In brief, it is the story of a Jewish Hungarian teenager's experience of German camps during the second world war. The author, Imre Kertész, won the nobel prize for literature in 2002, and one of the things that convinced me to buy this over a few other options in a Budapest bookshop last weekend was the quote from the Nobel panel, about the
possibility of continuing to live and think as an individual in an era in which the subjection of human beings to social forces has become increasingly complete... [the author?] upholds the fragile experience of the individual against the barbaric arbitrariness of history.which, as pretentious as it is to say, are ideas which appeal to me a lot.
At the beginning, after maybe five or ten pages, I thought Ah, another Holocaust book - but I know the Holocaust, so I wish the writing were a little more appealing, which is an arrogant but basically fair reaction from an educated European, many of whom have consumed a masses of information of various forms about the Holocaust, WW2 and the bloody Nazis.
I got used to the writing, and admittedly I sympathise with the habit of constantly qualifying ones words and making clear they are subjective opinions, as annoying as this can be to read. In the case of this book, it was a habit well in line with the author's take on what he went through and ends up giving a good background to his 'conclusion' at the end.
In some sense, my fear was well-founded, in that being a book about life in concentration camps, a fair portion of the content was inevitably about (adjustment to) the hardships and the inhuman parts of the existence which I can gain only so much an appreciation of without going through it (there is no regret in that statement!). But the style of presentation, and the way the author recollects how he thought and felt (published 30 years later) is mind's eye-catching; in places, given What We Know Now, it was painful to read his naive take on what was happening (that of a 14-year-old? or simply of someone whose history books didn't contain examples of anything like the Holocaust and for whom it was therefore unimaginable - while we, having digested the Nazis (he doesn't use that word once), famously see parallels everywhere...). And a good writer can make readable prose out of things as familiar as buses or rain or whatever, so familiarity clearly isn't a deal-killer.
The most notable, for me, among the writing here was his point (as I took it) that life in the labour camps took place a day at a time, and therefore the human experience of it was quite different from what we might imagine from consuming the Holocaust as a single event and viewing it in political terms or as though such a phenomenon could be a policy choice.
In relation to the quote of the Swedish judges, one thing the book does is to uphold the experience of the individual ('of' historical events) against the historical-journalistic focus on whole events and societies to be digested in one go. But then history books and literature have different purposes; arguably one of the latter is to re-present things from non-traditional perspectives, like maybe mental illness or love or such 'individual' phenomena from a structural perspective.
All that said, maybe Primo Levi had the same approach - I haven't read anything by him.
The last page, as well as the rest of the book, recalls Gyorgy Faludy's My Happy Days in Hell, a review of which may follow at another time.
(Another thought was that it is impossible for me to read any book about this - more than any other single topic - in the way I'm accustomed to reading fiction, namely without knowing what happens next: there was the odd surprise, but (ironically, given the place of arbitrariness in this narrative) with such a topic there are a limited number of outcomes and plot devices, and given the basis in historical events and continuing elusiveness of capturing the words of dead people, a fundamental 'unknown' of the story is known through its having been written at all. I wonder what it would be like to read this book without knowing plenty about the events in which the story sits.)
7 comments:
I guess the key is in the story itself, the personal story caught up in all that you already know. Have you seen 'Life is Beautiful'? I love this film, and although the holocaust provides the context, it's really secondary to the tale of the relationship between father and son. I think a good story can say new things about a much-written subject... this said, you're right - it would be interesting to see our reaction to anything set in the holocaust without knowing anything about it.
I guess we bring our own history/education to everything we read. I'm in the fortunate position of being so forgetful that more or less everything is new to me! This is as much a curse as it is a blessing, of course!
I think I have seen that film, but what sticks in my mind is being uncomfortable about a review (probably Marcel bloody Berlins) damning it for being frivolous, or something similar from the history is not about people stable. (Bet the same reviewer wouldn't treat a Nobel-prizzzzzzze winner the same... snob.)
This good story said things about a much written subject that were new (to me).
One reason I really like My happy days in hell is that Faludy makes me respect an approach to the world which I have always found uncomfortable.
A letter and an answering machine message in one day! Thank you. I will share my html genius with you at some point (if I can remember how I came to be one) and I will also write a letter because I enjoyed reading yours so much (once I turned the letters around so that they read in the conventional manner). The blog method is convenient and pleasant, but there's still a big, comfy place for the old ink and paper method.
History is not about people... grrr. History is totally about people.
History, in the way our self centred (but thats what happens when you become concious), IS people.
Marcel Berlins is a twerp, it has to be said, doesn't matter if he said that twerpy thing or not, her is generally pretty much a twerp.
Life Is Beautiful is a great film and it isn't frivilous in any sense of the world. It is deeply and painfully serious. You could call in sentimental if you wanted to find faults, I wouldn't call it that, but someone could.
My god that first sentance was garbled. I'll try again:
History - our self centred way of thinking of it (but that's what happens when you become concious)- IS people.
By which I mean that when we look at history we look at human history, unless we are really cool like Stephen Jay Gould and instead look at Deep Time and pre-human life, but no one means that when they say history.
And if we are looking at human history we really need to have the human bit covered. Looking at systems and social forces and the like is all very well, but if you get rid of the human then you get rid of the value of the anylsis and put yourself in a position where you are dangerously close to creating a totalitarian ideological state that is run to help things like the greater good etc... To humanise the holecost is perhaps the only way we can grasp at some sort of understanding of what it was like and why it happened.
Not that Life Is Beautiful is a work of history anyway. It's a work of art. And in those terms it is almost perfect in my view. And historically speaking it doesn't, to my observance twist facts in the way that that abomnible schindlers list does, and is much less manipulative and more respectful to those who actually existed at the time than that terrible speilberg bollocks.
Perhaps there is an argument that history can sometimes be too much influenced by personal accounts and experiential data and the like. Though I am big for the personal is the political and the political is the personal way of thinking. But in terms of fiction and its place when interacting with history, no one should argue that that shouldn't touch on people. Well they can argue whatever they like but they will be wrong.
Fine and good, although people stories are maybe the 'easy' side of history, much harder being to work out how all the people fit together to make events. As much as I believe in the power of the structure, it's hard to actually imagine some magnetic veil hanging above people and making their individusl differences meaningless, provoking questions that start Did Russia have any choice...
But on the other side, there is rarely a single agent responsible for anything newsworthy. Maybe the depersonalised nature of structure rises from it being far to complex to perceive in terms of individuals. Or maybe I should stop gabbling... *cringes at inaneness etc.*
As a scarcely related piece of trivia: the lifts in my building are manufactured by a firm called Schindler.
The thing is that reductiveness happens on all sides. Like this obsession with the idea that Hitler, rather than social forces, coincidence, etc... were responsible for the Holecost. From my relitively extensive research into his early life (made at a time when I toyed with writing part of a novel about him) he appears to have had a terrible homelife and also probably been mentally ill. I am not excusing anything he did or whatever. But any country that puts a madman in power (or lets them get in power, or creates a coup that puts one in power) can hardly wash their hands of the situation. And nor can any of the other countries that create the social situation. I am inclined to think that dictators, whilst terrible things, are pretty much part of the human condition. Throughout history terrible times create terrible people (reverse that sentance and its equally true.)
The thing is the only way we can relate to history is through the personal. Like Stalin said and all that otherwise we aren't looking at people we are looking at statistics, and no one gives a fuck about statistics (except statistitions of course, which sortof means you!)
Its the middle ground thats important, balance etc... the personal and the political, the large social and ecconomic forces and the small individuals they realate to. In my view Life Is Beautiful gets that balance staggeringly right. Schindlers List gets that balance horrifyingly wrong and is very very manipulative in the process, both of facts, real people and of its audience, who deserve better, and in fact can find better in many many other films. That said some sequences in schindlers list are very good/useful/whatever. But the red coat is cheap, the end sequence blurring fact and fiction is intrusive and innapropriate, and the reduction of the central character and the frequent reliance on emosional cliches are both what Spielberg does best and what should be outlawed from "serious" films. I love Indiana Jones and ET but please Mr Spielberg remove this stuff from holecost related dramas!! And while your at it from stuff about D-Day!
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