Christopher and His Kind

It's 40 years since I first wrote about my time in Berlin.

And the book I'm now writing is perhaps an attempt to set the records straight.

Well, as straight as it's possible to be.

I destroyed my Berlin diaries, you see, so I've had to rely a good deal on memory.

As to why I went in the first place,

my friend Wystan Auden was there and encouraged me to join him.

I could also say I went because of what was happening politically.

But, in fact, I went because of the boys.

To me...

Berlin meant boys.

Thank you, my darling.

But, my dear, that simply won't do.

You're the very last person who ought to go there.

Berlin isn't the right place for you at all.

What on Earth do you mean?

It's German, darling.

Wystan Auden thinks it's the most marvellous place.

Auden!

Such an untidy boy!

And, besides, what about medical school?

But, Mummy, I am not cut out for medical school.

That's exactly what you said about Cambridge!

Really, Christopher, you cannot go through life shirking it.

It's time you buckled to.

I'm a published novelist!

Of course you are, darling.

But wouldn't it be so much nicer to be a doctor, as well?

It isn't a hobby, you know. Any normal mother would be... proud.

And I am proud, my sweetheart.

You know I found your novel most interesting.

I thought it was ingenious the way you used your antipathy towards me to such creative effect.

But you cannot expect life to be one long holiday.

I'm not going there on holiday, I'm going there to get away from you.

Couldn't you go somewhere a little closer, like the Isle of Wight?

Mother!

Of course, you must do as you wish.

I fully intend to.

It's only natural, I suppose,

that you should want to flee the nest, just as I am bound to get more lonely.

When I think of what I went through to bring you into this world!

Months and months of feeling really quite seedy.

Oh well...

so be it.

You won't forget, will you, darling...

that the Germans killed your father?

Take me with you.

You have to stay and look after Mummy.

But for how long?

I'm afraid I can't answer that.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

I was wondering...

Oh, do forgive me, dear boy. I didn't mean to startle you.

No, no.

Could I trouble you for a light?

Yes, um, of course.

I seem to have mislaid my lighter. I suspect it...

Oh, thank you, dear boy.

It may have been... Would you mind if I...?

No, no.

How kind!

It may have been stolen.

Oh dear.

One has to be so careful nowadays, don't you find?

Are you going all the way?

Excuse me?

To Berlin?

Yes.

Holiday?

I'm hoping for a little more than that.

Ah, yes. Well...

Berlin has so much to offer, in certain respects.

Do you live there?

For now.

One never knows what a new dawn may bring.

I hope you don't think I'm prying, dear boy.

But do you have accommodation in Berlin?

I do, as it happens, yes.

The reason why I venture such impertinence is that my landlady,

dear, sweet woman, is desperate for a reliable lodger.

Her landlords are ruthless.

And if they knew she didn't have the full quota, well,

turf her out in an instant.

I have a feeling,

and though perhaps I shouldn't say so myself, I...

I do have a nose for these things.

You might fit the bill perfectly.

My goodness, yes.

Well, that's most kind of you, but as I say...

I'll tell her, then, shall I?

Here's my card.

Mr Hamilton.

Oh, Gerald, please.

And who shall I tell her to expect?

Isherwood.

Christopher Isherwood.

Please stand back from the edge of the platform!

Attention! Doors closing!

Please stand clear!

The connecting train to Eisenhüttenstadt departs from platform 1.

Please stand back from the edge of the platform!

Wystan!

Attention! Doors closing!

Please stand clear!

So, here I am!

Yes, here you are.

Good trip?

Fine, thanks.

Those seats are devilish.

I hardly noticed.

I thought we'd drop your case off, then I'd show you the sights.

Best start as one means to go on.

I decided the Brandenburg Gate could wait.

Don't worry, they won't bite...

unless you want them to.

They're very accommodating if you have the cash.

But it won't break the bank, the exchange rate is still very much in our favour.

- Ah, Pieps! - Hello.

- Good evening. - Good evening.

What are you saying?

What was that?

We've been something of a feature.

Well, maybe more of a B feature.

I have no illusions about the pitfalls of loving a whore.

Are they all on the game?

Most of them, yes.

You can't imagine what a state the economy's in.

They look very well on it.

Yeah, they like to keep themselves fit.

It's good for business, of course, and they're shamelessly vain.

The fact that we find them desirable only proves how very masculine they are.

What do you mean, "we"?

They're nearly all rampant heters and use our money to pay for cunt.

But don't let that put you off, they're frightfully good at it.

- What name does he go under? - Caspar.

That's about the only thing I understood.

Perhaps you'd better help me trot out the odd German phrase,

else I could get myself into the most frightful fix.

Perhaps I'd better had.

The question is, will you understand the answers?

- I might have found somewhere to stay. - Oh, yes?

- I got talking to this man on the train. - You little slut!

Apparently his landlady's rather desperate for a lodger.

Something about filling her quota.

Anyway, I thought there'd be no harm in checking it out.

You're very welcome to stay here, you know.

In fact I'd very much like it if you did.

Uh-uh.

I need a room of my own, Wystan.

Once I start giving lessons, which I'm going to have to—

to earn a bit of cash and subsidise my writing—well...

and you can't write poetry with me buzzing about.

Yes, you're right.

So, I expect you'll be seeing him again, this Caspar chappie?

Yeah.

Well, I hope so.

I have missed you.

I love English gentlemen, Herr Issyvoo.

Herr Hamilton, such a charming man!

And you, a writer!

What an honour!

You can write many famous novels here.

Uh-oh!

Oh, Herr Issyvoo, this room was made for you!

It's very nice, Fräulein Thurau.

Oh, Herr Issyvoo!

You English are so polite.

Well, you English men.

There is an English woman across the hall.

She treats me like a slave.

"Fräulein Ross," I tell her, "I was a lady."

"I have not always scrubbed the floors."

Ach, forgive me, Herr Issyvoo.

That was the lodger before you.

I don't know what he'd eaten,

but it won't come out.

It's lovely to see you again.

What can I do for you this time?

I fondly remember your...

Morning, darling.

I have the most perfectly frightful head.

- Who is it? - Isherwood.

Who?

Christopher Isherwood.

It's me, Christopher. We... We...

We met on the train.

I've taken the room.

Oh...

Christopher!

Do forgive me, dear boy.

One has to be so careful nowadays.

Since my release from Brixton, I um...

I've rather lost touch with the old country.

You were in prison?

Yes.

For expressing anti-British sentiments.

Though how, I ask myself, could I be regarded as a traitor?