I Kiss Your Hands Many Times, nonfiction from Marianne Szegedy-Maszak

Hearts, Souls, and Wars in Hungary

"Over wine, steeped in Budapest, feeling close, I asked my parents what their romance had been like.  They exchanged quick looks....But for once my father took charge. Smiling, he reached for another piece of bread and said with the sealed air of finality, "My dear, that is none of your business."

The title of this book grabbed me, the implied sense of surprise and gratitude captured in a simple act.  But there's nothing simple about the family history of the author.

Fortunately,  daughter and author Marianne Szegedy-Maszak  makes it her business and with interviews and family documents reveals the momentous love story that spanned decades and stayed alive despite the Holocaust, long absences, mental issues, and a loss of class station.  Szegedy-Maszak describes how the Holocaust separated them, but what I found more interesting was the period they experienced leading up to the Holocaust.  The family's lifestyle and activities, and how devastated their lives became was severe and particularly focused on their Hungarian origin.  Their Jewish heritage also doomed them and the details of what they went through are hard to read.  Especially because this is non-fiction....supported by names and dates. Fictionalized accounts of this time period are many but they don't compare.  She describes her discoveries as a "gossamer sliver of time, that dividing line between one way of looking at the world and another."  

While they survive, their family is not the same.  Stripped of their wealth, unsure even of their identities (and all the facets of identity that we know about ourselves), they rebuild.  They succeed, even if that meant for some suspenseful reading.  Someone compared it to The Hare with the Amber Eyes, a history of a well-known Jewish family torn up by the same time period but focusing on the collection of netsuke curated by a descendant.  The similarity is apt but this feels more personable, more gut-wrenching while the other seemed to border on being polite rather than describe the violence (still well worth reading).

The book also encompasses the political and financial impact of the aftermath of the Holocaust and strengthening the Hungarian nation, with politics in the US and large amounts of money changing hands to try and assure a future beyond those of individuals.

Published by Spiegel & Grau

Review: Shadows Walking by Doug Skopp

...The conclusion of the week devoted to the new novel, Shadows Walking.

"More people thinking everything is stupid or corrupt or evil than people who think things are good. More people hating.  Wanting to do someone or something harm.  Anti-Semites, Anti-Communists, Anti-Women, Anti-modern art, music...Hating everything and everyone different from them.  We're all in trouble if this doesn't stop."

Philipp's prophetic words appear in an early chapter of the book, Shadows Walking, by Douglas Skopp.  I've noted already that I think highly of the novel, which is considered historical fiction but based on detailed and thorough study of historical documents from the time period prior to and through the Holocaust. 

Philipp is a friend of the protagonist, Johann Brenner, and they lead nearly parallel lives as the novel begins just after WWI.  Both are medical students, eager to make a positive impact in their community despite the troubled times that Germany is experiencing.  Their friendship becomes strained as an underlying current in their social class begins blaming the Jews for the problems. 

Thus begins a study, not so much of the Holocaust exactly, but more precisely a study of the how studies in eugenics and the desire to rid Germany of "undesirables" was used to justify the killing of millions.  Author Skopp analyzes how both men felt about eugenics and how it conflicted with their code as physicians.  In Brenner's case, it becomes a question of status. As a trained physician he feels that he's due more distinction in his life, while Philipp as a Jew faces questions about how his beliefs in ending unnecessary suffering are twisted into a vindication of the evil the Nazi's perpetrate.

"Johann felt unable to dissect Hitler's categorical statements, to think of opposing arguments, to consider the implications of what he was reading.  He had never been taught to think critically, to ask why and how an author might be trying to grab his mind and shape his convictions.  His whole generation had assumed that if a statement appeared on the printed page, it must be true."

The novel is grim, but it displays significant restraint in not trying to exploit the subject for gratuitous horror.  Two features especially stood out to me as noteworthy.  One was that it provides especially detailed insight in the period between WWI and WWII and the context of pre-Holocaust years.  Few books go back that far to find the links; they only start with WWII.  I can only think of Markus Zusak's The Book Thief as one that lays the groundwork for the events, and even it doesn't go back as far as this novel.  To me, this information was both new and critical to understanding how people were manipulated so thoroughly.

The other key to this novel is the rendering of the character of Johann Brenner.  While we know from the start he's a villain (for lack of a better word), the story goes backward to explain how he came to that end.  He's never a sympathetic character;  as a reader there's never a point where he is especially appealing.  Yet, rather than portray him as a stereotypical mad scientist, the novel proceeds to show how his flawed reasoning came to be.  Additionally, a sense of suspense and tension is created because he's hanging around the Nuremberg Trials, incognito, while his peers are being tried for war crimes.  As a reader, I wanted to know why.

Special thanks to CreateSpace for the Advance Review Copy.

Thanks too, to author Doug Skopp for his input this week.

To enter to win a copy of the book, leave a comment below.  US only, ends Nov 20.

Tomorrow, a lighter side of reading will appear, with a review of the new book,

Show Up, Look Good.

The Death of the Adversary by Hans Keilson

Translated from the German by Iva Jarosy

“One cannot cut the lines of experience out of one’s face, like the rotten bits in an apple; one has to carry them about in one’s face and know that one carries them; one sees them, as in a mirror, every day when one washes oneself, and one cannot cut them out, they belong there.”


“He had swore to her…that this was how it had all happened, as though he had first to mist the mirror slightly with his breath before he could dare to look into it. […] What can a man do but breathe at the mirror and look gently at his misted image?”

Mirrors are a repeating motif in Hans Keilson’s novel, The Death of the Adversary. Written during WWII, this novel has been republished this year. The Los Angeles Times wrote enthusiastically “It's as if, one morning, we were to learn that not only had Anne Frank survived the secret annex but was also still among us.” (Sept 26, 2010*) Mirrors generally symbolize self-reflection and contemplation, and are fittingly used to describe the inner questions that plague a young man as he realizes that Hitler’s influence was inevitably going to change his life. First, he hears his parents whisper and worry, and tries to decipher the codes they seemed to be speaking in. Next he finds himself an outcast in the neighborhood as the other children begin to avoid him. His mother takes the well-intentioned step of intervening on his behalf, trying to convince the children that they are all alike and should play together. His humiliation is complete, and never fully leaves him. Thus, he begins focusing on his “adversary”.

“…enemies will never die out in this world. They are recruited from former friends.”


The next salvo comes from a close friend who reveals he supports Hitler’s agenda. He explains to the unnamed protagonist that it is simply a matter of balance: just as elks need wolves to control their species and balance their habitat, so too, Germany is balancing itself. For the greater good, he implies. Their friendship quickly dissolves. The young man now explains the details of his experience, from strained friendships to watching his parents change to going into hiding.
Certainly, this novel has a more mature voice than Anne Frank’s diary. The protagonist is more somber and definitely more pessimistic. I didn’t find that the story gave any exceptionally new revelations about the time period, but it does provide a new perspective to describe the experience. One brief passage about the change in his parent’s attitude reveals a surprising aspect of human nature under trial: his father who bitterly lamented the rise of Hitler’s power becomes almost giddy with excitement when the horror begins, while his religious mother, who started out optimistic, begins to withdraw into depression and anxiety.

One thing that is especially fascinating is that Keilson never actually defines his adversary as Hitler. He uses the term “B” to represent him, although it’s clear of whom he speaks: a man with an evil plan and the power to implement it. Yet, at times “B” is also portrayed as an intangible force, a concept of evil bigger than the Holocaust. The ambiguity gives the reader pause to consider what defines evil and apply the revelations experienced to virtually anyone suffering oppression. Incidently, I was curious if by using the initial rather than the name, Keilson is attempting to lessen the power of Hitler’s name, giving it less fame. For example, notorious killers today are well known by name: Ted Bundy, Lee Harvey Oswald, or John Wayne Gacey. After a period of time when their horrific deeds are forgotten, they become simply a pop culture reference. By not using Hitler’s name, it could be that in some small way, Keilson doesn’t want to give him any further notoriety.

Special thanks to Farrar, Straus and Giroux for the Review Copy.

For details on Keilson’s life experiences as well as details about both of his newly rereleased titles, see the link below.

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-ca-hans-keilson-20100926,0,2360516.story

Horse, Flower, Bird by Kate Bernheimer

The Brothers Grimm cornered the market on fairy tales, and the original versions of them were often dark...far more frightening than the sanitized versions found in modern children's books.  This collection of short stories by Kate Bernheimer entitled Horse, Flower, Bird is a dark collection of tales as well...not suitable for children, because under the seemingly simple stories lies a violent understory.  The combination is disconcerting, and makes you wonder how the elements of fear and innocence could be combined so artfully.

I can't think of any short stories that are like this...the images create an almost instantaneous shot of pain, like a paper cut, when you grasp the author's meaning.  For example,  in "A Cuckoo Tale", a little girl speaks innocently of her feelings of guilt and anxiety (she didn't call it that) in a religious sense, so different from her Catholic friend.  "There was no talk of heaven or hell in the girl's household.  It was all about pogroms and rape."  While she tries to live a child's life, visions of Jews herded into ovens fill her too-young imagination.  She wonders why no one helped Anne Frank, who she calls "the girl who kept the diary."

In "A Doll's Tale", a little girl receives a beautiful doll as a gift...a doll far prettier than she.  She didn't like it, and so "confused by this feeling-for Astrid was a kind and gentle being-her ambivalence became a kind of devotion."  Her true feelings are revealed when she dumps it down a laundry chute.  However, the loss of it soon leaves her lonely, and she invents an invisible-friend.  There's no joy there, as the 'friend' suddenly disappears.  A painfully memorable picture is created when her and her father drive around, looking for the beloved invisible friend:

"This second loss proved too much for her, really.  Doll-less, invisible friend-less, finally more comfortable in fear than in gladness, Astrid began to live in her head...To outsiders, this...lent her a remarkably pleasing air, since she never had reason to interrupt anyone's talking."



Kate Bernheimer

 Even what promises to be an amusing story of little girls playing Jedi's from Star Wars takes a darker turn, when their imagination, fed by the careless conversations of adults, suddenly creates a world far more violent and ugly than the movie. 

The stories, while diverse and mysterious, all contain a theme of the loss of innocence.  And the source of such loss seems to be the a child's view of the world where an active imagination and lack of experience create troubling and sometimes dangerous visions.  Sometimes the simplest words can create a landscape of horror. 

Special thanks to Esther Porter of Coffee House Press for the Review Copy.

The Violin of Auschwitz, Maria Angels Anglada

Let me preface my review by stating that I have a particular interest in translated novels, and I'm always excited to see a novel by a Catalan author. I was really excited to read this title, as I've found stories about the Holocaust to be inspiring, especially in that I am able to better evaluate my own attitudes in life towards loyalty and inner strength.

In any case, I found this novel to be disappointing, although its premise is original. The story proceeds through the imprisonment of a violin maker who gets marginally better treatment than other prisoners because he is able to repair the Commander's violin, as well as make a new one for the man. He artfully designs the new violin, but is under constant tension because he knows any flaws will mean his death. Eventually, in a flashforward, we find that his niece now owns the violin and plays artfully in a symphony in Krakow. The violin understandably is her greatest treasure.

I've read many books about the Holocaust, and the pain is visceral. At times, I had to put Schindler's List down, for days, because of the devastating content. Elie Wiesel's Night affected me similarly (don't even get me started on Sophie's Choice). It's probably unfair to compare, but Anglada's novel lacks something of the humanity of the other titles. I didn't feel any pull from the main character, there was simply nothing to hook me into the book. His behavior as a prisoner never seemed to change or alter throughout various trials in the camp, and he spoke of little other than overwhelming hunger. There was no insight in to what motivated him or how he felt about the others, except from an almost clinical distance. The character speaks of some of the horrors of Auschwitz, but they come off almost as if read from an encyclopedia; they lack a human element. It's almost as if the author was trying to downplay the tragedy to the point that it's impact was lost.

The novel is filled with references to composers, cities, and Schindler himself, but somehow it still felt small and too contained. Possibly because there are only three significant characters, and possibly because they were never fully revealed.  Another awkward detail was that the dialogue felt stilted.  People don't normally speak with semi-colons, and the way even the smallest portions of speech were written, in complete sentences (not fragmented as in typical conversation), didn't ring true.

The book is very short, almost novella sized, as was Wiesel's Night. But Night is exponentially more powerful and moving.
 

This novel was provided by Bantam Dell to LibraryThing as an Early Reviewer title.