What’s it like to find yourself transformed into a literary character, albeit a minor one, and renamed? Goldie Morgentaler, currently writing a biography of her mother, recently found out:
My mother’s best friend when she was growing up in Poland in the 1930s was Zenia Marcinkowska. Zenia would grow up to be an acclaimed novelist in Sweden under the name Zenia Larsson. My mother would also become a writer, the Yiddish novelist Chava Rosenfarb. So this is the story of the correspondence between two writers, both women, both born in Lodz, Poland, both survivors of the Holocaust. Neither writer is particularly well-known today, because they wrote in languages that have relatively few readers, Zenia in Swedish, Chava in Yiddish.
In 1972, Larsson published a book, Letters from a New Reality, containing the letters she wrote to Rosenfarb from 1945 to 1971. The correspondence itself—Morgentaler was able to locate her mother’s letters—was in Polish, although Larsson rendered it into Swedish:
It is a very strange book. For one thing, the names have been changed. My mother’s very Jewish name Chava has become the very Swedish name Linn. My father’s name has morphed from the biblical Henekh to the non-descript Gover. My own name is changed from Goldie—the name I was given in honor of my grandmother who perished at Auschwitz—to Sandy.
The names reveal something that becomes clear in the course of Morgentaler’s analysis of the correspondence, and of the two writers: the contrast between Holocaust literature written in Jewish languages, for a Jewish audience, and that written in non-Jewish languages for a general audience. And that contrast itself points to some of the deepest questions of how the Holocaust is to be understood. (Both sides of the correspondence have recently appeared in English as Letters from the Afterlife.)
More about: Holocaust, Jewish literature, Sweden, Yiddish literature