Germany has made a Rumanian Jew the poet laureate of the Holocaust. German schoolchildren memorize Celan's ``Death Fugue,'' and politicians recite it on state occasions. Celan abjured the role and even the poem. His later work is different: edgy, spare, a stripped-down wrestling with the treacherous mother tongue. He committed suicide in 1970. Like Celan, Chalfen hails from the eastern province of the Austro-Hungarian empire, Bukovina, ceded to Rumania in 1920. Celan was born that year. The chapter on Czernowitz, his hometown, with its large, safe, prosperous community of Jews dating back to the 13th century, is fascinating. After that the book goes downhill somewhat. Chalfen sees local geography and minute events as offering a code by which to decipher obscure, and not so obscure, allusions in the poems—and he can be pretty flat-footed about it. (When Celan speaks of a swan, Chalfen inventories the region's lakes in search of the bird, overlooking an ironic allusion to the swans of one of Hîlderin's better-known poems.) Once he reaches the war years, though, his deadpan delivery is just right, a straight- on reporting of the daily horrors. The Nazis drove the Jews of Czernowitz into a ghetto, then deported them to labor camps beyond the Dniester, where Celan's parents were executed. Celan did forced labor in Moldavia. The shovels of ``Death Fugue'' were real; Chalfen refreshes the quoted poem with documented details. At war's end, the Soviets added Bukovina to the Ukraine. Celan fled to Bucharest and later to Vienna, the capital of his language. And there, in 1948, the book ends, and the enormous Celan bibliography takes over. The assiduous Chalfen hunted up over 50 people who knew Celan in his youth. He quotes them verbatim and without irony. ``An opaque subject,'' one source remarks drily of the undertaking. So it is, but in his modest, plodding way Chalfen sheds a pure and painful light on the education of a great 20th-century poet and the destroyed world that nurtured him.
Pub Date: Jan. 15, 1992
ISBN: 0-89255-162-3
Page Count: 176
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 1, 1991
A moving meditation on mortality by a gifted writer whose dual perspectives of physician and patient provide a singular...
A neurosurgeon with a passion for literature tragically finds his perfect subject after his diagnosis of terminal lung cancer.
Writing isn’t brain surgery, but it’s rare when someone adept at the latter is also so accomplished at the former. Searching for meaning and purpose in his life, Kalanithi pursued a doctorate in literature and had felt certain that he wouldn’t enter the field of medicine, in which his father and other members of his family excelled. “But I couldn’t let go of the question,” he writes, after realizing that his goals “didn’t quite fit in an English department.” “Where did biology, morality, literature and philosophy intersect?” So he decided to set aside his doctoral dissertation and belatedly prepare for medical school, which “would allow me a chance to find answers that are not in books, to find a different sort of sublime, to forge relationships with the suffering, and to keep following the question of what makes human life meaningful, even in the face of death and decay.” The author’s empathy undoubtedly made him an exceptional doctor, and the precision of his prose—as well as the moral purpose underscoring it—suggests that he could have written a good book on any subject he chose. Part of what makes this book so essential is the fact that it was written under a death sentence following the diagnosis that upended his life, just as he was preparing to end his residency and attract offers at the top of his profession. Kalanithi learned he might have 10 years to live or perhaps five. Should he return to neurosurgery (he could and did), or should he write (he also did)? Should he and his wife have a baby? They did, eight months before he died, which was less than two years after the original diagnosis. “The fact of death is unsettling,” he understates. “Yet there is no other way to live.”
A moving meditation on mortality by a gifted writer whose dual perspectives of physician and patient provide a singular clarity.Pub Date: Jan. 19, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-8129-8840-6
Page Count: 248
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: Sept. 29, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2015
A wonderful page-turner written with humility, immediacy, and great style. Nothing came cheap and easy to McCandless, nor...
The excruciating story of a young man on a quest for knowledge and experience, a search that eventually cooked his goose, told with the flair of a seasoned investigative reporter by Outside magazine contributing editor Krakauer (Eiger Dreams, 1990).
Chris McCandless loved the road, the unadorned life, the Tolstoyan call to asceticism. After graduating college, he took off on another of his long destinationless journeys, this time cutting all contact with his family and changing his name to Alex Supertramp. He was a gent of strong opinions, and he shared them with those he met: "You must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life''; "be nomadic.'' Ultimately, in 1992, his terms got him into mortal trouble when he ran up against something—the Alaskan wild—that didn't give a hoot about Supertramp's worldview; his decomposed corpse was found 16 weeks after he entered the bush. Many people felt McCandless was just a hubris-laden jerk with a death wish (he had discarded his map before going into the wild and brought no food but a bag of rice). Krakauer thought not. Admitting an interest that bordered on obsession, he dug deep into McCandless's life. He found a willful, reckless, moody boyhood; an ugly little secret that sundered the relationship between father and son; a moral absolutism that agitated the young man's soul and drove him to extremes; but he was no more a nutcase than other pilgrims. Writing in supple, electric prose, Krakauer tries to make sense of McCandless (while scrupulously avoiding off-the-rack psychoanalysis): his risky behavior and the rites associated with it, his asceticism, his love of wide open spaces, the flights of his soul.
Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1996
ISBN: 0-679-42850-X
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Villard
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 1995
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