Yesterday, this newsletter mentioned how greatly the Zionist understanding of the Holocaust differs from that of those who insist it has a “universal message.” Most often, that universalizing message boils down to feel-good banalities. One example is Heather Morris’s 2018 novel The Tattooist of Auschwitz, which has now been released as a television series. Tanya Gold writes:
Morris’s book is about a real person: the Slovakian Jew Lale Sokolov, who was the tattooist at Auschwitz-Birkenau from 1942 to 1945. He fell in love with a fellow prisoner named Gisela Fuhrmannova, married her after the war, moved to Melbourne, and lived a useful life. Lale met Morris in the years before between Gisela’s death and his own. He told her his story, I think, because he wanted absolution for surviving. He didn’t need it and, even if he did, it won’t come from a writer as credulous and self-important as Morris.
In Morris’s hands Lale is a magic Jew: ever-imaginative, resourceful, and lucky. Promoted to tattooist, and so saved, he has freedom of movement in the camps, and he dispenses food, medicine, even life itself. The problem with this, of course, is that death in Auschwitz—and almost all died, the majority on arrival—becomes, by compare, a sort of moral failure: a lack of imagination, resource, and luck.
It fulfils the criteria of the Shoah novel for idiots, at least. It makes the reader feel better, know less, and care less, about the people who are fictionalized.
More about: Holocaust, Holocaust fiction, Television