"Mask ja nägu" (The Mask and the Face) is the 3rd of Estonian philologist & theatre critic/director Woldemar Mettus's (1894-1975) 4-volume late-life* memoir of his life from early childhood Süda peo peal: noorusmälestusi (Heart in Hand), his early years as a theatre critic and stage director in independent pre-WWII Estonia Ainus paradiis : mälestusi meie iseseisvusajast (The Only Paradise), his life as a newspaper writer during the WWII Soviet & Nazi occupation years in Estonia (the current book) and finally as a emigrant escaping the post-WWII Soviet occupation in Soovimata külalised. Pagulaspõlve mälestusi Saksast ja Taanist (Unwanted Guests).

This is a terrific life saga with Mettus’s can-do and positive work ethic always driving his story forward through what is often a traumatic period for his family and his country. He often finds the best dry-humoured anecdotes and real-life stories to paint the picture of the circumstances he lived through. The loss of his first wife and childhood sweetheart to multiple sclerosis and his two teenage daughters to a Soviet torpedo attack on an refugee ship in the space of a few months are the most gut-wrenching parts of this story. His love of language and knowledge and being able to teach & communicate to others supports him through it all and eventually leads to an exile life in Buenos Aires, Argentina with his second wife who he meets in a post-WWII refugee camp in Denmark.

This would otherwise be a 5-star book, except that Mettus gets side-tracked for about 30 pages and starts quoting old anecdotes of Frederick the Great of Prussia aka Old Fritz about whom there seems to have been hundreds of stories, many of them collected in Josef Winckler's "De olle Fritz" (The Old Fritz) which is Mettus's mian source. A few of these are fine to get the point across that Frederick was beloved by his people and his soldiers. 30 pages of them are a bit much. Still, here’s the best one:

St. Peter opens the Pearly Gates to find Old Fritz standing there.
“I am the King from Berlin.”
“We don’t need your kind of dangerous man here,” said St. Peter.
“Oh really..? But at least tell me this: Is that Him over there?” asked Old Fritz and gestured towards God who was harvesting apples.
“Yes it is - you can go ahead and talk to Him anyway. He’ll throw you right out.”
God was standing on a ladder and was handing out the apples of paradise to the angels.
“Ahem-ahem,” said Old Fritz. God turned around.
“Who’s there?”
“Hello, it’s just me - I’m just poor old Fritz from Potsdam and I had hoped I could have some heavenly bliss,” said Fritz somewhat bashfully.
“Well, I don’t know about that, little man!” yelled God. “You’re just too impetuous to have around in Heaven! Get out of here!”
Then Old Fritz put his hat slowly back on his head, clicked his heels together and shouted:
“Attention! Battalion… About-face!… March!”
And what do you know? All of the Prussians, as many as there were in Heaven, marched in parade formation past God and back out through the Pearly Gates.
“Stop! Stop right now!” yelled God, “You’re taking my very best men out of Heaven! Sit right down! Please, sit down right now!”
“Now do you see who I am?” chuckled Old Fritz.

*an earlier stand-alone 1950 memoir "Narrid, näitlejad ja nõiad" (Clowns, Actors and Witches) dealt primarily with his years in the theatre. ( )