![]() ![]() Binet though goes one step further in this process, allowing for the fictionalizing of HHhH to become a part of the story rather than hidden under cover of history. Writers of the historical ilk, at least the good ones, understand that history is what we make of it, and so a modicum of stretched fabric is necessary over its skeletal face. These additions to the concrete foundation of historical scenes enlivens them, brings them to life, gives them legs to stand on and color in their faces. We all know that history books are feathered with fictional adornments, flourishes based perhaps in fact but not factual. When she reaches the second sentence, she exclaims: “What do you mean, ‘The blood rises to his cheeks and he feels his brain swell inside his skull’? You’re making it up!” Natacha reads the chapter I’ve just written. The blood rises to his cheeks and he feels his brain swell inside his skull. Himmler looks like someone’s just smacked him in the face. ![]() ![]() Winner of the 2010 Prix Goncourt du Premier Roman and translated from the French by Sam Taylor, Laurent Binet’s novel HHhH centers around the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, referenced in the title as “Himmlers Hirn heist Heydrich,” or “Himmler’s brain is called Heydrich,” and said to be one of the most dangerous men in Hitler’s cabinet, “the Butcher of Prague.” But HHhH is not a history book, though it isn’t entirely fiction either, and this unexpected combination is what makes the novel so enthralling, so clever, and so divinely human. ![]()
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