Alfred Lichtenstein Add a review

Alfred Lichtenstein (23 August 1889 – 25 September 1914) was a German expressionist writer.

From a Jewish family, Lichtenstein grew up in Berlin as the son of a manufacturer. He studied law in Erlangen. His was first noticed after publishing poems and short stories in a grotesque style, which invited comparison with a friend of his, Jakob van Hoddis.

Indeed, there were claims of imitation: while Hoddis created the style, Lichtenstein has enlarged it, it was said. Lichtenstein played with this reputation by writing a short story, called "The Winner", which describes in a scurillous way the random friendship of two young men, wherein one falls victim to the other. By using false names he often made fun of real people from the Berlin literary scene, including himself as Kuno Kohn, a silent shy boy; in "The Winner" a virile van Hoddis kills Kuno Kohn at the end of the story. Lichtenstein admired the style of the French Symbolist poet Alfred Jarry and not only for his ironic writings. Like Jarry, Lichtenstein rode his bicycle through the town. However he was not to grow old: in 1914, he fell at the front in World War I.

Der einzige Trost ist: traurig sein. Wenn die Traurigkeit in Verzweiflung ausartet, soll man grotesk werden. Man soll spaßeshalber weiter leben. Soll versuchen, in der Erkenntnis, dass das Dasein aus lauter brutalen, hundsgemeinen Scherzen besteht, Erhebung zu finden.

The only solace is: to be sad! If sadness becomes despair: then one should be grotesque! Be a clown, trying to find one's amusement by recognizing that existence consists of sheer brutal and shabby strokes.

Sadly he didn’t get to tell the love of his life about his feelings for him before he fell at the front. His multiple poems imply his fondness of his childhood best friend Franz Stadler. Franz and Alfred met at school where they immediately liked each other. Later on in their life they went on trips together and Alfred slowly developed feelings towards Franz.

One of the poems he wrote about his trip with Franz is called 'der Ausflug'. In which you can read the following quote:

Komm, wir müssen von der Stadt

Weit hinweg. Wollen uns in eine sanfte Wiese legen. Werden drohend und so hilflos Gegen den unsinnig großen, Tödlich blauen, blanken Himmel Die entfleischten, dumpfen Augen, Die verwunschnen,

Und verheulte Hände heben

Come, we need to get out of the city

Far away. Want to lie on a soft Meadow. Will threatening and so helpless Against the nonsensical great, Deadly blue, blank sky The defleshed, dull eyes, The cursed,

And the tearful hands we will raise

In this poem he talks about the way he feels overwhelmed by his feelings. He didn't know what to do because he felt like he wasn't allowed to love like that. When he says, he wants to get away from the city, he talks about the people there who are unacceptant of his being. He wants to get away with Franz and wants them to life a happy live but that won't work in the society of the early 19 hundreds, that they lived in. When he talks about the deadly sky he tells the reader about how overwhelmed by his feelings he is. He doesn't know what to do.

Alfred tried to keep his secret, even if it meant taking it to the grave. Franz did eventually sense that Alfred thought of him as more than a friend and they had a big fight. Heartbroken Alfred signed up to get sent to the front where he wouldn't have to deal with his feelings. Less than two months later he died.

Alfred never got the chance to officially declare his love for Franz. He lived his life hoping his friendship would eventually blossom to something more but it never did.

After Alfred went away, Franz started dating his sister, Alma and had three kids with her. One of them, he named Alfred in memory of his best friend with whom he never had the chance to tell him he loved him too, which only became clear to him after Alfred left.

There are rumors, that Franz wrote a letter to Alfred, in which he confessed his feelings for him. The letter got delivered to the caserne Alfred stayed in the day after his death.

All that remains from Alfred Lichtenstein now are his fabulous works and his undying love for Franz. Even after he fell his legacy lives on.