The Empusium, by Olga Tokarczuk

Trigger warning for brief discussion of suicide.

In the years before a cure was available for tuberculosis, those who could afford it would retreat to sanatoriums in the mountains or somewhere where the air was supposed to be better. Patients could receive all kinds of treatments, ranging from enforced rest to hydrotherapy to whatever the doctors in charge could think up. None of this actually cured the patient; only antibiotics could do that. The Behmer Sanatorium, in the mountains of Silesia, seems to be one of the more benign sanatoriums until our protagonist, Mieczysław, starts to see hints that something sinister is going on among the townsfolk of Görbersdorf. In Olga Tokarczuk’s slow-burning new novel, The Empusium, we are treated to a strange blend of folk horror and historical fiction along with Mieczysław. This book is beautifully translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones.

Mieczysław is a polite young man who has been sent by his father to the Behmer Sanatorium to get him out of the dirty air of urban Lwów. He is the quiet sort, preferring to listen instead of talk and, my, to his fellow patients residing in Willi Opitz’s guesthouse for gentlemen like to talk. Tokarczuk’s authors note reveals that many of the things these men say come straight from philosophers and writers ranging from Plato and Aristotle to Sigmund Freud and Jean-Paul Sartre. Mieczysław is a master at controlling his emotions and reactions (we learn why over the course of the novel) and it’s a very good thing because the ideas espoused by some of these patients are absolutely infuriating to any right-thinking person who believes that women are people, too. If I had been a maid at this particular guesthouse, I would be spitting in their food and indulging in other forms of petty revenge every chance I got.

Like the tuberculosis bacilli, it takes a while for the symptoms of what is wrong in Görbersdorf to present. Mieczysław notes in the cemetery that an awful lot of men seem to have died on about the same day in November over the years. Then there are the female figures built out of dirt, wood, and other organic material scattered throughout the woods. And there’s the Schwärmerei, a curious drink that makes Mieczysław drift a bit from reality every time it’s pushed on him. (The German word Schwärmerei means, as far as I can tell, a kind of limerance.) I had no idea where Tokarczuk was going with all of this until late in the book, when everything came together in one of the most astonishingly satisfying (and violent) climaxes I’ve ever seen in fiction. The Empusium is definitely a slow read but the reward is well worth the patience.

As I read, I was struck by the narration of The Empusium. The narration is a “we” and it’s not always Mieczysław, who we often follow so closely that it feels like the narration is shifting from first-person plural to close third-person. This “we” is most noticeable when Mieczysław indulges in his temptation to touch fabrics and embroidery, eats a meal, or wanders around the woods. The text becomes incredibly rich in sensory detail in a wonderful contrast to the hot air spewed by the other men at the Opitz guesthouse. Their words feel very hollow, almost meaningless, in comparison to the real sensation of touching the bark of a tree or trying to sift through different flavors on one’s tongue. Although hurtful, all those philosophical arguments come from a group of dudes who really need to go out and touch grass (and at least talk to a woman for once in their lives).

I admit that there were parts of The Empusium I struggled with (mostly dialogue between the men at the guesthouse) but I am really glad I stuck with it. I can’t express how much I loved the conclusion of this book. Everything came together so fantastically (literally and figuratively) and satisfyingly that I would wholeheartedly recommend this book to anyone who likes a reading challenge.

I received a free copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley, for review consideration.