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Overview edit
Bibliography
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(1988)
Letters and Drawings of Bruno Schulz: With Selected Prose
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(1978)
The Sanatorium under the Sign of the Hourglass
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(1934)
The Street of Crocodiles and Other Stories
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The Street of Crocodiles
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The Fictions of Bruno Schulz
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Bruno Schulz was born in 1892 in the then small Austro-Hungarian town of Drohobrycz, the son of a cloth merchant. He was raised there and spent most of his life there. Apparently he really liked it. Still, he did travel somewhat, like when he studied architecture at Lviv University and briefly in Vienna. Without traveling at all from Drohobrycz though, his nationality changed four times, as the city changed hands that many times in his lifetime.
He was a Jew and was very interested in Jewish culture. Though he didn't know Yiddish, he spoke Polish and German. He helped his fiancée Józefina Szelińska translate Kafka's The Trial into Polish. He wrote in Polish, and was awarded Poland's Golden Laurel award by the Polish Academy of Literature in 1938.
From 1924 to 1941 he was an art teacher in Drohobrycz, though he apparently didn't enjoy it and only kept the job for monetary reasons. He apparently kept to himself; he was perceived as a hermit. Most of his life was uneventful.
His life was uneventful, that is, until 1939. At the time, the Soviet Union owned Drohobrycz, but after the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union, Schulz, like the other Jews in Drobobrycz, was put in a ghetto. At the time, he was working on a novel supposedly called The Messiah, thought to be his masterpiece. He gave this and other papers and artwork to some gentile friends for safe keeping. They have never been seen since.
It's not all bad though. He's still alive, and not only that, a Gestapo officer named Felix Landau found out about his talents as an artist and put Schulz to work painting murals on his child's playroom. This of course gave Schulz certain privileges, not the least important being protection.
That is, supposed protection. On a night in November of 1942, at the corner of Czacki and Mickiewicz streets, Schulz was shot in the head by Karl Günther, a Gestapo officer. You might be wondering why. Apparently, like Landau, Günther had himself a "favored Jew," who was killed by Landau. "You killed my Jew," he said. "I killed yours." And so, one of the greatest Polish writers--possibly the greatest--of the 20th century died.
He was a Jew and was very interested in Jewish culture. Though he didn't know Yiddish, he spoke Polish and German. He helped his fiancée Józefina Szelińska translate Kafka's The Trial into Polish. He wrote in Polish, and was awarded Poland's Golden Laurel award by the Polish Academy of Literature in 1938.
From 1924 to 1941 he was an art teacher in Drohobrycz, though he apparently didn't enjoy it and only kept the job for monetary reasons. He apparently kept to himself; he was perceived as a hermit. Most of his life was uneventful.
His life was uneventful, that is, until 1939. At the time, the Soviet Union owned Drohobrycz, but after the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union, Schulz, like the other Jews in Drobobrycz, was put in a ghetto. At the time, he was working on a novel supposedly called The Messiah, thought to be his masterpiece. He gave this and other papers and artwork to some gentile friends for safe keeping. They have never been seen since.
It's not all bad though. He's still alive, and not only that, a Gestapo officer named Felix Landau found out about his talents as an artist and put Schulz to work painting murals on his child's playroom. This of course gave Schulz certain privileges, not the least important being protection.
That is, supposed protection. On a night in November of 1942, at the corner of Czacki and Mickiewicz streets, Schulz was shot in the head by Karl Günther, a Gestapo officer. You might be wondering why. Apparently, like Landau, Günther had himself a "favored Jew," who was killed by Landau. "You killed my Jew," he said. "I killed yours." And so, one of the greatest Polish writers--possibly the greatest--of the 20th century died.
