This short book is an excellent introduction to the eminent philosopher’s formative years through the eyes of his child self
January 2, 2026 16:40
Walter Benjamin’s ‘Berlin Childhood’ is a non-chronological sequence of vignettes depicting the fin de siècle world the eminent philosopher and cultural critic grew up in. Its origins lie in a 1931 magazine commission to write a series of personal reflections under the title Berlin Chronicle. This earlier version was, to quote the book’s excellent translator, Shierry Weber Nicholsen, “a more conventional autobiographical narrative” that also contained philosophical and psychological digressions omitted in Berlin Childhood. By contrast, in the manuscript we now have, Benjamin asserts that “experience takes place in the depth of the self, not on the surface... through experiences of shock, moments of sudden illumination. In the child’s vulnerable open state, the intensity of experience penetrates the depth of the self and precipitates an indelible memory”.’ Berlin Childhood’s often painful minutiae are the result.
In the first vignette, Loggias, it is sounds – opening and closing shutters, the rhythm of the railway and, carpet-beating – that open the door to childhood recollections. In The Mummerlehren it is not “the noise of field artillery or of Offenbach’s ballroom music” but the more mundane “brief rattle of coal falling from its metal container into the iron stove” which connect the reflecting adult to childhood events, “the temporality of a relationship between the past of a child on the one hand and the present of the remembering adult on the other”, as Nicholsen puts it. The result is a high order literary memoir
In Fever Benjamin evokes the opposing sensations of suffering and cosiness experienced during illness: pillows become mountains, a cave opening up in the mountain wall which “I crawled into. I pulled the blanket over my head and put my ear to the dark abyss from time to time, feeding the silence with words that return from it as stories”.
In Market Hall Benjamin describes “the wire partitions (behind which) were enthroned the almost immobile women, priestesses of the venal Ceres, market women of all fruit of field and tree, of all edible fowl, fish and mammals, procuresses, inviolable wool-clad colossi”, employing imagery from ancient classical times to summon up a world within his living memory.
A remarkable appendix sees Benjamin irreverently attribute the awakening of his sex drive to the frisson of missing a High
Holy Days service, “the first great feeling of desire, in which the desecration of the holiday was mixed with the pandering of the street, which here gave me for the first time an intimation of the services it was to provide the awakened drive”.
The philosopher Theodor Adorno, Benjamin’s friend, mentor and patron, in his afterword contrasts Berlin Childhood with Benjamin’s monumental Paris arcades project. In the latter Benjamin “wanted to develop historical archetypes from their pragmatic, social and philosophical origins”, but in “the Berlin book the same archetypes were suddenly to shine forth from the immediacy of memory and have the power of the pain one feels about something irretrievable”.
Benjamin’s philosophical writing is renowned for its opacity. Yet in Berlin Childhood Benjamin comes to terms with the nature of memory as might a novelist, in evocative writing conjuring atmosphere through the eyes of his child self.
This short book supplies an excellent introduction to a maverick thinker and writer of immense literary ability whose genius and premature death were both functions of the murderous times in which he lived. Whether, as Hofstätter suggests, it is that which makes this book relevant to us in today’s turbulent but very different world is debatable. Great writing is timeless.
Berlin Childhood around 1900
By Walter Benjamin, translated by Shierry Weber Nicholsen
Verso
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