after the Munich Putsch in November that year.

The writing is in multiple voices, not confined to Augustine. Part of Chapter i-26 is an essay on the perceived boundary of the self, the ‘I’, and the meaning of ‘we’, a boundary that changes from ‘primitive’ man to ‘civilized’ man but is also perceived differently in the English and German society we encounter later, but may also shift not only from person to person but within a context of momentary emotions. R.H.’s philosophical thoughts woven into the narrative are an unusual feature for a novel - it appeals to me. The theme of the ‘I’ and the ‘Other’ and the boundary between both is taken up again at various places, most directly in chapter iii-10, in characterising the two extremes: "Hitler existed alone: ‘I am, none else besides me.’" Hughes writes and I agree. Hitler's universe contained no other person than him, only things: material and tools to be used. The other extreme: Mitzi, the young woman fallen blind, loosing the rest of her sight in an afternoon; the crisis caused her ‘I’ to shrivell beneath the overwhelming power of God.

Hughes also adds general descriptions like the life under hyper-inflation Germany experienced in 1923 (Ch. ii-2). Suffering turns to hatred which cannot remain objectless: „it conjures its own Enemy out of thin air“: Jews, Communists, Capitalists, Catholics … the ‘November Criminals’ of the then elected German government. And it turns to its own fictive WE - its myths of Soil and Race, …

A vivid description of the Munich Putsch and Hitler being sheltered by ‘Putzi’ i.e. Dr. Ernst Hanfstaengl and his wife Helene. (quite true!)

At times Hughes uses strange expressions not much to my liking; some examples:
„… he had never before funked children“ (iii-5); (here: to flinch from)
„… to have havered so long“ (iii-5); (to have hesitated so long)
„… he barked his nose on the door.“ /iii-26); (here: he banged his nose on the door)

Having read the book many years ago it had stayed with me, but now re-reading it I am just slightly disappointed. (XI-19) ( )

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