Review of The Boxer, Reinhard Kleist

Theodor Adorno once said that “writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric”. By this, he implied that the horrors that occurred in this death camp, amongst others, could not and should not be talked about. The Holocaust is a topic which is almost taboo in literature, which makes it incredibly hard for authors to find a successful way to write about it. This makes graphic novels an appealing literary platform as they offer artists the chance to express their impression of the effects of the Holocaust without limiting them quite as much.

The Boxer follows the biographically accurate story of Hertzko Haft (later Harry Haft). Hertzko was a Jew who had the unfortunate destiny to live in Belchatow, Poland during World War Two. As the war developed Hertsko tragically took his brother’s place in a ghetto registration which took him to a concentration camp. The book outlines his struggles in the camp. One of the best aspects of this graphic novel, in my opinion, is the way in which the prisoners are drawn. Kleist sketches these figures in a way in which reminds me of the idea that these men and women were “the living dead”. He presents them as skeletal figures: they are consigned to the world of the dead, but ought to be alive. This is an innovative way to explain the horrific starvation method of torture employed by the camp’s guards. I feel as though it went some way to express these inhumane living conditions.

The novel then moves on to follow Hertzko’s struggle with his own morality. He is forced to commit some atrocious acts in order to survive his ordeal at the death camps. This raises the question as to whether the holocaust made monsters out of both its perpetrators and victims. This question becomes most potent when (not really a spoiler – it is in the title!) Hertzko is forced to box other dying prisoners to entertain the guards: if he doesn’t kill them, the guards will kill him. Thus, Hertkzo “Harry” Haft’s boxing career is born. The rest of the book narrates his journey to America where he once again enters the ring and finds out that the post-war world of boxing is not all it’s cracked up to be …

I have to say, I was slightly disappointed by this graphic novel. Perhaps my expectations were too coloured by the fact that I recently read Spiegelman’s Maus. This novel also follows the true story of a man who struggled through World War II as a Jew living in Nazi-occupied territory. However, I feel as though Spiegelman made better use of the medium of a graphic novel, employing clever symbolism and ideas throughout.

Still, if you want to read an inspiring true story about how one man made his way through the death camps of World War II to freedom, then have a look at The Boxer. It’s a quick, easy read and has some incredibly poignant and thought-provoking images in it. 

Modern Literature and the World Wars; A thought upon Remembrance Day

November 11^th 1918; a date known worldwide. The immense importance of the Great War as well as the Second World War, both of which we think upon during Remembrance services on this date each year, has been endlessly portrayed in fiction throughout the 20^th and 21^st Centuries.

As these wars are a huge part of our cultural consciousness as both a nation and a world, many have become desensitised to it. There are masses of both literary works and films depicting the horrifying reality of war. Thus, the question arises: how does one go about creating a sense of empathy for those who lived and served during the two World Wars in a largely desensitised young generation of people?

The answer appears to lie in subverting the idea of a traditional narrator. When one picks up a book concerning these two wars the story is generally told by an omniscient narrator, a man on the front line, or a woman (nearly always a wife or mother) left behind.

In my opinion, there have been three key modern books which have done this in a way which allows for an empathetic understanding of these two wars for both children and adults.

The first of these is War Horse, written by Michael Morpurgo. His novel is written from the perspective of a horse (although not an entirely original idea if we remember Anna Sewell) during this horrendous time. Morpurgo removes the reader from the domestic front in that the tale is not told from the perspective of a family member, but retains the intensity of emotion within the family unit during the time of fear that was the First World War.

Indeed, the narrative perspective here allows the author to use a single narrator throughout the novel to travel various places and permit the reader to understand the war from different perspectives. It would have been impossible, without writing a clichéd spy novel, to have the reader see the war from both a German and English perspective had a person rather than a horse been used as narrator. It allows the reader to distance itself from mankind in a way that makes one realise that different nations are not different at heart. The horse has no natural racial bias, and neither should we.

Secondly, we have The Book Thief, written by Markus Zusak. This book has an arguably even more inventive style than War Horse as it is narrated by death; a circumstance rarely seen in literature, if ever. The portrayal of death as an anthropomorphic figure again allows us as readers to take a step back from being part of humanity and examine the horrors which humanity has released into the world. The haunting book cover, which depicts death in the visage of the Grim Reaper holding the hand of a small girl and dancing, exposes the way in which Death interacts with both the narrative and the characters. He is not a menacing figure, but displays a playful, often humourous persona, as well as being a rather pathetic figure in that he is burdened by the sadness of the loss of everybody in the world. He has not had to bury a brother, mother, sister, or any kind of relative, but has had to carry each one out of life. Thus the reader’s empathy is heightened as not only are we saddened by the loss of each character in the novel because of the effect of the death on the living, but also because of the effect of the death on Death itself.

Finally, we have The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, written by John Boyne which is narrated from the point of view of a young boy. The extreme naivety of this German child contrasts the disgusting actions of his father and the commanders associated with him, allowing us readers to feel arguably more horrified at the actions of those men, purely because they are not innocent. The use of childlike words, for-example “Out-with” as a misunderstanding of Auschwitz, heightens the empathy we feel for this boy who is utterly clueless as he enters a gas chamber at the end of the novel. However, this novel is particularly interesting as one feels a sick sense of justice when this boy is gassed as his father, who presides over the camp, is forced to realise the effect of these camps. It seems as though nothing else could have forced this upon him.

The immense success of these texts, all of which have won awards for their staggering exposition of the two World Wars serve an important function in modern society: keeping the horrors of the war in the forefront of our memory, ensuring it never again occurs.