A review by spyralnode
Journal 1935 - 1944: The Fascist Years by Radu Ioanid, Patrick Camiller, Mihail Sebastian

informative sad fast-paced

2.0

Form does a lot for a piece of writing. It clarifies or adds an ethereal quality, it defines the position of the author to the story, as well as the distance towards the reader, can bring a level of never seen before originality that takes your thinking in a different direction and often really brings the content together. I've historically been a fan of quite traditional prose, perhaps stories within stories, multiple timelines or displaced characters, but always with a level of flow and depth as the text progresses. So I can't say that I was thrilled to be reading a journal, even though I've had a few positive experiences in memoirs. 

Yet here it didn't work for me at all, and I'm guessing that a lot of my experience is both that the structure was incompatible to my preferred reading style, and I didn't think it facilitated well the sort of emotional impact I was expected from an antisemitic World War II narrative. Because even though this is non-fiction, it is a narrative, a telling of Mihail Sebastian's years of living in Romania under the German pressure of Jewish persecution. 

But the war only truly breaks about about half way through the book, until then we see Mihail be the target of minor aggressions, detect antisemitic behaviour amongst his peers yet he continues to be a shining star of Romanian literature in the 30s. Most of his entries are focused on his work, financial considerations, and especially his social circle and women. There is so much name dropping, of other authors, politicians, journalists and people working in theatre, and this, combined with the journal format, makes it read very bitty. For me, this is encouraging of speed reading, because I don't expect to remember who everyone is or to care, plus most of the text is focused on naming events as they happen rather than a personal response. This happens occasionally, but I didn't find it satisfying, it's more a chronicle than a diary. 

This is the essence of why I had trouble connecting in any way to this story. I can see it's unpopular to have a poor opinion of the 'Journal', but that's where I'm at. It wasn't captivating or evocative, it misses the mark on prompting intimacy and care from the reader, honing in on information rather than feeling. Moreover, after reading this book I am concerned about the relationship of the author to women. They were either women he was involved with, wives, or Cella Serghi (fellow Romanian author). They were appreciated for physical qualities, beauty, attractiveness, smoothness of the skin, but nothing related to their personality, behaviours or interactions with the author. This was disappointing to see, and gives me the impression of objectification rather than fully fledged humans.

There were things here and there that were interesting, for example how Jewish people were required to move from their homes which were redistributed to state employees, similarly giving away a number of their clothing based on their income, or getting their food rationed. Also, having recently read 'War and Peace', it brought more intrigue seeing Mihail compare the timeline of the Napoleonic Wars to those of the Second World War. He is also a big appreciator of classical music, and even though I wish those passages were more evocative of the sounds and sensations, it was still fun to have them mentioned.

So while not hitting the mark for me, I'm still glad I read it and found out a little more about the Jewish experience in Romania.