Reviewing a recently published collection of Primo Levi’s works translated into English, Ian Thomson examines the successes and failures of various attempts to render the writings of the Italian chemist and Holocaust survivor into other languages. Thomson also tells of Levi’s early postwar business trips to Germany:
Levi displayed no obvious rancor during his first trip to Germany in 1953. On the contrary, he was keen to practice the German he had learned so imperfectly at Auschwitz. . . . By the time of his second visit in July 1954, however, Levi was in an antagonistic mood. He . . . wanted to meet a former Nazi and went out of his way to ruffle sensibilities by introducing himself: “Levi, how do you do,” carefully articulating the Jewish surname first.
Levi had already glimpsed an unpleasant instinct lurking beneath the polite surface of the Bayer headquarters outside Cologne, when an employee observed that it was “most unusual” for an Italian to speak German. Levi countered: “My name is Levi. I am a Jew, and I learned your language at Auschwitz.” A stuttering apology was followed by silence. Levi could hardly pretend that he was in a normal business relationship with post-Hitler Germany.
Levi’s most dramatic encounter—what he later called “the hour of colloquy”—took place one lunchtime at Bayer’s guesthouse on Kaiser-Wilhelm-Allee. He was seated at the dining table in shirtsleeves and making small talk when a director asked him about the 174517 tattoo exposed on his forearm. Levi instantly replied: “It’s a memento of Auschwitz.” [The daughter of Levi’s boss, who had accompanied them on the trip], recalled the scene: “All one could hear was a polite clatter of forks on plates as ten Germans—all men—shifted awkwardly in their seats.”
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