The Assault     by Harry Mulisch, Translated by Claire Nicholas White Original title: De aanslag Original language: Dutch Original year: 1982 Published by Pantheon Books Pub. Date: 1986 Format: Paperback, 192 pages Dimensions: (in inches): 0.54 x 8.01 x 5.24 ISBN: 0394744209 List Price: $13.00 Buy online from Amazon.co.uk for £7.44 Buy online from Amazon.com for $10.40 Published by Collins Harvill, London Pub. Date: 1985 Format: 204 pages Not available for ordering Published by Penguin, London Pub. Date: 1986 Format: 204 pages Not available for ordering Published by Pantheon Books, New York Pub. Date: 1985 Format: 185 pages Not available for ordering

Click on image to see enlargement

The immense popularity of The Assault, which has seen one edition after another since it first appeared in 1982, can perhaps best be explained by the fact that the novel can be read in different ways: as a psychological drama, as a mystery story, and as an exploration of guilt and responsibility in the aftermath of the Second World War.


The drama is that of Anton Steenwijk who suffered the unimaginable trauma of losing his parents and brother, shot in 1945 by the occupying Germans in reprisal for the killing of a collaborator by the Dutch Resistance. Twelve-year-old Anton watched as his home — in front of which the collaborator’s body lay — was torched. As if this were not enough, later that night he found himself sharing a police cell with an injured woman who, possibly because she knew she would be executed, tells the uncomprehending boy her secrets in the darkness. Many years later, Anton will learn that this was Truus Coster who shot the collaborator. The rest of the novel narrates Anton’s struggle to repress the memories of this night, and their gradual resurfacing, culminating in a breakdown. It is not until he has pieced together all the elements of the story of that night that he is able to shake off the past — ‘He has «lived through the war», one of the last, perhaps, to remember.’


The heart of the mystery concerns the body which Anton saw lying outside the house of the Kortewegs, the next-door-neighbours, and which they dragged outside the Steenwijks’ house. Why choose this house when they could have gone to the other side where nobody knew the inhabitants? And why did Mr Korteweg later commit suicide? The riddle is solved in the last chapter when Anton meets Karin during a peace demonstration in Amsterdam: she and her father knew that there was a Jewish family in hiding on the other side.


Of course the solution to the mystery only raises questions of a more philosophical nature. As the narrator says: ‘Was guilt innocent and innocence guilty?’ The Resistance were partly responsible since they knew that innocent people would suffer for their actions; Anton himself was certainly not free of guilt since he contributed to his brother’s capture; other neighbours stood by and watched without intervening; the Germans actually killed Anton’s family; the murdered collaborator was assisting the Germans in their occupation of the Netherlands; and Karin and her father committed a selfish act that was in part well-motivated.

‘Karin,’ said Anton. She fell silent and look at him. ‘We were sitting at home. You heard those shots. Then when you saw Ploeg lying there, you went outside to move him, right?’

‘Yes. My father forced me to. It took him only a second to decide.’

Listen. Each of you was holding one end of him — your father the shoulders, you the feet.’

‘Did you see that?’

‘Never mind. There’s something more I have to know: why did you put him in front of our door and not at the Aartses’ on the other side?’

‘That’s what I wanted, that’s what I wanted!’ cried Karin in sudden agitation, clutching at Anton’s arm. ‘It seemed so obvious to me that he shouldn’t land at your door, yours and Peter’s, but at the Aartses’, where there were only two people, whom we really didn’t know. I had already taken a step towards their house, but, then Father said, «No, not there. They’re hiding Jews.»’

‘Christ!’ exclaimed Anton, slapping his forehead. (p. 202, tr. Claire Nicholas White)