Život s hvězdou

Jewish Lives

by Jiří Weil

Bankovní úředník Roubíček, hrdina románu, je přímo prototypem všedního, obyčejného člověka, který je náhle vržen do nepřátelského, absurdního a nesmyslného světa nacistické hrůzovlády.

Genres: Czech Literature, Fiction, Holocaust, Historical Fiction, Jewish, Classics, World War II

160 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1949

About the author

Jiří Weil IPA: [jɪr̝iː vaɪl] was a Czech writer. He was Jewish. His noted works include the two novels Life with a Star, and Mendelssohn Is on the Roof, as well as many short stories, and other novels.

Reviews

[Greta G · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jiří Weil was a Czech writer, born in 1900 in a village near Prague to orthodox Jewish parents.
During the Nazi occupation, he was called to be interned at the Terezin ghetto (Theresienstadt) in 1942, but he escaped transportation to the Nazi camps by faking his own death. Weil survived the war by hiding with several acquaintances and even in a hospital.
His most known novels Life with a Star and Mendelssohn is on the Roof are based on these experiences.
Weil’s Life with a Star, originally published in 1949, is considered a classic and according to Philip Roth the book is “without a doubt, one of the outstanding novels I’ve read about the fate of a Jew under the Nazis. I don’t know another like it.“ I concur with this praise.
Jiri Weil died in 1959 from leukemia.

During the occupation of Czechoslovakia the Nazis made the Jewish Religious Community of Prague, the self-governing administrative body for all persons considered to be Jews according to the Nuremberg racial laws. In fact, this “self-government“ was a fiction, because the Community was controlled by the Gestapo and became the instrument of the Nazi genocide of the Jews. All Jews were required to register with the Community. It administered all aspects of the lives of Jews, assigned work to them, registered all their belongings and issued orders for the organisation of transports to Theresienstadt or other concentration and extermination camps.

The novel’s protagonist is Joseph Roubicek, a former bank clerk and orphan, raised by his crabby uncle and aunt. It is never mentioned in which city or country he lives, or in which year we are, but the reader knows the story is set in Prague during the Nazi occupation.
Through Joseph’s experiences, the reader learns how it must have been to live as a Jew during the Nazi occupation, during which every aspect of his life was being controlled and restricted, and with the constant fear to be summoned for the transports.
The words German, Nazi and Jew never appear in the book, and the Nazis are only referred to as Them or They, which gives the book an unsettling immediacy.

Every day the oppressive bureaucracy brought new regulations and restrictions for Jews, that methodically destroyed their feelings of self worth, until there was nothing left for them to live for.
Their houses and belongings were taken from them, and they were only allowed to do the job that was assigned to them.
The Jews kept receiving notices of various prohibitions. They were not allowed to shop in the morning and didn’t receive ration cards for meat ; they were not allowed to attend auctions of works of art or travel by steamer, to hunt or to eat pork. They were forbidden to travel by tram and weren’t allowed to be on the streets after eight o’clock in the evening. They were not allowed to enter even an ordinary wood, to go to taverns, cinemas, parks and streets. They were not allowed to have domestic animals. They were not allowed to use ambulances and no hospital was allowed to accept Jews. They were strictly forbidden to leave the city. Nobody was allowed to sell them electric wiring. They were not allowed to go to a barber shop. They weren’t allowed to grow or eat asparagus and to buy lubricating oil.

“A messenger came from the Community with orders that I hand over any musical instruments of typewriters. Another messenger came and asked for clothes and material ; another wanted furs and microscopes. They continued to want things of me and I didn’t have anything. Then a messenger came with orders forbidding me to sell anything or make any gifts. I was to understand that my property no longer belonged to me, that I was only the caretaker of the cloths I was wearing and of my run-down shoes. I was caretaker of these things and I was rewarded by being able to use them. There, you see! I was mistaken when I thought no notice would be taken of me, when I hid between cracking walls and protected myself against the cold with a sleeping bag. I only wanted to sleep, to know nothing and hear nothing. But they continued to want something from me. I was forbidden to walk certain streets on certain days. I couldn’t walk some on Fridays, others on Sundays; on some I was ordered to walk quickly and not stop anywhere. I had the names of the streets and the days all mixed up, and some of the streets I didn’t even know. ... I learned that I was forbidden to enter parks, but I knew I couldn’t distinguish them: I wasn’t sure what was a park and what wasn’t. ...
I longed to be an animal. From the windows of the garret I saw dogs playing in the snow. I saw a cat creep slowly across the neighbour’s garden, I saw horses drinking freely from buckets, I saw sparrows flying about whenever they felt like it. Animals don’t have to rack their brains about which streets they are allowed to enter.“

The only newspaper that Jews were allowed to read was the official Community circular, which had one page of announcements and another of death notices. There was nothing informative to be found in the announcements because they were all new prohibitions and threats addressed to people who didn’t come forward to be registered or who hadn’t yet dutifully given up their property.

Joseph Roubicek was assigned work as a gardener in the (Jewish) cemetery. Because he lived on the outskirts of the city, he was allowed to travel by tram.
“I had to travel all the way across the city and stand on the platform of the tram the whole trip. It wasn’t too bad. What was worse was that when a full tram came along I had to wait for a half-empty one; worse still was having to get off somewhere in the middle of my trip when the tram filled up and someone demanded I leave. There were people who enjoyed throwing others out of moving trams, kicking them and saying nasty words. They were on the lookout for stars so that they could demonstrate their power.“

Such was life with a star.

[Robert Greenfield · Rating 5 out of 5]

What can I say about a book that is so utterly moving, thoroughly compelling, and deeply disturbing - evoking the barbaric horrors of the Holocaust... The author with his astonishing and simplistic narrative, has truly captured the essence of the vilest horrors befalling the Jewish race at the hands of the merciless, murderous, and TOTALLY immoral Nazis', who incidentally are emotively only referred to as THEM or THEY etc in the narrative. I became totally engrossed in the protagonist's (hopeless) plight at the hands of a regime HELL-BENT on wiping out THE entire Jewish population of Europe, and beyond if they could... As the previous reviewer so rightly states: 'Life With a Star' should unequivocally be a STANDARD on every school curriculum throughout the world. I particular was moved by the humility and tenaciousness of the leading character - who SOMEHOW maintained his dignity to the very END. This book stirred me beyond tears, however the protagonist's release still left me with an innate HOPE for the human race... The RACIST tragedy of this novel could befall ANY particular 'race' or 'group' at any time in our volatile mad world - but MUST never be allowed to EVER, EVER happen again!!

[fióka · Rating 5 out of 5]

Holokausztregény ez is, de inkább szól arról, hogy mi történik az emberrel, ha szabaddá válik. Valamint arról is, hogy mi szükséges ahhoz, hogy az ember szabaddá válhasson. Kellhet például hozzá egy világháború, esetleg az sem árt, ha az ember a páriák tömegét gyarapítja, ha a vágóhídra terelt milliók egyike, az efféle privilégiumok általában kétféleképpen hatnak: vagy a totális felszabadulás lesz az eredménye vagy a teljes apátia. Jó fűszer a sok elfecsérelt lehetőség, nem vállalt szerelem, az örökös langyos víz, de az utálat, a vágyakozás, a veszteség is. Oly sokféleképpen lehetne ezt a könyvet is olvasni, megélni és magyarázni, de számomra a legfontosabb a - talán először - felszikrázó öntudat, valamint a szabadság megtalálása. Az ellenállás szikrájának a felfedezése önmagunkban. A változatosság gyönyörködtető mivoltának a megélése, és ezzel együtt eltávolodás a múlttól, ami megint tovább vezet, például a felelősségvállaláshoz. Érdekesek ezek a lépcsők, ezek az utak.
Bármilyen furcsa, itt és most, a könyv idejében nem a prágai gettó, nem Theresienstadt a fontos, ezek amúgy el sem hangzanak a regényben, mint ahogy nincs megnevezve benne sem náci, sem zsidó, semmi és senki. Ez egy ilyen Holokausztregény.
A könyv 1949-ben íródott, az élmény még friss volt, tulajdonképpen még önéletrajzi elemeket is tartalmaz nyomokban. Örülök, hogy írója túlélte a meg nem nevezett rettenetet, amit "azok" zúdítottak a világra.

[Törő László Dávid · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nem ismertem korábban a szerzőt - leértékelt Coelho, Danielle Steel, Híres várak vol 12. stb. könyvek között pillantottam meg egy boltban, és nagy szerencse, hogy kis tanakodás után elhoztam. A döntésben segített @Kuszma (ja, ez a jel itt nem működik) könyvértékelése a molyon. Ilyen jó dolgok amúgy ezek az internetek meg a könyves közösségi oldalak.

Roubíček a deportálására vár Prágában. Ha valamiért nem tudnánk, elmondja ő azt sokszor, mennyire magányos, kiszolgáltatott, jogfosztott és sebezhető egyénként éli mindennapjait a lét és nemlét határán. Ez az (ön)iróniával tálalt törékenység befogadhatóvá, szerethetővé teszi a karaktert, akinek az éhséggel és a bürokráciával való küzdelme teljesen bevont. Az a szimbolika lenyűgözött, hogy a behívóra váró zsidók a temetőben elvetett zöldséggel táplálják magukat... (Amúgy van valami misztikus a prágai temetőkben, vagy inkább az egész városban, ami megágyaz a kafkai vízióknak)

Maradandó jelenetekkel és figurákkal teli groteszk világ. Számomra volt egy kis feszültség az ironikus írói stílus (amely eltávolít a tárgytól) és a tanító célzató fejlődéstörténet között, de ezt leszámítva az Élet csillaggal egy nagyon jó és - talán - tanulságos holokausztregény.

[Andrés Bermúdez-Liévano · Rating 4 out of 5]

With humor and his common sense, a middle class Prague Jew tries to survive during the Nazi occupation of his city, a daunting task in the midst of the world of absurdities that 'they' (his unnamed oppresors) keep coming up with every single day. A beautiful little novel that manages to convey the psychological horror of the Holocaust without ever mentioning its perpetrators or their worst deeds, but focusing on one man's struggle to survive and, even more important to him, to preserve his humanity.

[kristina · Rating 4 out of 5]

dalsia zo serie kniziek z mojho oblubeneho londynskeho antikvariatu kde automaticky kupujem vsetko od cz/sk autorov*iek a ujo predavac/majitel mi chvali vyber. aj tuto si asi radsej precitajte v cestine i ked preklad bol omnoho lepsi ako pri ostatnych! a precitat odporucam, bolo to dobre.

“i lived just like other people lived. i had a home, we went to the theatre and to the cinema, we went abroad and we met people we had our pictures taken with on the beach. and suddenly i’m alone and i have to kill myself. and the others keep on living just as we used to live.”

[Malcolm · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jiři Weil is better known for his superb Mendelssohn is on the Roof and while this deals with similar events – Jewish life occupied Prague – I am slightly surprised to be saying that this is perhaps more rewarding. Josef Roubicek is close to the quintessential everyman, so excessively normal that he is both utterly believable and nearly unbelievable; a bank clerk, single (but with one overwhelming pre-war affair with the wife of a friend’s friend), parents dead and raised by what seem to be a resentful uncle and aunt (his mother’s younger sister). Josef lives on the margins of the city – in nearly every way – physically, his house is on the outskirts of town, far from the ghetto that is organisational centre of life; socially, as a mediocre bank clerk he seemed to have no future to speak of in pre-war life and even less under occupation; corporeally, he is weak and frail, not suited to physical labour and therefore seemingly destined to transportation and a likely early death.

In this oppressively grim world Josef takes pleasure in the little things – the stray cat that seems to adopt him, the fate of an onion that he tries to give to his friend who has been summoned for transportation, the day he meets a railway worker who encourages him to cut off his star and travel as a non-Jew, the pleasure of lying in the grass in the open field near his house, or the fact that he is so poor that when he is called up for transportation ‘they’ (as the Germans are always called) will get nothing but a worthless coffee table from his house. But he is permanently cold, constantly evicted from full trams, made to stand, subject to random verbal and physical attacks, perpetually hungry and unable to buy food, and always with the threat of transportation hanging over him. This is a threat that he belittles as a circus where ‘they’ make Jews perform as if in the ring; a marvellously unsettling and believable way to manage the horror. His hunger is mitigated by his work in the cemetery-turned-garden (the New Jewish cemetery at Vinohradská and Izraelská) growing the vegetables ‘they’ won’t eat and sustained by those who have gone before.

This should be a tragic story – one of loss, death, oppression, failure, depression and of a maudlin marginal life of an ordinary man caught up in the anti-Semitic world that gave us the systematic, industrialised murder of over 13 million Europeans. But it is not. Josef may be friendless and cut off from his family, absolutely when his aunt and uncle are summed for transportation, but in his friendship with Materna, who he meets one day while lolling in the sun, there is hope – of survival, of resistance, of defeating ‘them’. Materna and his friends are ordinary workers but who resist, whose posters are painted over before day break but who hide Jews, know news of battle fronts that seems to come from other than official sources (and therefore in some way connected with the Czech resistance and most likely communist movement). We hear nothing of their wider links, because Josef – our narrator – is utterly normal, a small person in a big world who knows nothing of these wider political connections.

Amid all, however, this is a tale of hope and optimism – Josef seems to survive despite the odds and because of his ordinariness (along with what seems to be a moment of outstandingly good luck). His life changes when he hears an announcement of the execution of friends from before the war; he seems to opt to take action for survival when he feels he has nothing left to lose. The book has nothing of the big events of Mendelssohn – the assassination of Heydrich, the absurd moment of with the Mendelssohn statue, the time in Terezin or the appearance of major events – and with that becomes a more human and humane novel.

Weil’s writing makes the novel’s ordinariness part of Josef’s banality – the short and simple sentences and words are deceptive; they make what seems to be simple rich, literal and real; they are testament to Weil’s control of his craft. I regret that only two his novels are available in English and that I have read both.

[Maria · Rating 4 out of 5]

Indringend verhaal over een eenzame man tijdens de Duitse bezetting van Praag. Verordeningen en bizarre circulaires maken het leven van Josef Roubicek steeds moeilijker. Bijna Kafkaiaans beschreven. In allerlei straten mag hij niet komen, in de tram alleen zitten als het niet druk is en allerlei spullen moeten ingeleverd worden. Dit laatste vind Josef niet zo erg omdat hij toch vrijwel niets bezit. Lichtpuntjes in zijn bestaan zijn z’n (fictieve) gesprekken met zijn grote liefde Ruzena en Thomas de kat die is komen aanlopen.

Dan worden mensen opgeroepen en op transport gesteld naar het oosten:'naar het circus gaan’ noemt Weil/Josef het. Bijzonder vond ik hier de discussie of je het wel kunt maken om te vluchten of om zelfmoord te plegen. Het komt er dan op neer dat in jouw plaats een ander moet gaan of dat je anderen in gevaar brengt.

Josef is aanvankelijk nog naïef, steekt een beetje z’n kop in het zand : ‘laten we het over goede oude tijden hebben toen er nog geen mensen op straat werden opgepakt, toen we naar voetbalwedstrijden gingen kijken en in een restaurantje koffie met slagroom bestelden. Als we nu eens net deden of er buiten deze begraafplaats waar wij bladeren bij elkaar lopen te harken, niets gaande is?’
Hij houdt dat uiteraard niet vol zegt later ‘Je went aan alles, en daarin zit de fout. We zouden niet overal aan moeten wennen’ en
‘ik wist het al, maar wilde er niet mee instemmen, dat bijna iedereen diegenen gelijk gaf die zich bij de wetten van die lui neerlegden, niet alleen door op hun bevel in het circus op te treden en bij het plunderen als handlanger te fungeren -…- Misschien geloofden zij al dat die lui het gelijk aan hun kant hadden wanneer zij hen naar de vestingstad stuurden, een wisse dood tegemoet, misschien vervloekten zij hen alleen nog maar uit machteloze woede. Het was veel gerieflijker om in je eigen onmacht te geloven en je erbij neer te leggen dat je de dood werd ingejaagd, dan je te weer te stellen-…- Toch was ik uit de rij gestapt en kon niet meer terug’.

Ja, een bijzonder boek ondanks de verschrikking die beschreven wordt, met een soort van lichte toon en de verbazing en verwondering die het uitstraalt!

[Kuszma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ez nem Hrabal Prágája, akkor már inkább Kafkáé, de leginkább Weilé. A cseh író teljesen unortodox módon közelíti meg a holokausztregény témáját: csendesen elmondott, hivalkodástól mentes könyve nem magáról a soáról, hanem a várakozásról szól, amíg a transzportok elindulnak. Az Élet csillaggal nem az arcunkba tolt borzalom könyve, hanem a banalitásé, hogy az ember csak tesz-vesz, próbál túlélni, beszerezni a kenyérsarkot vagy elvillamosozni a hitközségbe (már ha le nem löki a kalauz félúton), ahol szorongva várja, aznap az ő nevét olvassák-e fel. És közben igyekszik fenntartani magában a reményt, hogy nincs még veszve minden. Ez a helyzet adja meg a regény hellyel-közzel kafkai abszurditását, de ebben a regényben az abszurd maga a történelmi valóság, a náci rendeletek képtelen hálója, amit mintha csak azért szövegeznének meg, hogy létükben alázzák meg a zsidókat, a groteszk pedig az, hogy elbeszélőnk, Roubíček ilyen körülmények között is megkísérli életben tartani a hétköznapiságot. Túlélésének záloga nem is annyira fizikai testével kapcsolatos, mint inkább a lélekkel: nem a kalóriák táplálják, inkább macskájával, vagy egykori szerelmével, Ruzenkával folytatott (képzelt) beszélgetések. Ezek kötik még az élethez, de paradox módon egyben ezek akadályozzák meg abban, hogy ellépjen a neki rendelt Végzet elől.

Az Élet csillaggal halk és keserű könyv. Különösen keserű az ítélet, amit az áldozatokról mond, akik Weil szerint képtelenek arra, hogy méltóvá váljanak a mártíromságra. Ami, azt hiszem, valahol természetes, hiszen nem saját tetteik és döntéseik alapján választották ki őket a szenvedésre, hanem mások tettei és mások döntései (kvázi a vak véletlen) jelölték meg őket. Roubíčeknek közülük kell kiemelkednie valamiképp ahhoz, hogy ebben a tőről metszett fejlődésregényben antihősből igazi hőssé nemesedjen. Isten látja lelkem, én nagyon szurkoltam neki.

[Mientras Leo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Magnífica

[Meaghan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Meh. This book is supposed to be one of the greatest classics of Czech literature, but in my mind that doesn't speak well for Czech literature. Although it's only 200 pages, it took me forever to finish because it dragged so much.

I suppose I can kind of see the merit in why the author wrote the way he did -- this long, slow slog to doom -- but it did not make for enjoyable or engrossing reading. NOTHING HAPPENED in the story. It was just one gray, dreary day after another, the protagonist's existence crumbling to bits. And all the characters talked exactly the same.

Not recommended.

[Marina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read in one go. A very unusual book, which, I suppose, could offend some. Written in 1948 or 49, so well before people had a consensus of how the Holocaust should be written about. The main hero is a bit like Kafkian K., but then finds new consciousness through meeting Materna, his "commissar" (a bit of Socialist Realism there). A simple but striking style. Clearly based on his own experiences, but also clearly not autobiographical, as Weil himself was an amazing character, and not like K. at all.

[Edu · Rating 5 out of 5]

No había oído hablar de Jiří Weil hasta que el año pasado en una librería ojeando las magníficas ediciones de la editorial Impedimenta, cayó en mis manos “Mendelssohn en el tejado”. En dicha novela, a partir de una anécdota con gran carga satírica, se demuestra la absurdez y los delirios del ejército nazi en la Praga ocupada. La novela está cargada de gran simbolismo y se acaba convirtiendo a pesar de su tono satírico en una clara tragedia (como no podía ser de otra forma dado el contexto histórico). Después de disfrutar la novela, me decidí a conseguir los otros dos libros del autor y después de disfrutarlo, es el turno de Vida con estrella.


Para mí el valor de las novelas de Jiří Weil, reside en mostrarnos la dureza del nazismo y los estragos que este ocasionó, pero huyendo de las tan habituales descripciones de los trabajos forzados y los campos de concentración. Está claro que pasaron cosas horribles, terroríficas e inhumanas en los campos de exterminio, somos conocedores de grandes testimonios de supervivientes y siempre resultan impactantes. Pero estamos obviando gran parte de los sufrimientos y horrores del holocausto. Sin vernos inmersos en uno de esos campos y a través de detalles o actos de la vida cotidiana puedes llegar a sentir el horror y el miedo en la población de los lugares ocupados por el nazismo durante la segunda guerra mundial.

En el caso de Vida con estrella, seguimos los pasos de Josef Roubíček. Cuando todo parecía que llevaba al protagonista a un destino sin salvación (campos de concentración-exterminio), aparece la famosa estrella (cargada de simbolismo: el símbolo identificativo de los judíos, hace claramente referencia a la “buena” suerte con la que tildan al personaje cuando todo parecía perdido) y empieza el recorrido que hacemos junto a Josef a lo largo de la novela. Entre la soledad, el miedo y la capacidad para mantener la esperanza, Josef se refugia en los recuerdos de una vida pasada (su amor por Ruzena) y en disfrutar (si en ese contexto es posible) los pequeños detalles de la vida cotidiana (la compañía de Tomáš el gato, los rayos del sol en su destartalada casa o mientras cava tumbas en el cementerio, los libros, etc.). Pero sobretodo somos testigos de cómo Josef a pesar de las dificultades transita por las estaciones, esquivando contra todo pronóstico su más probable destino.

Vida con estrella, es la historia de un único judío, de cómo albergo durante muchas ocasiones algo de esperanza y a pesar de no estar en campo de concentración alguno, su historia y la de otros muchos narra como a través de la resistencia se convirtieron en supervivientes.
En conclusión, si queréis leer testimonios del holocausto de un autor algo “menos conocido” pero que se alejan de lo “convencional” en el tema, podéis disfrutar de la narrativa sencilla y serena pero cargada de la dureza del holocausto de Jiří Weil en sus obras “Vida con estrella” o “Mendelsshon en el tejado”.

5*****

[Zuberino · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I picked this book up – from the guy who sells books every weekend in Swiss Cottage outside Hampstead Theatre – I didn’t know the first thing about Jiri Weil. A flip to the back – an account of surviving the Holocaust in wartime Prague – and my interest was confirmed. This stuff was right up my alley. But the slim size of the book is deceptive; it took me a lot longer to finish it than I had initially expected.

Part of it because of the nature of the story, the texture of Weil’s prose. Some people might find the book repetitive and enervating – heaven knows I found the last 50 pages to be exceptionally heavy going. But I think, in the final analysis, this circular dreariness is to Weil’s credit – nothing I have read before comes so close to the lived experience of the Nazi occupation, as it was felt by countless Jews in the cities of east Europe. The death of hope, the gnawing fear, the petty abuses and humiliations, the endless waiting, the Kafkaesque nightmares in the Community building and other bureaucratic limbos, the boredom and cold and hunger of daily life – above all, fear and resignation as the twin conditions of existence – all this comes across with the fidelity that only first-hand experience can bring. So what if it is leaden and lugubrious in places? Life itself was leaden and lugubrious if you were a Jew in wartime Prague under the Nazis, and Weil renders it in true colours.

*

Our narrator is Josef Roubicek, an ordinary bank clerk. When we first meet him, it is still the early days of the war, probably not long since the fall of Prague. But life is hard all the same – Roubicek no longer has a job, he lives alone in a battered, abandoned and utterly empty house in the remote suburbs of the city, cold and hunger are his daily companions. Getting the stove going to heat up the room is a struggle, an even bigger battle is to find food to eat. When Josef has a few coins to spare, the local butcher Halaburda will occasionally condescend to sell him some blood – or a few bones if he is really lucky. Meat does not enter the picture. Boarding the streetcar to go anywhere is a serious problem; wearing the Jewish star on your chest marks you out for cruel and hostile treatment even from your fellow Czechs, let alone the Nazis. As much as he can help it, Josef spends his days at home, in a trance, reading the same old books, watching the wet patch on the ceiling grow, writing his feverish notes. At night, he looks out the window at the stars, the whole city blacked out around him.

In his mind, he constantly thinks of Ruzena, his lover before the war, the wife of another man. In these his memories, Josef finds his only escape from reality – memories of walking the streets of the old city hand in hand with Ruzena, lying together on a sunny riverbank, or snuggled up in bed in a ski chalet, warm and close and loving, while all around them the Eastern European winter closes down. As for Josef, so for the readers – these interludes provide the only relief, the only reminder of the ordinariness of life in the city before the Nazis arrived. In retrospect, it was prelapsarian bliss. Before the apocalypse, Ruzena had pleaded with Josef to go abroad, together, but he failed to respond. Thus ended their relationship, and thus begins his reminiscences.

His only friend in the world is Tomas the cat, a neighbourhood stray which has found refuge and company with Josef. Together, they share the scraps of stale bread, the meagre warmth of the stove, the indifferent stars in the sky.

*

As time passes, the Holocaust gets organized, gets properly underway. The bloodless bureaucratic business of registering Jews, assigning numbers to Jews, sending summons to Jews for transportation to Terezin or Auschwitz, emptying out Jewish homes, looting Jews of all their earthly possessions. Roubicek, lower down the alphabetical order and physically weak to boot, gets assigned to work in a graveyard – the caretaker/gardener detail. By a singular chance, his name does NOT get called up with the rest of the city’s Roubiceks when their turn comes around, and from that unlikely reprieve flows the rest of the story.

Along the way, we meet the people in his life – the crotchety old aunt and uncle who raised the orphan Josef and whose lives will likely end in the gas chamber; an old friend Pavel whose wealth and breeding will bring no succour against the inhuman force of the Nazis; the namesake Robitschek who is determined at all costs not to be taken alive; Josef’s gentile neighbour Materna who talks and plots endlessly with his friends and who provides the one genuinely decent example of the ordinary Praguer. The cycle the of seasons turns inexorably, years pass, the ranks of the city’s Jews, of Josef’s colleagues thin out. Macabre stories make the rounds among his workmates – a man shot dead for refusing a haircut, the well-to-do family found sitting at their lavish dining table, frozen in rigor mortis, their poisoned wine-cups before them. Suicides by cyanide.

In every line, this pervasive sense of unreality, as if one had stepped through a portal into a parallel universe. Such must have been life under the Nazis. In the end, through strange and bitter pathways, Josef finds his redemption, his liberation from fear and from spiritual slavery.

*

Roubicek’s Prague no longer exists, what is there instead is a UNESCO-listed toytown, a fairytale in stone with little trace of either the city’s Jews or the Nazis who liquefied them. To know what happened to them, you have to read Jiri Weil. For me, this is a superior book than Wiesel’s Night – not necessarily better executed, but certainly more real, more authentic, and at a certain level, far more profound. I hope to read Weil’s other key book (Mendelssohn on the Roof) someday soon. And someday too, I hope to walk along the banks of the river Vltava, on and on for miles and miles until I reach the suburbs and the fields, just like Josef Roubicek once did.

[V · Rating 5 out of 5]

1) Naprosto nerozumím tomu, proč jsem se s Jiřím Weilem až doposud nesetkala. Proč jsme se o něm neučili, proč nestálo jeho jméno ani v učebnici literatury, kterou jsem používala při přípravě na maturitu. Proč Češi ignorují někoho, kdo má v zahraničí takový ohlas?
2) Kniha byla poměrně jednoduchá a přesto tak strašně moc náročná... Nedokážu to popsat. Začala jsem ji číst v němčině, ale nakonec se mi podařilo sehnat si českou verzi. I tak jsem některé stránky musela číst dvakrát, abych je pochopila. A přitom ten styl opravdu není na první pohled náročný - jednoduché věty, přímé sdělování myšlenek. Ale přece... Trošku mi to připomíná styl Kafky.
3) Myslím, že po této zkušenosti už nebudu nikdy schopna číst nějakou beletrii, která se snaží upoutat pozornost tím, že se děj odehrává za druhé světové války. Tohle bylo naprosto něco jiného. Autentické - a přesto je to fikce. Neteče tam krev a slzy, nepadají silná slova a lidé neumírají - tedy ano, někde v pozadí, ale o to tam vůbec nejde. Děsivá atmosféra se totiž dá vyjádřit i jinak, člověk může být proměněn v číslo mnohem nenápadněji, mnohem surověji, než explicitním vyobrazením této skutečnosti...
4) O této knize budu psát seminární práci. Což mě trochu děsí, protože se musím přiznat, že jsem závěru knihy příliš neporozuměla, nevím vlastně, co se tam stalo. Ale možná proto bude dobrý nápad zvolit hermeneutiku jako jednu z filosofických teorií, z jejichž úhlu pohledu se na knihu budu dívat.
A nejlepší na tom je, že se na to psaní seminární práce, pitvání textu a srovnávání s německou verzí vlastně strašně těším.

[Ray · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a magnificent book, the best I have read in 2012 so far. It is fairly short at just 250 pages but it packs in so much in this space.

WARNING PLOT SPOILERS




The book is about the life of a Jew in Prague during the Second World War. As he waits for transportation to the death camps his life is progressively closed down by diktat after diktat from "them" (the Germans are never mentioned). Petty, arbitary restrictions and daily fear and humiliation become a normal part of life.

Food is scarce and obtaining enough to eat is a constant chore. Work is meaningless - sweeping up leaves with judges and businessmen. People around him are murdered for minor transgressions.

Ultimately his ife diminishes to the point where he no longer cares if he lives or dies, in this way acheiving in his eyes a kind of victory over the oppressors. He had long ago sabotaged his house and burnt his furniture in order to deny them anything when he has gone.

[Susie Rohrbough · Rating 4 out of 5]

Prague, Czeckoslovakia...a banker lives in a shell of a house, burning furniture to keep warm and to prevent non- Jews from taking it from him when they want. Struggling to find food to eat. Struggling to report to registration stations. Forced to wear a star. Cowering away from those who would humiliate him.

I found it gloomy and profoundly sad in the simple way survival is decribed. Written as a day-to-day account of a rather dull banker whose life has been narrowed by edict upon new edict. From the confiscation of property to losing careers to the unending transports east, the end seems inevitable for the former banker and his friends. Death does not seem like an enemy but perhaps more of a place that is welcome after the treatment by "Them." Death is everywhere and there is much discussion of it. I am not sure I would recommend this book. It is much too sad.

[Gay · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great book. Beautifully written and not predictable. This is a story of a single Jewish man and his trials as he tries to survive in Czechoslovakia during WWII. It is a very different view of the struggle... the hardships seem more real, the hunger is palpable. There is an odd hopefulness along with a frustration for the fact that the tragedy was allowed to happen at all. How do you survive such an ordeal? Read this book!

[Edward Belfar · Rating 5 out of 5]

In Life with a Star, a very ordinary Jewish man, the former bank clerk Josef Roubick, struggles to survive the Nazi occupation of Prague. Living in hiding, he finds his life increasingly circumscribed and imperiled by the increasing punitive and arbitrary edicts handed down by the German occupiers. Life with a Star is a powerful, moving, sometimes darkly comic novel that I recommend very highly.

[Ole · Rating 5 out of 5]

"if there were no hope", I said, "we would probably fight",
"and people always think there's hope, even they're standing over an open grave"
200 pages of hope even if all around tell you to die.
very very good book, but I think, will be interting for people who have read about Holocaust before.

[Joshua moses · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most haunting books I have ever read--about the Holocaust or anything else.

[Linda Lipko · Rating 5 out of 5]

Highly recommended , this is an incredible book and one of the most haunting tales of the brutal Nazi terror and unrelenting evil.

[Bep · Rating 5 out of 5]

Prachtig boek. Onderkoelde stijl, vaak ironisch of cynisch gekleurd. Het woord Jood wordt zelden gebruikt.

[Jonathan Alvarez · Rating 5 out of 5]

Vida con estrella: Siempre odié a Anna Frank, al libro no a la persona. Me resulta curiosa la relación de Vida con estrella con la cuestión del testimonio. Luego de la Shoah, muchos sobrevivientes se sumieron en el silencio más mordaz, y nada tenía que ver con el estrés post-traumático o con secuelas psicológicas. No hablaban de lo vivido debido a la vergüenza que les causaba ser testigos de la aberración que pudieron sortear debido a la suerte. Ahí reside la curiosidad de este libro en donde la estrella a la que se refiere el título no solo es la de David, sino una estrella especial del protagonista, una estrella que lo salvó de ser un número más despojado de su identidad. Algunos temas que analizar en este libro: la relación con los entes, la pérdida gradual de la humanidad, la equiparación con los animales como carentes de mundo y por ende de significancia humana, la muerte y su relación con la manera de llevar la vida. Me queda un sabor amargo porque la Shoah fue un episodio terrible, pero no el último ni el más visible. ¡Excelente libro!

[Lara · Rating 4 out of 5]

nunca lera un libro tan lúgubre e optimista ao mesmo tempo.

ensina os horrores do nazismo e do que tiveron que sufrir os xudeos nesa época. como lles foron quitados os dereitos, dende as cousas máis grandes e importantes como as nimiedades; como o pesimismo era inevitable nesa situación... vivíase o día a día sabendo que a morte chegaría máis pronto que tarde. aínda así, hai pequenas cousas que fan que a vida pague a pena, como a compañía de xente que che ten aprecio (ou animais) e o apoio mútuo.

é certo que a vida de Josef parece estar chea de desventuras, mais de vez en cando as cousas saen ben. vivir esa montaña rusa dentro da súa cabeza foi unha gran experiencia. é que literalmente é just some guy e despois de ler este libro quedei coa necesidade de abrazalo por 10 horas.

o único malo que podo dicir é que custa acostumarse aos saltos temporais, darse conta de cando algo está acontecendo agora, son recordos do pasado ou son cousas que nin sequera están ocorrendo na realidade.

en conclusión, podo dicir que estou moi feliz de ter lido este libro. creo que esta é unha lectura moito mellor das que se dan normalmente para falar sobre a II guerra mundial.

[viki hlozkova · Rating 5 out of 5]

velmi silný příběh plný nejistot, skrývání, ale hlavně naděje.

josef válce přihlíží, ale nestává se pěšákem, pracuje, povídá si s kocourem a Růženou a tráví čas s Maternou, který mu onu naděj dodává víc a víc.

otevřený konec, který i mně dal naději, že Josef přežije.

[Clive Grewcock · Rating 3 out of 5]

I get this is a worthy book and saying that for me the pages dragged reflects badly on me, but for me drag it did.

[Jacobo Carballada · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ante la vileza más abyecta, dignidad.
Ante la omnipresencia de la Muerte y el miedo, siempre queda un resquicio por dónde se cuela la vida y surge la libertad.

la única edición publicada en español no hace justicia a la calidad que se merece este libro excepcional con errores de formato.

[Allison · Rating 1 out of 5]

One of my professors assigned Life with a Star for class and I dutifully went out and purchased a used copy. I wanted to like it but I just didn't.

Jiri Weil uses his experiences hiding from the Nazi's to write this novel about Josef Roubicek the ill-fated former bank clerk. I commend him for his courage in speaking about his experiences and trying to keep the Holocaust from ever happening again. Unlike other authors who write about the Holocaust he does not describe the overt violence that took place in concentration camps or transport trains. Weil chooses to focus on the everyday life of Jews that were just hoping they didn't get called for a trip to the death camps.

It is this focus on the mundane that blew it for me. I understand that life was tedious and full of despair during the Nazi occupation of Europe. I understand there was no sense of hope, no happiness, only desperation and death. I honestly struggled to get through 200 pages of everyday life.

Because of the way Weil wrote there was no dimension to any of the characters. I did not care when Roubicek burned his furniture, I didn't care that his roof leaked, and I didn't care when his friends died. I didn't care when Ruzena left and I didn't care when Tomas was murdered. I don't see how this is a novel that kept Arthur Miller up at night or why Philip Roth pushed so hard for its publication in the US.

Maybe, I'm just apathetic because my family is Eastern European and all anyone remembers us for is the Holocaust and Communism. Maybe I'm just tired of the Holocaust being beaten into my head for 15 years straight courtesy of the US education system and college. I'm sure there are nuances I'm not getting because it's translated into English, but if you have to read a novel about the Holocaust please do yourself a favor and read another book. I'll soon be selling my copy back to the used bookstore where I purchased it.

[Alex Knipping · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hoe kun je een afschrikwekkend verhaal vertellen zonder dat je lezers afhaken? Als de weerzin tegen de wreedheid te groot wordt, dan stopt de lezer misschien. Of erger, de ellende went en lijkt na pagina's lezen gewoon te worden. Jiri Weil kiest voor naïeve distantie. Zijn hoofdpersoon in 'Leven met de ster' beschouwt zijn onderdrukking met een kinderlijk soort afstandelijkheid. Hij ondergaat alle onzinnige regels en verboden op een lijdzame manier en probeert te overleven door te onthechten en af en toe weg te vluchten in een droom-relatie, een verre echo van iets dat ooit werkelijkheid was. Pas als de werkelijkheid al te zeer botst met deze manier van omgaan met de situatie, neemt hij het heft in eigen hand. Door helemaal niemand meer te zijn, kan hij leven. De distantie werkt. Het is beklemmend en door de ogen van van Josef Rubicek zien we het onheil naderen. Als lezer zijn we net zo machteloos als Josef zich voelt. Beetje pech voor deze vertelstijl is dat het zoveel navolging kreeg. Andere boeken en films met dit stramien las en zag ik eerder, wat maakt dat de echte beklemming toch wat uitblijft. Niet eerlijk, want Jiri Weil schreef dit boek al in 1949. Ik kende het niet en had het graag eerder gelezen. Dan was mijn waardering wellicht ook wat hoger geweest.