{"id":3406,"date":"2021-06-21T15:29:18","date_gmt":"2021-06-21T15:29:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/farefwd.com\/?p=3406"},"modified":"2021-06-21T15:29:21","modified_gmt":"2021-06-21T15:29:21","slug":"the-devils-workshop","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/farefwd.com\/index.php\/2021\/06\/21\/the-devils-workshop\/","title":{"rendered":"The Devil’s Workshop"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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The Devil's Workshop<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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In defiance of our expectations, Topol\u2019s novel of the aftermath of genocide treats our fascination with horror with seriousness and compassion.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Review by Eve Tushnet
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In 2005 a Czech novelist writes a book, one of the rare Czech works to portray the 1968 Soviet invasion. This book tells the tale of a young orphan lad who is raised by nuns, then left to wander a militarized landscape; he\u2019s taken in by a Soviet tank troop, but he\u2019s haunted by Czechia, the mythical woman who embodies his homeland, and his tale reaches its climax when he finds the forest of trees carved with her image. Four years later this same author follows up with a novel, as thin and sharp as a shiv, about Eastern European countries competing for genocide tourists.<\/p>

You might think you can tell what these books will feel like. The historical novel of 1968 will be heart-rending, poignant, patriotic, a kind of Ivan\u2019s Childhood<\/em> from the other side of the Soviet border. The genocide-tourism book will be acid satire, angry and merciless.<\/p>

See, it\u2019s mistakes like that that make Europeans think Americans will never understand.<\/p>

In reality J\u00e1chym Topol\u2019s 1968 novel, Gargling with Tar <\/em>(translated in 2010 by David Short), is a loping, near-affectless ramble filled with surreal touches like the wandering animals of Project Socialist Circus: the Hungarian hippo, the Polish giraffe, all these doomed weird creatures. It\u2019s horrifying, sure, but there\u2019s a deep cynicism. The heroic Czech martyr turns up alive and more or less well, the boy Ilya switches sides based more on whim and advantage than on conviction, and Czechia\u2014I am not making this up\u2014turns out to be a terrifying vampire. In the end Ilya flees the forest of awful motherland faces and heads back to the abandoned orphanage, the closest thing he can think of to a haven. Its name, because that\u2019s the kind of undermined, wry, exiles\u2019-humor novel this is, is the Home from Home.<\/p>

Meanwhile that genocide-tourism book, The Devil\u2019s Workshop<\/em> (translated by Alex Zucker)? Although it descends into pure white horror, climaxing in a nightmare basement where genocide survivors are made willing victims in an experiment which replaces the mad scientist with the mad marketing expert\u2014in spite of that, The Devil\u2019s Workshop<\/em> treats the tourists themselves with surprising compassion and respect. They may be well-off Swedish twentysomethings who are spending their summer break on safari in the graveyards of the Holocaust, but this novel takes seriously their anguished question, How can anyone live in a world where such things are possible?<\/em><\/p>

Topol, the son of a well-known playwright and grandson of Czech Catholic author Karel Schulz, got his start in the samizdat movement of the 1970s and 1980s. He worked as a laborer and served prison time for his dissident activity. After the Velvet Revolution he moved from poetry into novels. His works explore the nature of home and place: There\u2019s a terrific riff in The Devil\u2019s Workshop<\/em> about how no country wants to admit that it\u2019s in Eastern Europe.<\/p>

The nameless hero of Workshop<\/em> begins life as a goatherd and subterranean explorer in Terez\u00edn, the town students of the Holocaust know better as the concentration camp Theresienstadt. \u201cI\u2019m one of the few who wanted to save Terez\u00edn,\u201d our hero notes. After all, \u201creminiscing about the old days in Terez\u00edn\u201d means trading stories from the camp. \u201cThis town of evil\u201d is full of people trapped in the past, like the narrator\u2019s mother, who barricades herself under the furniture to feel safe. And lest you think only Nazis harrowed this town, a banner on the city\u2019s fortress wall once read, WITH THE SOVIET UNION FOR ALL TIME AND NEVER OTHERWISE. But the town was forgotten and left to decay; cats roam the ruins, \u201cblack ground water lapped everywhere.\u201d<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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As these efforts begin to succeed, people who live atop other genocide sites start to ask how they can get a piece of the action.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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The narrator is part of a band of young people led by Lebo, who was born in secret on a bunk in the camp. Under Lebo\u2019s tutelage he spends his childhood and early adolescence hunting through the town\u2019s underground tunnels for pieces of the past to preserve, stealing his first \u201cshy kisses and fleeting touches\u201d in the bunkers.<\/p>

The town has an official memorial, run by orderly people; we never see it. Lebo begins to create his own anarchic community, where he welcomes and guides the \u201cbunk-seekers\u201d: the haunted, hollow-eyed travelers, possessed by history, the ones who can\u2019t live without coming to terms with massacres that happened decades before their birth.<\/p>

“Could<\/em> [these horrors] happen again? What is man capable of? How come it happened to them, but I was spared? What would I have done if it was me being led to my death? Can it happen again?<\/em> The seekers turned these morbid questions over and over again in their minds, a demon had taken hold of them, clouding their brains.\u2026 They showed up here crazed with pain, seized by the eternal question every seeker asked: If it happened here, can it happen again? <\/em>They knew they weren\u2019t in a medieval castle but in an abyss where the world had been torn apart, a place without mercy or compassion, where anything was possible. And it ate at their brains.”<\/p>

There\u2019s a festival atmosphere to Lebo\u2019s memorial tours. There are tents on the town square where women from the community sell \u201cghetto pizza.\u201d The bunk-seekers and their native guides dance under the stars, drink wine and smoke the red grass of Terez\u00edn. The central liturgical event is the \u201cevening sittings\u201d:<\/p>

“Lebo would sit on the bunk where his mother had given birth illegally and he had acquired his name and talk about the long-ago horrors of the town of evil, the death of thousands within the walls where we now breathe, and all those who walked out of these walls to the trains that carried them to their death. Then he would pass around the objects, so we all had a chance to touch them, bringing his tale of the past so vividly to life that images of what had happened flashed before our eyes. Some would cry out, yes, many shed tears, but Lebo had a way out for even the most hopeless: It happened and it\u2019s impossible to grasp, but despite all the horror you can live on. Look at me! I was born here and I\u2019m still alive!”<\/p>

And our goatherd tells us that it works. He may describe the bunk-seekers somewhat caustically (\u201cstoned on rampart grass, they trembled in their bunks, inserting their minds into Lebo\u2019s like fingers into a wound\u201d). But Lebo offers the bunk-seekers living proof that you can<\/em> confront the reality of genocide and keep going. There is no real explanation, no ideology or religion or advice, no 12-Step program or philosophical conclusion. There is simply this encounter with a living person.<\/p>

But if something works, it can be sold. One of the healed bunk-seekers comes up with the idea to sell t-shirts: Franz Kafka\u2019s picture, with a gallows, the word THERESIENSTADT, and the slogan, If Kafka hadn\u2019t died, they would have killed him here.<\/em> The t-shirts are a hit. There are plans to make Lebo\u2019s \u201cComenium\u201d (\u201cafter John Amos Comenius, the Czech educator known as the \u2018teacher of nations,\u2019 who said that school should be play\u201d) better-known and better-funded. To put Terez\u00edn on the map! As these efforts begin to succeed, people who live atop other genocide sites start to ask how they can get a piece of the action. If we plant German insignia in these mass graves, maybe the German government will give us money to build a museum….<\/p>

So the goatherd finds himself complicit in yet another destruction of his hometown, and he flees into what\u2019s undeniably Eastern Europe, grim and repressed and willing to do things these soft Czechs can\u2019t bring themselves to do. Willing to do what it takes to build \u201ca Jurassic Park of horror\u201d and win the world\u2019s attention. (After all, you can\u2019t get into the European Union if you have \u201cpits of corpses lying around\u201d all willy-nilly!) And so they go down into the nightmare basement.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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If you hate suffering so much, why don\u2019t you spend your time relieving it instead of wandering around asking questions about it?<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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The Devil\u2019s Workshop<\/em> is a powerful read, with unforgettable horror imagery. It\u2019s a defense of the existential question. We live in a moralizing age, an age impatient with questions that don\u2019t seem to lead to any immediate action: questions that don\u2019t help. Ivan Karamazov may wonder how one can live in a world of cruelty and the suffering of children; the rest of us wish he\u2019d get a haircut and a job. \u201cHow can you live?<\/em> Well, have you tried not dying? I hear that works!\u201d Go to a protest, get a sponsor, have you tried cognitive behavioral therapy, maybe you should check out the Unitarians. If you hate suffering so much, why don\u2019t you spend your time relieving it instead of wandering around asking questions about it? \u201cPractice random acts of kindness,\u201d make sandwiches for homeless people, but there is really no point in spending Mamma and Pappa\u2019s money wandering around the nowheresvilles of the Eastern Bloc hunting for meaning<\/em>.<\/p>

The Devil\u2019s Workshop<\/em>, by contrast, takes this search for hope and meaning seriously. In good existentialist fashion it answers not with a principle, not even with a koan, but with a person. The novel\u2019s climactic horrors come from the replacement of a living person with that person\u2019s narrative: One is no longer a survivor of human evil but a glass case preserving its effects. In contrast to these intensely imagined violations of human dignity, the descriptions of the bunk-seekers\u2019 encounters with Lebo and his community are only briefly sketched. I\u2019m willing to say that’s the point: We ourselves haven’t encountered him, we\u2019ve only encountered the simplified version of the narrative, the mass of words in the shape of a man. Christians hammer on this image of the encounter with the living God, the encounter and personal relationship with Jesus the living Man, not Jesus the historical figure: Jesus the Crucified, irreducible to \u201cChristianity.\u201d<\/p>

That encounter, we hope, does transform our life afterward. It\u2019s not clear whether the encounters with Lebo and the Comenium transform lives or simply restore bunk-seekers to their ordinary lives and plans. Certainly our hero is not transformed. He is a taciturn observer, not a schemer; like Ilya he is the kind of guy who goes along for the ride and gets in way over his head. (Both of these novels feature people being led by ropes around their necks.)<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Topol makes you feel how everywhere you press on the earth, blood wells up out of the ground\u2014there are so many more mass graves than anyone realizes.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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There\u2019s one kind of debate about historical memory, the debate about whom you should honor. Think of the Hungarian crowd in \u201856 tearing down the looming statue in Heroes\u2019 Square, dedicated to \u201cthe great Stalin, from the grateful Hungarian people.\u201d Or Confederate statues coming down, officially or freelance, this summer.<\/p>

But even when everyone agrees on whom to honor, memory can still be weaponized. There\u2019s a reason Topol\u2019s hero at first mistakes the uniform of the Belarusian Ministry of Tourism for an army uniform. In between \u201cthe TV Palace on Communist Street\u201d and \u201cthe Palace of Ground Forces,\u201d a museum is being built to commemorate a real massacre: Topol uses the real survivors\u2019 real narratives in his text. But the way these narratives are used dehumanizes the survivors. The man who tells our hero, \u201cUntil the dead find peace, the living will live in shame,\u201d runs the devil\u2019s workshop of the title: a terrible basement in Belarus, where survivors become lucrative memory-mummies.<\/p>

This phantasmagoric novel explores so many elements of the project of remembrance, with grim irony and steely compassion. There are gaps: Topol deals only glancingly with learning that your family and people were on the killers\u2019 side of genocide, for example. But Topol makes you feel how everywhere you press on the earth, blood wells up out of the ground\u2014there are so many more mass graves than anyone realizes. \u201cEveryone knows about the mass grave in Kurapaty,\u201d one character says casually, and both I and the narrator realize we\u2019ve never heard of the place. It can seem that if you let the dead speak, their wailing will drown out the living. Memory can become thanatos, as with the man who wants to stay forever in the nightmare basement because it\u2019s \u201cthe closest you can get… to horror.\u201d And yet Topol still seeks a way to balance life and memory, truth and peace.<\/p>

In the author\u2019s note at the end of The Devil’s Workshop<\/em>, Topol apologizes \u201cfor my failure to write about demons realistically.\u201d But who could? We have an idea of what ordinary human experience is: the shield of Achilles, the life of peace. But there is another ordinary human experience as well, the experience of slaughter and its consequences. The coverups, the commodification. Perhaps this ordinary human experience can\u2019t be rendered in conventional storytelling. There\u2019s a point when your experience of the world steps outside of what we consider to be literary realism, and enters nightmare.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Eve Tushnet<\/strong> is a writer and speaker in Washington, DC. She is the author of <\/em>Gay and Catholic: Accepting My Sexuality, Finding Community, Living My Faith and <\/em>Amends: A Novel. Eve blogs at Patheos (find her at <\/em>patheos.com\/blogs\/evetushnet), and her hobbies are sin, confession, and ecstasy.<\/em><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In defiance of our expectations, Topol\u2019s novel of the aftermath of genocide treats our fascination with horror with seriousness and compassion. 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