Imre Kertész and Holocaust Literature

Imre Kertész’s Fatelessness asHistorical Fiction

89 Imre Kertész’s Fatelessness as Historical Fiction Julia Karolle Although Imre Kertész’s novel Sorstalanság (Fatelessness) first appeared in 1975 and has been available in English—translated as Fateless in 1992 and as Fatelessness in 2004—it took the Nobel Prize to acquaint many English-speaking readers and scholars with Kertész’s contribution to Holocaust literature. In Germany, too—although comparably speaking Kertész’s work found more interest there than in the United States—there was limited response to Kertész’s first novel until the late 1990s, when its second translation into German (Roman eines Schicksallosen, trans. Christina Viragh, 1996) met with critical acclaim. In 1997, when Kertész was awarded the “Jeanette Schocken-Preis” of the city of Bremerhaven, jury member Wolfgang Emmerich explained the long silence surrounding Kertész’s work with its departure from the traditions of Holocaust literature (79). I agree that Kertész breaks ranks with the tradition of Holocaust literature, but for different reasons than those mentioned by Emmerich. While Emmerich read Roman eines Schicksallosen as a behavioral study and an ethnography, I understand the novel as historical fiction , which involves considering the components usually associated with this genre, including the incorporation of history and a particular narrative presence in the work. Characteristic of the historical-fiction genre is, moreover, a certain provocative blending of authenticity and fictionality in both of these components (see Maxwell 543, 544). I argue that Kertész optimizes this provocative potential in Fatelessness, indeed, it can be understood as Kertész’s quest for a type of truth, one that takes Holocaust literature’s fictionality seriously in its construction of authenticity . (It should be noted that Kertész did not endorse the 1992 translation by Wilson and Wilson of Sorstalanság as Fateless, rather preferring the later translation by Tim Wilkinson as Fatelessness. Because the Wilkinson translation was not available at the time of writing my paper, I refer to the work as Fatelessness but quote from the Wilson and Wilson translation.) While Holocaust literature is more often categorized as its own genre, or as factual historical narrative, many features of Holocaust literature are akin to those of historical fiction, among them fictional form and historical foundation. However , perhaps because the historical-fiction genre more often evokes accounts of 90 Julia Karolle Napoleon’s childhood than engagement with issues such as genocide, Holocaust literature does not often appear to be categorized expressly as belonging to this genre. Nevertheless, the scholarly discourse surrounding Holocaust literature reveals implicit association with historical fiction. In establishing curriculum selection standards, for example, educator Margaret Drew classifies explicitly Holocaust literature as historical literature: “First, any historical literature needs to be evaluated both as history and as literature. A book cannot be fully recommended unless it is good history as well as good literature” (11). In an essay from the same collection, Samuel Totten expands upon what “good history” may entail with regard to Holocaust literature: “On a simple, but important level, one needs to ascertain the following: Are the dates of actual events correct? Are the names of actual people correct? Is the chronology of actual events correct? On a more complex level, one must ask: Does the literary work delineate the incidents and events in their varied complexity versus providing a simplistic portrayal that is bereft of the intricacies involved?” (30). Totten’s criteria are certainly in line with historical fiction ’s traditional claim to historical reference, focusing on accurate reportage of dates, names, and chronology. In a similar vein, Kertész describes Holocaust survivors as the most critical readers of historical detail: “Furtive glances cling to every line of every book on the Holocaust, to every foot of every film where the Holocaust is mentioned. Is the representation plausible, the history exact? Did we really say that, feel that way? Is that really where the latrine stood, in precisely that corner of the barracks?” (“Who Owns Auschwitz?” 267). While Kertész recognizes these criteria as legitimate, his reviews of Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List and Roberto Benigni’s Life Is Beautiful suggest that he employs a different set of criteria to evaluate the films: “Authenticity lies, admittedly , in details, but not necessarily in material details . . . the point here lies in something totally different: the spirit, the soul of Life Is Beautiful is authentic, and it moves us with the power of the oldest kind of magic, the magic of fairy tales” (“Who Owns Auschwitz?” 271...