Last summer, David Roskies went to Tel Aviv to teach a course on Yiddish modernism, an experience he describes with infectious enthusiasm in this essay, published in August. If you think the phrase “teaching Yiddish modernism in Tel Aviv” contains three things that don’t go together—think again. (You can learn more about some of the writers discussed here in Ruth Wisse’s podcast series The Stories Jews Tell.)
[W]hy did our poets, prose writers, playwrights, and critics, joined by painters, sculptors, and graphic designers, choose to go this difficult route via Yiddish? . . . Fresh from the political arena themselves, the three budding intellectuals in Vilna who launched Di literarishe monatsshriftn (“The Literary Monthly”) in 1908 set out to mobilize those still-vital forces within the Jewish nation and unify them behind a Yiddish high culture that transcended political divisions. “For art! For young beautiful Yiddish! And for the eternal language of the prophets!” proclaimed the poets and artists who in 1919 bonded together in Lodz to publish the first Yiddish expressionist journal, Yung Yiddish.
Three years later, the peripatetic poet Uri Zvi Greenberg seized upon expressionism as the voice of a new humanity. “We proclaim the millionfold head-and-heart individualism,” cried the inaugural issue of Albatross, “the heroic Man of Wounds”—a secular Jesus—“who stands in all his glory, as large as the earth, all eyes and ears and lips, with his 365 veins pumping into the life stream deeper, deeper.”
More about: Tel Aviv, Yiddish literature