The disorder of things – a dazzling person

Marlen Hobrack wrote a book about her mother that is a betrayal. She says it directly in the first sentence: “This book is treason.” Because under no circumstances would the mother have wanted her life and, above all, her legacy, her inheritance to the world and, above all, to her children, to be made accessible to the public and spread out in such a way . Because Marlen Hobrack’s mother is what is commonly called a hoarder; a term that hopefully hardly anyone will use without further ado after reading “Erbgut”.

A more accurate term for what Hobrack’s mother did is hoarding. The daughter knew about it, but it was only with her death and the associated need to clear out her mother’s apartment that the full extent of this hoarding became clear to her: boxes full of junk that the mother had bought from shopping channels, decades-old bills, overpriced cleaning products , dozens of plastic shelves for refrigerators, old stuffed animals that mean nothing to anyone; perhaps (even probably) not even meant anything to the mother; but to separate from them she was missing something that we don’t know for sure what it is. Was it the strength? The pragmatic insight? The emotional maturity? Or also: help?

There would have been the option of turning down the inheritance, having the apartment professionally cleared out and leaving the whole thing alone. Marlen Hobrack’s siblings decide to go this route, but she doesn’t want it. Later she will describe that she was very independent and assertive even as a child, and so day after day she rummages through the boxes, cupboards, drawers, shelves, boxes, and it never seems to end. She removes layer by layer and then records it, in her own way, in a book. If this book is a betrayal, then it is probably the necessary betrayal of children to their parents.

Pathological hoarding is considered one of the few diseases that occur equally in all income classes; it knows no economic bias. There are different theories as to the cause, but in general, severe early childhood trauma is considered to be something that those affected have in common. This early childhood trauma also exists in the case of the mother (who has no name in the book). She was the second oldest of six siblings and grew up under the thumb of a mother who hated her – and only her. The emptiness that this lack of love left behind in her early years and the material lack that her mother experienced early on combine, as Marlen Hobrack thinks, to create “an overwhelming feeling of emptiness that needs to be filled.”

One of the great strengths of this book is that individual explanations do not become guiding theses around which Marlen Hobrack then constructs her mother like a scarecrow. She is always trying out new and different approaches to approaching both the mother and her aftercare center. A lot of intellectual work goes into these explanations, just as a lot of physical work goes into cleaning out the aftercare center. And yet Marlen Hobrack always dares to question herself: to think about whether she is doing the right thing with her explanations. And she also looks within herself for explanations: doesn’t she buy things quickly and without thinking – books, for example, laundry – when she feels lonely? And if she cleans out every few months, doesn’t she do the same to avoid being like her mother?

That’s precisely why it’s not a special interest book that focuses exclusively on the topic of “pathological hoarding” or on the mother, but rather on the overall question of how children deal with it when parents need help but only the children are available. For example, Hobrack writes about her previous relationship with her mother: “I made a classic psychological mistake that relatives often make when a person has psychological problems of any kind: you try to rationally explain why what the other person is doing is actually nonsensical , is just irrational. (…) But what if all this brought her joy?”

And when you think about it, what are the things that bring joy? Some are more socially accepted than others, but the basic desire – Hobrack is completely Lacanian – is always in vain anyway. The mother wasn’t a freak, not an absurd supporting figure in some socially critical “crime scene.” And last but not least, she is Marlen Hobrack’s mother: someone who has written himself into her life in many ways, in such many ways that it takes enormous effort to understand all the entanglements. Clearing out the apartment is also a clarification of the relationship.

There is a text that preceded the book and was written shortly after her mother’s death: In “Zeit” Marlen Hobrack wrote about the imposition of having to dispose of all the junk and ballast that her mother had left her. It was an incredibly emotional, self-righteous, hurtful, but also mother-degrading text, a cry of rage. It’s worth reading the article as well as the book to see how comprehensive Marlen Hobrack’s work has been to get out of this anger and anger. To come to forgiveness, to make your own peace with it.

Your method of doing this is by thinking about it, reading about it, and writing about it. She is so comprehensively informed that it is not suitable for a general method: this book is definitely not a guide. But this method of hers has the advantage that, firstly, readers see clearly how much work it can be to come to terms with yourself and your own story – your own mother – if you are not willing to take it too easy close. And secondly, the multitude of references and references creates starting points, at least some of which stick.

It is possible that the book is a betrayal, or that the mother would have perceived this book as a betrayal. This mother of hers, whom Marlen Hobrack draws in “Erbgut”, is a multi-faceted, strange, dazzling person. A person who was certainly discouraged in crucial situations, but the impression remains of a woman who was brave in her own way.

Marlen Hobrack: Genetic material. What remains of my mother. Harper Collins, 240 pages, hardcover, €24.