Despite a stated commitment to cross-cultural solidarity, trauma theory—an area of cultural investigation that emerged out of the 'ethical turn' affecting the humanities in the 1990s—is marked by a Eurocentric, monocultural bias. This book takes issue with the tendency of the founding texts of the field to marginalize or ignore traumatic experiences of non-Western or minority groups, and to take for granted the universal validity of definitions of trauma and recovery that have developed out of the history of Western modernity. Moreover, it questions the assumption that a modernist aesthetic of fragmentation and aporia is uniquely suited to the task of bearing witness to trauma, and criticizes the neglect of the connections between metropolitan and non-Western or minority traumas. Combining theoretical argument with literary case studies, Postcolonial Witnessing contends that the suffering engendered by colonialism needs to be acknowledged more fully, on its own terms, in its own terms, and in relation to traumatic First World histories if trauma theory is to have any hope of redeeming its promise of cross-cultural ethical engagement.

This article analyzes how the Poles and Jews who disappeared from the western Ukrainian city of L’viv as a result of the Second World War are remembered in the city today. It examines a range of commemorative practices, from monuments and museums to themed cafes and literature, and analyzes how these practices interact to produce competing mnemonic narratives. In this respect, the article argues for an understanding of the city as a complex text consisting of a diverse range of mutually interdependent mnemonic media produced by a range of actors. The article focuses in particular on the ways in which Ukrainian nationalist narratives interact with the memory of the city’s “lost others.” The article also seeks to understand L’viv’s memory culture through comparison with a range of Polish cities that have faced similar problems with commemorating vanished communities, but have witnessed a deeper recognition of these communities than has been the case in L’viv. The article proposes reasons for the divergences between the memory cultures of L’viv and that found in Polish cities, and attempts to outline the gradual processes by which L’viv’s Polish and Jewish pasts might become more widely integrated into the city’s memory culture.

Since the second half of the 1970s, a corpus of studies focusing on the history of women during the Holocaust has been produced. These studies assert that even though Jewish women shared the annihilation threat with the men, Jewish women also underwent unique experiences resulting from their female physiology, their female socialization, and the National Socialist Weltanschauung directed against them. These different experiences were also expressed visually in numerous works of art made by women during the Holocaust era (1939–49). Their art is rife with images of pregnancy, motherhood, feminine crafts such as domestic chores, cooking, female solidarity and mutual assistance, loss of femininity, and sexual violence. This article focuses especially on women's artistic expression of three of these topics: mutual assistance among women, loss of femininity, and sexual violence, all of which have received little attention in Holocaust art research.

Midway through the second volume of Art Spiegelman's comic novel Maus: A Survivor's Tale, Vladek, the Holocaust survivor, during a walk through a Catskills resort, explains to his son the procedure for Selektionen at Auschwitz, the terrifying periodic physical evaluations in which prisoners were sorted according to those who seemed capable of further performing slave labor and those who were too weak and therefore condemned to be murdered in the gas chambers of Auschwitz-Birkenau ( . "In the whole camp was selektions," Vladek begins in the first panel of a four-panel block. "I went two times in front of Dr. Mengele." In the next panel, he continues to narrate his experience in the selections: "We stood without anything, straight like a soldier. He glanced and said: FACE LEFT!" At the same time, Vladek is shown abruptly turning a quarter turn in the image that accompanies this narration; in effect, he is performing his role in the selection for his son, Artie, who stands aside to the left of the panel and watches the re-created spectacle, all the while recording Vladek's narration with a tape recorder that hangs from his shoulder. In the third panel of the sequence, Vladek continues to narrate his experience in the selections, quoting Mengele's order again to "FACE LEFT!" At the same time, he enacts the prisoner's compliance with the order, performing another obedient quarter turn. In the fourth panel, Vladek's explanation continues in a narrative box above the panel ("They looked to see if eating no food made you too skinny"), but here the survivor's reenactment of the selection during a walk through the country is replaced by a depiction of the original scene of the selection. Vladek is now no longer the aged narrator of a past experience, but the naked, emaciated prisoner who is first experi-Erin McGlothlin encing the scene of victimization and domination. He performs again a quarter turn, but in this panel it is not Artie who observes and records Vladek's story. Rather, a German camp official (according to Vladek's narration, Josef Mengele), a predatory cat to Vladek's hunted mouse, stands to the left and orders him to "FACE LEFT!" and at the same time records his evaluation of Vladek's physical condition on a clipboard. This last panel effects a visual break in the block of panels, for it suddenly transports the reader from a visual depiction of a present site of verbal narration of the past to a visual depiction of the narrated moment of the past itself. The visual seems to signify the abrupt chasm between past and present (a young, emaciated Vladek versus an aged, well-dressed Vladek), while Vladek's telling of the story appears to hold the two events together, linking the past and present in the process of narration. The comic book format of the scene, with its easily differentiated depictions of two separate temporal levels and two physical manifestations of the same character (young versus old), appears to clarify the disparities between the past and the present and to divide the two temporalities into distinct units in a much more visceral way than narration. For a novel about both the Holocaust past of the survivor and his present-day relationship with his son, Maus's use of visual images as a supplement to narration seems to be an ideal method for demarcating the differences between Holocaust experience and the contemporary lives of the survivor and his son.

There is a rich body of literature examining the contribution of Holocaust museums to the Holocaust memorial culture by focusing on their educative, awareness-raising, and memorializing functions. In this context, ample attention has been devoted to these museums’ exhibitions, educatory activities, reenactment practices, digital strategies, as well as their historical and architectural narratives. This article brings a novel perspective to the literature by giving an account of how Holocaust museums act as a medium through which individuals contribute to the Holocaust memorial culture from a Constructivist perspective. It argues that Holocaust museums do not treat individuals as passive recipients of the Holocaust memorial culture, but actors who could exercise agential capacities in relation to the Holocaust memorial culture. This argument is illustrated by case studies of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM), the Berlin Jewish Museum, and the Anne Frank House. It is shown that these museums offer platforms through which individuals actively contribute to the Holocaust memorial culture by encouraging them to conduct and share their Holocaust-related research, donating Holocaust-related objects, and engaging in social activities to diffuse related norms and messages.

Among historical events of the twentieth-century, the Holocaust is unrivaled as the subject of both scholarly and literary writing.  Literary responses include not only thousands of autobiographical and fictional texts written by Holocaust survivors, but also, more recently, works by writers who are not survivors but nevertheless feel compelled to write about the Holocaust.  In particular, writers from what is known as the second generation have produced texts that express their feeling of being powerfully marked by events of which they have had no direct experience. This book expands the commonly used definition of second-generation literature, which refers to texts written from the perspective of the children of survivors, to include texts written from the point of view of the children of Nazi perpetrators.  With its innovative focus on the literary legacy of both groups, it investigates how second-generation writers employ similar tropes of stigmatization in an attempt to express their troubled relationships to their parents’ histories.  The figure of the stigma, tied etymologically to the experiences of both perpetration and victimization, functions as a signifier for the parents’ legacies of suffering and violation; for the children of survivors, the legacy is one of unintegrated trauma and rupture in familial continuity; for the children of perpetrators, it is of unintegratable violation and brutality.  The events that have shaped both legacies are fundamentally inaccessible to the second generation, yet the mark left by the Holocaust remains, resulting in a truncated relationship between original event and traumatic effect and in a corresponding crisis of signification.  Through readings of nine American, German and French literary texts, Erin McGlothlin demonstrates how an anxiety with signification is manifested in the very structure of second-generation literature, revealing the extent to which the literary texts themselves are marked by the continuing aftershocks of the Holocaust.

This article traces the evolution of the affect of pudore (a sense of modesty, restraint, and privacy) in the literary production of Primo Levi, with references to the works of other Italian Holocaust survivor-writers. Beyond the conventional typology of Holocaust survivors' shame and guilt, the article introduces the category of pudore as both an affect that pertains to concealing the body (through gestures and clothing) and a narrative technique that re-enacts such emotion by means of avoidance language (through reticence, euphemism , understatement, and irony). Because of its paradoxical nature as both an embodied affect and an affect that may conceal other emotions, pudore allows for a reassessment of the production and reception of testimonial literature in postwar Italy. Through an analysis of the tension between testimony and exposure, this article will show the relevance of the affective dimension of pudore in the works of Italian Holocaust survivor-writers.

In many Polish children's books published in the last twenty years the relationship between Jews and Poles during the Holocaust is presented as an unburied theme which can be interpreted in the context of both collective and private/individual cultures of remembrance. Therefore, in this case, we deal with experiences confirmed in the cultural and written order rather than existentially faced. In contemporary Poland, a practically monoethnic and predominantly Catholic country, where the largest number of Jews killed by the Nazis lived before World War II, there is a syndrome of silence concerning the Holocaust. This paper focuses on analysing Joanna Rudniańska's "Kotka Brygidy [Brygida's Cat]" (2007) and "XY" (2012), two unique works in the genre of Polish Holocaust children's fiction which combine parable, magic realism, and postmodern fairy tale. The authors argue that Rudniańska's texts belong not only to the group of literary works known as children's literature of atrocity or the literature of genocide for young people but also literature of testimony

God on the Gallows: Reading the Holocaust through Narratives of Redemption "Where is God now?" is a question from the Holocaust memoir Night by Elie Wiesel and an underlying narrative dilemma for the teachers and most student participants in this qualitative study of three Holocaust units in secondary English classrooms in the Midwestern United States. Using a narrative theory framework, this study explores how religious narrative frames are used by participants to construct Jews and the Holocaust through their readings of Night, and more generally how students wield such narratives in their pursuit of meaning. Also informed by the work of Holocaust scholars, educational researchers studying shifting narrative identity, and those studying the nexus of civic pluralism and religious framing, I build a bridge from which to view the ways participants constructed meaning about the Holocaust and the implications for teacher candidates, teachers, and teacher educators. Given that Holocaust literature such as Night and Anne Frank: Dairy of a Young Girl are now canonical texts in English classes throughout the United States, and given that lessons of tolerance or civic pluralism are often expected to accompany the reading of this literature, throughout the paper I discuss the affordances and constraints of the narratives that students in this study used. I end by making recommendations for classroom practice.

Avrom Sutzkever’s epic poem Geheymshtot (Secret City) was considered a masterpiece at the time that it was published, but has been virtually ignored since. This article reads the poem as a deliberation on the possibilities of home for Jews after the Holocaust. The poem makes large demands of its readership, asking cosmic questions about love, the relationship between humans and the natural world, and the ethics of preserving history. Extrapolating from his personal experience of migration, Sutzkever interrogates Soviet Socialism and political Zionism as well as the problems of post-catastrophe ideology at large. All of this is done in tightly crafted Yiddish verse—itself a statement about the importance of the language for the Jewish future. To locate Sutzkever politically, the article draws upon Soviet archival documents and compares Geheymshtot to Haim Nachman Bialik’s epic poem, “In the City of Slaughter.”

Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” has been notorious since its first publication in 1948, but rarely, if ever, has it been read in light of its immediate historical context. This essay draws on literature, philosophy, and anthropology from the period to argue that Jackson’s story, which scholars have traditionally read through the lens of gender studies, invokes the themes of Holocaust literature. To support this argument, the essay explores imaginative Holocaust literature from the period by David Rousset, whose Holocaust memoir The Other Kingdom appeared in English translation in 1946, anthropological discourse from the period on scapegoating and European anti-Semitism, and critical discourse on the Holocaust and anti-Semitism from the period by Hannah Arendt and Theodor Adorno. The analysis finds that, in representing the phenomena of scapegoating and death selection in a small town in the US, Jackson’s story belongs to an abstract discourse on Holocaust-related themes and topics that was actively produced at midcentury, as evidenced partly by Rousset’s influential memoir. A master of the horror genre, Jackson could have drawn on her own experience of anti-Semitism, along with her known interest in the study of folklore, to contribute this chilling representation of the personal experience of death selection to a discourse on Holocaust-related themes. As this article shows, the abstract discourse Jackson’s story joined is marked by skepticism about or disinterest in ethnic difference, as well as anthropological concepts. Due to the fact that this article features comparative analysis of Holocaust literature, a sub-topic is the debate among scholars concerning the ethics of literary representation of the Shoah and the ethics of the analysis of Holocaust memoir. Jackson’s story and its context invoke perennially important questions about identity and representation in discourse about the Shoah and anti-Semitism.
Keywords: Jackson, Shirley (1916–1965); Rousset, David (1912–1997); Holocaust literature; scapegoating; anti-Semitism; women in literature

Prominent writers have faulted Styron for making the protagonist of his novel Sophie's Choice a Christian.  Their argument goes like this: the Nazis targeted Jews.  Therefore, Styron implicitly de-Judifies the Holocaust by making a Christian the primary victim in the novel.  I argue that this argument only makes sense if we see Sophie exclusively as a victim.  However, if we understand that Sophie is not a Christian victim but a Christian anti-Semite (perpetrator), and that it was her version of Christian anti-Semitism that in part made Hitler and the Nazis possible, then the critiques of Styron's novel would make no sense.  The idea in this essay is more fully developed in the final chapter of my book The Modernist God State.  That chapter is titled: "William Styron's Sophie's Choice: Locating the Christian Theology of the Nazis' Genocidal Anti-Semitism."

У статті висвітлено історію стосунків Івана Лисяка-Рудницького (1919-1984) із товаришем його юності, Пьотром Равичем (1919-1982), у ширшому історичному контексті. Зважаючи на те, що основна частина їхнього спілкування припала на час поміж двома світовими війнами, ця дружба розглядається, окрім всього іншого, у світлі українсько-єврейсько-польських стосунків у Львові того періоду. Простежено також впливи цих відносин на подальший перебіг життя їх учасників. Акцент зроблено на постаті Пьотра Равича, який є набагато менш відомий українському читачеві. Також взято до уваги питання ідентичностей.
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The article covers the history of Ivan Lysiak-Rudnytsky’s friendship with the friend of his youth, Piotr Rawicz, in a broader historical context. Given the fact that the major part of their communication took place between the two World Wars, this friendship is considered, among other things, in the light of Ukrainian-Jewish-Polish relations in Lviv of that period. The influence of these relations on the further course of life of their participants is also traced. Since both Lysiak-Rudnytsky and Rawicz later became known public figures, an important task is to explain the origins of their ideas and personal decisions. The focus is on the figure of Piotr Rawicz, who is much less well-known for a Ukrainian-speaking reader. The course of his life is covered with an analysis of its key moments from the issue of identities choice. This analysis made it clear that during the pre-World War II time, Piotr Rawicz was ready to accept Ukrainian identity to a great extent, which was quite atypical for a Polish-speaking Jew from an acculturated family in Lviv. At the same time, close relations with Rudnytsky’s family influenced his vision of the “Ukrainian question” and partly his postwar interest in the affairs of Central and Eastern Europe. One of the indirect consequences is also his active promotion of the publication of the french translation of Vasyl Barka’s “Yellow Prince”. An important aspect of this friendship, from the point of view of identities formation, was the fact that the Rudnytsky family itself was rather atypical in its context since they had Jewish roots that were the subject of attention and ridicule on the part of Ukrainians. Therefore, this article sheds light on who Piotr Rawicz was, why Ivan Lysiak-Rudnytsky dedicated to him his essay “Ukrainian Answers to the Jewish Question”, and how the youthful friendship between them influenced the further course of their lives.

All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms * I am grateful to Andreas Huyssen and Anson Rabinbach for their comments. Thanks also to Stuart Liebman, for all of his help, to Nancy K. Miller, as ever, to Russ Castronovo, Beth Drenning, Jeffrey Escoffier, Gerhard Joseph, and Neil Levi for reading earlier versions of this essay, and to Yasemin Yildiz, for showing me the power of Adorno's thinking. 1. This controversy was reported in the New York Times 27 Jan. 1995: A3.

This response to Anja Mihr’s article, “Why Holocaust Education Is Not Always Human Rights Education,” argues that despite their differences, Holocaust education and human rights education are more similar than Mihr suggests and face similar challenges. Holocaust education offers numerous opportunities to engage critically in comparative and prospective reflection that relates to human rights. This paper claims that its relevance transcends regional and cultural limitations and that an analytical and comparative approach—tempered with critical reflection on historical context, collective memory, and the implications of its status as a symbol of evil—is preferable to one based on empathy. Likewise, human rights education is incomplete without fostering critical thinking, including acknowledgement of the failures of human rights law and critical attention to the darker side of human rights discourse and logic.

From „neither this nor that” to „a stereoscopic and stereophonic attitude
to the world”: writers’ attitude to bilingualism
The article examines the problem of bilingualism from a diachronic perspective in the context
of the contribution of current cultural theories (gender, postcolonial) to the perception of multilingualism in contemporary culture. A distinct issue in this research is compulsory bilingualism caused by the Holocaust and involuntary resettlement processes resulting from political harassment.
The article also emphasizes the import of cultural anthropology, cognitive sciences and the sociology of translation into the redefi nition of the very notion of bilingualism and the infl uence of this
phenomenon on such remote from literature spheres as therapy. Refl ection on bilingualism is largely
dependent on the intellectual capacity of the bilingual authors conducting self-analysis. The cases
of Eva Hoffman and Anna Wierzbicka provide more than adequate evidence which signifi cantly
complements the testimony of philosophers, such as trilingual George Steiner, and bilingual writers,
such as Conrad, Nabokov or Brodsky. Finally, it should be added that globalization favors bilingualism among authors but often also provides the rationale for choosing a less popular language
as a means of expression.

Key words: bilingualism, dysglosia, displacement, Holocaust, postcolonialism

The paper analyses child character identity change presented in contemporary Polish children’s novels about the Holocaust. Using the category of play described by scholars such as Erving Go man, George Eisen, and Jerzy Cieślikowski, it is shown that the change of a protagonist’s identity from Jewish to non-Jewish and vice versa is a sort of play containing a set of rules, practices, stakes, etc. As it is described, the child Jewish identity is something determined by the surrounding (mainly Nazi authority) and then something  fluid, not solid (as the protagonists mostly come from integrated Polish-Jewish backgrounds). Playing-out as coming out of normal life seems to be the only way to survive the terror of war and the Shoah. Identity fluidity is presented as a mechanism to show the protagonist as a universal character facing terrible events, which makes these novels readable for contemporary readers.

Ever since Kant and Hegel, the notion of autonomy—the idea that we are beholden to no law except one we impose upon ourselves—has been considered the truest philosophical expression of human freedom. But could our commitment to autonomy, as Theodor Adorno asked, be related to the extreme evils that we have witnessed in modernity? In Autonomy after Auschwitz, Martin Shuster explores this difficult question with astonishing theoretical acumen, examining the precise ways autonomy can lead us down a path of evil and how it might be prevented from doing so.

Shuster uncovers dangers in the notion of autonomy as it was originally conceived by Kant. Putting Adorno into dialogue with a range of European philosophers, notably Kant, Hegel, Horkheimer, and Habermas—as well as with a variety of contemporary Anglo-American thinkers such as Richard Rorty, Stanley Cavell, John McDowell, and Robert Pippin—he illuminates Adorno’s important revisions to this fraught concept and how his different understanding of autonomous agency, fully articulated, might open up new and positive social and political possibilities. Altogether, Autonomy after Auschwitz is a meditation on modern evil and human agency, one that demonstrates the tremendous ethical stakes at the heart of philosophy.

Liborum necesse est se faciat amatorem. Perhaps, as this Latin proverb suggests, it is necessary to fall in love with books, to turn them into lovers. But what happens when this passionate love affair spins out of control? In The Book Thief (2005), Markus Zusak's novel aimed equally at young adult and adult readers, the eponymous protagonist rarely engages with books because they afford stories of enchanting and enchaining interest. Rather, Liesel Meminger seems to hunt and enjoy books for quite different reasons than the delights of storytelling and pure entertainment. I first explore the laws of attraction which make books so beguiling to Liesel, before examining if this impulsive obsession of acquiring books has not become a blatant symptom of bibliomania, and more specifically of bibliokleptomania. After discussing the psychodynamical perception of what is often referred as book madness, I shall demonstrate these printed works in Markus Zusak's novel are much more than mere storytelling as they fulfil specific functions, all of which challenge the normative way of seeing texts, literary and otherwise.

Commentary on memorials to the Holocaust has been plagued with a sense of “monument fatigue,” a feeling that landscape settings and national spaces provide little opportunity for meaningful engagement between present visitors and past victims. This book examines the Holocaust via three sites of murder by the Nazis: the former concentration camp at Buchenwald, Germany; the mass grave at Babi Yar, Ukraine; and the razed village of Lidice, Czech Republic. Bringing together recent scholarship from cultural memory and cultural geography, the author focuses on the way these violent histories are remembered, allowing these sites to emerge as dynamic transcultural landscapes of encounter in which difficult pasts can be represented and comprehended in the present. This leads to an examination of the role of the environment, or, more particularly, the ways in which the natural environment, co-opted in the process of killing, becomes a medium for remembrance.

This pioneering project gathers data from research studies, historical information, testimonies and documents dealing with more than 1,100 ghettos throughout mainly Eastern Europe. It reflects the differences between each ghetto and reveals the radical changes in Jewish communal and individual life. The entries include the location, wartime name and geographical coordinates of each ghetto; and, for the larger ghettos, informational sections on the following: Pre-World War II; Soviet occupation; German (Nazi) occupation; ghetto setup; ghetto institutions and internal life; murder, terror and killing operations of ghetto inhabitants; underground and resistance; and number of survivors at liberation. Finalist of the 2010 National Jewish Book Award in the category of Holocaust Studies, and selected for the Booklist/RBB Editors’ Choice: Reference Sources Awards.

אנציקלופדיה זו היא הניסיון הראשון לקבץ את המידע ההיסטורי על הגטאות שבהם רוכזו
היהודים באזורי הכיבוש של גרמניה הנאצית ובעלות בריתה באירופה בתקופת השואה ומהם
גורשו רובם אל מותם, ולהגישו באופן שיטתי לחוקרים ולמתעניינים. המידע המובא כאן מבוסס
על עדויות שנאספו, על פרסומים קודמים, על מפעלי מחקר קודמים של יד ושם ועל מגוון מחקרים
שנעשו בישראל ובעולם ועסקו בנושא מנקודות מבט שונות.
בדיונו על הגטאות בימי השואה מציין דן מכמן במבוא ההיסטורי, כי שלטונות הרייך
השלישי לא הגדירו מעולם את המונח גטו בהגדרה משלהם. עבודתנו התבססה אפוא על הגדרת
עבודה רחבה ביותר למונח זה, שלא הושתתה על עיון תאורטי מקדים במונח, ואף לא על הדרך
שבה השתמשו בו הנאצים. במילים אחרות, לא הגדרנו "גטאות" דווקא את המקומות שהנאצים
כינו בשם זה בפקודותיהם, כפי שהן משתקפות בתיעוד הגרמני, אלא בחרנו לגבש את ההגדרה
באופן פנומנולוגי, כלומר מתוך עיון מתמיד בחומר ההיסטורי – סיפור תולדות היהודים במגוון
רחב של מקומות יישוב באזורי הכיבוש הנאצי – ובניסיון לאפיין באמצעותו את היסודות
המהותיים של התופעה.

Recent literary texts in English, French, and German represent the Ho-locaust through the autodiegetic narration of Nazi perpetrators, a strategy that emphasizes the humanness of their protagonists and complicates the reified image of Holo-caust perpetrators that has developed in the decades since the war. Questions of reader identification, affect, and empathy are of critical ethical importance when examining such texts, providing new challenges for the currently flourishing discourse on narrative empathy. This article considers how narrative depictions of the perspective of perpetrators actuate complex and varied processes of empathy and identification in their readers. First, it situates its inquiry within recent research on narrative empathy, which offers a compelling framework for understanding readers' empathetic engagements with admirable or suffering characters but has only barely begun to investigate empathy for victimizers. Second, it reconsiders the notion of reader identification as an umbrella concept that better accounts for complex readerly engagements with ethically charged characters. Third, it suggests a taxonomy of identification that combines cognitive, affective, and ethical components and allows for the itinerant fluctuation between types and degrees of reader investment in a character at different points in a given narrative. Finally, by taking a closer look at Martin Amis's 2014 novel The Zone of Interest, which pits two ethically dubious perpetrator-narrators against each other in a bid for the reader's ambivalent identification, this article demonstrates how texts narrated by Holocaust perpetrators have mobilized and managed reader identification and considers the ethical issues that arise from it.

This essays discusses three very different works of Holocaust fiction: Anne Michaels, "Fugitive Pieces," Bernard Schlink, "The Reader," and "Binjamin Wilkomirski, "Fragments: Memories of a Wartime Childhood.."  All three have captured public interest as striking efforts to re-engage in provocative ways the emotional and cognitive issues that inhabit the inner landscapes of haunted memory, charting the pervasive grip that the traumatic past continues to hold upon present lives and identities -- for their characters, and by extension, to us.  In all these works of first-person narrators, the past incessantly resurfaces into consciousness in both direct and oblique ways with all the urgency of an obsession that disrupts chronology and casts a shadow over all subsequent experience.

This essay proposes that Ruth Klüger’s Still Alive is an intentional American rewrite of her German autobiography. Using different strategies of adaptation and cross-cultural translation, Klüger transforms her life story into a contemporary Jewish-American autobiography. This re-inscription of memories, especially those of her youth in Vienna, her Holocaust survival and migration into a different memory community is done to create ‘thick’ relations with, and ethically and intellectually engage, her American readership. By recreating her autobiography as American, Klüger highlights transnational aspects of Holocaust memory, but inscribes her past within national containers of memory. She does this to bring the Holocaust home to America, rather than portraying it as a locally or temporally distant event.

Abstract: There are many testimonies preserved in archives that recount the horror of the Holocaust and that have become resources for historical and social research. In addition to testimonies produced with descriptive intention or in the full awareness of becoming documents for historians, some testimony writers have signed their books with a literary intention, but the very nucleus of their work is to explain the nature of their experience in the concentration camps without resorting to describing their own cases. These works blur the boundaries between history and literature, because, while they present themselves as works of fiction, they feed on testimonial autobiography. The testimony writers want to explain the horror that they experienced by fictionalizing their own experience. These are works which contain truth and which are narrated with a literary intention, works which reach a general audience and have a profound impact. This is the case of the Spanish writer Jorge SEMPRÚN, who attempts to "invent" the truth in his literary work. His autobiographic-novelistic testimony is situated in the ambiguous no-man's-land of autofiction.

What does it mean for poetry and music to turn to each other, in the shadow of the Holocaust, as a means of aesthetic self-reflection? How can their mutual mirroring, of such paramount importance to German Romanticism, be reconfigured to retain its validity after the Second World War? These are the core questions of Axel Englund's book, which is the first to address the topic of Paul Celan and music. Celan, a Jewish Holocaust survivor who has long been recognized as one of the most important poets of the German language, persistently evoked music and song in his oeuvre, from the juvenilia to the posthumous collections. Conversely, few post-war writers have inspired as large a body of contemporary music, including works by Harrison Birtwistle, György Kurtág, Wolfgang Rihm, Peter Ruzicka and many others. Through rich close readings of poems and musical compositions, Englund's book engages the artistic media in a critical dialogue about the conditions of their existence. In so doing, it reveals their intersection as a site of profound conflict, where the very possibility of musical and poetic meaning is at stake, and confrontations of aesthetic transcendentality and historical remembrance are played out in the wake of twentieth-century trauma.

This paper analyses testimonies of survivors of the detention camps operated by the last military dictatorship in Argentina, with special attention to the functions served by the referencing of testimonies of the Shoah (above all in Ese infierno, a collective testimony by five women in dialogue form). The intertextuality herein assumes different functions in the shaping of discourses and representations, whether in the
form of a quotation, an epigraph, a metaphor, an endeavour to legitimise what is being said, a comparison, or an effort to incorporate one’s own experience into a narrative of the catastrophe already so well known in human history.

Since 1945, authors and scholars have intensely debated what form literary fiction about the Holocaust should take. The works of H. G. Adler (1910-1988) and W. G. Sebald (1944-2001), two modernist scholar-poets who settled in England but never met, present new ways of re-conceptualizing the nature of witnessing, literary testimony, and the possibility of a “poetics” after Auschwitz. Adler, a Prague Jewish writer who survived Theresienstadt and Auschwitz among other camps, was a prolific writer of prose and poetry, but his work remained little known until Sebald, possibly the most celebrated German writer of recent years, cited it in Austerlitz in 2001. Since then, a rediscovery of Adler has been under way. This volume of essays investigates the connections between the two writers to reveal a new hybrid paradigm of writing about the Holocaust that forwards our understanding of the relationship between literature, historiography, and autobiography. In doing so, the volume also reflects on the wider literary-political implications of Holocaust representation, demonstrating the shifting norms in ‘Holocaust literature’ written in German post 1945. The contributors are international experts on Adler and Sebald: Jeremy Adler, Jo Catling, Peter Filkins, Helen Finch, Frank Finlay, Kirstin Gwyer, Katrin Kohl, Michael Krüger, Martin Modlinger, Dora Osborne, Ruth Vogel-Klein, Lynn L. Wolff.

This book reassesses Primo Levi’s Holocaust texts in light of the posthumanist theories of Adorno, Levinas, Lyotard, and Foucault which together critique humanist notions of subjectivity, ethics, culture, and science. I argue that Levi positions himself as an exemplary subject of Western modernity who experiences and interprets Auschwitz through the lens of Enlightenment humanism. Even as Levi speaks for the victims, his texts suggest that Holocaust writing framed by humanist assumptions risks complicity with the murderous master narratives of Nazism that it seeks to overturn. My book explores the consequences of this potential complicity for the future of the humanist subject.
Reviewed in The Journal of the Association for the Study of Modern Italy. See https://doi.org/10.1080/13532944.2012.756706

Talking about the Holocaust has provided an international language for ethics, victimization, political claims, and constructions of collective identity. As part of a worldwide vocabulary, that language helps set the tenor of the era of globalization. This volume addresses manifestations of Holocaust-engendered global discourse by critically examining their function and inherent dilemmas, and the ways in which Holocaust-related matters still instigate public debate and academic deliberation. It contends that the contradiction between the totalizing logic of globalization and the assumed uniqueness of the Holocaust generates continued intellectual and practical discontent.

The German invasion of the Netherlands on the 10th of May 1940 was not only a tragedy for the Dutch people; it was also a tragedy for Dutch literature. In a few weeks time, the intellectual leaders of an entire generation would disappear. In the chaos of the battle of Rotterdam, Doeke Zijlstra, editor in chief of the publishing house Nijgh & Van Ditmar, was killed by a stray bullet. Publisher Robert Leopold, who feared German revenge for his publication of Hermann Rauschning’s critical work Hitler Speaks, shot himself. The promising Jewish writer Jacob Hiegentlich took poison and died. The young poet Tom de Bruin was accidentally shot by a nervous Dutch sentry. Hendrik Marsman, the most celebrated Dutch poet of his time, was among the few who found a place on a ship that would bring him to England. Within sight of the coast, however, they were hit by a German torpedo and he drowned. By then, two of the most prominent essayists, Edgar Du Perron and Menno ter Braak, had already died; Du Perron collapsed with a heart attack during the bombardment of an airport near his home in Bergen and ter Braak committed suicide upon the news of the Dutch surrender to the Germans. None of them ever knew about the death of the others.
What might seem as the last chapter of a Greek tragedy was only the beginning. During the occupation, at least 700 men and women of the underground press would lose their lives. The punishment for participation in the clandestine press was equivalent to that for acts of sabotage. Propaganda had been an essential element in the rise of the Nazi movement in Germany and, as such, a strict control over the press in the occupied Netherlands was considered of paramount importance. Literature was given a totally new purpose in the occupied Netherlands; it became propaganda in support of the Nazification of Dutch society and the tightening of links between the “Germanic” Dutch and their German “brothers.”
Hence, Dutch authors were suddenly confronted with a tough challenge. For decades, most of them had preferred the loftiness of the ivory tower over the squabbling of daily politics. In 1937, the celebrated novelist Simon Vestdijk still wrote: “The creative artist faces war like a toddler: utterly helpless.”  Only a couple of years later, his publishing house was bombed and he himself was taken hostage. The same author, who didn’t want to have anything to do with war, had ended up in its clutches.
In fact, after the German invasion, participation in political debates was no longer an option. It had become a necessity. Even keeping quiet was now considered a political statement. In this context, a simple poem could have a huge impact.