Ruth Franklin |
Ruth Franklin, a book critic and contributing editor to The New Republic, is the author of A Thousand Darknesses: Lies and Truth in Holocaust Fiction. She lives in Brooklyn, N.Y.
Q: Why did you decide to
write about Holocaust literature?
A: I’ve always had a special
interest in Holocaust literature – my grandparents were survivors, and I grew up
on the stuff, quite literally. When I started working on the books section of The
New Republic, I couldn’t help noticing how many Holocaust-related books were
among the review copies that poured into the office every day. At the same
time, several prominent memoir writers, including James Frey, had been exposed
as frauds. I got interested in the question of how the tension between memory
and imagination plays out in the literature of the Holocaust, where so much is
at stake.
Q: You write, "Every
canonical work of Holocaust literature involves some graying of the line
between fiction and reality." What are some examples of that blurred line?
A: When I started looking
into this, I was drawn to the question of how we categorize Holocaust
literature: why are certain books called autobiographical novels, for instance,
while others are labeled memoirs? What difference is there, if any? And what I
discovered is that for many of these works – if not all – there is no easy way
to categorize them. Writers of Holocaust fiction, such as Imre Kertész,
obviously borrow heavily from their life experience, even when they insist that
their works are fictional. And memoirs such as Elie Wiesel’s Night and Primo
Levi’s Survival in Auschwitz freely use techniques borrowed from fiction. That’s
precisely why these books have endured for so long: because Wiesel and Levi are
great writers who are using their art to shape indelible stories.
Q: You begin the book by
mentioning Fragments, by Binjamin Wilkomirski, a Holocaust memoir that
turned out to be a fraud. What is the importance of that incident to the rest
of your book?
A: One of the main points of
my book is that critics have tended to take a hands-off approach to Holocaust
literature, often deeming it “beyond criticism.” Their intentions are good, but
this kind of reverential attitude is actually dangerous, because it creates an
atmosphere in which it’s frowned upon to ask any kind of critical questions
about these books. And the result is that it’s all too easy for frauds like Wilkomirski’s
book to slip through – and even to be validated by supposed experts. I argue
that criticism – in the sense of appreciating these books as works of art, and
examining how they came to be written and published – is essential to the way
we understand Holocaust literature.
Q: How did you decide on A Thousand Darknesses as the title of your book?
A: The title comes from a
line in a speech by Paul Celan, in which he talks about the need for language,
after the Holocaust, to “pass through its own answerlessness, pass through
frightful muting, pass through the thousand darknesses of death-bringing
speech.” And we all know Adorno’s famous line that “to write a poem after
Auschwitz is barbaric.” But to write a hundred poems, a thousand poems, a
million might be better, because it would take an infinite number of works of
literature to represent the vast multiplicity of voices and experiences that
constitute the Holocaust. The thousand darknesses, then, are the endlessly
echoing stories of the Holocaust.
Q: You are currently
researching a biography of the writer Shirley Jackson. What can you tell us
about that book?
A: I’m excited to have moved
on to a very different subject! I’ve loved the works of Shirley Jackson since I
was a child, especially her wonderful novel The Haunting of Hill House, which
is a ghost story on the level of Henry James. And of course every high school student
has read “The Lottery,” one of the most anthologized stories in American
literature.
As a critic, I always want to know the stories behind the works I
love – how they came to be written, what else was going on in the author’s
world and the world at large, and so on. Judy Oppenheimer published a biography
of Jackson in 1988, called Private Demons, but it doesn’t have much information
about the books. Once I started poking around a bit and discovered that Jackson
has a vast archive of letters, papers, and other personal documents at the
Library of Congress – much of which was not available to Oppenheimer – I knew I
had to do this book.
Q: Anything else we should
know?
A: Please visit my website,
ruthfranklin.net, for more information about my book and other writing.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb
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