Friday, May 30, 2025

Centro Primo Levi review of THIS DARKNESS WILL NEVER END

Printed Matter, a publication of the Centro Primo Levi, reviewed This Darkness Will Never End, and the reviewer made some wonderful observations about the translation, including one about the way the "absence" of the Holocaust -- the way the stories circle this inferno warily -- "defines the collection." Perceptive passages about the presence of hunger and the cancer of anti-Semitism abound.

In his review, Yuval Jonas also wrote:

"The stories mainly take place in the years before the war, in villages and homes where hunger is ever-present, where children sneak moments of joy, and where the menace of the future looms, still unknown, but closing in. These are stories of childhood—its innocence, inquisitiveness, disappointments—and of parents, overworked and exhausted, but giants in the eyes of their children. In reality, they are just as helpless against history." 

To read the rest of this thorough review, visit:

https://primolevicenter.org/printed-matter/in-the-shadow-of-the-holocaust-edith-brucks-short-stories

Thanks to Yuval and the Centro Primo Levi for reviewing the translation!

Wednesday, May 28, 2025

What women survivors can still teach us about the Holocaust

Edith Bruck says living with the memory of the Holocaust is akin to being eternally pregnant with a “demon-child conceived in Auschwitz.”

And during this year, when the world is marking both the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz and 80 years since the end of World War II, Bruck’s words and the words of other women who survived the Holocaust are especially worthy of our attention. 

Of the 245,000 survivors left worldwide, 61 percent are women, according to the Claims Conference, which administers German compensation for victims of the Nazis, and only by examining the testimony of women do we have a full picture of the Holocaust.

With such a milestone, much attention will be paid to the words of Primo Levi, Elie Wiesel and other men who after miraculously surviving the Holocaust told tales of their experiences. Understandably so; they were among the first to voice the horror of the concentration camps. 

But I'm thinking of women like Bruck because after I began translating her 1962 short story collection, This Darkness Will Never End, I also researched women survivors and found their perspectives weren’t well-known.

Born in Hungary in 1931, Bruck moved to Italy in the 1950s and began writing in Italian. She remains a vital literary voice in Italy and is a frequent critic of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, even as she shudders at what Hamas has said about Jews.

To a woman like me, her urgent words about the monster festering inside -- which appear in a book called Signora Auschwitz that hasn’t been translated into English -- viscerally convey the horror of the Holocaust in a way few other things have. 

In her book, Letter to My Mother, published in the US in 2006, Bruck describes arriving at Auschwitz at age 13, and being separated from her mother. Bruck painfully recalls that her mother let go of her hand and pushed her away from the line of people headed for immediate death. That last moment spent with her mother likely saved the author’s life – and it mirrors the fate of many women who were deported. They, rather than their husbands, were the ones shepherding children to the concentration camps and they were often forced to make difficult decisions like the one her mother made.

It made me wonder: What else can women survivors tell us?

A lot, as I learned during my research into Italian women survivors. They suffered the same persecution by the Nazis as the men who were deported -- and also pregnancies that had to be concealed and the fear of sexual assault. In fact, Levi believed women faced harsher conditions at Auschwitz than many men. 

Through the eyes of women, the events of the Holocaust can take on a different cast. For example, few Americans are aware of the notorious women’s prison, Ravensbrück, but it’s the focus of two books by Lidia Beccaria Rolfi, neither of which have been translated. She was a political prisoner so she was spared the brutal discrimination faced by Jews, but she did risk being raped during the long postwar journey home, when she and other liberated prisoners sheltered in an abandoned concentration camp. Escorted by American GIs, Rolfi couldn’t circulate freely for fear of predatory soldiers. As Rolfi wrote, any kind of woman would do for a quick conquest by some soldiers, “even the skeletal ones, even the little girls.”

Other books by women that have been published in the US have fallen out of print, unable to dislodge or even complement better-known testimony by men. Or in some cases, the ideas of women survivors have been overlooked altogether. 

Millions of American movie-goers, for example, are familiar with an idea from a story by Bruck where the barbaric reality of Nazi deportation is artfully concealed from a young boy. Prominent film historians (including Yale's Millicent Marcus) and Italian literature scholars believe that plot twist contributed to Roberto Benigni’s 1997 Oscar-winning film, “Life is Beautiful,” although it’s uncredited. 

Women’s experiences, according to scholar Joan Ringelheim, “are rarely central to the presentation of a ‘typical’ Holocaust story.” And yet, as she wrote in a 1999 anthology published by Yale University Press, Women in the Holocaust, “Jewish women carried the burdens of sexual victimization, pregnancy, abortion, childbirth, killing of newborn babies in the camps to save the mothers, care of children, and many decisions about separation from children.” 

Bruck’s story reminds me that new atrocities don’t supplant old ones. She doesn’t support what she called “an endless war against the Palestinians,” in an interview with the Italian online news site, Il Fatto Quotidiano. But nothing that happens today changes the fact that she was unnecessarily seized from her home in the Spring of 1944 and taken on a treacherous journey that ultimately left her parentless and without a homeland. 

And of course, I think often of Anne Frank, whose diary was certainly not written by a man. The young Dutch girl’s story is known the world over. Less known is that when Bruck’s first book appeared in Italy, five years after The Diary of Anne Frank had been published, Italian critics deemed Bruck the kind of writer Anne would have become had she survived. 

We’ll never know exactly what Anne endured before she died in a German concentration camp. And we already know what many men suffered at the hands of the Nazis. It’s time we listened to what women who survived have to say.

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Saturday, May 24, 2025

Foreword review of THIS DARKNESS WILL NEVER END: 'Masterful'

Thanks to the Foreword Reviews for publishing a wonderful review of This Darkness Will Never End.

The reviewer calls the collection "masterful" and notes that the stories "are poignant and crafted with subtle humor, compassion, and unsparing observations."

Review Meg Nola goes on to say, “Written with a sense of anguished history and oppressed vitality, This Darkness Will Never End is a compelling short story collection.”

Foreword Reviews focuses on books published by indie presses. According to its website, FR is dedicated to the "art" of reviewing books. Amen!

This is at least the third review of the translation by a publication, including reviews by the Jewish Book Council and Printed Matter (from the Centro Primo Levi). I'm grateful for the attention!

Read the full review here:

https://www.forewordreviews.com/reviews/this-darkness-will-never-end/

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Thursday, May 22, 2025

May 28: Italian Cultural Institute (NYC) book launch for This Darkness Will Never End

I'm thrilled to say I'll be presenting my translation of Edith Bruck's short stories, This Darkness Will Never End, at the Italian Cultural Institute in New York, adjacent to the consulate.

And I will be in conversation with Prof. Philip Balma from UCONN who wrote Edith Bruck in the Mirror: Fictional Transitions and Cinematic Narratives.

I've been on a mini-book tour this Spring, and the final stop, for now, is the home of Italian culture in New York. Join us!

Details:

Date: Wed., May 28

Time: 6 p.m.

Place: Italian Cultural Institute, 686 Park Avenue, NY, NY

Note: Copies of the translation will be on sale but cash is preferred

For more information, please visit:

https://iicnewyork.esteri.it/en/gli_eventi/calendario/this-darkness-will-never-end-book-presentation/ 

Tuesday, May 20, 2025

What I bought at I AM Books (Boston)

I don't get to visit Italian bookstores often because well, I live in America and there aren't many Italian bookstores here (more French bookstores I would say, and I say that with envy).

So when I had a reading at I AM Books in Boston, I had to make a few purchases, including the cute little book you see here, which was a gift for the Little Italian Language Learner.

I felt like it might contain a curse or two and that ranks very high on Leo's list of things he wants to master!

Italian curses!

I also bought a cookbook for Mike, a special edition of Calvino's Invisible Cities and a Natalia Ginzburg book because I now know I need to read something by Ginzburg every year -- I need to, and I simply do. This year all kinds of new Ginzburg books, perhaps because I've accepted the full-blown obsession and place her, oddly, in some ways, next to Sciascia, Fitzgerald and Joyce, three authors I frequently re-read (I suppose I could add Dickens to the list, since I re-read A Christmas Carol every year, but I digress).

The bookstore is in Boston's North End, the traditional Italian quarter, and I have to say it has a very nice selection of Italian books (i.e., decent size), both for adults and children, plus American books and all kinds of gift items I didn't have enough time to peruse.

I AM Books

124 Salem Street

Boston, Mass.

iambooksboston.com 

Monday, May 19, 2025

Newtonville Books is book heaven

I had the honor of reading at Newtonville Books in the Boston area yesterday and I am slightly mad at the words I am writing because they sound so tired and trite. 

If I tell you I felt like I fell asleep reading and then woke up in book heaven, would that convey how delicious this bookstore is? Somehow the space is carved into the side of a glorious old stone church, making it feel like a book cave in the interior but also a book sunroom in the storefront part on the street that's full of windows. And they have every book you want, and also those books you didn't know you wanted, and the special composition notebooks and lovely bookmarks and a spacious children's section.

And Mary Cotton, the owner, is a Book Saint! (thanks to husband Jaime for the invite to the store).

And the folks that came -- my family, one of my oldest friends and her son, fellow Bennington alums, and one random guy who asked a very astute question about the evolution of theories on writing fiction about the Holocaust -- were delightful!

(And, side note: the porridge at Johnny's Luncheonette is surprisingly delicious!)

So a perfect day, thanks to Newtonville Books and the wonderful people I've come to know in my life!

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Sunday, May 11, 2025

What literary translation taught me about World War II

During a 2018 trip to Italy, I found myself face to face with history. I was meeting with a woman who had once come before the notorious Nazi doctor, Josef Mengele. At only 13 years of age, she’d managed to elude his attention during a treacherous prisoner selection process in Auschwitz.

The woman was Edith Bruck, considered the most prolific Italian author to write about the Holocaust by scholars, and I was at her apartment because I’d begun to translate her short stories, which are based on her experiences of Nazi persecution. She was deported from her native Hungary in 1944. I was stunned to learn that although she’d lost both of her parents and a brother to the concentration camps, she harbored no hatred.

After she was liberated, she began telling the world what she’d seen to fulfill a pledge made to dying prisoners. And after I met Ms. Bruck, I vowed to tell her story by translating as much of her work as I could.

This year marks eight decades since World War II ended, and there have been various commemorations, including May 8, the 80th anniversary of the end of the war in Europe. I wasn’t alive during the war, and my parents were small children at the time, living in the New York area. None of my relatives served in combat in World War II. But I’ve grown up in a world shaped by the conflict – we all have. And as I’ve translated Ms. Bruck’s work, I’ve begun to devour books about the Holocaust specifically and World War II in general. I’ve concluded I’ll never know enough about the greatest tragedy of the 20th century or the sacrifices made by so many during World War II. So, I’ll keep reading.

In a speech called “My Alma Mater Is Auschwitz,” that Ms. Bruck gave to college students, the Hungarian-born Italian author said living in concentration camps taught her three things: “You’ll never be a racist, [or] a fascist; you’ll never discriminate against anyone; and you’ll never be like your persecutors.” Many Americans who fought the Nazis learned that lesson, too.

Bruck’s story reminds me that new tragedies don’t displace old ones. She has been critical of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in the wake of the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas, and she vehemently opposes what she termed in an interview with the Italian news site, Il Fatto Quotidiano “an endless war against the Palestinians.” But nothing that happens today changes the fact that she and six million others were violently evicted from their lives and taken on a cruel journey that in her case left her parentless and stateless.

For all of our advances in this modern age, it often feels as though we forget the lessons so painstakingly learned by those who came before us. The past is always getting rediscovered, but sometimes too late.

Rediscovery, as it turns out, is part of a literary translator’s job description. That’s because translators routinely unearth works of literature from past decades that have been overlooked. In addition, translators often introduce into their native languages authors celebrated in one country but virtually unknown in another.

That’s true in Ms. Bruck’s case; she’s a living legend in Italy, and at 94, one of the last great chroniclers of the Holocaust. Her work has been translated into French, German and Spanish. Pope Francis insisted on meeting her to pay homage to her work bearing witness. And although she isn’t a household name here, millions of American movie-goers are familiar with one of her stories because it’s considered the basis by film scholars and literary critics of Roberto Benigni’s 1997 Oscar-winning film, “Life is Beautiful.”

Literary translation can sometimes feel like a magic trick. You reveal a text that until the moment it’s published in English has been a hidden treasure, locked away in a foreign language. But in my work translating Edith Bruck’s stories, what’s revealed has been hidden in plain sight. We all learned about the Nazis, right?

Yes and no, it turns out. In this digital age, information is so ubiquitous that we’re all drowning in it. To be sure, many stories about World War II have been told, and decades of commemorations have taken place.

But the anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe forces us all to think about our history. Can we live up to the example set by previous generations? What actions will we take to fight tyranny now?

The outlook can at times appear bleak. Many people don’t seem to know or care about these lessons. But if some among us want to coerce the human race into repeating the mistakes of our forefathers, authors like Edith Bruck are here to remind us all of the atrocities of our past. And even when Ms. Bruck is no longer with us, her translators will carry on that sacred work. Because we know which side of history we want to be on and it’s not Mengele’s side. 

Saturday, May 03, 2025

The National Endowment for the Arts enriches our lives

I know firsthand how important the National Endowment for the Arts is because the agency awarded me a grant that covered a large percentage of the costs associated with translating This Darkness Will Never End

I will be forever grateful to the NEA that its judges saw the merit of my project and my translation sample, a short story by Edith Bruck set during World War II that imagined a young German boy -- the son of a Nazi official -- rescuing a Jewish stowaway and taking her home. 

Edith Bruck is an important literary figure in Italy, and is considered by scholars the most prolific writer of Holocaust narrative working in Italian. The NEA knows the value of this!

The collection is now published (see link above; it's been reviewed by the Jewish Book Council, among other outlets) and it also includes other stories about Jewish families struggling as the specter of the Holocaust looms ahead, or later, postwar, remembering the dark horror of destruction that took nearly everyone and everything.

I'm also thoroughly impressed with how the agency goes about its work. I applied twice. When my first application was rejected, the staff told me I was eligible to talk by phone with the NEA to learn what the judges recommended if I wanted to re-apply. They made wonderful suggestions -- because the NEA is invested in any work of art with merit and a translation of Edith Bruck's work is always worthy of consideration -- and I incorporated the ideas into my second successful application.

So now, American readers have the opportunity to explore the lost world of Hungarian Jews through the stories found in This Darkness Will Never End, Edith Bruck's first short story collection. American readers can immerse themselves in the perspective of a survivor, inspired to create fiction that grapples with the unending sorrow stemming from losing both parents and a brother to the Holocaust.

It's fiction that scholars believe inspired Roberto Benigni when he filmed his Oscar-winning movie, "Life is Beautiful." Millions of Americans have seen that film -- and now they can read the story that helped inspire Benigni and perhaps get to know the author, a living legend in Italy.

And again, where are the NEA funds going?

In my case, to pay for the translation of this lost Italian Jewish classic. To provide a stipend to me so I could work on the translation and not translate the book for free (something that translators often do, since to pitch a project to a publisher or submit a grant application, they need a sample of the book in question).

Now the stories of this wonderful Italian author -- whom Pope Francis insisted on meeting to pay homage -- are available in English for the first time.

You can learn more about my project and the support provided by the National Endowment for the Arts here and you can also learn about other translations supported by the NEA here.

Thank you to all of the wonderful people who work at the NEA!

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Friday, May 02, 2025

Happy birthday to Edith Bruck: 'My Author'

May 3 is Edith Bruck's birthday. Edith, or "my author."

That's how I refer to her, more often than not.

And I am here to wish her a happy (early) birthday.

This photo was taken in 2022 when we met for a second time at her apartment in Rome.

I'm eager to see her again so we can look through This Darkness Will Never End together!

Edith turns 94 this year! Whenever I call or email her, she tells me about her current projects. She's always working on something. She's also frequently quoted in the newspapers and she's appeared on Italian television hundreds of times (she worked in TV earlier in her career). All of this to say, her creativity and industriousness don't ever stop. She's constantly inspired by this world, even though it conspired against her and "swallowed up" her parents, her brother, her way of life.

If you want to learn more about Edith Bruck, go here.

If you want to read a sample of my translation, you can find a story called "Silvia" published in translation by Hunger Mountain here.

If you want to read some of Edith's poems, go here.

If you want to read about women survivors such as Edith Bruck and how their stories have been overlooked, take a look at this article I wrote for the American Scholar.

Tanti auguri a Edith!

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