The Boy On The Wooden Box

This chapter introduces the morally ambiguous nature of Schindler’s actions, for although Schindler is the hero of the narrative and would eventually save the lives of many Jews by working slyly within the Nazi system, Leyson also takes this opportunity to hint at Schindler’s darker side as a “scoundrel, womanizer, war profiteer, [and] drunk” (67). These appellations make it abundantly clear that despite Schindler’s generous actions toward Jews in later years, he did not begin his endeavor with altruistic motivations in mind. Moshe’s low wages also attest to that fact. However, these flaws were unimportant to the young Leon because to him, Schindler was simply the man who had saved him and his family from the depredations of the Nazis. Even so, Leyson uses this retrospective approach to convey a more rounded and realistic picture of Schindler, who belonged to the Nazi Party, was partly motivated by self-interest, and exploited his workers for cheap labor. Schindler therefore appears as a complex and ambiguous character within the narrative. 

The growing antisemitism in Leon’s world hit home in a vivid way when the young Nazi soldiers broke into his home and slapped him. This scene stands as a smaller-scale parallel to the earlier scene of Moshe’s beating and arrest, and because the violence previously enacted against the father now fell on the son, Leon had no choice but to fully acknowledge the ugliness in the treacherously shifting social patterns that surround him. This experience further spurred Leon to find new ways to engage in Passive Resistance in the Face of Oppression.

Leyson also depicts the oppressive totalitarian environment of Nazi-occupied Kraków, for the Nazis constantly broadcasted their propaganda through radio, newspapers, and films, and the narrative implies that Jewish Europeans were forced to endure an inexorable progression toward unspeakable injustices. They were stripped of their rights, forced into the ghetto, and ultimately deported to an uncertain fate—possibly violent death. To emphasize the grim nature of these developments, Leyson invokes funereal imagery and potent symbolism in his observations of the walls of the ghetto, which sported “rounded stones that resembled headstones on graves” (77). He then makes this connection even more explicit by stating, “[The stones’] implicit message was that we were moving into what would become our own cemetery” (77). 

Even amid these intense worries, Leyson makes it a point to emphasize his habit of Drawing Strength from Family Loyalty and shared cultural traditions. To this end, Leyson depicts his family’s observation of the Sabbath service in their apartment. This traditional ritual connected him to his family, his past life, and his ancestors, giving him a measure of hope amid the misery of their current existence in the ghetto. As he states, “The ritual affirmed who we were despite the humiliating restrictions outside our door. We could wait this out and survive, we thought, as long as we had each other” (75). This optimistic assertion also serves as grim foreshadowing, for it is already apparent that simply “waiting out” the Nazis will be insufficient.