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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Sebastian's Complaint,
By
This review is from: Journal 1935-1944: The Fascist Years (Hardcover)
This is a unique document from any perspective you approach it. I found it particularly revealing about my father's background; Bucharest's middle class before WWII. The author came from a Jewish community who regarded itself as an assimilated part of a basically friendly Rumania. The amicable feelings towards Rumania have always run deep in its Jewish expatriates. Those who immigrated to Israel recreated a piece of pre-war Bucharest in Tel-Aviv. The book's description of a specific social set fascinates, with its elegant frivolity and gregarious bonhomie that was stifled under Ceausescu, but survived in my parent's social circle and in that of the Rumanian Jewish community.Sebastian parades a delightful set of characters. From the comical Prince Antoine Bibescu, who walks to theatre among the barbarians "en pantoufles," to the playwright Eugène Ionesco, Sebastian's pen never fails to capture the essence his friends' personalities. Ionesco is mentioned only in passing but his predicament is sobering, if not unique. He was not able to keep his job because of his mother's Jewish background. Ionesco, who never identified himself as Jewish, had not experienced life as a minority and had difficulties dealing with his new status. Apparently he had an emotional breakdown before he finally succeeded in returning to France. I do not think that Ionesco or his biographers ever expounded on that chapter of his life from this perspective. What he had experienced in Rumania at the time may explain the inspiration for his play, Rhinocéros (1958). This amusing social tapestry is but a background and introduction to the real drama of this diary. The author portrays the gradual evolution of a very sinister external reality, and more significantly, his own reactions to it. It illustrates a difficult and conflictual internal process of disillusionment, of realigning one's internal alliances, or, perhaps, the creeping realization that your friends are turning into rhinoceroses. As the author discovers during the peak of the persecutions, this is a process many assimilated Jews went through in past centuries under similar circumstances. Sebastian refers to his homeland as "a Balkan swamp," where people change political affiliations like they change their shirts (something at which Ionesco's father was particularly good). He makes some lucid observations about Rumanian Jews' easy optimism and, contrary to common belief, the Jews' short memory of past tragedies. This selective amnesia of prior calamities is an attitude prevalent among Rumanian Jews in Israel, who nurture a sympathetic viewpoint about the events described in this book. Indeed, this book confronts basic notions many people hold about that era of Rumanian history; making it highly controversial. My parents are a perfect illustration of the strong but contradictory feelings it arouses. My mother, deported from Cernauti (Chernovitz) in Bucovina to a concentration camp with the rest of her family, had no problems accepting Sebastian's account. My father, on the other hand, who hails from Bucharest, responded with disbelief to my reports about my revelations from the text. He remembered many of the events reported, for example the confiscation of the radios and the forced labor, but he refused to put it in any special context. His recollection was suffused with what seemed to me like heavy denial of the meaning and purpose of the regime's behavior. He combined this with a peculiar version of the history of those times, and a disturbing set of rationalizations of events ("it was only the Iron Guard," or, "everybody I knew survived"). He agreed to read the book, but after he received it, changed his mind and refused. Needless to say, my family, like many others, has never reached an agreement about the basic facts of the period. Another way of understanding the kind of condoning spirit displayed by my father is that it is representative of ethnic minorities' traditionally docile attitude towards authority. This deference, accentuated by fear, may also explain how millions of Jews were gullible enough to allow the Nazis to gas them. The Israelis' intransigence represents a backlash against generations of this servile obeisance, not unlike the kind of militant political transformation experienced by American blacks in the 20th century.
44 of 57 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
With the wing of death on his shoulder,
This review is from: Journal 1935-1944: The Fascist Years (Hardcover)
Born 1907, in the Danubian port of Braila, Romania, Mihail Sebastian studied law in Bucharest and was quickly seduced by the intense literary life of the Thirties, in a Romania where the generous thoughts of the French Revolution were twisted by Gobineau, T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, Spengler et al. He was thrilled, together with other writers like Mircea Eliade, by the personality of Nae Ionescu, a Fascist philosopher who gave him his first chance in his newspaper. Sebastian distanced himself from him afterwards, still maintaining friendly relations. He wrote his first novel, SINCE TWO THOUSAND YEARS, in 1933, with a foreword by Ionescu, which was a real stab-in-the back. Disgusted, Sebastian moved to less engaged pieces such as THE ACACIAS TOWN and popular plays like HOLIDAY GAMES. His activity as a lawyer was interrupted by the arrival of the fascism in Romania, in 1940. He survived WWII with temporary employments, but was able to write two other plays, STAR WITH NO NAME and BREAKING NEWS, plus a novel, THE ACCIDENT. Most of his Romanian friends maintained relations with him, even helping him materially (one of them staged STAR WITH NO NAME in 1944) but after USSR invaded Romania, most of them were worried by the ascension of the Jews in the hierarchy of the Communist Party. So, Sebastian found himself torn between friends who avoided him and his Jewish companions, who were condemning him for such odd ties. They offered him a position in their paper, but he refused, and was trying a new career as a teacher when he was run down by a truck, dying instantly in May 1945. BREAKING NEWS was staged at the National Theater in 1945, then Sebastian was forgotten until 1956, when the play was shown by the same National Theater, in Paris, for the Romanian colony. Then he fell into oblivion until the fall of the Communist Romanian regime, in 1990, when a lot of old books were re-printed, including 2000 YEARS, with a great succcess, partly owed to the ominous foreword. Then, in 1996, the personal diary he had written between 1935 and 1944, slipped to Israel by his brother Ben, was published in Bucharest under the supervision of Leon Volovici, an Israeli researcher, who had previously published, for Pergamon Press, a very interesting essay on the Fascist romanian writers of the Thirties. The success of the JOURNAL was colossal; a lot of Romanians discovered what their own life (or their parents') had been during WWII, learning that the spoliation of the Romanian Jews was not a matter of "a few rags, a few money, a few working camps eight hours a day, with sleeping at home", as boasted in prison by a notorious fascist. Later, the reactions became lukewarm: the publisher of the book tried to make a comparison between the ordeal of the Jews and the sufferings of the Romanian deviationists from communism, starting a controversy which is still ardent today, trying to pave the way to a Nurnberg for the Communism. The JOURNAL of Mihail Sebastian can be read on several levels (literature, intimity, an essay of reflexion on WWII), and will be a joy for the "people who know". It may attract other readers, preoccupied with Romania, a country little known in the US, described by a fine essayist, a great amateur of Western civilization, who play a very small in those events, still describing with sorrow the "liberation" of Romania. This Journal was certainly not meant for printing, which explains the cruelty of certain descriptions of the author's life. Nobody may guess what Sebastian's life would have been, without that murderous truck. He may have joined his friend Patrascanu, one of the first leaders of the Communist Romania, trialed and murdered by his own people in 1948-54.Otherwise, he would probably have sought asylum in the West - Israel was not his cup of tea. Whatever certain critics may think, Sebastian was not a "loser". If you want a conclusion, I would choose a description of the best book of his preferred French writer, Etienne de Senancour: an existential malaise, becoming the hopeless sadness of the hero, tasting the sore delight of the melancoly. Should I add that Mihail Sebastian was my teacher of French, in Bucarest? harry carasso
9 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Great literature, vastly influential in Romania today,
By A Customer
This review is from: Journal 1935-1944: The Fascist Years (Hardcover)
First of all, the "Journal" is exquisitly written. Then, this is The Book for understanding multiple facets of life in war-time Romania, shining light on previously hidden places. A note of strong dissagreement with a previuos reviewer's assesment of reasons for which the book is supposedly absent from Romanian bookstores: This book is not "out of print" in its original version, it has been printed multiple times (last time in 2002) and is available as we speak. It is being bought off the shelves like fresh bread every time Humanitas re-prints it. Sebastian's Journal became a cornerstone of our perception of Romania's past, not just for a handful of passionate readers but for a whole nation.
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