Night 1139his inadequacy, and eventually exterminated. Before
his father’s murder, at times, Wiesel feels the man is
a threat to his own survival. He even has momentary
lapses during which he wishes to be relieved of the
burden. However, when he recalls how Rabbi Elia-
hou’s son abandons his father, much to his astonish-
ment, Elie finds himself praying for the strength
never to abandon his own father.
Russell Nurick
memor y in Night
Memory is inseparable from traumatic experience.
Victims of deeply disturbing events usually cannot
help but to keep them alive in their minds both
immediately and years after they literally cease. They
often reenact these experiences in order to attain
the feeling of control over a moment when they
had none. This practice is predicated on the hope of
transcending an inhibitive sense of seemingly insur-
mountable vulnerability and the magnified fear of
death that accompanies it. It is an accomplishment
that enables trauma victims to proceed forward with
their lives. Night, as it is written in the genre of
memoir, is Elie Wiesel’s very real attempt to make
sense and ultimately take control of abject, traumatic
memories to which he has been subjected since his
personal Holocaust victimization.
Being that the word remember typically connotes
an intentional act and therefore positive experience,
Wiesel uses a substitute for it when detailing the
invasive imprint that is stamped into his psyche the
moment he enters Auschwitz. Instead of saying, “I
will always remember,” he says, “Never shall I for-
get” to indicate his wish, yet inability, to erase the
memory from his mind. As a result, he remembers
his first night in this concentration camp over and
over again, an experience which, as the title of the
book indicates, transforms his entire “life into one
long night.” More specifically, during this first night,
he sees Jewish children thrown into a furnace. As
he witnesses the consumption of their bodies, he
experiences the consumption of his faith in God.
Although Wiesel would obviously rather forget this
tragic event, S.S. officers produce prisoner submis-
sion to their rule by ensuring that neither he, nor
his fellow Jews, will. One such officer tells them,
“Remember this. . . . Remember it forever. Engrave
it in your mind. . . . Here, you have to work. If not,
you will go straight to the furnace.” The effect the
officer has on Wiesel is so powerful that he admits
he has not forgotten the man’s face even as he is
writes this book 10 years after the Nazis have been
defeated.
Night suggests that acquiring the ability to
repress the memory of certain tragic experiences can
be essential to the survival of victims. This is the case
when Elie and other Jewish prisoners with whom
he communicates are forced to cope with the loss of
family members and friends. For example, first Elie’s
mother and sister are taken from him when the
males are separated from the females at Birkenau;
then he witnesses those who fail the selection pro-
cess of the infamous Dr. Mengele being taken away
and, in all likelihood, incinerated. Wiesel’s and his
fellow Jews’ response to losses such as these demon-
strates their need for and engagement in repression:
“Those absent no longer touched even the surface of
our memories. We still spoke of them—‘Who knows
what may have become of them?’—but we had little
concern for their fate. We were incapable of thinking
anything at all. Our senses were blunted.” As this
passage reveals, Elie and the other males with whom
he is imprisoned unconsciously prevent themselves
from feeling the significance of what is temporary
and what may be permanently lost to them. They
block the memory of their loved ones to avoid wor-
rying about the precarious outcome of people they
cannot protect. This process enables them to retain
their sanity and go on with their lives.
As Wiesel’s writing is engaged in moving beyond
repression, he uses it to consider the possibility
that some of his tragic memories actually contain
redemptive value. This becomes evident as one
examines the significance of his unexpected encoun-
ter with Juliek, a violinist with whom he works at
the warehouse in Buna. He crosses paths with this
man on the forced, 42-mile evacuation run from the
camp where they previously worked together. Much
to Wiesel’s surprise, although Jews were forbidden
from playing German music, he hears Juliek play-
ing a fragment of Beethoven’s concerto, a final act
of rebellion that his oppressors cannot prevent (he
is killed by fellow Jews who stampede over him
shortly after). As Wiesel listens to Juliek play, he