There are many good reasons to read B. A. Shapiro’s new
novel, The Muralist, but the
compelling tale of xenophobic backlash to immigrants is the most timely.
Just as irrational hysteria today grips too many Americans
who want to close the borders to Syrian refugees (even stop the orphans, cries
Chris Christie!)—and, per Donald Trump—even bar anyone of the Islamic faith—in
the days before the United States entered World War II, a vicious policy
blocked immigration of Jews who were suffering under Nazi subjugation.
In June 1940, a memo from Assistant Secretary of State
Breckenridge Long advised: “ We can delay and
effectively stop for a temporary period of indefinite length the number of
immigrants into the United States. We could do this by simply advising our
consuls, to put every obstacle in the way and to require additional evidence
and to resort to various administrative devices which would postpone and postpone
and postpone the granting of the visas.”
This proposal, cruel and probably illegal, was never countermanded by
President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Because of this policy, which blocked the
valid entry of German and French Jews into the United States, some experts estimate
that hundreds of thousands of Jews perished in concentration camps.
It is this historical context in which Shapiro’s fictional tale is
embedded. Her novel also intertwines the story of abstract expressionists,
early in their careers—Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, Willem de Kooning, Lee
Krasner—who are moving from more realistic work required for WPA mural
assignments to a more emotional form of painting. The novel’s fictional
protagonist, Alizee Benoit, belongs to this group of muralists, showing
leadership as she evolves from a muralist to a more symbolic painter.
Alizee also has another mission. She becomes active in efforts to
promote immigration of French and German Jews to America, including many in her
own family. Her efforts bring her in contact with Eleanor Roosevelt, who is
sympathetic to the cause, but ultimately unsuccessful in influencing her
husband to support expanded legal immigration.
The novel toggles back and forth between 1939-40 and 2015, where Danielle,
an art historian with a major auction house and the great-niece of Alizee, is
drawn into the mystery of her paintings and also her disappearance in 1940.
What happened to this enigmatic muralist? Did an anti-Semitiic cabal do away
with her? Danielle’s determination to pursue the mystery leads eventually to
France and a wholly unexpected conclusion, both poignant and satisfying.
The novel effectively blends fact and fiction and is, at its heart, a
good read. But the parallels with today’s attitudes towards “the other” will
resonate long after the pleasure of the story fades.
