Yann Martel’s first novel sold 1,000 copies. But his second, “Life of Pi,” catapulted the Spanish-born Canadian author into the major leagues: The 2001 novel spent 57 weeks on the New York Times’ best-seller list, has been translated into 41 languages and has sold more than 7 million copies.
“Pi,” the story of a boy and a 450-pound Bengal tiger adrift at sea on a lifeboat, struck a universal chord. It won the prestigious Man Booker Prize for Fiction in 2002, along with numerous other awards.
“Beatrice and Virgil,” Martel’s new novel, has met no such embrace. To the contrary, his dark, twisting allegory about the Holocaust has been trounced by literary critics and makes for emotionally wrenching reading.
Martel will join New Republic senior editor Ruth Franklin in a discussion about Holocaust fiction at 12:30 p.m. Nov. 7 as part of BookFest at the Jewish Community Center of San Francisco. Stephanie Singer, JCCSF manager of lectures and special programs, will moderate.
Franklin’s new book, “A Thousand Darknesses: Lies and Truth in Holocaust Fiction,” examines Holocaust novels and asks whether narratives about the Holocaust have an obligation to be faithful to historical facts.
Martel’s novel revolves around a handful of characters: the writer/narrator (and transparently autobiographical) Henry; an aging taxidermist and struggling playwright, also named Henry; Beatrice, a donkey; and Virgil, a howler monkey. The latter two are specimens in the taxidermist’s dusty shop, and take on new lives as victims of Holocaust-like horrors in the grim shopkeeper’s evolving play.
The allegory raises a number of deeply troubling issues, with genocide, animal rights and extinction at the top of the list.
The Holocaust has haunted Martel since he learned about it as a child growing up in Spain. Whereas children can understand the concept of two warring nations, the Holocaust was incomprehensible, he said by phone from his home in Saskatchewan.
“The idea of turning around and killing your friends, neighbors … The Holocaust stayed in my mind as a surreal oddity,” he said.
So over the years, Martel read: Holocaust diaries, histories, novels and more. “Every time a new book came out, I’d read it.”
In preparing for “Beatrice and Virgil,” Martel made three trips to Auschwitz, “just to spend time there and soak in the atmosphere,” and visited Israel’s Yad Vashem.
Just as survivors find it difficult to discuss the Holocaust, so, too, do writers, he said. “Ninety-eight percent of Holocaust survivors say nothing of what they went through … most people fall into silence.
“This [book] is about a writer who falls into silence … It is a story about breaking down silence and finding words.”
Martel chose to use animal characters because “they worked for me [in ‘Pi’] and I thought, maybe I can approach [the Holocaust] in animal disguise … Using animal allegory suddenly liberated me and I could get close to the drama.”
He was not prepared for the sometimes harsh critical reaction to his book, including the charge that it “trivializes” the Holocaust.
Martel responds: “I find it amazing that literary critics say, in essence, you can’t use literary tools with the Holocaust.”
War is often fictionalized — and fictionalized well, he said, citing “Red Badge of Courage” as a prime example. Yet, he added, “we don’t accept that same liberty or factuality with the Holocaust.”
But he didn’t write “Beatrice and Virgil” for the reviewers.
“I had no expectations,” he said. “You write it and you give it to the world.”
Martel hopes that readers take away, “at the very least … a degree of empathy” after reading the novel.
“I was hoping to link the Holocaust to all kinds of things,” Martel said. “I take this dark, ugly event called the Holocaust and throw it at all kinds of things and see if it sticks.
“That’s all we can do — think about the Holocaust, and we hopefully feel for it.”
The conversation with Yann Martel and Ruth Franklin takes place 12:30 p.m. Nov. 7 in the JCCSF’s Kanbar Hall, 3200 California St., S.F. The authors will be available for book signings in the JCCSF atrium at 1:45 p.m.