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Our Assessment:
A : staggering, exceptional See our review for fuller assessment.
Review Consensus: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Nine Suitcases was first published in serial form in 1946 and 1947 in the weekly Haladás that Béla Zsolt had founded and of which he was editor in chief.
This volume includes what translator Löb calls 'Part I'; two additional instalments were originally also published in 1947, describing the next section of Zsolt's harrowing adventures ("some episodes of Zsolt's train journey from Bergen-Belsen to Switzerland"), the beginning of a planned but never completed 'Part II'.
When I was first brought in, I had two years' forced labour and military prison behind me, followed by a few short days of freedom before the German occupation. At that point I felt that I'd had enough, that that was it. I wasn't just indifferent to life, but rejected it outright.It's hard to blame him. Forced labour in the Ukraine and then ghetto life that soon leads inexorably to the transports to Auschwitz make for a world filled with almost unimaginable evil, where survival seems more a matter of chance than anything else. Base bestiality and selfless humanity are also constantly encountered side by side, an ugly world with odd bright spots, which never really amount to enough to allow for much hope. The one lesson Zsolt does learn is that: if your life is in danger and you want to live you mustn't cling to objects but only to life itself.Unfortunately, it took a while for that lesson to sink in. Remarkably, Zsolt and his wife had escaped to Paris before the war -- but his wife had insisted on bringing along the nine suitcases of the title. These even appeared to get lost in transit, but the dutiful Germans had found them and put them aboard the last train that crossed into France, burdening Zsolt and his wife with these possessions. She "clung to the nine suitcases tooth and nail", and, as Zsolt would have it, that led to the decision not to go to the Riviera or Lisbon or Madrid -- because the trains wouldn't accept so much luggage. Instead: Only one train was prepared to accept the nine suitcases, a train with a sleeping car and a dining car, a train as in peacetime: the Simplon Express. (...) The train crossed Switzerland and Italy according to peacetime schedule. Only, its destination was Budapest ...There was a bit more to it than that (as he does admit), including his wife's parents and her daughter from her first marriage all back in Hungary, but the nine suitcases make for convenient circumstances to blame -- as ridiculous a thing to decide fates as the treatment meted out to Zsolt and the Hungarian Jews. Family ties prove much more complicated and ultimately tragic: Zsolt also feels duty-bound to his wife and won't escape without her when given the opportunity. Worse, the grandparents won't allow the then teenage girl to be spirited to safety, because of what it would do to them. Zsolt was a prominent and well-known (and politically active) author and journalist at the time. He lived under a false name -- Samu Hirschler -- in the ghetto, and generally stayed away from his wife in order to not to be recognised by the authorities (though many of those with him knew who he was). Much of the book centres around May and June of 1944 when, as Löb notes in his introduction, some 19,000 Jews were taken from Nagyvárad to Auschwitz; Zsolt and his wife were among the few to escape once the transports began. Located only a few miles from the Romanian border, Nagyvárad did offer the possibility of escape to some, but among the many things Zsolt relates is how difficult it was for many given the opportunity to seize it, even when they were aware of the near-inevitable alternative. The far more popular way out was suicide. The scale of misery (and depravity), the sheer number of shattered lives, is overwhelming, with Zsolt himself often amazed at his (and most others') willingness to simply obey the commands that essentially doomed them. Yet there is a great deal of kindness and generosity to be found, and a willingness to help. Zsolt and his wife's escape involves numerous people, but here and elsewhere luck plays a large role. Survival seems barely more than happenstance; devastatingly, one of the last scenes is of Zsolt looking down from the Budapest apartment of a friend at Dr.K, whom he had been at university with (and a Jew who had converted to Christianity back then, and was now a devout Roman Catholic), being rounded up. Zsolt was a novelist, and Nine Suitcases is the work of a practised story-teller. It is certainly authentic (though Zsolt offers a great deal of dialogue and, for example, describes what happened while he was unconscious, i.e. includes at least some invention), but much of the power is also in how it is related. Zsolt does not wallow in the horrors he is constantly confronted with, indeed, there's little room for any thoughts about ethics and meditations on things like evil and justice: this world seems to have no room for them, man simply carrying on as best (or worst) s/he can. A testament to how low man can sink, and how humanity still, somehow, endures, Nine Suitcases is a remarkable work. Sadly -- as recent (and current) events in Rwanda, Yugoslavia, Darfur, Burma/Myanmar (etc. etc.) remind us -- abuse of fellow man continues to be far more popular than it should. Zsolt shows that it can't completely break those targeted -- but also how incredibly high the costs are, to far too many individuals and, indeed, all mankind. - Return to top of the page - Nine Suitcases:
- Return to top of the page - Hungarian author Béla Zsolt lived 1895 to 1949. He was elected to parliament in 1947. - Return to top of the page -
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