A Look Back at a Timeless Warning
In recent discussions about our political landscape, I found myself pondering the alarming parallels between our time and the fraught years of Germany in the early 1930s. An American friend voiced a chilling sentiment: “Could 1936, 1937, 1938 have been avoided?” This question echoes in the literature of the past, particularly in Sally Carson's powerful yet overlooked novel, Crooked Cross.
Originally written in 1933 and recently revived by Persephone Books, Crooked Cross captures the futile hope and impending despair of a society on the brink of transformative chaos. In this fictional Bavarian town of Kranach, the story centers around the Kluger family, who, amidst the comfort of Christmas, remain blissfully unaware of the storm gathering beyond their picturesque existence.
A Narrative Grounded in Reality
Set between December 1932 to June 1933, the novel covers a crucial period when Hitler ascended to power, leading to rapid political upheaval. The initial scenes are deceptively warm: festive gatherings filled with laughter, gifts, and familial love. Yet a sinister undercurrent permeates this illusion, underscored by details like a portrait of Hitler gracing the Kluger's piano—an unsettling visual that foreshadows the unfolding tragedy.
“The attentive reader will have noted, even within the first few pages, that Lexa's fiancé, Moritz Weissman, is a good Roman Catholic with a Jewish surname.”
As the narrative unfolds, the metamorphosis of Kranach reflects Germany's descent into insanity. Carson's words render palpable the escalating tension that transforms a close-knit family into a microcosm of a nation lost to radicalism. We see how extremism can envelop the innocent, leaving behind shattered lives and irrevocable changes.
A Moral Compass Amidst the Madness
One of the most compelling aspects of Crooked Cross is its unyielding moral clarity. Carson's perspective, while written from her contemporary vantage point, resonates vividly in today's context. She boldly confronts the atrocities of her time—the brutal treatment of Jews and dissenters in Germany, the fabric of civility torn apart.
Consider her words from 1933, reflecting the grim realities in Dachau: “People had a way of suddenly disappearing, no trial, no explanation.” This urgent cry serves as a crucial reminder that silence in the face of injustice can often pave the way for greater evils.
The Lessons We Must Not Forget
Reflectively, I can't help but compare Carson's earnestness with the detached reportage of her contemporaries. For instance, Janet Flanner's profile of Hitler lacks the urgent moral judgment that Carson embodies. Where Flanner cataloged Hitler's quirks, Carson's focus remains on the human cost of Nazi ideology—an angle we must embrace as we scrutinize our relationship with power and authority today.
The disintegration of the Kluger family mirrors our current concerns about social cohesion under rising authoritarianism. Just as Carson illustrates how quickly ordinary people can turn to violence and exclusion, we must examine the narratives that fuel divisive rhetoric today.
Conclusion: A Call to Civic Responsibility
Carson's portrayal serves not only as cautionary but also evokes a strong sense of responsibility. In our fight against extremism, it is vital that we remain vigilant, to question, and to act against the moral compromises that threaten our communities. The resonances of Carson's insights are impossible to overlook—her work speaks to the timeless need for moral courage in confronting power.
As we reflect on history's lessons, let us not forget that the duty to uphold justice lies within all of us. Extending empathy and moral clarity during turbulent times may be the key to preventing the very tragedies that Carson foresaw.
Further Reading
Source reference: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/oct/18/crooked-cross-hitler-1933-novel-sally-carson
