Against the Great: Joseph Roth (1894-1939) and the dilemma of Jewish anchorage

Abstract

Joseph Roth possessed a sharply observant eye which allowed him to clearly read the signs of his times – those divided years of the 1920s and 1930s in Europe – a quality that has earned him the dubious epitaph “prophet”; a drunken prophet, as Europe’s demise into another world war went hand in hand with his own physical decline through alcoholism. Roth, his black coat draped around his shoulders, newspaper under his arm, cigarette and drink in hand while slowly moving from one hotel to another, was a border crosser, a train traveller, an observer and a hotel patriot.2 He was a literary exile who chose an itinerant existence; a highly prolific journalist and novelist who entertained friends and acquaintances at his café table in Paris and who drank himself to death at the early age of 44. Often noted for his cosmopolitan flair, Roth received extraordinarily high book advances but spent most of his time in a perpetual financial worry; a man who, in line with his skilled journalistic eye for detail, had a great passion for the miniature universe of watches and clocks, a predilection mirrored in his miniscule and delicate handwriting.