Emily Dickson defined so well the element of pain when she wrote:
“Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there was
A time when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.”
And pain, both mental and physical, make up the fabric of this beautifully poignant but also somewhat brilliantly-depressing novella.
I don’t normally read books about the Holocaust as although I empathise with what happened to the Jewish people in the camps, I find literature of this period in history generally very depressing. I only found out today through research that it is in fact a genre, which somewhat surprised me:
Gerald Levin states:
“Little is known about how traditional literary genres came into existence. More is known about recent genres; but most discussions of genre treat them synchronically, without consideration of their historical development...The literature of the Holocaust is usually discussed as a class of literature defined by its subject – the destruction of European Jewry by Germany, chiefly in the years between 1942 and 1945, and not by its form. Thus the statement of Elie Wiesel,'A novel about Auschwitz is not a novel or else it is not about Auschwitz.’ ”
Mr Levin added: “The pattern of the literature was established after the Second World War by diaries and journals that survived the Holocaust, notably those of Anne Frank and Emmanuel Ringelbaum, and later those of Chaim Kaplan, Moshe Flinker, Janusz Korczak and Primo Levi. These writers not only witnessed the Holocaust but sometimes confessed helplessness or incomprehension of events.”
I cannot even begin to imagine how these survivors felt after the event, knowing what they had seen and lived through would be eternally retained in their memories. It’s horrifying to even contemplate. That’s the main reason why I never read “Sophy’s Choice”; I saw purely the film but even with the brilliant interpretation by Meryl Streep, it was “painful” to watch. Sophy did indeed have a rather brutal choice to make. The poignancy and the desperation in the minds of these Jewish prisoners and the sheer brutality of life in the concentration camps, and also knowing that there was only one way out.
So you’re probably thinking why did I decide to read “The Violin of Auschwitz”? Well, firstly it was the word “violin” (one of my two favourite musical instruments; the other being the cello) in the title and secondly, the write-up which clearly demonstrated the author’s thinking process and it certainly appealed to me, called to me in fact:
“Written with lyrical simplicity and haunting beauty—and interspersed with chilling, actual Nazi documentation—The Violin of Auschwitz is more than just a novel: It is a testament to the strength of the human spirit and the power of beauty, art, and hope to triumph over the darkest adversity.”
And finally, I knew for sure that I would be enthralled by this book. And that was certainly the case.
“In the winter of 1991, at a concert in Krakow, an older woman with a marvellously pitched violin meets a fellow musician who is instantly captivated by her instrument. When he asks her how she obtained it, she reveals the remarkable story behind its origin...”
And so through Regina, we hear the incredible life of her uncle Daniel, which is a mixture of poignant, haunting beauty and yet in parallel with unbelievable horror, but the catalyst is the self-effacing but determined survivor, Daniel, a Jewish luthier. He’s at Gehenna, in the Three Rivers Camp, one of the relatively small Auschwitz sub-camps but he was fortunate in that he had been placed to work for Commander Saucel, “a refined but sadistic giant of a man”.
This man was inherently evil and it was interesting to read about what finally happened to him and in tandem with the other villain, Dr Rascher, the camp’s doctor, whose main thrill and reason for being was experimenting on the human body.
The days are long and hard though, with very little food (basically turnips) and Daniel finds himself becoming weaker and weaker. He’s constantly tired and wonders how much longer he can stay alive. His luck turns though when he’s asked about his occupation and he automatically answered with the half-lie of “carpenter, cabinetmaker”. He felt that it sounded better than “luthier”. It’s strange that his thought process would have gone in that direction as he was finally asked to make a violin.
Well one day, the Commander decides that Daniel would indeed make him a violin. I wondered why until I read that Sauckel “collects” musical instruments and there’s the inference that they may have been “stolen” which certainly appears likely.
So thanks to making the violin, life was slightly better now; no beatings, no whippings, a little more food but what he hadn’t realized was that Saucel had entered into a bet with Dr Rascher regarding the “tonal” quality of the violin. If the violin is up to the Commander’s satisfaction, he’ll receive a case of Burgundy wine from Dr Rascher but if it isn’t, well Daniel will go to the experimenting doctor. It transpires that Rascher prefers beer to wine, the inference being that he’s more interested in acquiring people, i.e. bodies, for his experiments as opposed to “things” such as wine.
But it’s Daniel’s determination to finish the violin that gives him that tiny effort to stay alive regardless and the author so exquisitely describes his struggles, his thoughts of Eva and his pre-camp life.
There’s even mention of Oskar Schindler which seemed fitting:
“the kind-eyed guest, a friend of Tisch’s, a man by the name of Schindler, a benevolent ‘goy’.
It is Bronislaw, Daniel’s friend in the camp, who finally plays the violin for the commander and what a wonderful outcome.
And what finally happened to Daniel? And as for the violin itself? What happened to that? Well the only way to find that out is to read this spellbinding book.