Lind, Jakov (Vol. 27)
Jakov Lind 1927–
(Pseudonym of Heinz Landwirth) Austrian novelist, short story writer, dramatist, and scriptwriter.
Lind is a powerfully expressive writer who is best known for his horrific portraits of human depravity. His is a bleak vision of the world, one in which there is no morality or reason and in which the bizarre is commonplace. As evidence for the truth of this vision, much of Lind's fiction points to and chronicles the Holocaust and the tragic events that occurred in Central Europe during World War II. He sees the mass extermination of the Jews and the horrors of the war as proof that cannibalism is basic to human nature and that humans crave violence and death. In works that are said to go "beyond nihilism," Lind combines realism with black humor and the grotesque to portray the modern individual as one who seeks neither to redeem or be redeemed.
Lind's own wartime experiences as a Jew form the basis of his vision and are recorded throughout his fiction. Born in Vienna, he lost his parents during the Nazi invasion of Austria and at the age of eleven was sent to Holland by a Zionist refugee group to escape persecution. After the Nazis invaded Holland, he obtained false documents and fled to Germany where he successfully masqueraded as a Nazi. After the war, Lind emigrated to Palestine. He returned to Europe in 1950 and wandered there for several years. Since the late 1950s, Lind has lived primarily in England. These travels and experiences weave their way in and out of Lind's work. His viewpoint is that of the alienated outsider, an exile forced by fate to witness a civilization devolving into madness. Fluent in six languages, Lind abandoned German to write in English in the late 1960s. Critics view this as evidence of the ambivalent feelings he has for Germany and for his past.
Lind's most renowned works are the short stories collected in Eines Seels aus Holz (1964; Soul of Wood and Other Stories) and his first novel, Landschaft in Beton (1966; Landscape in Concrete). In both of these works, Lind uses the grotesque in a Kafkaesque fashion in combination with realism to demonstrate the barbarism of the Nazis and the events of World War II. Lind's dark vision of the world is fully developed in these books which have cannibalism and perversity as their recurring themes. Critics praise the vivid imaginativeness of Soul of Wood and Landscape in Concrete and respect their depth of feeling. Lind's later work includes a three volume autobiography and the recent novel, Travels to the Enu (1982). The latter, the first of Lind's novels to be written in English, is reminiscent of Jonathon Swift's Gulliver's Travels. It satirizes postwar Western civilization.
(See also CLC, Vols. 1, 2, 4; Contemporary Authors, Vols. 9-12, rev. ed.; and Contemporary Authors New Revision Series, Vol. 7.)
Travels to the Enu, Jakov Lind's first novel to be written in English, is described by his publishers as a "funny and fantastic satire on modern European life", and it is dedicated to "all seafaring travellers into unknown worlds, above all to our Master, Jonathan Swift." Claims like these encourage the reader to pull up his socks; even to get out his disbelief suspenders, dated and frayed though these may be, from the back of the drawer.
Jakov Lind's command of English is impressive though not impeccable. A native speaker would not have referred to "lapidary wisecracks". Like Vladimir Nabokov and Joseph Conrad, he makes use of the word "pal" (though not "chum")—which must reflect some felt inadequacy in our language. Where the dialogue sounds peculiar ("Cut the shit, you alien devil") he has at least the excuse that it is being spoken by the half-human species he has invented. Of his powers of invention there can be no doubt.
Orlando, the narrator, signs up for a cheap cruise on the SS Katherine Medici, a true Narrenschiff whose surly and rebellious crew, gluts of food and periods of famine, mutinies and piracies, make her into an image of economic life as we know it. The ship blows up and our hero thinks, wrongly as it turns out, that he alone has survived to tell the tale.
Once on shore he is surrounded by the Enu, monstrous painted creatures whose heads are crowned with...
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In 1938, when Jakov Lind was an eleven-year-old schoolboy, the Nazis goose-stepped into his home city of Vienna, sending him fleeing to Holland and a lifetime of Diaspora. Something more than a Jew without a country, Lind became a displaced artist as well, without a sure tradition or even a language. He wrote at first in German; now he uses English…. He has variously conducted his literary experiments in short stories (Soul of Wood), novels (Landscape in Concrete), autobiography (Counting My Steps) and even scores of radio plays. Yet few contemporary writers have been so single-minded. During all his wanderings he has clung obsessively to the original question from that day when Vienna became "one big swastika." How does a witness register the madness of his times without going mad himself?…
Lind has evolved less an answer to lunacy than a technique for exposing it. In every work he manages to reduce history to a wild nightmare from which one wakes up laughing. In his latest novel, with a nod to Jonathan Swift, grand master of the savage laugh and the surreal voyage, Lind sets sail on one of his most inspired trips.
A certain disgruntled writer, Orlando, and half a dozen other tourists find themselves shipwrecked on the island of the Enu, a very odd little South Pacific island….
[On Enu there] is no place to go, no work to do. Physical labor is a status symbol that an Enu pays to perform. An Enu need not raise a sweat even for food. The natives and their inadvertent guests eat excrement processed to look like conventional food....
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Mr. Lind is playing Jonathan Swift. His original island was Vienna, and his own original speech was German. "Travels to the Enu" is the first book he has written in English. After all the jokes—at the expense of the Portuguese, logical positivists, thinking in French, "human engineering," Ionesco and the origin of the species—he is being very serious about language and literature. He is a Swift who, disconcertingly, giggles and then gargles.
Language is garbage; the Enu eat pages. Someone observed: "We are choking to death on verbs and nouns." Someone else reminds himself, "But I am talking to the wrong ears," Algebra is understood to consist of "incomprehensible numbers and letters no one can decipher." Nobody among the Enu can manufacture the paper on which he might write. These refugees are estranged from "the elementary prose of existence, like eating, drinking, and excreting." We are told, "Stupid thoughts may cost you your life."
You will want to know what happens in "Travels to the Enu," and I'm not going to tell you. Yes, there is sex, and yes, there are Nazis, and the ship that goes down is called Medici, and the American philosopher will astrologize, and when everybody grows paws we know for sure we are dipping our tongue in myth, but this book is really a romance with language. It is about finding "reasons and imagination" in a vocabulary that seems cannibalistic. It has its doubts about abstraction, and it may even object to culture. It wonders, who is fit to survive? It will marry the typewriter and the night. Every story is a small death; every word is a wound….
[Lind] is a writer—one of the best—who has chosen to speak in a different tongue. It is amazing that he is witty; it is not at all surprising that he is profound. One welcomes him to our island.
John Leonard, in a review of "Travels to the Enu," in The New York Times (© 1982 by The New York Times Company; reprinted by permission), May 14, 1982, p. C29.
The New Yorker
In imitation of Jonathan Swift (as is acknowledged at the front of ["Travels to the Enu"], Jakov Lind shipwrecks his narrator on a remote island, where he is obliged to explain western civilization to the natives and the natives' civilization to his civilized Western reader. He suggests that mankind's prospects are pretty dim…. The narrator has a difficult time explaining to the islanders the power of the written word (that a scribble can trigger mass destruction boggles his own mind), while his account of the causes and effects of their chief affliction—boredom—seems unpleasantly familiar. The natives' treatment of the narrator, alternating between brutality and obeisance, and their own social rites (including the worship of birds, which roost in their coiffures, and the manufacture of edibles from excrement), as well as their earthy English, give Mr. Lind ample opportunity for sadistic and scatological digressions. Sometimes his narrator says something original and surprising—his description of a jet plane as a dangerous bird is good—but on the whole this is heavy-handed stuff. (pp. 139-40)
A review of "Travels to the Enu," in The New Yorker (© 1982 by The New Yorker Magazine, Inc.), Vol. LVIII, No. 13, May 17, 1982, pp. 139-40.
Thomas W. Gerrity
A curious little fantasy, [Travels to the Enu]. Its plot is the merest peg from which hang the author's crowded thoughts on life's futility. The narrator, Orlando, recounts his adventures aboard an absurd, "no frills" cruise ship, S.S. Katherine Medici, out of Southampton bound for Sarawak. Once at sea, the crew of cutrate cutthroats set about robbing and murdering passengers, an amusement halted when this ship of fools suddenly founders. Orlando and several other passengers survive to reach an island in habited by naked cannibals who strongly resemble "hominid baboons"—the Enu….
The portrayal of the male Enu's easy life and the female's easier virtue affords occasionally clever swipes at...
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"Travels to the Enu" is not very long, yet somehow, after its brilliant beginning, it drags. The Enu are marvelously grotesque Swiftian creatures, but after a while the joke wears thin. Orlando's irony and King IT's jerky humor begin to sound like an angry tract. Lind starts out as Swift, and ends up on a soapbox complaining about skyscrapers, nuclear war, racial bigotry, international cartels and the cynical collaboration of the working classes. He calls this rotten state of affairs "the Fourth Reich." But by now the hard satirical edge is gone. This isn't satire anymore, it is bitching on a large scale, and we have heard it before. That is a shame, for there is an angry genius at work in "Travels to the Enu,"...
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The plot [of Travels to the Enu] like that of Gulliver's Travels, is built around a sea journey, a shipwreck, a mysterious island and its even more mysterious inhabitants. Mr. Orlando, a London writer, unappreciated and therefore mildly bitter, signs up for a South Seas cruise on the S.S. Katherine Medici, a ship operated by Cosmic Ltd., "pioneers in social tourism." Once out of port, this little floating metaphor of the socialist experiment turns into a nightmare. Passengers are forced to serve the crew, possessions "disappear," and a few unfortunate souls are tried and executed for their most unsocial resistance. Through it all, Captain Gilbert Cook, convicted for gassing his entire family back...
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