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The i Tetralogy

By Mathias B. Freese

Hats Off Press

ISBN: 1587364042

Copyright 2005

Trade Paperback, 365 pages

General Fiction

Link to Amazon .

Some books are meant to entertain, while others possess such compelling, mind-wrenching insight as to change one’s life forever. The i Tetralogy, a fictional account of the Holocaust, is one of these books.

The novel is divided into four volumes: “i Tetralogy,” “I Am Gunther,” “Gunther’s Lament,” and “Gunther Redux.”

The first volume, “i Tetralogy’ is seen through the eyes of i, a Jew who has been stripped of everything he has, of everything he is, down to his very own humanity. He is nothing now, nothing but the reddish brown substance that comes from between his legs. “I am rectum,” says i in his opening line. He is not allowed to talk, raise his eyes, nor develop any type of bond with the other camp prisoners. His fellow Jews, young and old, are degraded, maimed, tortured, murdered in front of his eyes, yet all he can do is look down and continue digging latrines in the trenches. His life is now reduced to excrement, and he sees himself as nothing more than that. He is but the “automatic remains” of what he used to be. His existence belongs to the whims of his guard. Yet he also understands that the capacity for bottomless cruelty is inherent in our nature.

“Although I beat no one, whip no one, shoot no one for no other reason than petulance, I feel in my dank heart, given the circumstances, I, too, could brutalized another human being. My captors have instructed me well on that subject. I also read between the lines. All through history prophets and philosophers have hinted, have warned, have taught, have urged us to respect one another—or we could turn on ourselves, cannibalized our humanity. The camps are the charnel house of our own misdoings.” Then he adds, “the Germans are really me, what I am capable of.” (31)

And yet, in spite of his suffering, his witnessing skulls being crushed with clubs or inmates sharing bits of buttock flesh at night in order to fight starvation, i gropes for sanity, and the need to go on and endure in spite of it all. This by itself is another horror, the fact that we’re prisoners of our survival instinct.

In the second volume, “I Am Gunther,” we meet the German guard, later referred to as the ‘Abominator of Auschwitz’. Even though he once considered becoming a pastor, Gunther lacks empathy, compassion, pity. In short, any type of humane feeling toward his prisoners—and as the reader will see later in the novel, toward his own brood. He kills without thought or remorse, and always has a justification at hand for his atrocious actions. For him, Jews are vermin that must be destroyed.

“I serve to kill Jews,” thinks Gunther. “Not a harsh thing to say or think, it is a necessary thing to do. Not a harsh thing to feel, for it has nothing to do with feeling—or morality… Much like crushing a roach with one’s foot, it is expedient to rid oneself of something repulsive, serving no redeeming value in this world. Necessary and useful, altogether appropriate, unless one wants one’s house overrun and infested with vermin.” (93)  

The third volume of the book, “Gunther’s Lament” is seen through the eyes of Gunther, half a century later. Old now, a war criminal in hiding, Gunther lives in a suburban town in Long Island, no longer protected by the regime that once gave him so much power. No remorse affects his sleep. He is forever unrepentant. There he goes day by day, unseen and unnoticed. As he disturbingly points out “Good Americans are much like good Germans: as long as I take care of my lawn, bag the cuttings neatly for garbage pickup, and replace the siding every decade or so and gladly hand out Halloween korn like Gabby Hayes, I’m one of the good guys.” (207) In his fantasies, he sees himself being interviewed by a reporter, giving his side of the story and his very twisted—yet at times frighteningly lucid—view of reality.

In the fourth volume, “Gunther Redux,” we meet Gunther’s son, Conrad.  He begins his account with the words: “I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM.”

We feel his inner turmoil, outrage and shame as he learns about his father’s true identity and crimes. Through a series of old letters, we’re transported in time to his childhood. Here the author presents us with Conrad’s mother and her relationship with Gunther, as well as Gunther’s relationship with his son.

The book ends with “Raison d’Etre”, where Freese reconstructs the creative process that led to the writing of this work. These last few pages will bring you closer to the author and will help you better understand his motivation behind it. I think Freese saw the need to add this last section not only to clarify his position in relation to the book, but as a way to ‘stabilize’ the reader after all the chaos of the first four volumes. “Raison d’Etre” had a calming effect on me. I was finally able to take a deep breath.

I have chosen to review this book in the first person instead of my usual third, if only because it shook me so deeply. Freese shows humanity as it is, in its own raw and naked reality. He does it with bluntness, yes, but also with incredible insight. His sentences flow like the blood that gushed from the victims’ veins during this terrible event—relentless and ruthless. The protagonists reveal themselves to the core, from the deepest corners of their minds to the bottomless misery of their hearts. I found myself taking breaks between readings. I had to. Immersing myself in this story was killing me a little every time. This is without a doubt the most terrifying book I have ever read, and not because of its callous bluntness, but because it made me realize what human beings can be capable of. “To ask why there is evil in this world is to ask who we are,” writes Freese. (343) I think this sums up the essence of the book. It also brings up the question: is the bystander who watches and lets it happen less guilty than the murderer?

 The author also touches the dark psychological relationship between the victim and the victimizer. The writing itself is excellent, both technically and stylistically.

When you add this to the keen observations and insights about the human psyche, it isn’t an exaggeration to say that this work shows signs of genius.

You may ask yourself, is there any glimpse of goodness in this book? Any hope at all? Actually, there is. There’s a section in the first volume where i develops a silent friendship with a new inmate who’s young, maybe eighteen years old. In spite of the immediate danger to both their lives, i does his best to encourage, calm, and advise the boy. A secret bond develops between them. Needless to say, this quick peek at human compassion doesn’t last very long, but it is a powerful moment and serves to remind us that while we may be capable of evil, we’re also capable of kindness.

This is not a book for young adults and I would not advise anyone under 18 to read it. It affected my sleep and will likely affect yours too. The main problem I had with The i Tetralogy is the stark violence. While I don’t think it is gratuitous, I wonder if Freese would have been able to carry his important message across by being less visceral. Maybe yes, maybe not—the question still nags at me. But then, if the truth is washed out, can we really understand the true horror of the Holocaust? I’ll leave that to the reader to decide.           

–Mayra Calvani                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

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