In the 1920s and 30s, Stefan Zweig was one of the most popular authors in Europe and even in the U.S., with many of his works translated from German into English. Jay Nordlinger writes:

Zweig was Viennese, born in 1881. Jewish—but not self-consciously so. European. Eventually, Hitler rose to power and anti-Semitism exploded—which made many people feel very Jewish indeed. . . . One episode of Zweig’s life involves an opera. He wrote the libretto for Die schweigsame Frau, composed by Richard Strauss. Strauss, showing spine, refused to allow Zweig’s name to be taken off posters and programs. The Nazis banned the opera after three performances.

Zweig went to England, then New York, then Brazil. He wrote a memoir, The World of Yesterday, describing life before Nazism ended it. The day after he finished the memoir, Zweig and his wife, Lotte, killed themselves. That was on February 22, 1942.

Thus Jewish characters and themes make up only a small portion of Zweig’s very large oeuvre, but one can’t really discuss him without being conscious that he was a Jew. Nordlinger examines his 1927 novella The Post-Office Girl:

The title character is Christine Hoflehner, age twenty-eight. Her family has been ruined by the World War—along with countless other families. . . . One day, something unexpected takes place: relatives—a well-off aunt and uncle, living in America—ask Christine to spend a week with them at a resort hotel in Switzerland. Christine discovers how the other half lives, or how the cream lives. It changes her. But the fancy folk at the hotel have discovered her poverty, which creates a scandal. Christine is forced to leave, humiliated. Back in her backwater town, she finds life more unbearable than ever.

Zweig’s writing is raw and refined at the same time. However elegant, it is honest and penetrating. He is a master of description—physical and mental.

I haven’t read this particular novella, but it’s striking how much of Zweig’s fiction takes place in resort hotels, often showing their carefree atmosphere violated by an intrusion of brutal reality. Perhaps that’s how Zweig experienced World War I and, even more so, the rise of Nazism. It’s a feeling many Jews today know well.

Yesterday I saw an unconfirmed report that the Biden administration has offered Israel a massive arms deal in exchange for a promise not to strike Iran’s nuclear facilities. Even if the report is incorrect, there is plenty of other evidence that the White House has been trying to dissuade Jerusalem from mounting such an attack. The thinking behind this pressure is hard to fathom, as there is little Israel could do that would better serve American interests in the Middle East than putting some distance between the ayatollahs and nuclear weapons. Aaron MacLean explains why this is so, in the context of a broader discussion of strategic priorities in the Middle East and elsewhere:

If the Iran issue were satisfactorily adjusted in the direction of the American interest, the question of Israel’s security would become more manageable overnight. If a network of American partners enjoyed security against state predation, the proactive suppression of militarily less serious threats like Islamic State would be more easily organized—and indeed, such partners would be less vulnerable to the manipulation of powers external to the region.

[The Biden administration’s] commitment to escalation avoidance has had the odd effect of making the security situation in the region look a great deal as it would if America had actually withdrawn [from the Middle East].

Alternatively, we could project competence by effectively backing our Middle East partners in their competitions against their enemies, who are also our enemies, by ensuring a favorable overall balance of power in the region by means of our partnership network, and by preventing Iran from achieving nuclear status—even if it courts escalation with Iran in the shorter run.