Imre Kertész (1929–2016)
Author of Fatelessness
About the Author
Imre Kertész was born in Budapest, Hungary on November 9, 1929. He was only 14 years old when he was deported with 7,000 other Hungarian Jews to the Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland in 1944. He survived that camp and later was transferred to the Buchenwald camp from where he was liberated in show more 1945. After returning to his native Budapest, he worked as a journalist and translator. He translated the works of Friedrich Nietzsche, Sigmund Freud, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Elias Canetti into Hungarian. He wrote several novels that drew largely from his experience as a teenage prisoner in Nazi concentration camps. His novels included Fateless, Fiasco, Kaddish for a Child Not Born, Someone Else, The K File, Europe's Depressing Heritage, and Liquidation. He also wrote the screenplay for the film version of Fateless in 2005. While his work was ignored by both the communist authorities and the public in Hungary where awareness of the Holocaust remained negligible, his work was recognized in other parts of the world. He received awards including the Brandenburg Literature Prize in 1995, The Book Prize for European Understanding, the Darmstadt Academy Prize in 1997, the World Literature Prize in 2000, and the Nobel Prize for Literature for fiction in 2002. He died after a long illness on March 31, 2016 at the age of 86. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
Series
Works by Imre Kertész
Sinn und Form 1/2019: Siebzig Jahre Beiträge zur Literatur (Sinn und Form / Beiträge zur Literatur) (2019) 3 copies
Die englische Flagge 1 copy
Diario de La Galera 1 copy
2009 1 copy
Peter Esterhazy 1 copy
Sorstalanság szerepkép 1 copy
Dosya K 1 copy
Associated Works
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Canonical name
- Kertész, Imre
- Legal name
- Kertész Imre (Hungarian name order)
- Birthdate
- 1929-11-09
- Date of death
- 2016-03-31
- Gender
- male
- Nationality
- Hungary
- Country (for map)
- Hungary
- Birthplace
- Budapest, Hungary
- Place of death
- Budapest, Hungary
- Places of residence
- Budapest, Hungary
Berlin, Germany - Occupations
- writer
journalist
translator
novelist
essayist
public speaker - Awards and honors
- Nobel Prize for Literature (2002)
Order of Saint Stephen
Goethe Medal (2004)
Brandenburger Literaturpreis (1995)
Leipziger Buchpreis (1997)
Herder Preis (2000) (show all 7)
Pour le Mérite (2001) - Short biography
- Imre Kertész was born to a Jewish family in Budapest, Hungary. After his parents László Kertész and Aranka Jakab separated when he was about five years old, he attended a boarding school. In 1944, after Nazi Germany invaded his homeland during World War II, he was deported at age 14 with other Hungarian Jews to the death camp at Auschwitz, and was later sent to Buchenwald concentration camp. He survived to be liberated by U.S. troops in 1945 and returned to Budapest. He resumed his education and graduated from high school in 1948. Kertész became a journalist and worked for the periodical Világosság (Clarity) but was dismissed in 1951 after it adopted the Communist party line. After a short time as a factory worker, he was employed by the press department of the Ministry of Heavy Industry. He then became a freelance writer and translator of German-language authors into Hungarian, including works by Friedrich Nietzsche, Sigmund Freud, Ludwig Wittgenstein, and Elias Canetti. His most influential novel, Sorstalanság (Fatelessness), written between 1960 and 1973, the first of his Holocaust trilogy, was based on his experiences in the camps. Initially it was rejected by the Communist censors in Hungary, but was finally published in 1975. In was adapted into a film in 2005. Subsequent volumes in the trilogy were A kudarc (The Failure, 1988) and Kaddis a meg nem született gyermekért (Kaddish for an Unborn Child, 1990). Having found little appreciation for his writing in Hungary, he divided his time between Budapest and Berlin, where he also was able to make public appearances. He won numerous literary prizes before being awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2002.
Members
Reviews
46. Fatelessness by Imre Kertész
translation: from Hungarian by Tim Wilkinson, 2004
OPD: 1975
format: 262-page Kindle ebook (side note: I started with a paperback I bought in SF in Nov 2022, but it turned out to be a bad copy.)
acquired: November 2022, then again August 15 read: Aug 13-22 time reading: 8:39, 2.0 mpp
rating: 5
genre/style: modern classics? theme: TBR
locations: Hungary & several concentration camps
about the author: Jewish Hungarian author and journalist from Budapest, a Holocaust survivor, and the 2002 Nobel Prize winner. (1929-2016)
I find Holocaust books tough to respond to, and tough to review, and this classic is no different. It's very powerful. It's semi-autobiographical in that it's the story of a 14-year-old Hungarian boy, Jewish only by lineage, who experiences and survives concentration camps, something the author experienced, and also it's all told in first person.
What sets this apart is the perspective. We never meet György Köves's parents, or anyone he's deeply connected to. He is emotionally distant. Unexperienced, but passionlessly curious, with an open logical mind. So, when finds himself and Auschwitz, he's not emotionally horrified so much as practical and scared in that way. He observes logically, within his understanding, even justifying various actions of guards in terms of what makes sense to him. There are bodies going up in smoke within his line of sight, bodies of people he just got off the train with, who have already been gassed, and he's focused on how people with valuables respond to requests by guards to give these up voluntarily, or by the way a newly shaven rabbi washes himself in showers (showerers that look the same as the gas chambers).
When he eventually returns home, and is questioned by what turns out to be a news or magazine writer, he answers questions saying, "naturally" this or that traumatic event. He is angry, but he is shaped by this experience, and embraces that impact on him, which is strange, especially in light of how grown up and mature he sounds at the end of the book.
What was weird for me, as a reader, is that I was never horrified while my mind was within the tone of the text. I was invested in György, like in the way I might be invested in a pretty good unprofessional challenger in America Ninja Warrior. I wanted him to succeed, to overcome. This kept me reading, and drew me back between chances to read. I was engaged. But I would need to pull myself out of the book, look around, so to speak, to grasp the context. That was very strange to me.
This is an important work. In my mind, it's up there with [Night], [If This is a Man], and [Maus], as a pillar towards understanding the Holocaust in a literary or artistic context. So highly recommended to those with this kind of interest. Personally I was drawn to this from other ClubRead comments and review (like from Labfs39, years ago), and also because part of being Jewish is to be drawn to this cultural heritage.
2023
https://www.librarything.com/topic/351556#8216664… (more)
translation: from Hungarian by Tim Wilkinson, 2004
OPD: 1975
format: 262-page Kindle ebook (side note: I started with a paperback I bought in SF in Nov 2022, but it turned out to be a bad copy.)
acquired: November 2022, then again August 15 read: Aug 13-22 time reading: 8:39, 2.0 mpp
rating: 5
genre/style: modern classics? theme: TBR
locations: Hungary & several concentration camps
about the author: Jewish Hungarian author and journalist from Budapest, a Holocaust survivor, and the 2002 Nobel Prize winner. (1929-2016)
I find Holocaust books tough to respond to, and tough to review, and this classic is no different. It's very powerful. It's semi-autobiographical in that it's the story of a 14-year-old Hungarian boy, Jewish only by lineage, who experiences and survives concentration camps, something the author experienced, and also it's all told in first person.
What sets this apart is the perspective. We never meet György Köves's parents, or anyone he's deeply connected to. He is emotionally distant. Unexperienced, but passionlessly curious, with an open logical mind. So, when finds himself and Auschwitz, he's not emotionally horrified so much as practical and scared in that way. He observes logically, within his understanding, even justifying various actions of guards in terms of what makes sense to him. There are bodies going up in smoke within his line of sight, bodies of people he just got off the train with, who have already been gassed, and he's focused on how people with valuables respond to requests by guards to give these up voluntarily, or by the way a newly shaven rabbi washes himself in showers (showerers that look the same as the gas chambers).
"At the very beginning, I still considered myself to be what I might call a sort of guest in captivity--very pardonably and, when it comes down to it, in full accordance with the propensity to delusion that we all share and which is thus, I suppose, ultimately part of human nature"
When he eventually returns home, and is questioned by what turns out to be a news or magazine writer, he answers questions saying, "naturally" this or that traumatic event. He is angry, but he is shaped by this experience, and embraces that impact on him, which is strange, especially in light of how grown up and mature he sounds at the end of the book.
What was weird for me, as a reader, is that I was never horrified while my mind was within the tone of the text. I was invested in György, like in the way I might be invested in a pretty good unprofessional challenger in America Ninja Warrior. I wanted him to succeed, to overcome. This kept me reading, and drew me back between chances to read. I was engaged. But I would need to pull myself out of the book, look around, so to speak, to grasp the context. That was very strange to me.
This is an important work. In my mind, it's up there with [Night], [If This is a Man], and [Maus], as a pillar towards understanding the Holocaust in a literary or artistic context. So highly recommended to those with this kind of interest. Personally I was drawn to this from other ClubRead comments and review (like from Labfs39, years ago), and also because part of being Jewish is to be drawn to this cultural heritage.
2023
https://www.librarything.com/topic/351556#8216664… (more)
Chi guardera’ il mondo con il nostro sguardo?
(51)
Non esiste il caso: tutto accade per me e tramite me, e quando avro’ percorso il mio cammino, finalmente comprendero’ la mia vita.
(164)
I migliori racconti (in ordine): Il vessillo britannico, Verbale e Il cercatore di tracce.
Il vessillo britannico rispecchia gli affoganti e consueti soliloqui di Kertesz.
La lettura - questa scorza esterna della mia esistenza - fu il mezzo con il quale mi tenevo in contatto con il mondo: era menzognero, ma si trattava dell’unico vivibile: anzi, di tanto in tanto, quasi sopportabile.(9)
La gente reperisce la menzogna di cui ha bisogno con la medesima precisione e ineluttabilita’ con cui puo’ procurarsi anche la verita’ che gli necessita, sempre che avverta il bisogno della verita’ - cioe’ della resa dei conti con la vita.(23)
… dopo mi venne da pensare quale scopo avesse tutto questo, quale scopo avesse proprio questo - quale scopo avesse l’esperienza. Chi guardera’ il mondo con il nostro sguardo?(51)
Per la prima volta durante il viaggio, l’inviato fu assalito dal presentimento della sconfitta, quasi come dal torpore formicolante di sogni pesanti e ingarbugliati.
A che aggrapparsi per procurarsi delle certezze?
(100)
“Nietzsche era un tale buono a nulla, che e’ impazzito a causa della propria goffaggine; in questo mondo, invece, conta una sola cosa: rimanere normali!”: questa frase di Dali’ mi scandalizza profondamente. Ma questo farlocco non capisce che la pazzia e’ stata l’atto piu’ onesto e rigoroso di Nietzsche?
(161)
Ossia: degli infiniti livelli di interpretazione o lettura delle cose uno (Nietzsche) puo’ decidere di comprenderli tutti o nessuno…
… (more)
(51)
Non esiste il caso: tutto accade per me e tramite me, e quando avro’ percorso il mio cammino, finalmente comprendero’ la mia vita.
(164)
I migliori racconti (in ordine): Il vessillo britannico, Verbale e Il cercatore di tracce.
Il vessillo britannico rispecchia gli affoganti e consueti soliloqui di Kertesz.
La lettura - questa scorza esterna della mia esistenza - fu il mezzo con il quale mi tenevo in contatto con il mondo: era menzognero, ma si trattava dell’unico vivibile: anzi, di tanto in tanto, quasi sopportabile.(9)
La gente reperisce la menzogna di cui ha bisogno con la medesima precisione e ineluttabilita’ con cui puo’ procurarsi anche la verita’ che gli necessita, sempre che avverta il bisogno della verita’ - cioe’ della resa dei conti con la vita.(23)
… dopo mi venne da pensare quale scopo avesse tutto questo, quale scopo avesse proprio questo - quale scopo avesse l’esperienza. Chi guardera’ il mondo con il nostro sguardo?(51)
Per la prima volta durante il viaggio, l’inviato fu assalito dal presentimento della sconfitta, quasi come dal torpore formicolante di sogni pesanti e ingarbugliati.
A che aggrapparsi per procurarsi delle certezze?
(100)
“Nietzsche era un tale buono a nulla, che e’ impazzito a causa della propria goffaggine; in questo mondo, invece, conta una sola cosa: rimanere normali!”: questa frase di Dali’ mi scandalizza profondamente. Ma questo farlocco non capisce che la pazzia e’ stata l’atto piu’ onesto e rigoroso di Nietzsche?
(161)
Ossia: degli infiniti livelli di interpretazione o lettura delle cose uno (Nietzsche) puo’ decidere di comprenderli tutti o nessuno…
… (more)
L’immagine in copertina dell’edizione Feltrinelli rende molto bene l’idea del libro: c’e’ un uomo (ma non dietro la rete, quindi imprigionato), ma compreso nella trama della rete: ne fa parte comune… ed allora, puo’ uscirne? (... e poi?)
Alcuni brani (in disordine e per senso o significato):
Procuro di infilarmi sempre meglio sotto queste rovine, perche’ mi ricoprano completamente - che altro potrei fare? (273)
Per un certo tempo - prima che si decida a intraprendere la strada che lo portera’ verso il basso -, come per riposare, si ritira nel suo fallimento, come un’aquila malata nel suo nido, con un’ala rotta ma lo sguardo ancora acuto per scrutare, in cerca di una preda, il campo devastato delle verita’ e delle autogiustificazioni. (281)
Sisifo - dice il racconto - dobbiamo immaginarcelo felice. Certo. Ma anche lui e’ minacciato dalla misericordia. Sisifo - e l’Arbeitsdienst - sono eterni, e’ vero; ma la roccia non e’ immortale. Attraverso un cammino aspro, in tanti ruzzolamenti, prima o poi si consuma, e Sisifo un bel giorno si scopre a fischiettare distratto e a scalciare davanti a se’, nella polvere, niente piu’ che una pietruzza grigia. (282) (A questo, Camus non ci aveva pensato!)
“E rifletto su quando sarebbero iniziati questi fastidi. Non so perche’, ma sembra che abbia un effetto tranquillizzante sull’uomo il fatto di conoscere il principio, un punto di appoggio qualsiasi, anche ingannevole, nel tempo, che da quel momento si puo’ chiamare motivo. Se ci sembra di averne trovato la causa, ogni problema ci appare logico. (28)
Si’, ormai sono ridotto a questo, se cosi’ vi pare, sono caduto cosi’ in basso che mi accontenterei di qualsiasi cosa, della congiunzione astrale al momento della mia nascita, del codice decisivo del mio DNA, del segreto che a sua volta nasconde segreti, del mio gruppo sanguigno; di qualsiasi cosa, davvero, a cui potrei accennare di si’ con il capo oppure, in mancanza di meglio, rassegnarmi, almeno… (72-3) (ricorda Jim Morrison)
Da quando era arrivato da quelle parti, Koves aveva sempre dei problemi con la misura del tempo, finche’ ci viveva dentro gli sembrava infinito, ma se ci pensava come a un tempo passato gli pareva nulla, per il suo contenuto sarebbe bastata una sola ora, certamente - gli passava adesso per la testa - per un’altra, una piu’ reale, diremmo piu’ densa vita sarebbe bastata una sola ora crepuscolare e oziosa, come prima di cena, quando non si ha niente di meglio da fare e comunque fa lo stesso, e infine - passo’ di sfuggita per la mente a Koves - forse un’intera generazione sarebbe vissuta ripensando alla propria vita come qualcosa che avrebbe potuto sistemare anche in una sola ora, mentre il resto non sarebbe stato che un’inutile perdita di tempo, circostanze difficili, conflitti - e perche’ mai? (196)
Perche’ - Signore e Signori! - noi qui, nel mondo, ci siamo disperatamente fatti rinchiudere tra di noi, nella miserabile solidarieta’ cameratesca; tutto cio’ che succede ha tanta importanza che noi non possiamo piu’ farlo dileguare, annullarlo, negarlo davanti agli altri. Dobbiamo assumerci la responsabilita’ di noi stessi e delle nostre storie - e neanche nel caso piu’ estremo ci rimane altro da fare che riflettere su come possiamo, nella data situazione, cavarcela, con il minor danno possibile per quanto abbiamo commesso. (242) (anche Dostoevskij)
… (more)
Alcuni brani (in disordine e per senso o significato):
Procuro di infilarmi sempre meglio sotto queste rovine, perche’ mi ricoprano completamente - che altro potrei fare? (273)
Per un certo tempo - prima che si decida a intraprendere la strada che lo portera’ verso il basso -, come per riposare, si ritira nel suo fallimento, come un’aquila malata nel suo nido, con un’ala rotta ma lo sguardo ancora acuto per scrutare, in cerca di una preda, il campo devastato delle verita’ e delle autogiustificazioni. (281)
Sisifo - dice il racconto - dobbiamo immaginarcelo felice. Certo. Ma anche lui e’ minacciato dalla misericordia. Sisifo - e l’Arbeitsdienst - sono eterni, e’ vero; ma la roccia non e’ immortale. Attraverso un cammino aspro, in tanti ruzzolamenti, prima o poi si consuma, e Sisifo un bel giorno si scopre a fischiettare distratto e a scalciare davanti a se’, nella polvere, niente piu’ che una pietruzza grigia. (282) (A questo, Camus non ci aveva pensato!)
“E rifletto su quando sarebbero iniziati questi fastidi. Non so perche’, ma sembra che abbia un effetto tranquillizzante sull’uomo il fatto di conoscere il principio, un punto di appoggio qualsiasi, anche ingannevole, nel tempo, che da quel momento si puo’ chiamare motivo. Se ci sembra di averne trovato la causa, ogni problema ci appare logico. (28)
Si’, ormai sono ridotto a questo, se cosi’ vi pare, sono caduto cosi’ in basso che mi accontenterei di qualsiasi cosa, della congiunzione astrale al momento della mia nascita, del codice decisivo del mio DNA, del segreto che a sua volta nasconde segreti, del mio gruppo sanguigno; di qualsiasi cosa, davvero, a cui potrei accennare di si’ con il capo oppure, in mancanza di meglio, rassegnarmi, almeno… (72-3) (ricorda Jim Morrison)
Da quando era arrivato da quelle parti, Koves aveva sempre dei problemi con la misura del tempo, finche’ ci viveva dentro gli sembrava infinito, ma se ci pensava come a un tempo passato gli pareva nulla, per il suo contenuto sarebbe bastata una sola ora, certamente - gli passava adesso per la testa - per un’altra, una piu’ reale, diremmo piu’ densa vita sarebbe bastata una sola ora crepuscolare e oziosa, come prima di cena, quando non si ha niente di meglio da fare e comunque fa lo stesso, e infine - passo’ di sfuggita per la mente a Koves - forse un’intera generazione sarebbe vissuta ripensando alla propria vita come qualcosa che avrebbe potuto sistemare anche in una sola ora, mentre il resto non sarebbe stato che un’inutile perdita di tempo, circostanze difficili, conflitti - e perche’ mai? (196)
Perche’ - Signore e Signori! - noi qui, nel mondo, ci siamo disperatamente fatti rinchiudere tra di noi, nella miserabile solidarieta’ cameratesca; tutto cio’ che succede ha tanta importanza che noi non possiamo piu’ farlo dileguare, annullarlo, negarlo davanti agli altri. Dobbiamo assumerci la responsabilita’ di noi stessi e delle nostre storie - e neanche nel caso piu’ estremo ci rimane altro da fare che riflettere su come possiamo, nella data situazione, cavarcela, con il minor danno possibile per quanto abbiamo commesso. (242) (anche Dostoevskij)
… (more)
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The Crux of it: I am Here
1942 - a French orderly gives out sugar cubes to French children every day in the Buchenwald concentration camp hospital. The main character György a Hungarian teenager, notices that the French speakers get two, while he only ever gets one. To György this behavior illustrates the advantage of learning a second.language.
This is typical György who is sent first to Auschwitz and then to Buchenwald where he endures the horrors of the camps as we know them. He analyses events by rationalizing them in a matter of fact way, sans morality or resentment, his only emotion coming midway in the book when he starts to experience “irritability” and even then, never moral outrage.
The story is autobiographical and was written years after Kertész‘s imprisonment, when he was on the cusp of forgetting. Hence the many details of inmates’ facial structures and camp hierarchy uniforms. He’s putting it alll out there, in plain and simple terms; making it hard for the modern reader to understand the eerie detachment.
The story is told in chronological order, with the young boy unaware of what lies ahead as he passes from one horror to the next. Each event is told using backshadowing, with György taking and justifying each horror step by step without the knowledge of the modern reader. This of course is how the inmates experienced the ordeal, and reading it in this way has the efffect of making the experience more real. We are centered in György‘s life. But we can never fully accept the detachment shown in the justifications, the peak and most horrific being when Köves seems to “understand” the crematoria of Auschwitz,
I became used to György’s way of using reason to justify what happens to him without ethical considerations. But the question remains why? Is it that it’s a story told by a teenager? Or that the writer lacks Faith and is, being a non-practicing Jew, an outcast amongst outcasts? Or is it for effect? Or has the concept of morality been beaten out of him?
I prefer to think it’s an older person’s way of trying to remember what has of necessity been repressed. The writer is trying to remember, step by step, the events of his imprisonment, along with how he managed to cope with those events,as a young male thrust into the horror of the Holocaust without any adult experience or faith to guide him. Thus as with the sugar cube episode recounted in a matter-of-fact way, without rancor or moral overtone, I started to see into Kertész’s memory.… (more)