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ABSTRACT
A Guest for the Night, one of Agnon’s greatest novels, has long been considered to have dealt with the demise of Jewish Eastern Europe, Zionism and the art of the novel. This article offers a different reading, showing Agnon’s novel as a radical work that may have greatly exceeded its author’s intentions. Focusing on the irony directed at the novel’s narrator, I claim that A Guest for the Night calls on its readers to reconsider common premises regarding the history and politics of Eretz Israel/Palestine.
Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.
Notes on contributor
Riki Ophir is a scholar of Hebrew, Yiddish, and German literature. She studied Comparative Literature and Sociology at Tel Aviv University before completing a Ph.D. in Jewish Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. She taught courses on Hebrew literature, Yiddish poetry, Frankfurt School aesthetics and Zionist thought and history at the GTU (Graduate Theological Union) SOAS, University of London, and Ben Gurion University of the Negev. She is currently completing a book, titled: Why Does Beauty Give Birth to Knowing the Pain of the Other: Aesthetics and Ethics in Hebrew, Yiddish and German Poetry.
Notes
* For their responses to early drafts of this essay, I am indebted to Chana Kronfeld and Michal Arbell. Any errors are my own responsibility.
1 Following Polish spelling, the town’s name is Szybusz in the English translation, and should be pronounced “Shibush,” Hebrew for something that changed form and went wrong (from the root sh-b-sh). Agnon first uses the name Shibush in his Sipur pashut (A Simple Story), first published in 1935 (Agnon Citation1935, Citation1985). I thank Michal Arbell for drawing my attention to this fact.
2 In all citations from the novel page numbers of the Hebrew follow those of the English translation.
3 See also Sadan (Citation1973, 22–23; 54) and Halkin (Citation1942, 139–146.)
4 Arbell (Citation2008, 173–208) maintains that as of the 1930s Agnon’s work focuses on the question of continuity between traditional Jewish identity as it existed in Eastern Europe and a new national identity, unreligious and Zionist, formed in Palestine. On Agnon’s oeuvre at large as a memorial for what is lost see also Arbell (Citation2006).
5 Arbell explains (in a private e-mail exchange) that her own “harmonious” interpretation of the novel differs from that of others since other scholars, such as Dan Laor, believe that the novel expresses a continuation of the traditional world within Zionism. She, on the other hand, argues that the novel focuses on the tragedy of the break, and it is the guest’s mission to generate a continuous mourning endeavour.
6 According to Miron (Citation2000, 549–608), Agnon believed in Zionism as the only hope for a creative continuation of Jewish life, while at the same time he felt that Zionism could be no more but a partial and tragic redemption. It is my understanding that the irony in this novel calls on us to ask about the nature of Zionism as “tragic redemption:” what makes it tragic? Is there any hope at all, even if only partial? Is there indeed nothing that we humans can do but passively accept Zionism as tragic? Agnon may have believed Zionism was a partial redemption, but his novel exceeds such understanding, as I show in this essay.
7 Laor (Citation1995, 157–174) explains that by extending the week he had spent in Buczacz Agnon turns a journey novel into a historical novel (roman-tkufa), and indeed A Guest for The Night tells a story relating to an entire generation at a specific historical moment.
8 Barzilai (Citation1979) explains that in this novel, unlike Agnon’s other sipure shiva (stories of Return), the narrator’s reasons for travelling back to Szybusz remain unclear throughout the novel.
9 During the riots 133 Jews were killed and 341 wounded; 116 Palestinians were killed and 232 were wounded. Most Jews were killed in their homes, most Arabs were killed by the British security forces while they were attacking Jewish neighbourhoods and Jewish settlements (Cohen [Citation2013] Citation1929, 20–21).
10 The English translation confusingly adds “inside” to “space,” an addition not to be found in the Hebrew chalal (space). The word “inside” may create the false impression that the narrator wishes to burn the space inside the desks and not that inside the old synagogue.
11 The narrator refers here to gilgul mehilot (transportation through tunnels), an idea originating in Midrash bereshit Rabbah (a collection of homiletical interpretations of the book of Genesis).
12 Translation amended by the author.
13 The English translation uses another spelling for Hanokh (Hanoch).
14 Although it could be said that nothing much was in his hands, and far greater forces and injustices were involved in causing Hanokh’s death, the narrator does not care for this man at all. When Hanokh disappears and later when his body is discovered, the narrator confesses to caring not for Hanokh’s life, but only for the wood he fails to bring to heat the old synagogue. See the end of chapter 29.
15 Whether he is to blame for Hanokh’s death or not (a question that occupies his mind, although he insists he is not to blame), the narrator is troubled by failing to give anything to Hanokh’s widow. It is Reb Hayim who forces him to do right and give her some money: he asks the narrator to pay him for his work at the old synagogue and then gives the money to the widow and her orphans. See chapter 41.
16 See chapter 21.
17 Also, but not exclusively, through his insistence on bringing new life to the old synagogue—the house of the privileged educated class in Jewish society, as opposed to the poor people’s house of prayer—but without caring for it himself.