You might remember from one of my previous posts it’s good I read Adam Kirsch’s The People and the Books before I read Mark Glickman’s Stolen Words because it gave me a deeper understanding of Judaism’s most revered texts. This in turn provided me with greater context and understanding of the Nazi’s widespread plundering and destruction of the Jewish books of occupied Europe. Likewise, by reading Stolen Words prior to Anders Rydell’s The Book Thieves: The Nazi Looting of Europe’s Libraries and the Race to Return a Literary Inheritance has only enhanced my understanding of the Nazi’s mission to forcibly acquire, and in some cases destroy Europe’s books.
According to Rydell, a Swedish journalist and editor, the Nazi’s had a well-formulated plan. As they conquered Europe, special teams would confiscate not just Jewish books and books owned by Jews or Jewish entities but any books of a “degenerate” nature. Usually, that meant books deemed Communist or associated with Freemasons. (The Nazi’s loathed Freemasonry, thinking its arcane rituals too akin to Jewish religious rites.) Once they had all forbidden books they wanted (and destroyed what they couldn’t use) they could, like something out of Orwell’s 1984, deny the enslaved masses access to contrary opinions, thus giving the Nazis a monopoly on the truth. In time, the Germans would go one step further. Select academics and government propagandists would intensely study the confiscated books, mining them for information to help promulgate the Nazi’s twisted pseudo scientific agenda.
Just like with Stolen Words, one walks away from the Book Thieves saddened that so many of the confiscated books are lost forever, or exist in libraries or private collections and can never be returned to their rightful owners. (Or worse, their current possessors refuse to repatriate them to their owner’s descendants.) Extensive libraries across Europe from Vilnius to Rome vanished into the Nazi’s black hole. The Turgenev Library of Paris, famous for its collection of Russian materials, including Marxist texts was shipped to Germany in its entirety. Later, when the Soviets took Berlin they in turn took the books to the USSR. Sadly, 75 years later only a fraction of the Turgenev’s books exist. Sad also to think close to 100 million books were destroyed when the Germans invaded the USSR.
The Book Thieves is an excellent book. Not only does it make a worthy companion to Stolen Words, but it’s great reading for bibliophiles and history buffs.
Filed under History, Judaica
Besides inspiring me to read books dealing with all kinds of European countries, Rose City Reader’s European Reading Challenge has also got me reading more fiction. Probably because I’m a fan of history, most the fiction I’ve been reading over the last few years has been of the historical variety.
The latest piece of history fiction to catch my eye is Laurie Zico Albanese’s Stolen Beauty. Noticing the 2017 novel is set in Austria, I grabbed a copy from my public library knowing I could apply towards the Rose City Reader’s challenge. Making my decision easier was knowing Stolen Beauty is historical fiction and jumps back and forth between two different but equally pivotal periods in Austria’s history.
Stolen Beauty is the story of two different yet nevertheless related women, in this case aunt and niece. Our story begins with Maria, a young newlywed living in Vienna on the eve of the Anschluss or German annexation of Austria. Being Jewish, naturally she’s terrified of what the Nazis have in store for her and her family. As tension builds the story then shifts backwards a generation or so to the same city and we see Maria’s niece Adele as a young woman who comes of age during the city’s fin de siècle period of Sigmund Freud, Gustav Mahler and antisemitic populist mayor Karl Luger. It’s during this portion of the novel Vienna becomes a complex character of its own. With its lively salons, avant-garde art scene and Mitteleuropa sophistication, it rivaled Paris as another City of Light. However, beneath that veneer one could see portends brewing of different kind of Europe, one of ethically based nation states and dark, murderous antisemitism.
Stolen Beauty held my interest and entertained me. Not only did the novel appeal to my inner historian but I enjoyed seeing the two female protagonists evolve as they matured and faced new challenges. If you follow my lead and end up reading Stolen Beauty, I would encourage you to also read Death and the Maiden, one of the Max Liebermann mysteries by Frank Tallis set in turn of the century Vienna. Stolen Beauty is an enjoyable novel and I’m glad I stumbled across a copy.
We’ve all been told never judge a book by its cover. Perhaps I should have remembered that bit of advice when I impulsively grabbed a library copy of Ayelet Tsabari’s short story collection The Best Place on Earth. For some silly reason, after taking one look at the book’s brightly colored cover art I immediately assumed it was about India. Nope, I was wrong. You see, Ayelet Tsabari is a Mizrahi Jew of Yemeni heritage, born and raised in Israel but now living in Canada. Her debut collection of 11 short stories show life as it’s experienced by an array of mostly Mizrahi characters spanning the globe from Israel to Canada. Luckily for me, overall it’s a decent selection of stories. On top of that, come on, when does one come across a collection of short stories from a Mizrahi point of view? With that in mind, who cares if this book has nothing to do with India.
Seems like most short story collections contain stories you enjoy, stories that are so-so and some that just don’t work for you. While some of the stories in The Best Place on Earth I liked more than others, there weren’t any pieces I detested. My favorite story is probably “Casualties,” the tale of a young Israeli Army medic known as the “Moroccan firecracker” who supplements her army salary by selling black market gimel passes that medically excuses its pass holder from duty, allowing the conscript to flee the base for a bit of unauthorized R and R. For whatever reason, I enjoyed the stories set in Israel much more than the ones set in Tsabari’s current home of Canada. (Maybe Canada isn’t as relatively exotic, and therefore not interesting enough for me.)
I’m pleased to say Tsabari’s collection nicely compliments Rachel Shabi’s outstanding look at Israeli Mizrahi life We Look Like the Enemy: The Hidden Story of Israel’s Jews from Arab Lands. On a related note, if you haven’t read Lucette Lagnado’s The Man in the White Sharkskin Suit: A Jewish Family’s Exodus from Old Cairo to the New World or Ariel Sabar’s My Father’s Paradise: A Son’s Search for His Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq I welcome you to do so, especially after you’ve read The Best Place on Earth. Which I’m thinking, is a collection of short stories you just might possibly enjoy.
I’d read all kinds of cool things about Paul Goldberg’s 2016 debut novel The Yid, but seeing Portland Silent Reading Party co-host Karen reading a copy was the only recommendation I needed. Even though I easily found an available copy through my public library it seemed like it took forever to finally start reading it. However, when I did get around to cracking it open I burned through The Yid in nothing flat.
The inspiration for Goldberg’s darkly funny and intelligent novel is the little known period of 20th century history that occurred during the twilight years of Stalin’s reign called the Doctors’ Plot. During this period Soviet media was awash with stories of Jewish doctors, acting on orders from America, Great Britain and Israel were engaged in a nefarious conspiracy to murder high-ranking government officials and poison good Soviet citizens. Fortunately, before Stalin and his inner circle could begin mass arrests and deportations of the USSR’s Jewish citizens the Soviet dictator died. (I first learned of forgotten period years ago when I read Vladimir Pozner’s memoir Parting with Illusions.)
The craziness begins late one night in 1953 when a trio of Soviet secret police arrive to arrest Solomon Levinson. A retired actor from the now defunct State Jewish Theater who also spent time fighting for the Reds in the Russian Civil War, let’s just say Levinson knows how to handle a sword and handles it well. After swiftly dispatching the three government agents he teams up with a quirky band misfits who include surgeon Aleksandr Kogan; African-American émigré Frederick Lewis (whom in addition to English can speak Russian, Esperanto and Yiddish) and Kima Petrova a woman of modest means but powerful political connections. Taking inspiration from the Shakespearean theme of murdering a crazed monarch, Levinson and his band set out to rid the Soviet Union of Stalin before Stalin can enact his evil plans.
The Yid is a clever page turner. Who knows, maybe one of the reasons Goldberg is able to write such a wonderful novel is because he himself is a Jew who escaped the Soviet Union and came to America at the tender age of 12. Don’t be surprised if Goldberg’s excellent debut novel end up on my year-end list of best fiction.
Besides Gregory Feifer’s The Great Gamble, another book I bought for myself last Christmas morning happened to be Rabbi Mark Glickman’s Stolen Words: The Nazi Plunder of Jewish Books. I can’t remember just how this book originally came to my attention, but once it caught my eye Stolen Words went straight to the top of my to be read list (TBR). Perhaps it was fitting that mere days after buying a copy of Stolen Words I began reading it. As I enjoyably made my way through it, it didn’t take me long to realize I’d made a valuable purchase. Stolen Words is a very good book.
As Nazi Germany overran the nations of Europe, special teams were officially tasked with plundering Jewish books from synagogues, libraries and households. While the Nazi’s might have begun their reign of terror by burning books, quickly their goal shifted to collecting such books. According to the Nazi’s twisted logic, they sought to mine the stolen books in hopes of proving to the world the Jews were an enemy race bent on the destruction of humanity. Entire state-sponsored libraries of confiscated Jewish books were planned, but put on hold until the end of the war. By the time Germany surrendered, millions of stolen books lay stashed in warehouses, and in one case an ancient castle.
With so many of the book’s original owners murdered and entire Jewish communities wiped off the face of the earth, returning them to their rightful owners would be a Sisyphean task. Not counting the countless texts grabbed by the Soviets as the Red Army surged towards Berlin, that thankless project fell to the occupying Americans. After years of effort, in the end some books found their way to America, some to libraries in Europe and some to the young State of Israel. Tragically, too many of these stolen books vanished off the face of the earth, never to be read or studied again.
As the old cliché goes, timing is everything. I lucked out by reading Adam Kirsch’s The People and the Books: 18 Classics of Jewish Literature prior to reading Stolen Words since this helped me gain a deeper understanding of the great texts of Judaism. In turn, Stolen Words served as a nice lead-in to Anders Rydell’s The Book Thieves: The Nazi Looting of Europe’s Libraries and the Race to Return a Literary Inheritance. (Review forthcoming.)
Stolen Words is a great book for any bibliophile, not to mention readers interested in Judaism but also the horrors of the Second World War.
About 10 years ago Grove Atlantic Press published a series of books called Books That Changed the World. By enlisting established writers and other subject matter experts to write a brief “biography” of some of history’s most seminal books, Grove Atlantic produced a nice line of books devoted to the West’s most significant works. With Karen Armstrong writing about the Bible, Christopher Hitchens discussing Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man and Bruce Lawrence weighing in on the Quran, how could any lover of history, comparative religion or bibliophile not fall in love with a series like this.
Late last year, I learned W. W. Norton & Company recently published a book by Adam Kirsch in which he took Grove Atlantic Press’ Books That Changed the World concept and applied it to the great works of Judaism. When I discovered my public library recently purchased a copy I immediately put it on reserve and before long I had my hands on a treasured copy. The People and the Books: 18 Classics of Jewish Literature is gifted and poet and literary critic Kirsch’s history of Judaism as seen through what he considers, and probably rightfully so, its most important books. From the Biblical books of Deuteronomy and Esther to the Sholem Aleichem’s Tevye stories (think Fiddler on the Roof) it’s a detailed but still readable and relatively concise look at the books that profoundly shaped Jewish history.
I found The People and the Books full of fascinating and thus pleasant surprises. For instance, I never would have considered the book of Esther such a significant text, but after one takes into account the substantive issues it touches on like assimilation, civic duty and the threat of genocide, all within a very surprising secular context (it’s probably the only book in the Bible, including the Christian New Testament that rarely, if ever mentions the name of God) one quickly realizes Kirsch appreciates the book’s vital significance. While I expected to see mentioned in a book like this works by luminaries Philo of Alexandria, Josephus, Maimonides and Spinoza, my own subject matter ignorance precluded me from considering worthy of inclusion the writing of Tsenerene, whose Yiddish paraphrase of the Hebrew Bible served as one of history’s early adventures in chic-lit.
I didn’t know a lot about The People and the Books before starting it but in the end, Kirsch impressed me. (The only part of the book I didn’t like that much was portion on the Zionist fiction of Theodor Herzl.) Not only has he crafted an excellent book but my goodness the man knows his stuff. For anyone seeking quality books on Jewish history, The People and the Books should by all means be including in that reading list.
Filed under History, Judaica
Last year, when I heard the news Elie Wiesel passed away like many others I was saddened because the world lost not only a powerful writer and wise man but also a survivor one of history’s darkest episodes. Over a prolific career spanning over half a century, his extensive body of work was undoubtably shaped by not just the horrors of the Holocaust but also his quest for meaning in the modern age. Throughout his many writings he asked how does a Jew, or really for that matter any person live a just and fulfilling life?
Saddened to hear of his passing, I later found myself inspired to read more from his extensive body of work. I even thought about doing some sort of ongoing series, perhaps calling it an Elie Wiesel retrospective. Unfortunately, like so many blogging projects I’ve vowed to embark upon, I never got around to doing so. Typical of me.
I stumbled upon his book The Jews of Silence: A Personal Report on Soviet Jewry completely by accident while fumbling through my public library’s catalog of available Kindle downloads. Seeing it was a collection of Wiesel’s newspaper dispatches he wrote in 1965 chronicling his travels across what was then the western portion of the former USSR observing Jewish life under the authoritarian rule of the Communists I simply HAD to borrow this book. So of course, I did.
Despite being a slim book (the paperback version is only 144 pages) it nevertheless punches above its weight. Wiesel recalls in detail the conversations he had with his coreligionists throughout the major cities of the USSR including Moscow, Kiev, Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) and Vilnius. He describes meeting Jews who are free, but not completely free of oppression. He learns despite the Soviet lines of proletariat equality and all men are brothers old prejudices die hard. The USSR’s Jews are still looked at with suspicion by some in power, and are seen as “rootless cosmopolitans” with questionable allegiance to the Soviet state. Worse, some see them as a potential fifth column secretly supporting America or the (then young) modern state of Israel. All of this is made worse by living under one of the mid-twentieth century’s most oppressive regimes.
The Jews of Silence left me wanting to read more stuff by Wiesel. It also made me wanna read Gal Beckerman’s 2010 book on the Jews of the USSR When They Come for Us, We’ll Be Gone which I’m happy to report I bought myself as a Christmas present late last year. So with that in mind, look for more books by Wiesel and one by Beckerman to show up on my blog.