 |
|
Dialogues@RU is published
annually
by the
Writing Program at
Rutgers, The State
University of New Jersey
Volume 4
Fall 2005
Page 5
By Jennifer Flynn
By moving this story to the beginning, Wiesel makes it his first priority to show how indifference and inaction permit tragedy to occur. By drawing these connections between his characters and audience, Wiesel holds man responsible for the pain of the world. This is not, as Seidman asserts, the removal of blame, but instead an indictment of the world. If only the Jews of his town had fled; if only the world had acted. The text that follows this opening metaphor presents the brutal consequences of that inaction.
Seidman's final concern is the disparity between the conclusions of the works. While both endings depict Wiesel's liberation, they do not conclude similarly. In both texts, a hospitalized Wiesel looks in a mirror for the first time since his internment began. The French version ends in two sentences. "From the depths of the mirror, a corpse gazed back at me. The look in his eyes, as they stared into mine, has never left me" ( Night 109). However, the earlier text continues. After seeing his skeletal reflection, the Yiddish Wiesel reveals that he "raised a balled-up fist and smashed the mirror, breaking the image that lived within it" (Seidman 7). He discusses the disappointing legacy of the Holocaust, stating that "Germans and anti-Semites persuade the world that the story of the six million Jewish martyrs is a fantasy, and the naïve world will probably believe them, if not today, then tomorrow or the next day" (7). Seidman believes this additional text shows "a survivor who, ten years after liberation, is furious with the world's disinterest in his history . . . depressed by the apparent pointlessness of writing a book" (7-8). She contends that the hostile voice of the Yiddish is not allowed to replace the crippled corpse of the French. She writes that "precisely the image that Wiesel shattered at the end of his Yiddish work," is the very one he "resurrects to end the French one" (8). She believes Night shows a devitalized Wiesel seeking a larger audience, but there is another perspective available. This frustration and anger may be products of Wiesel's inability to effectively communicate an account to preserve the memory of the Holocaust. What Seidman should have referred to was the "pointlessness of writing" the Yiddish book , a work that, for Wiesel's grand aims, was crafted incorrectly and directed towards an already-omniscient Jewish audience. The traditional narrative formula could not convey the appalling reality of his experience and therefore, at its conclusion, Wiesel believed his message was incommunicable. Out of frustration came hostility and Wiesel wrote from that emotion, lashing out first at his own image and then the world. However, neither attack granted him the outlet he desired. Eventually, in writing Night, Wiesel found the way to depict his experience. Afterwards, the frustration that drove his fist through the mirror subsided. He mastered his fear that the Holocaust would be forgotten by creating a powerful new form of narrative that enabled his audience to understand, and therefore, remember.
After examining Seidman's specifics, it is clear that the Yiddish and French works are much more than a source text and translation. Their differences extend beyond language, presenting varying portrayals of their author. However, the divergence of Night is not the result of eliminated rage, but rather, the product of a new form of story telling ¾ the autobiographical novel. The French version reveals Wiesel's self in a way the straightforward Yiddish version could not. By leaving the detail-oriented, testimonial style behind, the author was able to concentrate on the most important aspect of an autobiography: identity. A genuine appreciation of Wiesel's literary accomplishment must begin with an understanding of the state of the genre, specifically the Holocaust narrative, at the time he began writing.