Se questo è un uomo
lettura dal 09 al 15 marzo 2015
La crudeltà dei campi di concentramento non ha eguali nella storia dell'umanità, nonostante tutto ogni volta mi meraviglio ancora di come sia stato possibile per menti umane arrivare a concepire una cosa del genere. E non penso ci sia altro da dire, libri del genere non hanno bisogno di ulteriori commenti.

Foi um dos livros mais duros que tive a felicidade de ler. Sou "fã" de livros que me mostram os vários lados da Segunda Guerra Mundial; tenho um carinho enorme por Anne Frank e o seu diário; mas este, talvez por a ação ser dentro de um campo de trabalho, tocou-me de uma forma que outro livro há muito não o fazia.

É a história de Levi. É a sua vida, naquele ano em que teve a (in)felicidade de ser mandado para um campo de trabalho. E conseguiu sobreviver, contra todas as expectativas. E apesar de nós colocar a pergunta várias vezes, este é sem dúvida um livro muito humano.

Podem não ser homens que nos são descritos - foram desprovidos de toda a sua humanidade - mas a sua natureza existe. E perceber como outros homens foram capazes de gerar tal condição, faz-me pensar que muitos de nós, Homens, devíamos olhar para a História com atenção. Porque pode repetir-se, e já estivemos mais longe.

Eles são homens, escondidos por baixo de uma pele ir deixou de ser sua. Mas conseguiram renascer.

n  Ne pas chercher à comprendren
Quanto è avvenuto non si può comprendere, non si deve comprendere, perché comprendere è quasi giustificare… Ma se comprendere è impossibile, conoscere è necessario.

Non trovo parole adeguate per esprimere il mio commento a questa testimonianza di Primo Levi. Colpisce la razionalità di questo grande Uomo, che non indugia in giudizi e accuse, non usa toni recriminatori né accattivanti, non cerca pathos. Non è necessario. Applica il semplice metodo scientifico, cui la sua mente è abituata: fa riaffiorare nella sua memoria i fatti essenziali, li libera da quelli inutili e ce li presenta, con linguaggio semplice ma curato.
Dice lui stesso nelle note in appendice (pag. 330):
Nello scrivere questo libro, ho assunto deliberatamente il linguaggio pacato e sobrio del testimone, non quello lamentevole della vittima né quello irato del vendicatore: pensavo che la mia parola sarebbe stata tanto più credibile ed utile quanto più apparisse obiettiva e quanto meno suonasse appassionata; solo così il testimone in giudizio adempie alla sua funzione, che è quella di preparare il terreno al giudice. I giudici siete voi.

Quello che si legge entra e strugge. E non si dimentica.

Reading this epic-like memoir, his first-hand accounts as one of the prisoners-of-war detained in a camp at Auschwitz as a legacy of World War II by Primo Levi was stunningly descriptive, inhumane and hopeful. My background reading was that I nearly finished reading its first part, "If This is a Man," depicting his arrest in late 1943 and his life along the ruthless route to the notorious camp at Auschwitz where he survived because the authority there needed his expertise as a chemist. Then I quitted after reading a few pages (Chapter 13 October 1944) a decade ago due to lack of motive. Till around New Year's Day, a GR friend notified me she liked my review on another of his equally-famous memoir, "The Periodic Table," and kindly urged me to read this one for his unimaginable hardships and persistence. At last I found the paperback, tried reading each episode under each title and switched to the hardcover I bought last week.

Moreover, it was a pity I couldn’t substantially recall what I had read in “If This is a Man,” since my reflection might be quite fragmentary and reading again on page 149 (hardcover), Chapter 13 till the end didn’t help me recall anything read and quitted after such a long time. Therefore, I would like to focus my review on the second part, “The Truce,” depicting his unthinkably tough and surrealism-like journey back home in Italy. First, it has since been agreed that Primo Levi naturally described people, things, camps, etc. per se, in other words, as objectively as possible. It might be done out of his character, his educated mind and possibly his god-like compassion. If you prefer reading short and long paragraphs of descriptions with innumerable good words and sense of humor, this book is for you.

I couldn’t help wondering what he meant by this sentence: “… It (the announcement of their return) came in the theatre and through the theatre, and it came along the muddy road, carried by a strange and illustrious messenger.” (p. 416) I would leave you to read how they knew it in the theatre in the book itself; the following three excerpts would reveal my point, the first being a complete paragraph, the second and the third being partial:

The next morning, while the Red House was already buzzing and humming like a beehive whose swarm is about to leave, we saw a small car approach along the road. Very few passed by, so our curiosity was aroused, especially as it was not a military car. It slowed down in front of the camp, turned and entered, bouncing on the rough surface in front of the bizarre façade. Then we saw that it was a car all of us knew well, a Fiat 500A, a Topolino, rusty and decrepit, with the suspension piteously deformed.

It stopped in front of the entrance, and was at once surrounded by a crowd of inquisitive people. An extraordinary figure emerged, with great effort. It went on and on emerging; it was a very tall, corpulent, rubicund man, in a uniform we had never seen before: a Soviet General, a Generalissimo, a Marshal. …

This celestial messenger, who travelled alone through the mud in a cheap ancient ramshackle car, was Marshal Timoshenko in person, Semyon Konstantinovich Timoshenko, the hero of the Bolshevik revolution, of Karelia and Stalingrad. After his reception by the local Russians, which was singularly sober and lasted only a few minutes, he emerged once more from the buildings and chatted unaffectedly with us Italians, …; he told us that it was really true; we were to leave soon, very soon; “War over, everybody home”; … (pp. 417-419)

Just imagine how he has marvelously described such a 'strange and illustrious messenger'. I think it’s hard not to appreciate reading these superbly descriptive pages from one of the most important writers in the twentieth century.

Second, right at the beginning of the first story, "The Thaw," he has told us something horribly inhuman of which we may never dream; however, we have to keep reading with pity and sorrow from this excerpt:
... Thus all healthy prisoners were evacuated, in frightful conditions, in the direction of Buchenwald and Mauthausen, while the sick were abandoned to their fate. One can legitimately deduce from the evidence that originally the Germans did not intend to leave one man alive in the concentration camps; but a fierce night air raid and the rapidity of the Russian advance induced them to change their minds and flee, leaving their task unfinished.
In the sick bay of the Lager at Buna-Monowitz eight hundred of us remained. Of these about five hundred died from illness, cold and hunger before the Russians arrived, and another two hundred succumbed in the following days, despite the Russians' aid.
... (p. 217)

Third, we can read his innumerable episodes on his plight as one of the detainees in search of their route back home; miraculously, he had never lost hope, he simply persisted day in day out hoping to return home. For instance, he has described how he got lost in the woods and fortunately, coolly made it in getting out of such a deceiving labyrinth as told in this excerpt:

... The first time I penetrated it, I learnt to my cost, with surprise and fear, that the risk of "losing oneself in a wood" existed not only in fairly tales. I had been walking for about an hour, orienting myself as best I could by the sun, which was visible occasionally, where the branches were less thick; but then the sky clouded over, threatening rain, and when I wanted to return I realized that I had lost the north. ...
I walked on for hours, increasingly tired and uneasy, almost until dusk; and I was already beginning to think that even if my companions came to search for me, they would not find me, or would only find me days later, exhausted by hunger, perhaps already dead. ... So I continued in the prolonged twilight of the northern summer, until it was almost night, a prey now to utter panic, to the age-old fear of the dark, the forest and the unknown. Despite my weariness, I felt a violent impulse to rush ..., and to continue running so long as my strength and breath lasted.
Suddenly I heard the whistle of a train: this meant the railway was on my right, ...Following the noise of the train, I arrived at the railway before nightfall; then I kept to the glinting railway lines, ..., and reached safety, first at Starye Dorogi, then at the Red House.
... (pp. 377-378)

Therefore, we couldn't help feeling like we're watching a horror or suspense film and imagining how we could make it and be lucky like him. In brief, this memoir is worth reading due to its testament narratives and episodes unique in horrible details unthinkable to humankind, and the best we can do is that we need to pray and hope, those who know and have power please help, that such atrocities won't and shouldn't happen anywhere again on earth.

I have wanted to read Primo Levi’s Se questo è un uomo (If this is a human being) for a long time, and it has not let me down. This is the account of an Italian Jewish intellectual who spent the last year and a half of WWII in Buna, a camp near Auschwitz, and describes the ways in which Levi attempts to maintain his vitality and dignity in the gruesome conditions of Nazi suppression. There is a constantly sharp division but also correlation between physical duress and mental endurance, as well as between social stress and mental resilience, which makes the book simply concrete and concretely simple in all sorts of ways that are humbling. Not only is this never to happen again, it also relativizes all current western preoccupation with wealth, luxury, comfort as well as cultural security.

Difficile, se non quasi impossibile, commentare questo libro. Perché cos'altro c'è da dire che non abbia già scritto Primo Levi stesso?

In Se questo è un uomo si testimonia com'è possibile annientare tutto ciò che di umano c'è in un uomo: sentimenti, empatia, dignità, coraggio, desideri, speranze... Tutto ciò che resta è un guscio pieno solo di paura, che risponde a stimoli e ordini, e che tenta di restare in vita semplicemente perché è l'istinto che glielo impone. Ciò che viene mostrato in questo romanzo sembra impossibile, nel corso della lettura a tratti si ha la tentazione di pensare che sia solo un'incredibile distopia... ma non è così: tutto ciò che è scritto è accaduto, è la brutale e assurda realtà della Storia.

Considerate se questo è un uomo
Che lavora nel fango
Che non conosce pace
Che lotta per mezzo pane
Che muore per un sì o per un no.

Ne La tregua, poi, ci viene ricordato che il dolore e la morte non si sono arrestati il 27 gennaio 1945.
La libertà, l’improbabile, impossibile libertà, cosí lontana da Auschwitz che solo nei sogni osavamo sperare era giunta: ma non ci aveva portati alla Terra Promessa. Era intorno a noi, ma sotto forma di una spietata pianura deserta. Ci aspettavano altre prove, altre fatiche, altre fami, altri geli, alte paure.
Dopo l'abbandono dei Lager non c'è stato un semplice e diretto ritorno a casa e alla vita; ci sono state la lotta contro la malattia, la fame, il freddo, e le infinite peripezie del viaggio, complicate all'inverosimile da una ridicola burocrazia e dalle misere condizioni in cui versava l'Europa tutta al termine del conflitto. Ma, insieme al viaggio, assistiamo anche al lento e gradualissimo riappropriarsi della propria umanità: superando un ostacolo alla volta, affrontando un passo dopo l'altro, ritornano le speranze, i desideri, i sentimenti, i rapporti.

E il modo in cui Primo Levi ci racconta tutto questo - senza astio o rancore, senza pietismi o sentimentalismi, ma spinto dalla pura e semplice necessità di raccontare, mostrare, testimoniare - riesce a rendere ancora più incisiva l'esperienza di lettura. E' una prosa - qui come in altre sue opere - che trovo splendida: è pulita, limpida, eppure nulla è lasciato a caso, ogni parola è scelta con cura e attenzione, col risultato che nulla è mai superfluo, ma sempre carico di significato e destinato a lasciare un segno in chi legge. Una scrittura che ho trovato straordinaria già in Se questo un uomo, e che raggiunge l'apice ne La tregua - opera successiva di 12 anni e «più letteraria» per ammissione dell'autore stesso.
In questa seconda opera, in particolare, incontriamo numerosi personaggi che vengono di volta in volta descritti con incredibile sensibilità e vividezza: possono bastare anche poche righe per farceli restare nella mente e nel cuore, nel corso di un racconto che è sempre più corale, pagina dopo pagina - a ricordarci che non è la Storia di un singolo o di pochi, ma destino comune di milioni di individui.

E' un libro che va letto, riletto, meditato e soprattutto... mai dimenticato.

Wat een heftig leesjaar was het afgelopen jaar: maar liefst vier boeken met het thema concentratiekampen. Exact een jaar geleden sloot ik Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search For Meaning. Toen ik samen met vriend Niels Auschwitz bezocht afgelopen najaar las ik vervolgens het monumentale standaardwerk van Laurence Rees dat de naam van het concentratiekamp draagt. Vlak daarna begon ik op aanraden van velen, waaronder natuurlijk vrouwlief, in ’t Hooge Nest. Omdat ik in Auschwitz bovendien de twee boeken van Primo Levi had aangeschaft wilde ik daar ook zo snel in beginnen. Aan The Truce ga ik ergens komend jaar beginnen. Dat gaat over de pijnlijke terugkeer in het gewone leven. Het verhaal is natuurlijk bekend dat men vaak niet zat te wachten op de uit de dood opgestane Joden die terugkeerden naar hun inmiddels door anderen bewoonde huis na het doorstaan van al die ontberingen. En nog op allerlei weerstand en onbegrip stuitten. Ik ben benieuwd wat Levi in dit kader nog heeft meegemaakt. Veel afschuwelijker dan zijn belevenissen in If This Is A Man kan het haast niet zijn. Hoewel ik dan misschien weer onderschat hoe koud de harten van veel mensen kunnen zijn, zeker als ze hun eigen positie, bezittingen en/of naasten denken te moeten beschermen.

Maar nu heb ik dus eerst gelezen over het gruwelijke leven van Levi in vernietigingskamp Auschwitz. Naast de alomtegenwoordige kwaadaardigheid is er gelukkig ook kameraadschap, vindingrijkheid, veerkracht en hoop. Wat moet je je best doen om daarin nog iets goeds te zien, om je aan op te trekken. Bizar dat gevangenen zoals Levi deze lijdensweg hebben kunnen doorstaan. Heel indrukwekkende vond ik ook het laatste stuk van het boek. De SS is op de vlucht geslagen nadat de Russen steeds dichterbij komen. Het duurt echter nog geruime tijd voor ze er echt zijn en het kamp bevrijden. De honger en dorst worden nu zwaarder dan ooit tevoren. Heel veel ongelukkigen hebben die laatste fase alsnog niet overleefd. Of wat te denken van de groep van achttien die aan een maaltijd werd betrapt door een groepje SS-ers dat kort was teruggekomen en stante pede werd gefusilleerd. Pure haat en moordzucht, want alles was al verloren. Schrijnend zijn ook de grote groepen gevangenen die kort voor de bevrijding gedwongen werden om mee te lopen in de vele marsen richting andere kampen, voettochten die zij ook vaak niet overleefden. De verhalen zijn te talrijk, het is gewoon niet te bevatten allemaal wat zich destijds heeft afgespeeld.

Dit boek staat niet voor niets in allerlei top 10 lijstjes voor het beste non-fictieboek ooit. Aardig is dat het bijvoorbeeld terugkomt in de lijst van Goodreads-concurrent Hebban, waarin overigens ook ’t Hooge Nest terugkomt. Ook andere non-fictieboeken over de Jodenvervolging staan genoteerd. Natuurlijk Het Achterhuis, maar ook De Laatste Getuige van Frank Krake en Edith Egers De Keuze. Van dat laatste boek had ik nog niet eerder gehoord. Nu ik het net even heb opgezocht vrees ik dat ik voorlopig toch niet uitgelezen ben over de verschrikkingen van nazi-Duitsland, hoezeer ik ook van plan was om me voorlopig even op wat luchtiger werk te richten. Het thema blijft me toch trekken. En gelukkig went het beschrevene nooit. En dat helpt me om ‘wakker’ te blijven.

Due colossali opere racchiuse in un unico libro che altro non è che la sconvolgente e struggente testimonianza, raccontata in prima persona, del ritorno a casa di Primo Levi (e del suo peregrinare in giro per l'Europa) dai campi di concentramento nazisti. Bisogna leggerlo per capire (almeno in parte e per quanto possibile) come può un uomo privato di tutto, anche e soprattutto della sua dignità, riuscire a perdonare i suoi carnefici e a fare ogni sforzo affinché non venga dimenticato ciò che è stato fatto quando il genere umano ha smarrito il lume della ragione…
[https://lastanzadiantonio.blogspot.co...]

I read this book as an undergraduate in 1992, and in those days had the luxury of suiting myself timewise... I started in the morning and read through the day: I don't think I moved from my sagging armchair until it was too dark to read, and I had to get another loo roll for soaking up the copious weeping.

Nearly twenty years on, the narrative still haunts me: it's every bit as breathtaking in translation as in the original, which is truly rare. This is a desert island book that I would never leave home without: a manual for humanity and a study in hope. Without compare.

Only a small handful of books, if I had to choose a list of fundamental reads. This is one of them.

One of the most important books in post-war literature. It's vital to keep in mind what happened in Auschwitz because Nazism is not dead and buried, far-right groups spring up everywhere nowadays. Unbelievable as this may seem, some people have either forgotten or never cared to find out. I read this in conjunction with Hannah Arendt's The Origins of Totalitarianism (which I haven't finished) where Arendt describes the reasons why Jews were singled out by the Nazis. Another important book!

[Only read the first of the two books in this double-up]
Primo Levi's path through the camp system, and his perspective on it, seem set apart from most other accounts (Elie Wiesel for example) owing to his knowledge, which made him more valuable (in purely economic terms) to the system that used up labour as a prelude to destroying the labourers. It's interesting to compare and contrast, noticing how each survivor's account tells us a little more about the central crime of the twentieth century.