I promised to write about the books I read and, well, here’s the first one I finished just yesterday: “Germanija: Wich ich in Deutschland Jüdisch und Erwachsen wurde” (Germany: How I Grew Up in Germany and Became Jewish).
I chose this book for a variety of reasons. Firstly, more notable immigrant memoirs are focused either on USA and/or on experiences of people of color. “Russian” immigration in Germany, consisting of descendants of ethnic Germans, Russian-speaking Jewish people, recently moved techies and creatives, is underrepresented in the media and often reduced to stereotypes. Perceiving themselves as Europeans but not being perceived in Europe as such, white people but still receiving second-class treatment, they are neither here nor there. Couple this with a prevailing trait of “toughing it out” instead of speaking out or demanding more equality, and you’ll understand the relative vacuum in the German-speaking media landscape around the subject.
Secondly, I understand that I had it much easier than the first wave of post-Soviet immigrants with their limited access to information, little to no language learning resources, and precarious living conditions. So I wanted to compare their experience with mine, reflect on that and think on what has changed since then for refugees that came to Germany in recent years.
Last but not least, I met the author in person: he had a talk at the church around the corner as a part of a program aimed at a dialog between Christian and Jewish communities in Berlin. Not only he seemed like a good person — I would’ve loved to ask him so many questions, me, a recent immigrant in Berlin back then. So when he mentioned the book, I jumped at the opportunity. By “jumped” I mean “added it to my list and didn’t get to it for the next 3 years”. But now the time has come!
Having moved to Germany in 1994, Belkin describes his first “station”, a small university town, then Frankfurt with his unique Jewish scene I had no idea about, and, ultimately, Berlin, whose strong gravity pull he couldn’t resist. Ironic, open, and reflecting, he writes in simple German but his thoughts are razor-sharp. Just like Wladimir Kaminer, “the most beloved Russian in Germany”, he writes in a simple language and I couldn’t help but wonder: is it because he wants to reach as big of an audience as possible, including people for whom German is not a native language? Or is it because they want to confirm to a dominant German stereotype of a foreigner — educated, but unable to master the German language — and start a dialog from there? Is it the way to add to a multitude of styles and perspectives in the media — if my background and experience are so different, why shouldn’t my language be?
Beware: behind the superficial simplicity, true gems are hidden, and I wonder if all German readers would be able to notice them. Here’s how he describes a Soviet Jewish immigrant family in Germany who moved in late 80s, in my translation, which surely comes short to the original: “The Reichmanns, and, first and foremost, the authoritative and imposing Solomon Petrovich, amputated their own past. The operation was performed every evening on an open heart of their memories”. Or how about this one: “I miss the intensity of my feelings from the past, but not the past itself” — oh, how many Russian immigrants would whole-heartedly agree! Or how he, having renounced his Ukrainian citizenship and acquiring the German one, notes: “I brought with me my books — my portable homeland, my eternal citizenship”. Or how he, in his wonderful last chapter titled “A Letter to an Advanced Immigrant”, poignantly states: “Don’t follow the American “Everything is great”, for it is just an illusion, and put aside the German “Nothing is possible!”, too — negativity is a privilege of the natives, often, their last resort”.
What’s even more important is his journey: how he first started to feel German, long after he received citizenship, and what experiences awoke this feeling. How his stints at American universities further enriched his perspective. How and why he chose to embrace his Jewish identity, how and why he can feel safe being Jewish in Germany, of all places. I wished he had put even more details into these stories, but who am I, an insatiable reader, to tell the author to answer not only so many questions he already answered for me, but many more?
