First Impression Friday will be a meme where you talk about a book that you JUST STARTED! Maybe you’re only a chapter or two in, maybe a little farther. Based on this sampling of your current read, give a few impressions and predict what you’ll think by the end.

Synopsis:

Five years before his fiftieth birthday, Günter Grass decided that he would write a major novel as a present for himself. The Flounder, punctually finished, was immediately recognized as “a work of that elemental originality which made The Tin Drum a literary event” (Neue Zurcher Zeitung). It also became an instant best seller.

It all begins in the Stone Age, when a talking fish is caught by a fisherman, at the very spot where millennia later Grass’s home town, Danzig, will arise. Like the fish, the fisherman is immortal. Down the ages they move together, from matriarchy to patriarchy, the latter brought about by the Flounder’s insidious counseling to the males held under female subjection.

Despite the Flounder’s advice the narrator remains subject to women – all of them cooks. To his pregnant wife, the insatiable Ilsebill, he tells the tales of his entanglements with cooks throughout his various lifetimes, one cook for each month of pregnancy, with two more thrown in for good measure.

Parallel to his tales runs a contemporary story: the Flounder has again allowed himself to be caught, this time by a woman, who promptly recognizes his insidiousness and brings him before a Women’s Tribunal, where he is tried for treacherous male chauvinism.

The relationship of the sexes in the in the periods when men made history and women’s contribution went largely unacknowledged, and the history and importance of nutrition throughout the ages, form the two great themes of the novel. As he blends his ingredients into a powerful brew, Grass shows himself at the peak of his linguistic inventiveness, with ingenious construction and imaginative richness and scope, buoyed throughout by irreverent, frequently outrageous Rabelaisian humor.

It’s the end of the workweek—yay! Technically, it is already Saturday. Nevertheless, I hope the week has been kind to everyone and that you’re all ending it on a high note. How time flies! We are already in the fifth month of the year. I hope May proves to be a promising one. I also hope the conflict in the Middle East continues to de-escalate—or, better yet, is resolved soon. As the year progresses, I hope everyone is given plenty of opportunities to grow and improve. With the weekend here, I hope everyone has a great one and truly ends the workweek on a high note. It’s time to dress down and wear more comfortable clothes. I hope everyone spends the weekend wisely—whether by resting from the rigors of a demanding career, pursuing passions, completing household chores, spending time with loved ones, or simply relaxing. I hope you’re all doing well—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

My venture into European literature is still in full swing. I commenced this literary journey back in March, after spending the first two months of the year reading the works of Latin American and Caribbean writers. Interestingly, I was not originally planning to read European literature this early in the year. However, I realized that several works by European writers are included in my reading challenges. I have always been a crammer, although in recent years I have been changing my ways by reading books from my challenges earlier than usual. In March, I read works by European women writers, in line with the month’s major motif. March is Women’s History Month, and International Women’s Day is celebrated on March 8. With March and April over, it was a no-brainer to extend this literary journey into May.

Currently, I am reading The Flounder by Günter Grass. It was through must-read lists that I first encountered the German writer, whom I later learned was a Nobel Laureate in Literature. His magnum opus, The Tin Drum, was a prominent presence on such lists; it was even included in 1,001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. I finally got to read the book in 2019. However, what ensued was a literary dry spell; I was unable to secure any of Grass’s other works, and thus could not expand my venture into his oeuvre. Thankfully, I was able to acquire a copy of The Flounder in late 2024. It is the second novel by Grass that I have read, although I was not originally planning to read it. This is partly due to my resolve to read works by Nobel Laureates in Literature—a venture I began with my second novel by the Russian writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, August 1914, and which is still ongoing.

Originally published in 1977 as Der Butt, The Flounder was inspired by the Grimms’ fairy tale “The Fisherman and His Wife.” It opens in the present, with Grass introducing its spiritual guide, Edek. Along with his female companion, Ilsebill, Edek has undergone nine or more reincarnations since the Stone Age. His present-day partner is pregnant, and to entertain her, Edek tells stories of their previous incarnations—one for each month of her pregnancy. Their story begins in the Neolithic period. The catalyst is the capture of a flounder by a primitive fisherman. However, it is no ordinary flatfish. The titular flounder is a magical entity that bargains with the fisherman. In exchange for its life, it promises to mentor him, imparting a sea of knowledge. It teaches him how to count on his fingers and how to explore beyond his local domain.

The flounder’s most interesting lesson, however, involves the subjugation of the women of the fisherman’s clan. The prehistoric fisherman lives in a matriarchal society. Following its overthrow, women are transformed from three-breasted beings into two-breasted ones. Yes, the prehistoric women in the story have three breasts, but to accommodate men’s desires, the third gradually disappears. This sets the tone for the rest of the narrative, which becomes an extensive rumination on age-old gender divides. As the story progresses, it is revealed that the prehistoric fisherman is one of the many lives of the narrator. Under various guises and occupations, the narrator moves through significant historical events, while the flounder remains his spiritual adviser. Edek can readily summon it from the sea whenever he needs guidance.

Perhaps more important than the overthrow of the matriarchy, the novel explores how, under patriarchy, men are allowed to reconstruct history. Men have taken over the act of writing, and as history shows, it is the victor who dictates how it is recorded. As the scribes of history, men begin to portray their own gender in a more flattering light, erasing the positive contributions of women as they elevate themselves. Still, Grass astutely dismantles this male-centered narrative. He depicts women as nurturers and promoters of humankind, highlighting their historical contributions in both fact and fiction—a counterpoint to how they have been muted over time. On the other hand, men are portrayed as bloodthirsty and innately destructive, with a compulsion toward war. History reflects this, from the prehistoric hurling of rocks and spears to the modern deployment of intercontinental missiles.

Meanwhile, the passage of time alters the landscape of human consciousness. The novel highlights the rise of the feminist movement and includes intriguing elements such as the nine female cooks who cater to Edek. In many ways, they serve as a tribunal to whom he turns for judgment. Like the structure of the narrative, the cooks belong to different epochs. Awa cooks for Edek during the Neolithic period; she has three breasts and rules the tribe. These cooks are no ordinary figures—they also serve as links to women’s history. Metswina lives in sixth-century pagan Europe, where she is executed for the murder of a dour Christian missionary. Dorothea, on the other hand, is the narrator’s wife during the time of the Crusades; she engages in acts of masochism in the name of Christ in the hope of eventual canonization.

Grass also references female deities from other cultures, such as the Hindu goddess Kali. Depicted as a fierce figure with a dark complexion, she is often associated with time, destruction, and death. The early goddesses of the matriarchal Stone Age society along the Vistula River are also referenced. Altogether, these elements create a rich and intriguing literary experience. The Flounder is starkly different from The Tin Drum, yet I find both fascinating. This contrast adds another dimension through which to appreciate Grass’s oeuvre. I am halfway through The Flounder, and much still seems to be unfolding. I look forward to how Grass unspools these threads and to the insights he ultimately seeks to impart. How about you, reader? What book or books are you taking with you this weekend? I hope you all have a great one—and that whatever you’re reading provides a brief respite.