"Alraune" (1911) can be quite a mixed bag of nuts, but I think this provocative, disturbing, and thoughtful scifi fantasy romance may be worth your time.
The opening chapters are sheer Radium-Age genius! We are treated to a single night in the crumbling white house of the Gontram family, and it is quite a delight of European eccentricities and dark humor, with cigar-chewing babies, a most unusual pair of princesses, and two of the laziest lawyers you'll ever meet. The whole night is written in such lovely rhetoric that it's blackened beauty borders on madness, all the more enhanced by the macabre two-tone illustrations of a pajama-clad guest curled up with his midget dog on a luscious canopy bed, and a deliciously creepy parlor scene bordered in rich tassels, heavy curtains, and fractals of paisley salon wallpaper, all in glorious purple and black. If you enjoy the work of Edward Gorey, you'll love the 1929 drawings by Mahlon Blaine. And if you appreciate eeriely sublime humor, the word craft here will send wonderful chills up your spine, from the depiction of a skeletal mother singing melancholy Woloochian lullabies while decked out like a faded Cruella to a father with ink-stained fingers full of lies that everyone somehow wants to hear bitching about there being no champagne left in the cellar. Death and mental illness hangs in the air heavy with cigar smoke, yet the family and their friends seem delightfully happy in their dysfunctional morbid lives, like the Addams family on laudanum.
And this is only my thoughts on the first few pages! But does the rest of it hold water?
Essentially, "Alraune" is inspired by the ultimate masterpiece of scifi horror, "Frankenstein," only in this case the monster is a woman of exceptional beauty. Her name, Alraune, harkens to German legend regarding the mandrake root which was believed to grow from the ejaculate of hanged criminals that spills into the earth. In the book, Alraune is the creation of semen from a hanged man and a prostitute. Yes, you heard me right. Just makes you want to run out and buy this book right now, doesn't it?
For me, one of the most disturbing series of scenes involved the treatment of the prostitute that would become the subject of experiments that would lead to Alraune's birth. The book doesn't get around to the actual birth of the titular character until almost the halfway point, but once she grows up, you can't help but start making Frankenstein comparisons immediately. People run in fear from the creation of Frankenstein, but here people are drawn to Alraune like flies to honey and are easily bent to her will, even if it is to their own detriment. But like the Frankenstein monster, her behavior is only as bad as those around her. As noted brilliantly by fellow Goodreads reviewer Randolph, she serves as a mirror for the sins of others.
If you already thought "Alraune" was a simply a gender-swapped "Frankenstein," you may be surprised to learn how gender-fluid Alraune really is. It is possible that Ewers was satirizing and trolling the "homosexual panic" of the Weimar Republic. She is often described as having the appearance of a slender boy, wears masculine clothing, seduces and dominates other women, and is even referred to with male pronouns.
I hope I've given you an idea of just how wild of a ride "Alraune" can be, no matter what version or language. I can't help but wonder if Trent Reznor had this story in the back of his mind when writing his industrial classic "Reptile," and even if he didn't, that song would make a good audio companion piece to this deranged answer to all things wholesome.
My main issue with the book was the character of Frank Braun, who is the young male "protagonist" in this and an entire trilogy of stories which center around him. He is an absolute ass. He barges in to people's homes unannounced with a ton of his drunken friends and demands the servants prepare a feast. He treats women as sexual conquests and is overall snippy and sarcastic to everyone around him. He is rude to others while being thin-skinned--he cannot tolerate the slightest perception of criticism inflicted upon him. He lies and manipulates constantly. He's lazy and basically throws away his legal training, preferring to act like a spoiled college student living off a trust fund. He ends up rightfully in prison for two years and takes advantage of the freedoms he is allowed and whines about not having any privacy, poor baby. He's even the one who convinces his uncle to make the alraune monster, seemingly for no reason whatsoever. I suppose for a novel about the consequences of debauchery, excess, and narcissism, he fit right in, but I would never be able to read about him in two more books if he's written the same way.
The author supposedly based Braun off of his own personality, if that tells you anything about Ewers himself. Ewers was evidently not a fan of the United States, and he has been associated with some legendary, if not partly fictional, exploits such as working with Pancho Villa in raiding the southern border. He was briefly a member of the National Socialist German Worker's Party which supported Nazism, and Hitler himself asked Ewers to pen a biography of the Nazi martyr Horst Wessel. His pro-Semite stance and bisexuality eventually led to his downfall in the eyes of Hitler's regime.
For this review I read the Joe E. Bandel version, which contains an absolutely hilarious preface describing the difficulties of translating this work that alone is worth reading. Though I get the impression that I wouldn't much care for Bandel's typical brand of anarchist work, I give full kudos to him as translator for capturing the emotional depth, sumptuous poetry, and dark humor of Heinz Ewers from the original German. Overall, I'd say this is a delightful refresher of the 1929 U.S. edition which had been translated by Guy Endore, the author of one of my favorite books, "Werewolf of Paris." Both Endore's version and the Bandel edition are available on Kindle.
But no matter what you think of the creator or the translator, "Alraune" is a true classic of Radium-Age science fiction and Jazz-Age horror for good reason. That being said, this is certainly not for everyone. It goes down as easy as a cocktail glass of warm kümmel garnished with a dusty onion while soaking in a rusty claw foot tub with green tentacles peeking from the overflow drain. If you are offended by extreme content, human depravity, and sexual decadence, this may not be the book for you. But if you are at all curious at this point, it's probably worth checking out, and it is sure to creep out and delight lovers of the weird.