Oh My Gosh, He Killed Martin: My Thoughts on Address Unknown
Where do I even begin?
I have so many thoughts, so many feelings racing through my mind, gushing through every crevice. This story toyed with my emotions; it sent chills down my spine. Interlocking literary devices lined throughout each fictitious letter created a Rube Goldberg machine that punched me in the gut over and over until the grand finale, the final words of the story: Adresse Unbekannt. Address Unknown. Using the title within the story, especially in the resolution, is an infamous cliche and a laugh-stocking of a trope. Yet Kathrine Kressman Taylor weaponizes this trope to make the connection between climax and resolution not a gentle stroll to the conclusion but a Kingda Ka level drop.
And that’s only the beginning.
I could go on many more tangents about how Kressman Taylor crafted such a gutwrenching story through a short series of correspondences. You know what? I will go on those tangents. No one is stopping me from doing so.
The author takes advantage of our period eye–our prior knowledge–knowing that virtually every modern school teaches about World War Two. The characters do not know about World War Two, as they live in the early 1930s. The war obviously hasn’t happened yet. So when Max asks, “Who is this Adolf Hitler?” our minds dip into our knowledge pool of how he rose to power. Foreshadowing of Hitler’s future dictatorship lingers in Martin’s unsure response. We know what comes next: how Hitler’s use of propaganda brainwashed the masses, turning the majority of Germany into overly patriotic, antisemitic supporters of his regime. How horrifying was it to witness Marvin’s character corrupt in “real” time from his friendly, liberal self to a hateful fascist? Max shares this sentiment, and we can relate to his shock. What happened to his friend? As we know, he’s been a victim of the propaganda.
Kressman Taylor pushes this dramatic irony further through Max’s sister, Griselle, an aspiring actress. We watch as her brother reports how she was offered a role in Berlin right amid Hitler’s rise to power. Max describes her: “Her features, her gestures, her emotional voice proclaim her a Jewess no matter what,” indicating that she cannot hide her identity. As we read on about Griselle accepting the offer despite Max’s insistent disapproval, we know her death is imminent. Max begs Marvin to protect her, but we know this is a mistake; no pleading is strong enough to break through his new mindset. Her fate is sealed and confirmed in Marvin’s reply.
At this point, Max must feel great grief, devastation, and rage. He had a deep bond with both Griselle and Marvin. Griselle, being his little sister, was someone Max watched grow up over the years. He regarded her with much care and had his brotherly eye over her, wishing she stay safe, always. Max and Marvin were business partners and beyond. Their friendship must’ve lasted for years, with how they’re so familiar with each other and their family and the subject matter of their letters. And now? His closest friend now despises his Jewishness, leaving him distraught by his change of character. Griselle was shot to death, an ordeal that must have brought Max great grief. Marvin broke the news of her death through a cold reply to his pleas, of how he refused to shelter her for his gain. His selfish inaction resulted in the death of his ex-close friend’s sister. His betrayal is beyond description.
Martin’s actions, combined with grief of loss affecting Max’s psyche, drove him to revenge. Nothing hinted at it; no rageful words, only odd letters requesting paintings. Odd letters that the Nazis thought were code, putting Martin under suspicion. Martin sent a letter begging for mercy, for the letters to stop, but Max kept sending them, coldly and calculatedly, until the final letter returned, the address unknown. Max’s justice might seem cathartic, condemning a murderer and a bigot to the same fate as the people he hates most. But is it morally sound? Oh, definitely not. Max’s actions doomed not only Marvin but his whole family–his wife and six young boys, one of which was simply a newborn–innocent of the crimes of his parents. “An eye for an eye” is already a disapproved method of justice, and Max’s revenge is more like eight eyes for one. It’s in no way equal, even weighing in Max’s grief-driven state. Would this be what his sister would’ve wanted? I think not.