Sinds tweeduizend jaar

by Mihail Sebastian, Jan Willem Bos (Translator)

In het Roemenië van begin jaren twintig komt een jonge Joodse student tot de ontdekking dat hij zich niet langer thuis voelt in de wereld. Hij wordt bedreigd en in elkaar geslagen door antisemitische medestudenten, maar voelt zich ook niet verwant met zijn Joodse leeftijdsgenoten. Hij wandelt door de straten van de hoofdstad, waar hij gokt, drinkt en spreekt met revolutionairen, fanatici en libertijnen. Van Boekarest tot Parijs probeert hij een manier te vinden om zich te verhouden tot de vijandige duisternis die over Europa valt.

Sinds tweeduizend jaar verscheen voor het eerst in 1934 en is een heldere, vaak schokkende kroniek over veerkracht en wanhoop in tijden van populistische retoriek en oorlogsdreiging.

Genres: Fiction, Romania, Classics, Historical Fiction, Romanian Literature, Jewish, Literature

318 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1934

About the author

Mihail Sebastian, born Iosif Hechter, was a Romanian playwright, essayist, journalist and novelist.

Reviews

[Adina ( on a short Hiatus) · Rating 4 out of 5]

For Two Thousand Years is an important book about the interbellum years and the life of a Romanian Jew during a period when the anti-Semitism feelings were growing in intensity and violence. Although I read the novel in Romanian, I will write my review in English as the book was translated for the first time in this language last year and I want to encourage readers to give this book a try. I believe it carries important messages from the past that are valid today, just as much as then.

I chose this novel as part of my challenge to read a Romanian author per trimester. Unfortunately, I neglected my co-nationals for many years, which is unfair as we have many talented writers. I chose Mihail Sebastian because he is my husband’s favorite author and I promised him (a few years ago) that I will read this novel.

The novel has the structure of a journal and this is the reason it feels so autobiographical. Although the political and the social background is real and so are some the events from the author’s life, the book is still a work of fiction.

The narrator, a young Jewish student, struggles to find an identity, torn between two worlds. He tries to put space between him and the Jewish mentality. He does not consider himself a Zionist, tries not to get into fights as his other Jewish friends and struggles against the inclination to feel persecuted. His beliefs, together with the ones of his generation, come alive through dialogues with his friends, teachers, articles and monologues. We follow the narrator thorough different stages of his life, from 1923 to 1934.

The quality of the work did not feel linear. The first and the last part one were for me the most important moments of the novel. The first part described the persecution the Jew students had to endure at the university while the last part deals with the internal torment of the narrator when he discovers that some of his oldest friends are anti-Semites. I want to focus on the last few pages of the novel which put forward two ideas that made an impact on me, especially taking in consideration the current political/social climate.

The first moment that impressed me was a conversation between the unnamed main character and a friend. Although the friend did not consider himself anti-Semite, confides that he believes there is a Jew problem which needs to be solved. 1 million eight hundred Jews are too much and if he had the power, he would try to eliminate a few hundred thousand. He goes on to say that he is not anti-Semite but there is a danger of the Jew spirit and as a Romanian, he has to protect himself. The narrator, surprised to hear that from his friend, replies that there are two types of Jew haters: the pure ones and the ones with arguments. He says that he understands the first ones as they are a fact but not the latter. He continues by highlighting the fact that it is a waste of time to try to change an Anti-Semite with arguments because they are biased and any logic or argument will not be able to make any difference. He makes the case that the arguments are in fact excuses. Those people are not anti-Semite because they believe in the Jew danger, they believe in the Jew danger because they are anti-Semite. I think this is something to think about when we consider the growing racism today and many other biases. I believe it was always there, only that now people are happy they found again excuses for their beliefs. It is the same old inclination to find scapegoats for a crisis.

A lot of the today problems are caused by the question of belonging. Since birth, the narrator thought of himself to be Romanian, a man of the Danube. However, starting from the school years, the feeling of belonging to his country was denied to him, he was not allowed to refer himself as part of the same people. He was categorized as Jew and could not be anything else. This ignited an interior conflict, he was Jew but he also felt Romanian but with a sort of fear to love something that it was denied to him. I see in the news that many of the second generation citizens feel like they do not belong anywhere. I wonder now if it is their fault or they are denied the right to call their home home.

[Inderjit Sanghera · Rating 4 out of 5]

“For Two Thousand Years” is a book which slowly grows on the reader; at first the series of what could loosely be described as vignettes can be jarring, not so much due to the style, but more due to the remorseless adolescent cynicism which pervades them, like Halden Caulfield on crack. However, as the reader becomes accustomed to the slightly broken cadence of Sebastian’s prose style, as the cynicism slowly gives way to profound insights into the nature note just of antisemitism, but of societal prejudices in general, as the feeling of desolation which drives the narrator’s isolation becomes increasingly apparent, the reader begins to understand the narrator’s diffidence, his pessimism, as he struggles not just under the weight of a wave of local antisemitism, but two thousand years of anti-Jewish prejudices. As the narrator points out, even those Jews who re-locate to Israel will forever bear the load of two millennia of hatred.

“For Two Thousand Years” is especially insightful because it explores the rise not just of antisemitism, but of Zionism in its incipient stages. The narrator comes across a wide array of characters, mainly intellectuals of some sort, with whom he discusses both weighty political and metaphysical topics to more quotidian, though no less important topics, such as women and love. None of the secondary characters are granted internal narratives or lives, instead they are all seen via the lens of the narrator, their motives and views are all presented-and therefore skewed-by the narrator. The result of which is an atmosphere of decadence and tension, shot through with the odd moment of beauty and repose;

“It is the house I dreamed of. A house built for sunlight. Evenings, its shadow fall across the water, like the shadow of a plant…we stopped on the terrace, where the September morning spread into the distance, beyond the lake, white in declining autumn light, as though reclining in its own splendour…we will forget each other, my white house in Snagov, you to receive the sun each day through your wide windows, me to put up other walls, just as likely to be forgotten.”

In many ways the above passage, which is the final in the novel, sums-up the novel; an insightful, and at times beautiful, if melancholic exploration of 1930’s Romania as it slowly became engulfed in the chasm of antisemitism, where so many lights were dimmed under the unremitting darkness of fascism.

[Lavinia]

Un roman-document necesar și încă atît de relevant.
Am regăsit în el, dincolo de problema antisemitismului, care e văzută din mai multe unghiuri, și asta e edificator, același ton confesiv pe care-l folosește în jurnal (e practic aceeași voce, dacă îmi amintesc bine, deși am citit jurnalul de mulți ani) și teme predilecte, de care s-a folosit în Femei sau Accidentul.

[Meghan Rosenbaum · Rating 5 out of 5]

This novel was one of those that "spoke" to me before I had even picked it up to examine its contents. Then, while I was reading it, there was some parts that I related to so deeply (specifically in terms of feeling so confined and alone to my own awareness, and thereby alienated from a lack of common understanding). Such a book is further proof of why we read, to feel less alone, to know others have felt as you do in the bare bones of existing.

Our protagonist is a young man who describes his experiences of poignant existential alienation from society. He is isolated on the basis of being Jewish, and throughout the book he grapples with his sense of Jewish identity. Even among his fellow Jewish peers he struggles for a sense of belonging. He is indifferent to the strong political mindsets of his peers, and seems to wish that he could simply "be" without reference to a social, religious, or ethnic category. Although he faces the same struggle as his peers, he cannot seem to align himself with their cause. He does not share in their fervour and seems overcome by his own feelings of shame surrounding being Jewish. Whether this is correct or not, I certainly picked up on it.

The author, Mihail Sebastian, had I believe, a talent for exposing the raw, melancholy emotion underpinning so many situations. There was a feeling of profound futility to notions of identity, and prescribed conduct within identity that I can really relate to experiencing.

A revealing novel that I will read again.

[Jasmine · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Despair is a sentiment I have long suppressed, knowing how oppressive it is in a Jewish sensibility. I will not go back to the ghosts I have left behind. Is a 'new dawn' on the way? It surely is. But until then the dusk will be slowly gathering over all I have loved and love still."

Mihail Sebastian, 1934

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Didn't really have the feel of a flowing novel like I thought it would - in terms of narrative structure it was more like rambling diary entries, but when it comes to that of a philosophical and psychological case study; having the existential mind of a Camus or Sartre, it really was quite the shocking eye opener. Four stars because it did have the feel of an important book written at a time when the dark tide of anti-Semitism was rising. Surviving the war only to die in a traffic accident makes it even more tragic. The oppressive atmosphere felt here - even before the fascists came to power, was truly chilling. Sebastian's astute observations and insight into human nature I can't fault, but like I said, it doesn't really have the feel of a proper novel per se. Another work, and rightly so, that was revived and translated after falling into obscurity for decades. It puts Romanian lit on the map that's for sure.

[Hux · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book is presented as a diary or journal and has several short entries before, towards the middle, expanding into a more coherent narrative structure. As a novel it's very easy to read but never especially beautiful or fluid. It feels like a diary and reads like one, in a rather stuttering voice that has occasional humour but mostly, as introspective diaries tend to be, a flat and bland tone.

The book (published in 1934) begins in the early twenties in Romania as the narrator details the growing sense of antisemitism in the air. He and his Jewish friends are regularly assaulted and by the end of the book (having moved into the 1930s) children are openly chanting 'death to the Jews' in the street. You get the distinct sense of something rising in Europe and the book does a good job of displaying its unnoticed mediocrity and slow development. Many of the narrator's friends are openly antisemitic and justify their positions with a casual disdain which they view, understandably, as mere words and opinions with no real weight. Towards the end, when he discusses antisemitism with his friend Pârlea, he suggests that things will end in cracked skulls and broken windows and that calling it 'revolution' is simply a new word for 'an ancient wretchedness.' To which Pârlea responds:

'There's a drought and I await the rain. And you stand there and tell me: A hard rain is what we need. But what if it comes with hail? If it comes with a storm? If it ruins what I've sowed? Well, I'll tell you: I don't know how the rain will fall. I just want it to come. That's all. With hail, storm, lightning, as long as it comes. One or two will survive the deluge. Nobody will survive drought.'

The book is definitely worth reading and has some great parts but ultimately I just didn't find it especially engaging or that enjoyable to read. It plods along nicely but not much more than that. And to quote his friend Abraham Sulitzer: 'a book either knocks you down or raises you up.' And this did neither. It was somewhere in the middle.

[Andrew]

What makes this stand out from other Holocaust literature? It was published by a Jewish writer in 1934 in Romania, before shit truly hit the fan. That fact alone should be enough to recommend this.

You see how the protagonist tries to keep is cool, even if he can see the awfulness of the writing on the wall. He's repulsed by Zionism and communism, and simply wants to live his life as a Jewish Romanian, even as he sees how that is becoming an impossibility. He encounters casual anti-Semitism, "intellectual" anti-Semitism of the sort that tries to erect arguments to mask the fact that it's rooted in visceral disgust, and friends slowly turning into anti-Semites, while maintaining that he is one of the good ones. If you want to know how fascism becomes a socially acceptable option, read this. And for those of us in America, Brazil, India, and all other places on the precipice, take heed.

[Hilary · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was fortunate enough to be able to read this book on a long-haul flight and give it the attention it deserves. The journal of Mihail Sebastian, a Romanian Jew, written between the years 1923 and 1934 is a sobering and stimulating read. Written in the shadow of the rise of fascism across Europe it forces you to confront the meaning of prejudice and nationalism, and the consequences of unchecked discrimination.

The title is taken from the 2000 years of persecution endured by the Jews, repeatedly used as scapegoats whenever nations face crises. The author struggles with questions of identity, his own complicity (and by extension that of the whole Jewish people) in their victimisation, the rise of Zionism and whether this is a good or bad thing, and ultimately whether friendship can transcend such divisions. This book, as well as providing an excellent description of Romania in this period, illustrates chillingly the extent to which antisemitism was already rife far beyond Germany's borders facilitating the Final Solution later implemented by the Nazis.

In the early parts of the book Sebastian and his fellow Jewish students suffer daily beatings at the University at the hands of the other students. The number of beatings they endure is almost a matter of pride, and these are suffered on the basis that this too will pass. It does, only to rise up again. Later in the book he passes a group of boys selling newspapers and calling "Death to the Y**s!" Initially this hardly registers with him, so familiar has this cry become, and then he says to himself, "I wonder why it is so easy to call for 'death' in a Romanian street without anyone batting an eyelid. I think though, that death is a pretty serious matter ... If someone set themselves up in the middle of the street to demand, let's say, 'Death to Badgers' I think that would suffice to arouse some surprise among those passing by. Now that I think about it, the problem isn't that three boys can stand at a street corner and cry "Death to the Y**s!" but that the cry goes unobserved and unopposed, like the tinkling of a bell on a tram.

Sebastian's Zionist friends do not convince him of the necessity of a Jewish state, which strikes a particularly poignant note written as this was before the Holocaust. And even then his Jewish friends were debating the right and wrongs of the Palestinian issue, a situation which has not just continued into the present day but got worse and sown the seeds of so many conflicts and terrorist actions.

For anyone interested in the oppression of minorities, antisemitism in particular, and life in pre-WW2 Europe, this is an essential read. Chapter 3 of Part Six is an especially critical chapter in the debate and it is impossible to read this without feeling shocked and saddened by the irrationality and self-justification of antisemitism which is invariably based on myth and propaganda.

I absolutely have to read Sebastian's journal '1935-44: The Fascist Years' now that I have finished this.

[Patrycja Krotowska · Rating 4 out of 5]

Chyba żadnej książki w ostatnim czasie nie czytałam tak długo (proporcjonalnie do liczby stron) jak "Od dwóch tysięcy lat". Napisana przez 27-letniego rumuńskiego autora Mihaila Sebastiana i wydana w 1934 roku książka ta to trochę dziennik, trochę powieść. Gdybym napisała, że autor przybliża nam Rumunię okresu międzywojennego byłoby to spore niedopowiedzenie. Narratorem jest tu młody student pochodzenia żydowskiego, który po kilku latach nauki podejmuje pracę jako architekt, a my towarzyszy mu przez te lata. Zdecydowanie bardziej podobała mi się pierwsza połowa książki, poświęcona studenckim czasom, pełna rozmów z innymi studentami/profesorami, analiz cytatów/wykładów. Zmysł obserwacji i sposób formułowania tych spostrzeżeń - to według mnie najmocniejsze walory Sebastiana. "Od dwóch tysięcy lat" jest tak gęste, że nie sposób czytać tej książki intensywnie. Już po przeczytaniu pierwszej strony wyposażyłam się w znaczniki, a im dalej, tym wiedziałam, że muszę przystopować z ich użyciem.

"Od dwóch tysięcy lat" nie zachwyciło mnie fabularnie, ale wręcz przytłoczyło mnie tym, jak dobrze jest napisane. Lektura tej książki naprzemiennie mnie oszałamiała i męczyła. Miałam momenty, kiedy chciałam odłożyć ją na półkę i takie, kiedy nie mogłam przestać czytać. I mimo że trudno mi się tę książkę czytało, właśnie dlatego, że to zupełnie nie jest moja literatura to doceniałam i chłonęłam każdą kolejną stronę, wiedząc, że obcuję z wielką i ważną prozą.

Wydaje mi się, że to pozycja obowiązkowa dla każdego, kto interesuje się sprawą żydowską. Żydowską mentalnością, żydowską historią, żydowską codziennością. Bardzo nieoczywista, autentyczna, zaskakująca, przytłaczająca. I trudno jest mi ją polecać, bo mimo tego, że to bardzo dobra książka, to mam też świadomość tego, że nie jest to książka dla każdego. I jakkolwiek arogancko to brzmi to "Od dwóch tysięcy lat" zachwyci bardziej wymagających czytelników. Wiem, że tak trudne lektury czasem do nas trafiają, a czasem odbijają się o niewłaściwy czas, kiedy po nie sięgamy.

[Laurent De Maertelaer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Een vergeten klein meesterwerk uit de Roemeense literatuur. Over anti-semitisme in het Boekarest van de jaren 1920. Sebastians debuutroman VROUWEN is net vertaald door Jan H. Mysjkin voor uitgeverij Vleugels. Hopelijk staat deze roman ook op Mysjkins to do-lijstje/

[Abbie | ab_reads]

I’ve only had two encounters with Romanian fiction, both of which my friend Madalina from Instagram facilitated. The first one was The Land of Green Plums by Herta Müller, tr. Michael Hoffman. According to my review from 2018, I enjoyed it but spent a lot of the book confused because my knowledge of Romanian history is non-existent.

Even though since then my knowledge of Romanian history has remained, admittedly, minimal, I enjoyed my second foray into Romanian fiction a lot more.

THE BOOK

For my birthday in May, Madalina kindly gifted me a copy of a book I’d never heard of before. The book was For Two Thousand Years by Mihail Sebastian, tr. Philip Ó Ceallaigh. It’s the chronicles of a young Jewish man in 1920s Romania as he attempts to live his life in a country which is becoming increasingly hostile towards Jewish people. From his days as a student through to entering the working world, he grapples with his sense of identity, as his country tries to tell him that a Romanian Jew cannot exist.

Along the course of the book, the narrator encounters everyone from vicious anti-Semites to Zionists. The narrator remains oddly detached from everyone he meets, refusing to be dragged into their causes, simply wanting to live his life as a supposed oxymoron.

Many consider this book heavily autobiographical, as the novel features many similarities to the journal Sebastian kept from 1935 to 1944. Sebastian’s group of friends and colleagues eventually pushed him out when anti-Semitism gained more foothold in Europe.

GENERAL THOUGHTS

While reading, I was constantly struck by how timely it felt to the present day. Sebastian’s portrayal of the anti-Semitic discrimination faced by his unnamed narrator, sometimes by his own friends and colleagues, reminded me of the problems we still face today regarding racism.

Just read this quote, from one of his acquaintances during a confrontation about his anti-Semitism.

‘Let’s be clear, I’m not anti-Semitic. I’ve told you that before and I abide by that. But I’m Romanian. And, all that is opposed to me as a Romanian I regard as dangerous. There is a corrosive Jewish spirit. I must defend myself against it. In the press, in finance, in the army – I feel it exerting its influence everywhere.’

Does that not bring horribly to mind the ‘I’m-not-racist-but’s of today? Reading this piece of Romanian fiction is a disheartening experience given that it was published in 1934. Some passages feel like they could have been written last week.

The narrator also points out the distinction between ‘ordinary anti-Semites’ and ‘anti-Semites with arguments’. He prefers the former, as they are ‘clear cut’, but with the latter, ‘it’s futile to argue back’.

As soon as I read this, it immediately brought to mind the difference between ‘clear cut’ racists and ‘good white people’ who don’t believe they are racist. With the former, you know what you’re up against. But the latter believe they are not racist and therefore refuse to hear any arguments about why they need to do more than just not be overtly racist. They refuse to hear that they’re actively or passively contributing to a racist society or performing harmful behaviours, and thus will not change.

THE TRANSLATION

In case you couldn’t tell from the above quoted passage, the translation by Philip Ó Ceallaigh is fantastic. It flowed so beautifully that it was one of those ‘I forgot it was a translation for a second’ books. Which, by the way, I don’t fully endorse as a compliment because it contributes to the invisibility of the translator and I think they should be properly acknowledged for their work.

But whichever way you want to put it, it was a pleasure to read. I took photos of so many pages and passages because the words resonated so strongly. I would definitely recommend it to another newbie to Romanian fiction.

FINAL THOUGHTS

I did think that there was a bit of a lull in the middle, with the beginning and end being the strongest parts. But it’s only short and it still packs a punch. My only criticism is that, while lots of it does read as a modern novel, there are still parts which are very 1934. Women don’t play a large role in this book, and when they do appear their roles are fleeting and secondary. However, I would still recommend it as an introspective account of one Jewish man’s struggle for self-identity and acceptance. It is a bleak story, with a message that unfortunately still pertains today.

[Louise · Rating 4 out of 5]

The title refers to 2000 years of persecution of the Jews.

This was a difficult book for me to follow. It is written like a diary, and like most people the author does not write every day. His impressions change and there are not always connections to or follow up on the previous entries. You glimpse the time from the narrative since the entries are not dated.

Through his experiences, but more through the people he meets, narrator shows this 10+ year period (1923 - 1933?) to be one of growing dissatisfaction in Romania with Jews as the target. At the narrator’s university, Jewish students are beaten up upon entering classrooms, and once seated can be bullied to leave. The professors, who speak as philosophers, do nothing to support the Jewish students. Students have various reactions to this, some wear their scars as badges of honor; the author, who is Jewish, tries to keep his head down and immerse himself in the great philosophers, and later, architecture.

As he graduates, comes of age and gets a professional position, there are glimmers that people expect big changes that never come. There are ominous signs of unrest. One of his café friends is jailed for maybe 12 years. In prison he is energized by the fellow dissidents he meets and expects a revolution will soon free him. Relocated peasants, or maybe disgruntled workers, sabotaged an oil field where the writer had designed support buildings.

The book ends with a significant conversation with an acquaintance and potential client who thinks there are too many Jews in Romania and this has to be solved – “no offense”. The author begins to come to terms with his Jewish identity. For instance, he realizes how he has self-censored his speech- he knows he can never be accepted if he says “We Romanians…”

As a modern reader, we know that the trouble is far greater than an alleged sabotage of the oil fields or jailed communist sympathizers, or conversational self-censure. We also know what happened to not only Romanian Jews, but Jews across Europe.

I spent some time re-reading passages, but they are not designed to flow. This is more like a poem than a narrative. For those who might like a more concrete example of what transpired in pre-WWII Romania, I recommend the early chapters of Saul Steinberg: A Biography. Steinberg's (yes, the New Yorker cartoonist) family's experience is told in well documented detail.

[Teodora Leahu · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5⭐️
"Winkler are foarte multe lucruri de cucerit - și le va cuceri. Dar are unul de pierdut, și pe acesta nu știu dacă va izbuti să-l piardă. Are de pierdut obișnuința de a suferi, are de pierdut vocația pentru durere. Este o aptitudine prea dezvoltată, un instinct prea sigur, ca să cedeze în fața unei vieți oricât de simple. Această rădăcină amară rezistă tuturor anotimpurilor și niciodată nu va fi prea târziu ca să-și dea fructele ei triste, în cea mai calmă vară a sufletului tău păcălit de o liniște mereu înșelătoare. Vei regăsi într-o zi un ceas de spaimă și vei învața iar ceea ce mereu ai fost învățat și mereu ai uitat: ca de oriunde poți evada, numai din tine, nu."

[Christian Savin · Rating 5 out of 5]

"... dar mi-ar fi greu să uit prima noapte de gardă, la regiment, cu ani în urmă, când mi s-a comunicat că postul numărul 3, de la adjutantură, nu-mi poate fi încredințat. ("Existănordin special pentru ovrei”, explica puțin jenat sublocotenentul.) Așadar, în conștiința lor, eu dacă nu eram un trădător dovedit, eram în orice caz unul posibil. Un ordin "special" suprima dintr-odată viața mea pe acest pământ, viața părinților mei, viața bunicilor și a străbunicilor mei, un ordin "special" ștergea cu un număr de înregistrare aproape două veacuri de amintiri într-o țară care, fără îndoială, nu era "patria mea", de vreme ce puteam s-o vând într-o noapte de gardă."

N-au trecut nici o sută de ani de când cartea asta a fost scrisă și publicată, și totuși încă își păstrează relevanța intactă.

[Kristi · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a work of art.

Sebastian excellently, as well as chillingly, charts the anti-semitic waters of Romania in 1930s through the eyes of a Law student. Prescient, complex, and profound. This book asks pertinent questions around 'What is a human being?' and 'What is knowledge?', as well as exposing the oscillating affinity and dislocation one can feel in the only land one has ever known as, and called, 'home', and the people one has called 'friends'. Sebastian draws up beautifully the differing gauges of thread joining together the complex, diverse, and inconsistent interrelationality between his colleagues, peers, friends, and professors against the political backdrop and tensions of the age.

I found this book not only a heart breaking narrative of the 1930s, but also, perhaps, a prophetic insight into today's current socio-political issues.

I highly recommend this first, wonderful translation of For Two Thousand Years for any thoughtful, patient reader. Having said that, I think it should be required reading!

[Ray · Rating 2 out of 5]

Romania during the 1920s and 30s. Ominous storm clouds are brewing as Europe slides towards war. Romania has it's own fascists and their target is "the other", the Jew, the eternal scapegoat. The narrator of this book is a young Jewish architecture student trying to make a living and a career amidst threats, slaps, kicks and punches. We see him establishing a precarious existence, never quite secure and certain.

I liked the beginning of this book, the way that it conveyed the difficulty of getting a university education as a Jew in Romania between the wars. I understood the ending with its ramblings on anti semitism as an eternal curse and the contrast between stay and eke out a living or leave for the unknown that is Palestine.

The middle of the book lost me. Life in the oilfields left me cold. I didn't really warm to the characters or relate to what they were doing there, it seemed like filler to me. Happy to accept that this is just me, here and now. I literally missed the plot. Who jnows, another day I might have seen more in the story.

[Dan · Rating 5 out of 5]

The systematic and impersonal antisemitism - that almost inevitably ends with an extermination - is replaced here with an antisemitism that is personal, low level, loosely entrapping, interior, continuously changing, and that ends in loneliness. This change of perspective does not make the antisemitism presented here less horrifying; but makes it more vivid, real and less trite.
Mihail Sebastian, as one of the rising intellectuals between the two World Wars in Romania (along with Emil Cioran, Mircea Eliade, Constantin Noica, and several others and around their professor and spiritual master Nae Ionescu), is more and more confronted and isolated as a Jew. The entire Romanian society, intellectual elite, and Sebastian's friends slowly turned antisemitic; while Sebastian is split and ended up alone. This autobiographical book starts with the street violence and with some kind of exterior antisemitism in 1923, centers the relative calm that followed - when Sebastian more or less settled and moved between Zionist and anti-Zionist ideas, movements, and friends; and ends in 1934 with a new wave of antisemitism when he took a stand against it and lost all his friends.
Beside the above-mentioned Semitic perspective, the book is still worth reading. Sebastian is sensitive to what happens around him, insightful, very well educated, and writes extremely well. Then there is the historical aspect of interwar Romania that Sebastian captured well here. Emil Cioran (as Stefan Parlea) and Nae Ionescu (as Ghita Blidaru) – being familiar to Sebastian - appear as characters in the book and are developed at length. There are a few other quite memorable characters.
The English translation of the book is missing the brutal and antisemitic introduction by Nae Ionescu that caused a scandal in both Zionist and anti-Zionist circles at its publication.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

My wife was born in Romania before migrating to Australia age 8 with intelligent hard-working parents who never really landed on their feet in their new country. I have been to her home town of Timisoara (a university town in the west) and have driven in a Dacia over the broken, pock-marked streets that may never be repaired. Late at night, when the rest of Europe tunes their TVs to smut, the Romanians broadcast high-school calculus classes - something more like 2nd year university mathematics in Australia. The people are warm and intelligent, quick-witted and hopeful - hopeful for the future of a country that sits between east and west Europe and has been savaged by both. It is hard to not see the Romanian people as a people who have endured much more than their fair share.

For Two Thousand Years is about a Romanian Jew (twice wronged, perhaps?) who identifies closely with neither. He wanders through pre-war Bucharest vaguely interested in philosophy, architecture, women, and avoiding a beating. It is a bleak work that refreshingly does not proselytize or point the finger, even. It is not hard to draw parallels between the anti-semitism of 1930s Europe and the Islamaphobia of current times.

[Andy · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was an interesting one, tricky in the light of current circumstances. A novel about Jewishness and antisemitism written before World War II (1934).

There’s a lot on the blurb about how well written it is, but I found it extremely uneven. The beginning in the end were strong, but the large middle section was pointless, drifting and just exhausting.

There was lots of interesting food for thought. Why is there a separate racism for Jewish people? How does it differ from other racism? Is the otherness perceived or real?

The abiding memory of this book though for me was just how turgid the middle section was.

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

When Mihail is writing about Romania, current events, or his main character's associates the book is interesting. When his main character is in an internal monologue it/he comes off as snivelling and insufferable. I feel a little bad having read this when I haven't read any Stefan Zweig, but a Romanian colleague praised it so I thought I would humour him, and I'm not necessarily sorry that I did.

[Maddy]

I'm not sure how/if i can rate this book. It was very interesting but obviously very politically charged and some of the things the main character/author said I didn’t agree with. In this instance I think it's impossible to separate opinion from its literary worth because of the autobiographical nature of the book.

What I'm struggling to understand is whether or not this is a good thing? (it is definitely a thought-provoking thing). Reading about the real life of a Jewish person from this time period who was neither Zionist nor anti-Semite but flitters uncomfortably between both was really eye-opening.

This book is not clean cut when it comes to morality or having the 'right opinions' but the author is writing and reflecting on their own identity, questioning their place in the world - who am I to question whether their opinions are 'right' or 'wrong'? I can't even comment on the structure of the book or the writing style, because it’s truly all tethered to the author/main character.

I believe I will think about this book for a while (this review has far too many questions, as do I after reading this)

[Simon Mee · Rating 4 out of 5]

For Two Thousand Years is a book that makes you think about historical determinism.

Conversations where characters say:

'Yet there is a Jewish problem, and it needs to be solved. One million eight hundred thousand Jews is intolerable. If it was up to me, I'd try to eliminate several hundred thousand.'

…that might have seemed a bit on the nose, winking too much at the future Holocaust, take a different meaning in light of the book’s publication date of 1934. It’s the ultimate interwar book who’s author didn’t even know he was in the interwar period. It’s not so much his picking of particular events, more the vibe, particularly the anti-Semitism.

There are also interesting asides on Zionism, Semitism itself, Nationalism and Pan-Europeanism. I was surprised by the number of English literary references (unless they are the translator’s interpolations).

She's still beautiful, which makes me happy about the past - but looks set to put on weight, which makes me happy about the future.

As for the plot itself, and the characters, well they’re ok. But it’s a book that relies heavily on vibes, and gets a long way there on them.

[micaela · Rating 5 out of 5]

I spent my time reading this book caught between discomfort and relief. Both stemmed from the same place, which was Mihail Sebastian’s brutal honesty and the intimacy of the narrative. So while there are many great reviews about the historical politics, Sebastian's life and influence, etc., all I can talk about is a highly personal reaction.

So much Jewish literature I’ve read has been us surviving, us resilient, us uncompromising, or on the other end of the spectrum (often when the gentile is the hero but not always): us victims, us pitiable, us rescued. Not all of it is, of course (is this a good time for a Dara Horn plug?) but it’s rare to find ones that break the mold as much as this one. Part of my discomfort probably came from the honesty and doubt that’s rarely afforded fictional Jews: we are not always secure in our faith. We are not always passionate about it, nor are we always courageous. We are frequently sick of hearing about Israel or aliyah. We have to deal with sanctimonious, holier-than-thou friends and family. All of this while feeling the twin pains of perpetual loss - of country, of family, of community - and perpetual oppression and antisemitism.

What a refreshing and slightly disconcerting narrative then - not one about conquering one of the floods of hate and violence directed at the Jews, but rather just the slow trickles which precede them. It’d be great if I could say it just captures a moment in history and I can’t relate to the specifics, but the truth is, even beyond Our Narrator’s theological musings and doubt, it’s eerily relatable to today. His torn loyalty to Romania and to the Jews is the same question I’ve been asked in shul and Hebrew school for years: am I a “Jewish American” or “American Jew?” Do we even know what the difference is? His French friend, to whom he says, “You, as anti-Semites go, are just a dabbler, an amateur,” is the same as listening to the casual antisemitism of friends and strangers in a world where you simply cannot speak out every time, and you feel your standards slipping. His genius professor is the warnings not to trust from parents and grandparents you don't want to believe but end up being true. Even the real-life component: Sebastian, after publishing this book with a forward written by his antisemitic former professor, was accused of being an antisemite himself by the left and a Zionist by the right, echoing today’s political frustrations - right wing Christians don’t like us for obvious reasons, but we’re branded Zionists & asked to defend Israel by the left.

Obviously today isn’t quite like that (yet). This is also a great snapshot of a specific historical era - pre-holocaust Romania specifically - and despite everything I just said I don’t think antisemitism is anywhere near as overt as it was then. But it’s not far enough away for comfort either.

The amazing thing here is that while antisemitism plays a huge role, his life is rich beyond it. He’s ambitious and clearly smart, but also kind of an asshole. He’s pensive and cerebral at times, as in this passage:

I can know, or say, that God does not exist, and recall with pleasure the physics and chemistry textbooks from school that gave him no place in the Universe. That doesn’t prevent me from praying when I receive bad news or wish to avert it. It’s a familiar God, to whom I offer sacrifices from time to time.…

Sometimes I feel there is something more, beyond that: the God with who I have seen old men in synagogues struggling, the God for whom I beat my breast, long ago, as a child, that God whose singularity I proclaimed every morning, reciting my prayers.

“God is one, and there is only one God.”

Does not “God is one” mean that God is alone? Alone like us, perhaps, who receive our loneliness from him and for him bear it.

This clarifies so many things and obscures so many more…

...and yet at others dismissive of his friends’ discussions. He lives often in his own head and hates engagement. He cares deeply for the town he builds, as he does for his friends, Jews and antisemites both. I don’t know how much of the book was autobiographical, but regardless Our Narrator is nuanced and complicated, which makes even his less admirable moments understandable and sympathetic.

My only reservation isn’t Sebastian’s fault at all: I just hope that non-Jews understand what they’re reading. It can at times feel like the author is brushing off or excusing antisemitism, but only because he has spent a lifetime being literally beaten for being Jewish and having to put up with it just so damn often.

But aside from my concern, this should be more widely read and appreciated. It had me thinking for a solid month about my own, complicated feelings, which is in itself an achievement - but more importantly, it allows Our Narrator to be a real Jewish person, warts and all. More of that, please.

[Cris · Rating 5 out of 5]

E o carte pe care ajungi să o iubești greu, după nesfârșite pagini, dar apoi știi că va rămâne în inima ta ani și ani...
Când autorul vorbește despre drama de a fi evreu ți se strânge inima și te întrebi cum de a fost posibil. Și când te gândești că asta se întâmpla la noi, nu prin alte părți e de două ori mai dureros.
Dar când autorul vorbește despre alții lectura te seduce. Ai fi vrut să îi cunoști bunicul matern, de meserie ceasornicar, care lucra în fiecare zi cu orele, ca seara să se ridice de la masă, să își ia pălăria, haina și bastonul, și să predice la sinagoga de peste drum.
Tot așa, ai fi vrut să asiști la cursurile lui Ghiță Blidaru, să îl asculți vorbind despre drepturile unui coș de fabrică raportate la cele ale unui butuc de vită.
Poate Marin Drontu și Maurice Buret te-ar fi intrigat: primul prin paleta largă de emoții, celălalt, prin lipsa lor.
Însă, îndrăznesc să cred că l-ai fi adorat pe Marin Vieru, cu ideile sale novatoare despre artă și platitudinile specificului național, despre prostul gust ca atentat la liniștea publică.
Iar printre toate astea, ai fi vrut să pășești măcar o dată pragul casei lui Ghiță Blidaru, "un lucru simplu, curat și cald, cu o inimă egală deschisă tuturor anotimpurilor."

[Alerk Ablikim · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautifully melodic, tragic to the core and rational everytime.
I bought this book a few weeks ago in Cluj-Napoca because I wanted to get an acquaintance with Romanian literature. This book shook me. The autobiographical story of a Romanian, Danubian Jew during the anti-semitic interwar period has a Greek level of tragedy. It makes you feel the indifference and the pain without swelling from forced sentimentalities while giving you room to fill the blanks. It offers different perspectives on issues by different people in different places obscured by abstracted cultures and ideals. Best book I've read this year. A must read.

[Julia ☂︎ · Rating 5 out of 5]

  “Sa fugi de tine o zi, două, douazeci nu e ușor, dar nici imposibil. Faci matematici sau marxism ca S.T.H., faci sionism ca Winkler, citești cărți ca mine, umbli după femei sau joci șah, sau te dai cu capul de pereți. Dar într-o zi, într-un minut de neatenție, te întâlnești cu tine însuți la un colț de suflet, cum te-ai întalni la un colț de strada cu un creditor de care te-ai ferit zadarnic. Dai ochii cu tine și atunci întelegi cât de inutile sunt toate evadarile din această închisoare fără ziduri, fără porți și fără gratii, din această închisoare care este însăși viața ta.” (p.51)

[La lettrice controcorrente · Rating 4 out of 5]

Da duemila anni di Mihail Sebastian (Fazi editore) è una di quelle storie che non si dimenticano. Un racconto delicato e potente, sussurrato ma destinato a rimanere impresso.

Quando ho cominciato a leggere Egenia di Lionel Duroy, il nome Mihail Sebastian mi diceva qualcosa, le note mi hanno levato ogni dubbio: l'autore di Da duemila anni. Ho deciso così di recuperare un libro che era stato inserito nella mia lista dei desideri più di un anno fa. Una decisione azzeccatissima. 

Siamo in Romania durante gli anni Venti, l'antisemitismo è qualcosa di più di un'idea. Una convinzione radicata, giustificata, un atteggiamento di quotidianità. Violenza, verbale e fisica, sono all'ordine del giorno e Sebastian ci offre un punto di osservazione insolito. Studente universitario a Bucarest sopporta botte e dolore ma non condanna l'antisemitismo. In Da duemila anni, che ha la forma di diario (e quindi non si tratta di un vero e proprio romanzo), con elementi chiaramente autobiografici, il nostro protagonista non condanna mai gli aguzzini e anzi, giudica duramente se stesso, capace di adattarsi e addirittura  compiacersi del ruolo di vittima.

L'argomento in Romania (e solo lì?) è sempre lo stesso: gli ebrei portano via posti di lavoro, case, ossigeno ai veri cittadini romeni. E non importa che siano nati e cresciuti lì: non avranno mai la nazionalità romena. La decisione di far vivere gli emarginati nei ghetti non ha fatto altro che renderli potenti, una comunità sempre più forte, che studia e che talvolta occupa delle posizioni chiave a livello economico. Ecco che in Da duemila anni vediamo gli albori di quello che si trasformerà in un vero e proprio orrore.
RECENSIONE COMPLETA: www.lalettricecontrocorrente.it

[Bonnye Reed · Rating 5 out of 5]

GNab I received a free electronic copy of this novel from Netgalley, and Penguin Classics - Other Books in exchange for an honest review. This manuscript was originally published in Romanian in 1934. This 2017 release is the first English language translation of this work.

This is an exceptional story, written as a journal or diary, by a young Romanian Jew as he moves through the late 1920's early 1930's. Sharing these glimpses into the difficult daily life of young Mihail Sebastian as he struggles through his schooling and into a career as an architect is heart wrenching. As the world crumbles around him, there is so much to learn of this time, this place. The first and hardest lesson is absorbing the fact that Mihail expects and accepts the bullying and harassment he encounters at school and on the streets without resentment. Add in the fact that you know what is coming for this community, this country, this young man, For Two Thousand Years can break your heart.

There is a lot out there to read in an effort to understand about World War II from the aspect of Europeans who suffered through these hard times. I have not found a great deal about Romania written by Romanians. I was most pleased to find this treasure. It will go into my history bookcase to read again at leisure. Thank you, Other Books, for bringing this work into our world. With more understanding of what folded our world into World War II perhaps we can back up and avoid WWIII.

originally published in 1934 first time in English is edition
published by Other Books on Sept 12, 2017

[Surabhi Chatrapathy · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Romanian author, Mihail Sebastian lived when Nazism was spreading across Europe. His work, For Two Thousand Years is focused around the time when Jews were granted citizenship in Romania. A very turmolious time for the country, Sebastian has accounted for this time in a very unique fashion.

Presented through the protagonist's journal, the book meditates on what it means be a Jew. What it means to 'belong' to a nation, to a religion. With a wide range of characters, each largely different from the other, he brings together the various school of political beliefs in a conflict ecosystem.

He has no binaries to present for you. He has no glory or condemnation to speak of. He has only doubts, inconsistencies, and confusion to present. He repeatedly offers the double standards, the ironies and the questions. Infused with self doubt and criticism, he has no political affiliations or high moral grounds to speak of. He criticizes himself for this too.

I would not recommend this book to everyone, it's highly political, verbose and takes rereads to understand what he is trying to say. Yet I wish everyone would read it, as it speaks of important aspects of one's identity. In the world today, when the political climate is going through waves of problematic changes this book gives a lot of food for thought.