Arts & Culture

Erez’s new CD shows mastery

Itamar Erez’s May Song is inventive on many levels.

The most difficult thing for artists to do, and the aim which is most central to their consciousness, is to create something original, something new, something that is their own. We recognize the music of the greats because of their distinctive musical signatures, and all artists work towards this, with varying degrees of success. Itamar Erez, as evinced on his five previous recordings, and no less on his latest musical offering, May Song, is just such a distinctive artist – one with a voice and musical signature all his own.

An Israeli-Canadian guitarist, pianist and composer based in Vancouver, Erez is already quite celebrated, and deservedly so, and has been recognized by his musical peers and reviewers the world over (including the Jewish Independent). He is a globetrotter, musically and literally. His music is tinged with timbres, melodies and rhythms that evoke the confluences of the many cultures of the world.

Created and recorded in 2021, and released in October 2022, May Song is the most recent step on his musical journey, and it breaks new ground in a number of ways. Significantly, Erez’s guitar is not present here – the emphasis is on composing and improvising from the keyboard.

“Over the last three to four years, piano is definitely more my focus,” he said. “Music was written with the piano in mind, and involved some polyrhythms and layers that are not possible to be performed on the guitar without some overdubs, which was not the direction I wanted to take.”

Erez began his career as a writer of through-composed music for others to play. Though he still creates such compositions, he has evolved as a composer, and is in a creative phase where he celebrates the improvisational qualities of music.

“I think that there is a shift in my music over the years,” he said, “going from through-composed music and being a composer who writes for others in the early days to a composer/performer/improviser, where the improvising part is growing to be just as important as the rest.” About May Song, he said, “I felt that the best part of the music is in what happens in the moment. The tunes will sound different each time. So this is a time of letting go of controlling the music and letting it unfold.”

His collaborating musicians on this recording have been working with him regularly for some years now. Jeff Gammon on bass and Kevin Romain on drums are tremendously in sync with Erez, bringing out the nuances of his musical gestures and style. No less, his longtime collaborator on clarinet, the world-class and gifted François Houle, carries the melodies on several tracks.

Conceived, prepared and recorded during the pandemic, Erez describes the project on his Bandcamp page as being “all about, for me, emerging from darkness and doubt into lightness and joy….”

Picking up on this thought, permit me to put forward my own take on this progression in the recording – as the moods and content move, generally speaking, from darkness to light, from doubt and concern to resolution.

The album begins with “Chant,” an invocation, as it were. Beginning with sparse piano string harmonics, it moves into Middle Eastern-sounding modal patterns, finding in-between notes as harmonies, evoking maqam-like (maqam = Arabic mode) gestures. The music gives way to sweet chords, a simpler melodic setting, a chant with out-there harmonic invention, always questioning.

“Hourglass,” with its quick five-beat underpinning, evokes a state of restless anticipation. Here the polyrhythmic utterance is quite pronounced, as the clarinet states the melody in a different metrical frame. The ensemble is tight and the rhythmic threads are followed excellently. There is an interweaving of improvisations followed by an extended solo for drums.

About polyrhythms, and in the hope of clearing away any mental barriers to the enjoyment of the music, let me briefly explain the concept. Polyrhythmic work is the putting together of two different beat patterns simultaneously. In “Hourglass,” the repeated five-beat pulse is overlaid by a melody in a different beat pattern. This gives the music a sense of suspension, and may even sound improvisatory while being a compositional device. So it is freer and more indeterminate than a strict groove.

Track 3, “Catch Me If You Can,” continues this five-pulse underpinning, but is brighter and livelier, a playfulness, a glimmer of hope. It segues into a quick three-beat, and there is a conversation between this three and the five, free and harmonically uncluttered.

“You And Me” features a steady three-beat underpinning, with a sadder more contemplative mood. A call-and-answer dialogue gives way to a piano improvisation over the groove. A bass solo intervenes, and the dialogue continues until its plaintive ending.

“March” reintroduces the clarinet, and very much sounds like a movement out of darkness into light. The darker chords never take over the mood, though some darkness lingers. By turns, explosions of melody give way to broader strokes. The clarinet solo begins to soar, inviting all to break free.

“May Song,” the title track, opens by stating the melodic theme contemplatively, then gives way to a five-beat pattern overlaid with the theme in cross-rhythm. This is varied with a second theme, which is somewhat anthemic and declarative, yearning and even victorious. By the end, there is a sense of quietude, gratitude and resolution.

Finally, “Long Way Home” begins in a quiescent manner, with a bit of a crying voice, but it continues the declarative, resolved and personal statement previously arrived at. The piano is answered in bass and drums, and a dialogue ensues, giving way to a slow, patterned statement of increasing force. Yes, there may still be some darkness to be overcome, but we have arrived at a hopeful state nonetheless.

May Song is inventive on many levels – melodic, harmonic and rhythmic. Never idle, the music is varied, always searching, with an intensity even in its quieter moments. There is a mastery here, especially in the use of polyrhythmic elements, but complexity is always balanced with an enjoyable harmonic and melodic richness. Erez’s musicians all evince a depth of feeling and understanding that give the music great integrity.

About his future direction, Erez shared, “My upcoming album will be a duet album with Hamin Honari (an amazing Persian percussionist). We went to the studio for two days recording improvisations … this is the first time I did something like that, it felt very exciting.”

Speaking for myself, I truly look forward to following Erez on his continuing musical journeys. He is a singular artist of prodigious talent, to whose music it is always rewarding to listen.

May Song is available for digital download at itamarerez.bandcamp.com. For information about upcoming shows and all things Itamar Erez, visit itamarerez.com.

Moshe Denburg is a Vancouver-based composer, bandleader of the Jewish music ensemble Tzimmes, and the founder of the Vancouver Inter-Cultural Orchestra (VICO).

Book Fest epilogue event

Jack and Edie Austin (photos from JCC Jewish Book Festival)

Former federal cabinet minister and senator Jack Austin, who has been involved in politics and public policy for more than 50 years, and his daughter, Edie Austin, editorial page editor of the Montreal Gazette, will be in conversation with Ronald Stern, founder and president of Stern Partners, on Feb. 28, 7 p.m., at the Rothstein Theatre as a Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival epilogue event.

The two will discuss their book, Unlikely Insider: A West Coast Advocate in Ottawa, about Jack Austin’s public service. With both historical perspective and an eye to the future, Austin reflects on events and people whose impacts are still being felt, and on the enduring challenges of Canadian life. For tickets ($18) to attend the event, visit jccgv.com/jewish-book-festival.

– Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival

Series tries to inspire climate action

Tikkun olam, repairing the world, is a central tenet of Jewish life, but sometimes the task can seem overwhelming. The climate crisis looms large for all of us, but especially for younger folks, who will bear the brunt of its effects. A new graphic novel for 6-to-12-year-old readers offers an optimistic, fun story about the power of kindness – towards ourselves, other people, animals, the environment – to energize and inspire us to action, to at least try and fix things.

I Can Hear Your Heart Beep, published by Planet Hero Kids in Vancouver, is the first book of the children’s graphic novel series Steve and Eve Save the Planet. Written by Paul Shore and Deborah Katz Henriquez, with imaginative and colourful illustrations by Prashant Miranda, the book is being released on Feb. 25, in recognition of International Day of the Polar Bear, which takes place Feb. 27. One of the book’s two main characters is a polar bear, Steve, who lives in the Arctic. Steve, Eve (an electric vehicle) and their friends come to realize that it is up to them to do whatever they can to clean up the environment and try to stem the global warming that is, among other things, reducing the animals’ food supply.

Eve ends up in the Arctic accidentally. Bullied and ostracized by her “gassy car cousins,” who tell her, “You’re just a heartless machine, sister – like us – you’ll never make a difference in this world!” she takes off (she has wings) to find her “pack,” other electric vehicles. On her way to Norway, she experiences a malfunction that lands her in the Arctic, where she is found by Steve, who’s having problems of his own – driven to stealing food because he’s so hungry, and missing his parents, who went away to find food and haven’t returned.

I Can Hear Your Heart Beep is the genesis story of the two likely-to-become environment heroes, Steve and Eve. We find out their motivations and meet their first sidekicks/allies, the other Arctic animals, and Burger the Booger, their first nemesis of, no doubt, more to come.

For readers wondering about the choice of an electric car as a heroine, Shore writes on the book’s website: “The spark that started our Planet Hero Kids journey first became visible when my pyjama-wearing 8-year-old daughter spontaneously hugged an electric car! That day of our first EV test drive, my daughter laid her little body on the car’s hood with arms outstretched across it, and with one ear against the smooth metal she said, ‘she has a heartbeat.’ The fact that the car seemed calm, gentle and fun … seemed to tell her that the machine was as friendly as a family pet.

“The realization that young children intuitively understand what is healthier for them and the planet sent me in search of partners to help create an uplifting climate action kids book that would cultivate hope and a sense of opportunity during the challenging era in which our children find themselves growing up.”

Shore took the idea to Henriquez, who, he told the Independent, he “first met at an author’s reception at the JCC book festival several years ago!” The pair began their collaboration, eventually connecting with Miranda.

I Can Hear Your Heart Beep can be ordered from Amazon. For more information on the series, visit savetheplanetbook.com.

Fresh new fairy tale

Making old, familiar stories new and fresh again. Writer Sandy Lanton and illustrator Kim Barnes do just this with their take on Red Riding Hood: Lily Blue Riding Hood, published by Seattle’s Intergalactic Afikoman.

Lily loves to skateboard and almost every page of Lily Blue Riding Hood is full of movement, as she swiftly rolls to everywhere she needs to be. On Purim, it’s to Granny’s house, with her blue hoodie pulled over her Queen Esther costume, its crown atop her helmet, her backpack full of hamantashen she’s just baked (leaving behind the messiest of kitchens). On the way, she passes Thaddeus T. Wolfe and chats long enough with him that the smell of the hamantashen gets him plotting how he can get Granny’s treats for himself.

Readers can make their own treats using the recipe for Lily’s Skateboarding Hamantashen, which are the regular triangle shape, but then attached to a long flat cookie, the “skateboard,” and either small round cookie or candy “wheels.” The recipe page also includes a paragraph on what Purim is and how it’s celebrated.

Lily Blue Riding Hood is a colourful and humour-filled modern-day Jewish fairy tale that will make both adult and child readers smile.

Emotionally packed film

Ofir Raul Graizer’s America features a love triangle of sorts, between Iris (Oshrat Ingadashet) and Eli (Michael Moshonov), above, who meet at her and Yotam’s flower shop, and Yotam (Ofri Biterman) and Eli, whose afternoon swim turns tragic. (screenshots courtesy Beta Cinema)

On Feb. 23 at Fifth Avenue Cinemas, the Vancouver Jewish Film Festival offers an award-winning teaser to next month’s festival. Ofir Raul Graizer’s America is an emotionally packed film that says as much with dialogue as it does visually.

We meet Ilai Cross in Chicago, where he is a beloved swimming teacher. With gentle sensitivity and patience, he helps kids overcome their fears and become comfortable in the water. He is great at his job, and seems happy, if solitary.

A phone call from a lawyer informing him that his father has died sends Ilai – whose real name, it turns out, is Eli Greenberg – back to Israel. He’s obviously uncomfortable being “home,” his policeman father’s retirement plaques and guns everywhere. There are reasons Eli left Israel for the (mythical) land of opportunity, America, which we eventually find out.

In contrast to his father’s stark, rundown, predominantly beige house and untended yard is the vibrant, life-filled flower shop of his childhood friend Yotam and fiancée Iris, and their brightly coloured living space, where they welcome Eli for dinner. Between some too-long hugs and what seem like yearning looks, one wonders just how close were friends Eli and Yotam, but the film gives nothing away.

image - Yotam and Eli swimming — *(screenshot courtesy Beta Cinema)*

When the two friends go swimming at an old haunt, an accident leaves Yotam in an extended coma. At first blaming Eli for the incident, Iris eventually bonds with him, in part because of their shared loss. When, 18 months later, Yotam wakes up, life changes again for Eli and for Iris, both of whom must make their own decisions as to what they consider the morally responsible way forward.

The acting is excellent. While Oshrat Ingadashet was awarded for her performance at the Jerusalem Film Festival last year, both Michael Moshonov, as Eli, and Ofri Biterman, as Yotam, deserve kudos, as well. All three actors play their roles with quiet force, emoting as much in a gesture as in words. The relatively sparse dialogue invites viewers to focus on what else is pictured in each scene, and Graizer lets shots of newspaper articles, an actor’s face or the landscape help tell the story. He respects viewers’ ability to handle ambiguity, answering enough questions to satisfy, but leaving much to discuss afterward. Cinematographer Omri Aloni’s work adds beauty and depth to the production.

America screens at the Rothstein Theatre on Feb. 23, at 7 p.m. To see the trailer and buy tickets to see the movie, visit vjff.org.

The Vancouver Jewish Film Festival opens March 9 and runs to March 16 at Fifth Avenue. There will be more in-person screenings March 17-19 at the Rothstein Theatre and select films will be available online March 19-26.

Survivor reflects on identity

Marie Doduck speaks with a guest at the launch of her book A Childhood Unspoken on Jan. 22. (photo by Josias Tschanz)

“We survived.” These are the words that adult Marie Doduck would tell her childhood self, Mariette, who survived the Holocaust being moved from hiding place to hiding place over a period of five years.

Doduck was answering a question during a book launch laden with emotion – deeply sad as well as celebratory and with moments of laughter – Jan. 22 at a packed Rothstein Theatre. Her book, A Childhood Unspoken, was just released by the Azrieli Foundation’s Holocaust Survivor Memoirs Program.

In a conversation with Jody Spiegel, director of the memoirs program, Doduck spoke of how she is two people – the European Jewish child, Mariette Rozen, who never grew up, and the Canadian adult, Marie, who she had to create to suit her new surroundings after arriving in Vancouver with three orphaned siblings in 1947.

“Mariette will never grow old,” she said. “The child Mariette will always be the child inside and that’s what survivors live. We left the child that was in Europe, we created a wonderful life here in Canada, but when I speak and when I leave this room Mariette stays in this room and I become Marie again.”

Doduck explained her long hesitancy in sharing her story, not only because of the vulnerability it requires, but because the experiences of survivors like her had been dismissed and diminished in the past.

“As a child survivor,” she said, “we were told that we didn’t have a story.”

For decades after the end of the Holocaust, the term “survivor” was largely reserved for those who had been in concentration camps or subjected to forced labour. Child survivors who had been hidden or otherwise managed to escape capture and murder were deemed not to have suffered like older survivors.

This silent or quietly conveyed message was underscored by the way child survivors were treated after the war, even by well-intentioned adults like the families who fostered some of the 1,123 orphans, including Doduck, who came to Canada under the auspices of Canadian Jewish Congress from 1947 to 1949.

“We were from outer space,” she said of the reactions she and fellow child refugees received from Canadians. “We saw things that children should never have seen.”

Placed in homes with new families, with little or no assistance in addressing what they had experienced, many children did not do well.

“Of the 40 children who came to Vancouver, my brother Jacques and myself, I think, were the only two lucky children who stayed with the same family,” Doduck said. “My sister [Esther] didn’t stay with her first family, she became an au pair. Henri jumped from family to family.”

In some cases, said Doduck, the children were told they would die by the time they were 30 “because we were not normal in the Canadian eyes.”

Doduck wrote the book with Dr. Lauren Faulkner Rossi, assistant professor of history at Simon Fraser University. Speaking at the event and addressing Doduck directly, Faulkner Rossi acknowledged that the process was difficult.

“You would have to become the child Mariette many times,” she said, noting that Doduck was forced to plumb memories she has tried to forget. Faulkner Rossi said Doduck had to trust her, though Doduck’s “inclination is to trust no one – a crucial Holocaust childhood lesson that is never quite unlearned.”

“It’s a hard process for any child survivor to write their story,” Doduck said, not only because of the emotional toll but also because of the imperfections of childhood memories. “Did we hear it from adults? Did we live it? I wanted the truth.”

Doduck pressed Faulkner Rossi wherever possible to substantiate her recollections with historical evidence. During the process, Doduck recalled things she thought had been lost. “Sometimes one memory triggers another that you thought you had forgotten,” she said.

Doduck is a founding member of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, through which she has shared her history with tens of thousands of students and others. She is also a philanthropist and community leader, volunteering and leading events, including co-chairing, with fellow VHEC co-founder Dr. Robert Krell, the 2019 conference of the World Federation of Jewish Child Survivors of the Holocaust and Descendants, in Vancouver.

Before Doduck’s presentation, VHEC executive director Nina Krieger described Doduck as “a force … a formidable and sought-after champion for many community organizations. She is also a mentor and a friend to so many, including me, and has inspired more than a generation of community leaders, especially young women, with her vision, passion, tenacity and work ethic, not to mention good humour and grace.”

The book launch event was presented by the VHEC and the Azrieli Foundation. Doduck’s daughters Cathy Golden and Bernice Carmeli read from the book. Arielle Berger, managing editor of the Azrieli Foundation, noted that, since 2005, the foundation has published more than 150 memoirs of Canadian survivors of the Holocaust. The foundation provides the books for free to schools and universities and also provides teaching resources and training to educators. This was the first in-person book launch since the pandemic.

The full theatre was still during an emotional moment when Doduck addressed her family in the front rows.

“I don’t say it often and I want to say it publicly to my children, my family sitting here, thank you for accepting who I am,” said Doduck, now a great-grandmother, before acknowledging the lack of experience with which she approached parenting. “When I was blessed with my children, my husband had to teach me how to go to the library and get a book,” she said. “I never knew a story to tell the kids.”

As a child, she said, Mariette was never hugged, never put to bed, was never kissed, never had a toy and never had a bedtime story.

“My first toy, I was 36 years old, I was the guest speaker in Winnipeg at a fundraiser,” she said, “and they gave me my first doll. I still have it. The only doll I ever had in my whole life.”

As a founding member of the local group of child survivors who meet regularly, Doduck tried to explain the uniqueness of child survivors to their own children.

“We all passed something to them that we didn’t realize we were doing, a burden that we gave to our children, our firstborn,” she said. “I apologize to all the firstborn. We didn’t mean to put a burden on you.”

She takes pride and sees a sense of progress in the different ways her three daughters have viewed her.

“My middle daughter, Bernice, always accepted me. That’s the way mom is,” she said. “That’s the middle child of all the survivors’ children. And my youngest daughter, Cheryl, may she rest in peace, only thought of me as a Canadian. So, I progressed. I fulfilled my duty in becoming Marie, the Canadian.”

Creating functional artworks

An archival photograph of Andrzej Jan Wroblewski explaining the mechanics of one of his kinetic sculptures, a predecessor of Opus 6. (photo from cicavancouver.com)

During the six decades of his professional life, industrial designer Andrzej Jan Wroblewski contributed to almost every area of artistic expression and human consumption. A list of his works includes cutlery for an airline, an excavator, tapestries, computer software, children’s books, kinetic sculptures, an iron, and a portable shower in a suitcase. His retrospective show, Andrzej Jan Wroblewski: Invisible Forces of Nature in Art and Design, opened Jan. 26 at the Centre of International Contemporary Art (CICA) in Vancouver.

Wroblewski graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Warsaw, Poland, in 1958. A year before, as a student, he participated in his first major sculpture competition – for the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial. The committee received 426 entries from many countries. Wroblewski and his friend, architecture student Andrzej Latos, designed a way for a visitor to walk through the camp’s horrors, to understand them on a visceral level. Their design used the existing landscape, while the authors acted as composers of the visitors’ experience.

“Our submission was one of only seven selected for the short list,” Wroblewski said in an interview with the Independent. “Before I submitted, I didn’t even tell my sculpture professor. I thought he might have submitted his own concept and I didn’t want him to think I was competing with him, especially if I didn’t win. I was right. He did submit his own proposal and he was one of the seven shortlisted as well.”

After that, there was no more hiding. “But my professor was a wonderful man,” Wroblewski recalled. “He told me that my presentation was so good, I should use it as my diploma project. He also offered me the position of his assistant after my graduation.”

Wroblewski started teaching sculpture, but he doubted the artistic medium would be his future. “After my project didn’t win the Auschwitz competition, someone tried to comfort me,” he said. “They said I could use the idea for some other project, and it made me angry. Re-using that idea felt wrong. The whole concept was created for a special place and purpose; it didn’t belong elsewhere. And that led me to thinking that maybe sculpture wasn’t what I wanted to do. Artists rarely decide what happens to their creations; bureaucrats decide. But if I switched to industrial design, I would have many more chances to give my creations to people: industrial designers create with their users in mind.”

He switched to industrial design and became one of the pioneers in the field in Poland. He submitted proposals for several international competitions and worked on many objects on contract with production companies. An excavator, a scooter, and a set of thin steel cutlery for a Polish airline all originated from that period of his life. He became the first dean of the faculty of industrial design of his alma mater.

“Industrial design changes our behaviour,” he said. “If I design a cup and it goes into production, it could change how people drink. Good industrial design is supposed to make our lives easier.”

Wroblewski was one of the first industrial designers in Poland to use a computer, and even developed special software to help other industrial designers. By 1987, he was a rector of the Academy of Fine Arts in Warsaw. Cracks in the Iron Curtain were already emerging, and the academy started cooperating with one of the best schools of industrial design in the United States. In 1988, Wroblewski received an invitation to teach at the University of Illinois.

“I taught there for 13 years, before I retired,” he said. “After retirement, in 2000, my wife and I moved to Vancouver. Our daughter was already here, working at UBC. I taught at Emily Carr, but for one semester only. I still had too many ideas, too many projects in my head, and I wanted time. Retirement gave me that time.”

Some of his ideas are on display at the CICA gallery. All of these installations employ various forces of nature, which lent the show its name. “In the past,” Wroblewski said, “the division in the arts was much more rigid. You either did sculpture or you painted or you drew. Now, the dividing lines are dissolving. The artist uses what he needs to express himself. One installation might involve several artistic forms in various combinations.”

One of the pieces is an interactive kinetic sculpture called Opus 6. It explores kinetic energy and gravity. There is a moving part with a tablet and a stationary part with a suspended pen. If you put a piece of paper on the tablet and give it a nudge, it begins swinging, and the pen produces a unique abstract drawing on the paper underneath.

photo - A doodle created by Andrzej Jan Wroblewski’s Opus 6 — A doodle created by Andrzej Jan Wroblewski’s Opus 6. *(photo from Andrzej Jan Wroblewski)*

For Wroblewski, Opus 6 was a reconstruction. His original installation was called Opus 5 and it was bought by a museum in Poland. “I decided it was much cheaper to build it from scratch here, in Vancouver, than to transport the original from Poland and back,” he said.

Another installation explores gravity and viscosity and concentrates on water. “I studied music before the art academy [and] I used my own music for the water installation,” the designer shared. “I also built a special maze of Plexiglass to be able to see how a drop of water flows, and then I recorded it all in a light projector and created a video. This installation is a tribute to water, one of the most powerful forces of nature.”

In a separate corner, made dim by the enclosed walls, Wroblewski situated a series of light sculptures. His chandeliers hang from the ceiling or stand on the floor, their radiance interweaving. The shapes and sizes are all different, but the material used is the same: paper-thin strips of light-coloured wooden veneer.

Wroblewski’s desire to explore new materials and new approaches for his work always drove him towards experimentation, towards the unknown. “When I came to the States, I was fascinated by computers,” he said. “I used a program called Paintbrush to create some abstract compositions, but, at that time, there were no printers big enough to give me the large size I wanted. I decided that a tapestry would be the best medium to enlarge those digital paintings. I built a special loom and made a tapestry for each of those paintings. Every pixel in the digital paintings corresponds exactly to one knot in the tapestry. It took me about six months to complete each of the large tapestries. It is how I operate. When I have an idea, I find a way to achieve it.”

Demonstrated side by side with the printouts of his digital paintings on standard-sized paper, his couple-metre-wide tapestries look impressive.

One of his most recent projects is a series of 10 children’s picture books. Each book is about a specific animal, with the amusing pictures by Wroblewski and the text by his daughter, University of British Columbia professor Anna Kindler. “We did it when my great-granddaughter was born, three years ago,” he said.

His latest sculpture dates from about the same period, 2019. “I saw a tree grown through a fence, as if the wires sprouted from inside the tree. It was near UBC. I cut it down and installed it in a wooden frame. It demonstrates how nature could absorb civilization.”

In 2018, for his lifetime contributions to the field of industrial design in Poland, Wroblewski was awarded the Officer’s Cross of the Order of Merit of the Republic of Poland. He was also named one of the three most influential Polish designers of the 20th century.

The retrospective runs until March 3. For more information, visit cicavancouver.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

An intense, urgent read

A formula for survival for a child in the Holocaust: “Don’t trust anyone; never speak unless spoken to; never give your real last name; if you see your brothers and sisters, don’t run to them: cross over to the other side of the street. Don’t cry and don’t get sick; just survive.”

This is how the character of Mariette Rozen of Brussels, Belgium, aka Marie Doduck of Vancouver, Canada, was fashioned during her formative years between the ages of 6 and 11 during the Holocaust, beginning in 1940. Those words of caution from her older brother Jean, painfully scoured from the mists of Marie’s memory, have become a kind of coat that one takes off in polite company, but it is a mantle that never left her, even in her 80s, as Marie looks back in her memoir on her two lives: a child Holocaust survivor and a Canadian with a lifetime of achievement in the arts, family life, business and service to her community.

Entitled A Childhood Unspoken, this book of only 138 pages is a powerhouse! Co-authored and researched by Simon Fraser University history professor Lauren Faulkner Rossi, the memoir is written in two authentic voices: Marie Doduck the Canadian citizen, 86-year-old mother, grandmother and great-grandmother who, while recollecting her past, slips back into Mariette Rozen, being hunted or hiding in Belgium in the 1940s or transitioning to a new life in Vancouver in the 1950s. I began reading the first chapter silently. Then, the urgency and honesty of the voices behind the prose came alive. I wound up reading the entire book aloud to my partner Ruth, who grew up with Marie and shares high school memories with her.

It was an intense experience. There is in the book an urgency to at last speak the unspoken repressed memories of her traumatic childhood, to unearth and – most importantly – to verify the truth of Marie’s memory about where Mariette had been, with whom and where she lived as she was bounced from one location in Belgium to another while running from the Nazis. Marie wondered: did Mariette really see her mother and brother snatched from a Brussels street by the Nazis or did that happen in a dream? Did she have grandparents? This and much more was verified through Faulkner Rossi’s research. Marie’s memory grew clearer, however, when she described the frustration of Mariette the teenaged refugee whose lack of English drove her to draw pictures in order to communicate with her Vancouver foster parents, the Satanoves.

But Mariette desperately wanted to catch up on her education, to fit into the Kerrisdale schools of Vancouver. To become a Canadian. Very quickly, and to the amazement of other children, she not only learned English but even seized leading singing roles in school operettas. As a married woman, the same talent, grit, brains and determination guided Marie to leadership roles in her children’s schools, in her synagogue, in Jewish charities and in business with her husband, Sidney Doduck. She gained such a wide reputation as a Holocaust witness and survivor that she was invited to address the German parliament, which she refused.

Several of the Shoah episodes retold by the Doduck-Rossi team bear repeating here. In a Belgian orphanage where Mariette’s Jewish origins had been carefully guarded, one of the nuns told the Nazis about her but then confessed it to the Mother Superior, who quickly opened a sewer for Mariette and banged the metal plate closed over her. Mariette waited for hours, terrified in the black sewer while rats crawled over her and the boots of Nazi soldiers clanged on the metal plate above. The Nazis left empty-handed.

Chased by Nazis, Mariette took shelter in a Belgian barn but knew that she couldn’t hide in a loose haystack because they would be probing them with pitchforks, so she chose a tightly-bound bale, dug a hole for herself, crawled in and pulled the hay in behind her. Sure enough, a Nazi came and began probing the loose stacks with a pitchfork. As he left, he stuck the fork into Mariette’s bale and pierced her hand. When the farm housewife came to rescue her, she found blood all over and took the child into the kitchen for repairs. “Who is doing all the screaming?” Mariette wondered out loud. “It’s you,” said the woman as she disinfected and bandaged the wound.

Although Mariette saw much brutality and death, there were some good people. Among her many saviours was a “good” German soldier. Mariette had been swept up on a Brussels street along with many other Jews and non-Jews, packed into a cattle car and transported to a concentration camp overnight. When the doors slid open at the camp, a Nazi soldier screamed in German, “What is my sister doing on this train?” Without hesitation, Mariette began screaming back the few German words she knew and the Nazi soldier took her off the train, put her into a motorcycle sidecar, drove her to the outskirts of town and dropped her off.

I was inspired by Marie’s Judaism. There is also much to be admired about her lack of hate and her anti-hate philosophy, her lack of self-pity and the life force that drove her to accomplish so much and to give back so much. Yet this book is also a tribute to Marie’s brothers and sisters and to all of those approximately 1,200 traumatized Jewish children who were brought to Canada after the war and strove to fit in and to make themselves a new life. It’s a memoir that Marie’s children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren can proudly cherish as a history of their ancestor who is one of this country’s great Jewish Canadians.

Stan Goldman is a retired English teacher who lives in Richmond.

Integration policy misguided

Max Czollek, left, speaks with Prof. Chris Friedrichs, after Czollek launched his new book here Jan. 19. (photo by Pat Johnson)

German attempts to create a cohesive national narrative into which newcomers must integrate is a mistake – and the role Jewish Germans play in this “Theatre of Memory” is especially problematic, according to Max Czollek, a provocative thinker who was hosted by the Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival last month.

Czollek visited Vancouver Jan. 19, the only Canadian stop on a North American tour promoting the English translation of his book De-integrate: A Jewish Survival Guide for the 21st Century. He excoriated the German integration process as an ideological disaster.

“The only integration Germany has done well is the integration of old Nazis,” he said, explaining that about 99% of Nazi core perpetrators never met justice and, in fact, often succeeded in postwar Germany despite their wartime activities. By contrast, he notes in his book, those who challenged the Nazi regime were often viewed in the postwar context as politically untrustworthy: “[A]fter all, they had already revealed themselves as willing to resist the structures of the German state before.”

While the failure of the larger integration scheme is a theme of Czollek’s book, his main thesis is that Jews are being used to cover up the atrocities of the past. In the contemporary German narrative of integration, newcomers to the country are expected to assimilate into a vaguely defined “guiding culture” (Leitkultur) and not misbehave, Czollek told an audience in the Zack Gallery. But, despite that the vast majority of German Jews are migrants, too, that expectation is not imposed on them. Instead, Jewish Germans are assigned a different and unique role in a German narrative that seeks a return to a normality that was shattered by the Nazi era.

Positioning German Jews collectively as bit players in a larger narrative of redemption reduces them to a cover for the history of their own destruction, he argued: “Because, as long as there are Jews in Germany, then Germans can’t be Nazis.” He later said, “We don’t feel this is our function – making Germans feel good again.”

Czollek, who was born in East Berlin in 1987, two years before the reunification of Germany, explained the different postwar experiences of the tiny Jewish populations of East Germany and West Germany. Numerically, though, these experiences are overwhelmed by those of post-Soviet Jews: 90% of German Jews are migrants from the former Soviet Union or their descendants, he said. And these migrants (or, in the term used for their children and grandchildren, “postmigrants”) are excluded from the burdens placed on other newcomers, especially Muslims. In fact, said Czollek, Muslim immigrants play a role in this narrative, too, in which “good Germans” must now protect Jews against perceived threats from Muslims.

The author looks with a particularly jaundiced eye at German Jews who subscribe to this narrative, such as those who vote for the far-right Alternative for Germany party (AfD) based on anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant policies. “Maybe the next time the mosques are going to burn first, but then the synagogues are going to be next,” Czollek said. “We know if the Muslims won’t be able to live safe in Germany, then the Jews won’t either.”

The very idea of a German “guiding culture” is flawed, Czollek argues, not only because the unification of Germany in the 19th century brought together diverse tribes and groupings into what is now purveyed as a unitary nation, but because the postwar immigration of diverse peoples has made such a unified culture unworkable. “Because, given its current state of social diversity, arriving at an ethnically and culturally homogeneous Germany would simply require ethnic and cultural cleansing,” Czollek writes.

A central flaw in the integration narrative, he argues, is that, no matter how long someone named Mohammad has lived in Germany, they will be subject to different criteria of good citizenship. Neo-Nazis who commit arson against refugee shelters or march down the street chanting “Heil Hitler” are not accused of failing to integrate into the German culture, he noted.

“[A]t what point are you no longer considered an immigrant who refuses to integrate [Integrationsverweigerer], but simply a frustrated German?” he asks.

Czollek contends that the narrative of a prevailing German culture (and integration into it) has seeped from the far-right across the spectrum. “Not a single democratic party platform neglects to centre this term in discussions of social belonging,” he writes. “No discussion panels about migration are complete without someone underscoring the importance of integration.”

Czollek argues for a live-and-let-live approach, but suggests the advocates of integration aren’t interested.

“They can eat weisswurst with sweet mustard for lunch and drink at least one litre of beer a day,” he writes. “I have no problem with that and neither do my friends. And that’s precisely the point that fundamentally separates those of us who would defend a concept of radical diversity from those proponents of German guiding culture: we want to create a space in which one can be different without fear, while the other side wants to implement cultural criteria for belonging that by necessity exclude those who don’t align with their concept.”

The original German version of Czollek’s book was published in 2018, shortly after the far-right AfD had become the third-largest party in the Bundestag. Rather than spurring a backlash against extremism, other politicians took a page from the playbook, he argues, with the parties of the right, centre and left warning of the perils of nonintegrated newcomers.

Czollek views the AfD’s rise as a symptom as much as a cause – “Suddenly things everywhere are staining Nazi brown,” he writes – and he sees a different avenue for political success in the face of the far-right surge.

“I don’t believe Germany will win the fight against the New Right without the votes of (im)migrant, postmigrant, Jewish and Muslim citizens,” he writes. “And this critical – if perhaps unfamiliar – new alliance requires strong narratives, the willingness to accept self-criticism from all sides, and a political vision for a society beyond the current integration paradigm.”

Czollek has a doctorate from the Centre for Antisemitism Research at the Technical University of Berlin, has published books of poetry, and is a co-editor of Jalta, a journal of contemporary Jewish culture. He has been involved in political and multicultural theatre in Berlin for many years but with this, his first nonfiction book (translated into English by Jon Cho-Polizzi), he burst on the scene as a contentious public intellectual. The opposition to his work evoked not just political challenges but also public efforts to discredit him based on his identity as a patrilineal Jew.

Czollek’s presentation, in conversation with Markus Hallensleben, associate professor in the department of Central, Eastern and Northern European studies at the University of British Columbia, was opened by book festival director Dana Camil Hewitt. The main festival runs Feb. 11-16.

Just for Laughs returns

Phil Rosenthal of Somebody Feed Phil takes part in Just for Laughs Vancouver on Feb. 19. (photo from JFL Vancouver)

Just for Laughs Vancouver returns for another year’s festival, presented in association with SiriusXM Feb. 16-25. It welcomes back Best of the West, highlighting local talent, and reintroduces the Creator’s Series, with the ﬁrst guest conﬁrmed surely to be an entertaining afternoon: Phil Rosenthal. Listed below are some of the Jewish community members participating in the festival.

A Conversation with Phil Rosenthal / Feb. 19, 5 p.m., at Vogue Theatre

Rosenthal is the award-winning creator, executive producer and host of Netﬂix’s hit Somebody Feed Phil, as well as a New York Times best-selling author. The Emmy-nominated unscripted documentary series combines Rosenthal’s love of food and travel with his unique brand of humour and he recently won a 2022 Critics Choice Real TV Award for Best Travel/Adventure Show on behalf of the series and garnered a 2022 James Beard Award nomination. He also recently released Somebody Feed Phil: The Book, which instantly landed on the New York Times bestseller list.

Sarah Silverman: Grow Some Lips / Feb. 23, 7 p.m., at Queen Elizabeth Theatre

Silverman is a two-time Emmy Award-winning comedian, actress, writer and producer. She currently hosts her weekly podcast, available on iTunes and wherever podcasts are available. She can next be seen as the host of TBS’s Stupid Pet Tricks, an expansion of the David Letterman late-night segment. She recently wrapped production on Netﬂix’s Maestro, a biopic on the life of composer Leonard Bernstein, where she will star opposite Bradley Cooper.

Ari Shaffir / Feb. 25, 9:30 p.m., at Vogue Theatre

Shaffir is best known for the storytelling show he created and hosted on Comedy Central called This Is Not Happening. His last Netﬂix special, Double Negative, won a Grammy for best comedy special before the award committee realized it was too ﬁlthy and didn’t represent the high standards that the Grammys has long stood for so the honour was stripped from him. Shaffir has had numerous appearances on the Joe Rogan Experience podcast, as well as WTF with Marc Maron, The Adam Carolla Show and Your Mom’s House. His own podcast, Ari Shaffir’s Skeptic Tank, is a chart topper that comes out every week.

Sarah Sherman / Feb. 16, 9:30 p.m., and Feb. 17, 7 p.m., at Biltmore Cabaret

Sherman aka Sarah Squirm is currently a featured player on Saturday Night Live. Outside of the show, she is known for her unconventional and popular live show, Helltrap Nightmare. She was chosen as one of the 2021 Just for Laughs’ Montreal’s New Faces of Comedy.

Jared Freid / Feb. 22, 9:30 p.m., and Feb. 23, 7 p.m., at Rio Theatre

Freid is a stand-up comedian based out of New York City, with a strong focus on dating and relationships. His comedy is current and reﬂects the ordinary daily thoughts of everyone you know, especially if you know a lot of millennials who are obsessing over dating apps, trying to be real adults, and worrying about their bodies. He co-hosts the podcast U Up? with Jordana Abraham, where they discuss their takes on modern dating, and recently launched a new show, Dating Makeover, a podcast presented by Spotify.

An Intimate Evening with Adam Pally / Feb. 17, 7 p.m, at Rio Theatre

Songs, stories and jokes come together just like Momma used to make it. Enjoy the stories, sing along to the songs, hopefully think the jokes are in fact jokes and the price of the ticket and commute and being around a bunch of strangers was worth it. I, uh, I mean whoever is writing this, definitely not Adam Pally, is so thankful for the opportunity to entertain you.

Hannah Berner / Feb. 18, 9:30 p.m., at Rio Theatre

Berner was born in Brooklyn, N.Y., and played competitive tennis for the University of Wisconsin. She emerged on the comedy scene by directing, editing and acting in videos on Instagram and writing viral tweets. She has two podcasts, Giggly Squad and Berning In Hell. Berner is an advocate for mental health, animals and napping.

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For the full Just for Laughs Vancouver lineup and show tickets, visit JFLVancouver.com.

– Courtesy JFL Vancouver