The Messiah of Stockholm by Cynthia Ozick
"The Messiah of Stockholm" by Cynthia Ozick is a complex novel that intertwines the themes of identity, history, and the human experience in the context of post-World War II Europe. Set in Stockholm, the story follows Lars Andemening, an orphan who embarks on a poignant quest to uncover his origins and create a sense of self in the absence of a familial past. Throughout his journey, Lars becomes obsessed with the late Polish author Bruno Schulz, seeking to connect with his legacy through a series of literary and tangible artifacts. The narrative explores Lars's relationships with a diverse cast of characters, including fellow refugees and colleagues, as he navigates his fragmented identity and the impact of his search on his personal and professional life.
Ozick's work serves as a tribute to Schulz, reflecting on the broader historical implications of loss and memory within the Jewish experience. The protagonist's fixation on establishing a connection with Schulz highlights the struggle between reality and invention, as Lars grapples with the absurdity of verifying a past that is ultimately unattainable. As the story unfolds, readers witness a transformation in Lars, leading to a newfound acceptance of his reality and a departure from his literary ambitions. "The Messiah of Stockholm" invites contemplation on the nature of self and the ways in which individuals seek meaning in their lives through the legacies of those who came before them.
The Messiah of Stockholm by Cynthia Ozick
Excerpted from an article in Magill’s Survey of American Literature, Revised Edition
First published: 1987
Type of work: Novel
The Work
The Messiah of Stockholm has a dual purpose: It is Ozick’s tribute to Bruno Schulz, the legendary Polish author of Sklepy Cynamonowe (1934; Cinnamon Shops, and Other Stories, 1963) killed by the Nazis in a mass slaying. The Messiah of Stockholm also focuses on the aspect of human nature that craves knowledge of the past in order to have a basis upon which to mold a perception of the present. The deeply human need to have a personal, as well as a cultural, history is one theme winding through this complex novel; this need for a self-history directs the path that orphaned Lars Andemening’s life follows.
Ozick’s third novel, set in the frigid city of Stockholm, Sweden, is a chilling story of one man’s desperate search and struggle to create a rational past for himself. Lars, who selected his name from a dictionary, seeks help from a cast of other World War II refugees who also have public identities of their own choosing. Not all the secondary characters are refugees, however; those in Lars’s world fall into two distinct categories: colleagues with factual pasts from the “stewpot” where he works, and refugees from the bookstore with fictional histories. Lars seeks out members of the latter group to help him discover his own indeterminable origins. Obsessed with his search for verification of something impossible to verify, Lars is incapable of establishing lasting relationships with anyone from either category.
His lack of any family history is considered cause, at least by one of his former mothers-in-law, for Lars’s lack of success in both his personal and professional life. His daughter lives in America; a dried-up childhood paint set is Lars’s only remaining connection with her. He only chose to keep the paints because of Schulz, who had been an art teacher as well as a writer; Lars hoped to see some of his “father’s” talent genetically passed on to his daughter.
Lars’s obsession with Schulz invades his consciousness awake or asleep, the latter being when Lars sees “as if he lets me have his [Schulz’s] own eye to look through.” In his fixation with discovering his past, he searches relentlessly for photographs, letters, reviews—any tangible connection with the dead author.
Reading Ozick’s intricate fiction, one wonders where history ends and invention begins. Ozick’s deep interest in World War II refugees underlies the plot of The Messiah of Stockholm, whereas Judaism plays a far less direct role than in her previous fictional works. Lars presumes himself to be the son of Schulz, a Jew, but he never acknowledges any connection with Judaism, probably because Schulz wrote in Polish rather than in Yiddish. Lars chooses to connect with Schulz by becoming extraordinarily literary, hoping to establish his paternity by sheer force of intellectual achievement.
Lars’s made-up world of presumed identities and a lost masterpiece is bound to crumble. His tangible connection with his “father” has been primarily through the findings of obscure Schulz memorabilia that Mrs. Eklund imports from Poland to Sweden on his behalf. After she delivers what she claims to be the missing manuscript, Lars does some of his most profound thinking and realizes the absurdity of his pursuit: He cannot prove the unprovable. In a sudden metamorphosis, Lars leaves behind his belles lettres and becomes not merely part of the stewpot but a success in his everyday world.
Sources for Further Study
Booklist. LXXXIII, March 1, 1987, p. 981.
The Christian Science Monitor. March 7, 1986, p. 137.
Kirkus Reviews. LV, January 1, 1987, p. 13.
Library Journal. CXII, March 1, 1987, p. 93.
Los Angeles Times. March 11, 1987, V, p. 8.
The New York Review of Books. XXXIV, May 28, 1987, p. 18.
The New York Times Book Review. XCII, March 22, 1987, p. 1.
Newsweek. CIX, March 16, 1987, p. 76.
Publishers Weekly. CCXXXI, January 30, 1987, p. 69.
Savvy. VIII, April, 1987, p. 30.
The Times Literary Supplement. January 25, 1985, p. 102.
The Washington Post Book World. XVII, March 8, 1987, p. 1.