scholarly journals “To Extract from It Some Sort of Beautiful Thing”: The Holocaust in the Families and Fiction of Nava Semel and Etgar Keret

Humanities ◽  
2020 ◽  
Vol 9 (4) ◽  
pp. 137
Author(s):  
Ranen Omer-Sherman

In literary narratives by Nava Semel (1954–2017) and Etgar Keret (b. 1967), both Israeli children of Holocaust survivors, readers encounter the kinds of searching questions about inheriting the burden of traumatic inheritance, witnessing, and postmemory frequently intrinsic to second-generation literature in other national contexts. However, their works are further distinguished by acute examinations that probe the moral fabric of Israeli society itself, including dehumanization of the enemy through slogans and other debased forms of language and misuses of historical memory. In addition, their fiction measures the distance between the suffering and pain of intimate family memory (what Semel once dubbed their “private Shoah”) and ceremonial, nationalistic forms of Holocaust memory, and the apartness felt by the children of survivors who sense themselves somehow at odds with their society’s heroic values. Semel’s numerous articles, and fiction as well as nonfiction books, frequently address second and third-generation trauma, arguably most impressively in her harrowing five-part novel And the Rat Laughed (2001) that spans 150 years but most crucially juxtaposes the experiences of a “hidden child” in a remote wartime Polish village repeatedly raped with that of her grandchild writing a dutiful report for her class in contemporary Israel. Elsewhere, in a distant future, a bewildered but determined anthropologist is set on assembling a scientific report with coherent meaning from the fragmented “myths” inherited from the barbaric past. Over the years, Keret (generally known more for whimsical and surreal tales) has often spoken in interviews as well as his memoir about being raised by survivors. “Siren”, set in a Tel Aviv high school, is one of the most acclaimed of Keret’s realist stories (and required reading in Israeli high schools), raises troubling questions about Israeli society’s official forms of Holocaust mourning and remembrance and individual conscience. It is through their portrayals of the cognitive and moral struggles of children and adolescents, the destruction of their innocence, and gradual awakening into compassionate awareness that Semel and Keret most shine, each unwavering in preserving the Shoah’s legacy as a form of vigilance against society’s abuses, whether toward “internal” or “external” others.

2012 ◽  
Vol 5 (1) ◽  
pp. 97-110 ◽  
Author(s):  
Yael Darr

Since the 1990s, a new type of Holocaust story has been emerging in Israeli children's literature. This new narrative is directed towards very young children, from preschool to the first years of elementary school, and its official goal is to instil in them an authentic ‘first Holocaust memory’. This essay presents the literary characteristics of this new Holocaust narrative for children and its master narrative. It brings into light a new profile of both writers and readers. The writers were young children during the Holocaust, and first chose to tell their stories from the safe distance of three generations. The readers are their grand-children and their grand-children's peers, who are assigned an essential role as listeners. These generational roles – the roles of a First Generation of writers and of a Third Generation of readers – are intrinsically familial ones. As such, they mark a significant change in the profile of yet another important figure in the Israeli intergenerational Holocaust discourse, the agent of the Holocaust story for children. Due to the new literary initiatives, the task of providing young children with a ‘first Holocaust memory’ is transferred from the educational authority, where it used to reside, to the domestic sphere.


2017 ◽  
pp. 136-161
Author(s):  
Ene Kõresaar ◽  
Kirsti Jõesalu

From “Museum of Occupations” to “Vabamu”: Analysis of Naming Policy This article focuses on the debate around the name Vabamu and is aimed at discussing whether and how the culture of remembering the Soviet era can change in today’s Estonia. In February 2016, the Estonian Museum of Occupations announced its plans to refresh its identity and change the name of the museum to the Museum of Freedom Vabamu. The planned name change sparked controversy in society about the meaning of the (Soviet) military occupation, the sufferings of that period and ways of commemorating them. Over 60 stories were published in the Estonian media from February to August 2016, accompanied by lively discussion on social media. Estonia’s Russian-language media did not participate in the discussion. The article analyses the Vabamu name debate in the context of naming policy and Estonian 20th century historical memory. First of all, the term of “occupation” is explained from the aspect of Estonia’s political identity and Baltic, Russian and European relations. Secondly, the article analyses the main voices and topics in the debate and which of the current memory regime’s models and frameworks of memory policy emerged. It asks, from the perspective of memory studies, why the name change to “Vabamu” was not carried out according to original plans. The main sources of the analysis were texts in the media; including social media; interviews with the museum director, participatory observations at meetings of the museum’s advisory board, and at meetings and temporary exhibitions organized by the museum. In addition to documenting the development of the name debate, the participation, observation and interviews made it possible to explore the conceptual objectives behind the name “Vabamu”. The following opinions resonated in discussions: (1) opinions of the Memento organization (which advocates for the rights of those who suffered persecution by the Soviet regime) and Soviet-era dissidents in media opinion pieces and segments and public statements; (2) statements made by politicians (mainly rightconservatives); (3) opinions from members of the Estonian émigré community; (4) statements from museum managing director Merilin Piipuu and the chairwoman of the Kistler-Ritso foundation Sylvia Thompson, which reflected the museum’s intentions; and (5) the public discussion initiated by the museum. A key date in the development of the debate was 25 March 2016, the anniversary of mass deportations in 1949 when also the representatives of Memento organization voiced their opinion. Giving up “occupation” in the name of the museum occasioned property claims of the generation of victims of communism. The repressed people considered the Museum of Occupation their symbolic place. For this group, the disappearance of the word “occupations” from the museum name actualized the complexity of policy of recognizing their experience ever since the late 1980s. The debate regarding the establishing of a memorial to victims of communism in Tallinn also had an influence. The discussions over “Vabamu” were held in a transnational context, pertaining mainly to neighbouring Russia, and the global Holocaust memory culture. The name change was perceived above all as an adoption of Russian memory politics, not just in the context of the Baltic states but in the broader geopolitical context. Giving up the word “occupation” was seen by critics – and at the outset of the debate by the museum as well – as a national security issue. As the discussion evolved, the museum distanced itself from the security discourse and cited Russian tourists and Estonian Russians as target groups that needed to be reached and included. The comparison to the Holocaust memory culture was also used as an argument by both parties. The opponents of the new name used international comparisons to stress the remembering of the violent past in similar (national) threat contexts. On the other hand, the museum used the Holocaust argument from the standpoint of Jewish identity to justify its intention to move further past the national narrative of occupation. The debates over the name Vabamu were also related to a perception of intergenerational changes in memory work. The museum was reconceptualising the past and future to reach out to younger generations whose experience horizon is radically different from that of the generation of the victims of repressions and whose sense of freedom is more individualized. For opponents of “Vabamu”, the museum staff themselves represented the younger generation who no longer had a link to Estonia’s past ordeals and for whom intergenerational memory and solidarity had become interrupted. Their preference for a multiperspective narrative in place of a narrative of victimhood and resistance was interpreted as an ethical softening toward the victims and trivialization of trauma. As a result of the name debate, the museum decided to forgo a radical change in the name and opted for a compromise: Vabamu, the Museum of Occupations and Freedom. The debate over the concept of occupation showed the importance of linguistic definitions in a more extensive battle over how the past is represented. The concept of occupation has been the core of political identity both in postcommunist Estonia and the other two Baltics. The term “occupation” is related to all of the key elements in Estonia’s postcommunist narrative. Associating the memory of the (Soviet) occupation with security policy in the Vabamu debate points to a main reason for persistence of Estonian current memory culture – the so-called Russian threat, which is perceived as an existential danger, a constant challenge to the survival of the Estonian state. Earlier studies have shown that for Estonians, personal, social, cultural and political memory is strongly interwoven when remembering the 20th century: the national story is strongly supported by family stories. This makes the national narrative personal. When central symbols of the historical memory come under fire, fears are stoked and appeals to a moral duty to preserve a common past are heard.


Focaal ◽  
2016 ◽  
Vol 2016 (74) ◽  
pp. 97-110 ◽  
Author(s):  
Lisa J. Krieg

Based on an ethnographic field study in a museum and an evening high school in Cologne, this paper discusses experiences of young German adults in everyday encounters with the Holocaust, which are oft en accompanied by feelings of discomfort. Considering the Holocaust as an uncanny, strange matter contributes to understanding that distance and proximity are key factors in creating uncomfortable encounters. Distance from the Holocaust reduces discomfort, but where distance cannot be created, other strategies have to be put to work. This article underlines the significance of experience in an individual’s personal relation to the past for gaining an improved understanding of Holocaust memorial culture in Germany.


2021 ◽  
pp. 088832542095080
Author(s):  
Nikolay Koposov

This article belongs to the special cluster “Here to Stay: The Politics of History in Eastern Europe”, guest-edited by Félix Krawatzek & George Soroka. The rise of historical memory, which began in the 1970s and 1980s, has made the past an increasingly important soft-power resource. At its initial stage, the rise of memory contributed to the decay of self-congratulatory national narratives and to the formation of a “cosmopolitan” memory centered on the Holocaust and other crimes against humanity and informed by the notion of state repentance for the wrongdoings of the past. Laws criminalizing the denial of these crimes, which were adopted in “old” continental democracies in the 1980s and 1990s, were a characteristic expression of this democratic culture of memory. However, with the rise of national populism and the formation of the authoritarian or semi-authoritarian regimes in Russia, Turkey, Hungary, and Poland in the 2000s and 2010s, the politics of memory has taken a significantly different turn. National populists are remarkably persistent in whitewashing their countries’ history and using it to promote nationalist mobilization. This process has manifested itself in the formation of new types of memory laws, which shift the blame for historical injustices to other countries (the 1998 Polish, the 2000 Czech, the 2010 Lithuanian, the June 2010 Hungarian, and the 2014 Latvian statutes) and, in some cases, openly protect the memory of the perpetrators of crimes against humanity (the 2005 Turkish, the 2014 Russian, the 2015 Ukrainian, the 2006 and the 2018 Polish enactments). The article examines Russian, Polish, and Ukrainian legislation regarding the past that demonstrates the current linkage between populism and memory.


Humanities ◽  
2020 ◽  
Vol 10 (1) ◽  
pp. 12
Author(s):  
Rachel F. Brenner

To appraise Martel’s non-Jewish perspective of Holocaust thematic, it is important to assess it in the context of the Jewish relations with the Holocaust. Even though the Jewish claim to the uniqueness of the Holocaust has been disputed since the end of the war especially in Eastern Europe, the Jewish response determined to a large extent the reception of the disaster on the global scene. On a family level, the children of survivors have identified themselves as the legitimate heirs of the unknowable experience of their parents. On a collective level, the decree of Jewish annihilation constructed a Jewish identity that imposed an obligation to keep the Holocaust memory in the consciousness of the world. Martel proposes to supersede the history of the Holocaust with a story which would downplay the Jewish filiation with the Holocaust, elicit an affiliative response to the event of the non-Jewish writer and consequently integrate it into the memory of humanity at large. However, the Holocaust theme of Beatrice and Virgil refuses to assimilate within the general memory of humanity; rather, the consciousness of the event, which pervades the post-Holocaust world, insists on its constant presence. The omnipresence of the Holocaust blurs the distinctions between the filiative (Jewish) and affiliative (non-Jewish) attitudes toward the Jewish tragedy, gripping the writer in its transcendent horror. Disregarding his ethnic or religious origins, the Holocaust takes over the writer’s personal life and determines his story.


2018 ◽  
Vol 39 (7) ◽  
pp. 1339-1345 ◽  
Author(s):  
Yoshihiko Kodama ◽  
Kyoko Koga ◽  
Ayako Kuraoka ◽  
Yuichi Ishikawa ◽  
Makoto Nakamura ◽  
...  

2018 ◽  
Author(s):  
David Duindam

Why do we attach so much value to sites of Holocaust memory, if all we ever encounter are fragments of a past that can never be fully comprehended? David Duindam examines how the Hollandsche Schouwburg, a former theater in Amsterdam used for the registration and deportation of nearly 50,000 Jews, fell into disrepair after World War II before it became the first Holocaust memorial museum of the Netherlands. Fragments of the Holocaust: The Amsterdam Hollandsche Schouwburg as a Site of Memory combines a detailed historical study of the postwar period of this site with a critical analysis of its contemporary presentation by placing it within international debates concerning memory, emotionally fraught heritage and museum studies. A case is made for the continued importance of the Hollandsche Schouwburg and other comparable sites, arguing that these will remain important in the future as indexical fragments where new generations can engage with the memory of the Holocaust on a personal and affective level.


2000 ◽  
Vol 81 (1) ◽  
pp. 59-64 ◽  
Author(s):  
Mayer Waxman

The author looks at children of Holocaust survivors as a distinct clinical group. These patients often display symptoms resembling those found in concentration-camp-survivor syndrome. Common symptoms include depression, anxiety, maladaptive behavior, and symptoms of personality disorder and even post traumatic stress disorder. The author reviews theories explaining the phenomenon and discusses treatment implications for both mental-health professionals and for clergy.


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