Ghosts of Berlin

I am a great fan of reading. To be a bit more precise, I am a great fan of learning. Hence, the specific ‘what’ that I am learning is often of less importance. In this way, while The Ghosts of Berlin was not the liveliest of works, I did read it in its entirety and did enjoy it. I liked Robert’s explanation: “it’s like when you’re really excited and interested in something, but then when you try to talk to people about it no one else really cares about the topic.” While the topic is, I’m sure, fascinating to the author and may be beautifully discussed—that didn’t entirely make the book a page turner. This being said, as I am usually the one who is met with blank stares when I rant about topics of personal interest, I perhaps felt a sort of empathy for the author in this regard. And in the end, the book was far from poor. It had wonderful concepts; just a bit too much elongation.

I am quite interested in the idea of buildings as being so powerful symbolically. I do feel, however, that this is the case with most things—not just buildings. Any object can have sentimental value to someone; perhaps it is simply that a building enters the lives of so many people that it is bound to have meaning eventually. I do like the notion that a building will come to be defined by the activities that it once held. Certainly a building can have a certain feel. This is specifically true in the case of buildings that have housed unique events. Unfortunately, it is those buildings that represent the more dreary shadows of our past that seem to maintain the strongest presence. I remember visiting the house of Anne Frank as a child. Walking through the building you become overtaken by a heavy and somber tone. I tried to imagine what it would have been like there before the war; when it was simply another house—one filled with memories of happiness rather than pain. I couldn’t.