Another haunting and heartbreaking tale of the Holocaust from one who survived it.
Edmund, a 17-year-old who has lost his parents to the German genocide, narrates this tale of Jewish partisans in Ukraine on a mission to save Jews who are being sent by train to death camps.
Holed up in the forest, the fighters conduct raids on farmhouses and peasants’ homes for food and supplies, doing their best to limit themselves to "considerate looting." That need increases as their ranks swell from the mid-40s to nearly 200 with the addition of freed prisoners who need to be nursed back to health. The only doctor in the group, an anti-Semite they abducted from his home, tends to the ill and the wounded against his will. The fighters' spiritual priestess of sorts is the frail Grandma Tsirl, who comes to believe that the physical and spiritual worlds are one—that "death is an illusion." Edmund, who suffers intense guilt over abandoning his parents (at their insistence, to escape the Nazis), reconnects with them through dreams. One of the book's key themes is the need to reconnect with one's heritage even when faced with evil incarnate. Music and literature play a large role in sustaining the Jewish fighters' ties to humanity. First published in Israel in 2012, the book is immediately recognizable as Appelfeld's through its spare, eerily understated approach, which records atrocities from a grim remove. Unlike many of the brilliantly allusive author's novels, this one makes explicit reference to the Holocaust, but there's still a dreamlike quality at work. The naturalness of the setting is in contrast to the artfully detached feel of the dialogue. In Schoffman's translation (his first of an Appelfeld novel), the language lacks the seductive pull of other works by Appelfeld, but the story moves toward its climax with the usual disquieting force.
Another haunting and heartbreaking tale of the Holocaust from one who survived it.Pub Date: Jan. 14, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-8052-4342-0
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Schocken
Review Posted Online: Sept. 29, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.
The time is the not-so-distant future, when the US's spiraling social freedoms have finally called down a reaction, an Iranian-style repressive "monotheocracy" calling itself the Republic of Gilead—a Bible-thumping, racist, capital-punishing, and misogynistic rule that would do away with pleasure altogether were it not for one thing: that the Gileadan women, pure and true (as opposed to all the nonbelieving women, those who've ever been adulterous or married more than once), are found rarely fertile.
Thus are drafted a whole class of "handmaids," whose function is to bear the children of the elite, to be fecund or else (else being certain death, sent out to be toxic-waste removers on outlying islands). The narrative frame for Atwood's dystopian vision is the hopeless private testimony of one of these surrogate mothers, Offred ("of" plus the name of her male protector). Lying cradled by the body of the barren wife, being meanwhile serviced by the husband, Offred's "ceremony" must be successful—if she does not want to join the ranks of the other disappeared (which include her mother, her husband—dead—and small daughter, all taken away during the years of revolt). One Of her only human conduits is a gradually developing affair with her master's chauffeur—something that's balanced more than offset, though, by the master's hypocritically un-Puritan use of her as a kind of B-girl at private parties held by the ruling men in a spirit of nostalgia and lust. This latter relationship, edging into real need (the master's), is very effectively done; it highlights the handmaid's (read Everywoman's) eternal exploitation, profane or sacred ("We are two-legged wombs, that's all: sacred vessels, ambulatory chalices"). Atwood, to her credit, creates a chillingly specific, imaginable night-mare. The book is short on characterization—this is Atwood, never a warm writer, at her steeliest—and long on cynicism—it's got none of the human credibility of a work such as Walker Percy's Love In The Ruins. But the scariness is visceral, a world that's like a dangerous and even fatal grid, an electrified fence.
Tinny perhaps, but still a minutely rendered and impressively steady feminist vision of apocalypse.Pub Date: Feb. 17, 1985
ISBN: 038549081X
Page Count: -
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Sept. 16, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 1985
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
These letters from some important executive Down Below, to one of the junior devils here on earth, whose job is to corrupt mortals, are witty and written in a breezy style seldom found in religious literature. The author quotes Luther, who said: "The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn." This the author does most successfully, for by presenting some of our modern and not-so-modern beliefs as emanating from the devil's headquarters, he succeeds in making his reader feel like an ass for ever having believed in such ideas. This kind of presentation gives the author a tremendous advantage over the reader, however, for the more timid reader may feel a sense of guilt after putting down this book. It is a clever book, and for the clever reader, rather than the too-earnest soul.
Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1942
ISBN: 0060652934
Page Count: 53
Publisher: Macmillan
Review Posted Online: Oct. 17, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 1943
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