The Emigrants by W.G. Sebald, translated by Michael Hulse

 


 I read this first soon after the English translation appeared, and, realizing that I was in the presence of genius, I immediately acquired several more of Sebald's books. Then I set them aside. I do this sometimes with work that I feel certain I will love; I save them for the right time, a pleasure deferred.

The right time has come. Rereading The Emigrants, I find it just as moving, just as surprising, just as astounding as I did on first reading it. As with much of the best art, one isn't certain how Sebald does it. It was, when it first appeared, "unlike any book one has ever read" (Susan Sontag), though of course now there are libraries filled with books in which writers, with varying degrees of success, have attempted follow where Sebald has lead. No one, of course, does his mix of memoir, travel book, fiction, and subtle reflection on history better.

The holocaust is alluded to, but never explicitly discussed. It is the best book about the holocaust that I have ever read. I look forward to moving on to the rest of Sebald available in English

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