My Reconstructed Life

by Eugen Schoenfeld

In My Reconstructed Life Eugen Schoenfeld tells the improbable story of his life. Born in a small shtetl in the Carpathian Mountains, Schoenfeld became a professor of Sociology at Georgia State University. The fact that a small boy from this background would become a professor is noteworthy in and of itself. What makes it remarkable, however, is that between one axis of his life-his youth in a small Jewish community in Hungary's mountains-and the other-his distinguished career at a state university-he endured and survived the Holocaust. Though each life is uniquely valuable, the course of Schoenfeld's life reminds us of the tremendous intellectual and professional losses perpetrated by the Holocaust. From Foreword by Deborah E. Lipstadt, Ph.D., Emory University, Atlanta, GA.

272 pages, Perfect Paperback

First published August 5, 2005

Reviews

[Miriam Jacobs · Rating 2 out of 5]

I hesitate to offer some of my critiques of this book because of political loyalties for a fellow Jew, a sufferer of the Holocaust, and fellow human being, frail as we are, subject as we are to our character flaws. Schoenfeld's methodology in composition is clear. It is a series of essays, memories, roughly chronological, but discursive, going back and forth in time. He repeats himself; he unfortunately contradicts himself. Well, human beings are contradictory. We can excuse it when he talks about reasons for abandoning his father. Were they estranged? Were they trying to protect each other? But when the contradictions are matters of fact - does he speak Czech or not? Did he not have a good reader to go over the manuscript before he published it? And what about things he reveals about his character unintentionally - pride, narcissism, mendacity? His deep enjoyment of dressing up and impersonating and American GI, successfully fooling everyone, I found deeply disturbing. You want to like this speaker because he has suffered, and because you know you yourself have character flaws. You can imagine him rising in the morning, sitting down at an empty desk with only a pen and a sheaf of blank paper, not bothering to review what he wrote before, pushing his pen blindly forward. The result is what you would expect: it reads like a self-published memoir. Not careful. Not conscious of audience. Writing that justifies the self to the self. It is not a good book, and that's sad because it could be. The writer's authentic experience is valuable. It could open, wedge open, private and individual understanding of an enormous event. He would have to tell the truth, though, even if it might sometimes be embarrassing. He makes the mistake of hiding what he is ashamed of rather than allowing the reader and history to judge, or to determine whether or not judgement is necessary. He does not trust the reader's capacity to see nuance or the entire sweep, to understand well and deeply, or to forgive. You take out the truth, and the account loses its value, what has happened here, I am sorry to say.

[Lynn · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had the pleasure of listening to him speak and I was able to hear his voice throughout this book. it was great insight to the reality of this time. A tragic moment in history and he approaches it with grace. I found some of it repetitive but took it as an account from a grandfather.... eluding to parts of the story before he gets to that part. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in an account during this period, to anyone looking to follow up the Steven Spielberg documentary about Hungarian Jews, and to anyone looking for insight into Judaism (and those wondering how you can keep the faith after such a travesty). He explains the holidays, mindsets, Yiddish, and other american unknowns every well.