The Homeless (1899), by the Polish writer Stefan Żeromski (1864–1925), takes place at the end of the nineteenth century, primarily in Poland (then under foreign rule), with episodes in France and Switzerland. As the main characters move through different settings they are shown from different angles, in disconnected vignettes, as if they were puzzles to be assembled by the reader. The novel bears the hallmarks of realist fiction, but Żeromski also experiments with various levels of exposition and introspection, anticipating the next century’s more fluid modes of storytelling.
The protagonist, Tomasz Judym, is a young physician committed to social reform. He has revolutionary ideas of progress, “fantasies, hypotheses, plans and vivid dreams” about improving the living and working conditions of the poor – in large part because he comes from that background. Judym’s humanitarianism puts him at odds with the medical establishment in Warsaw. At a social gathering organized by a distinguished doctor, he accuses his colleagues of caring only for the wealthy. Later, as an assistant doctor in the provincial spa town of Cisy, he gets into a scuffle with a local administrator over the latter’s unethical treatment of the peasant population. Judym is a heroic, inspiring figure – a man of pure conscience. But his sense of social inferiority leads him to alternate constantly between quixotic fervour and bitter self-loathing.
Judym’s moral counterpart, and in many ways his soulmate, is Joanna Podborska, a governess for an aristocratic family in Cisy. She is self-educated, intelligent and sensible, if prone to melancholy musings. She reads progressive writers (calling Ibsen “the immortal truthteller”), supports women’s emancipation and shares Judym’s commitment to social amelioration. Interestingly, the reader doesn’t get a full picture of her until almost halfway through the novel, in the tour de force chapter “Confidential”, which consists entirely of entries from her diary (based on Żeromski’s own diary, though Podborska is modelled after his wife). The two characters’ attraction to each other, in no small part due to their shared altruism, seems inevitable. The author traces the joyful stirrings of discovered passion before the romance is tested by an unexpected separation and Judym’s impulsive nonconformity. Ironically, the very prospect of personal happiness clarifies to the doctor his life’s mission.
The story of Judym and Podborska throws into sharp relief the novel’s critique of industrial-era capitalism. Żeromski paints a dramatic picture of the social disparities at play: the rich with their comfortable lifestyles and the perennially exploited masses, in urban and rural areas alike. In a naturalist vein he offers detailed, pages-long descriptions of industrial sites (a cigar factory and a steel mill in Warsaw, a coalmine and a zinc-smelting facility in Silesia) to highlight the unsanitary conditions endured by the workers. Even his depictions of nature, almost lyrical in their intensity, make a philosophical point: “The earth does not give up its labor and its wealth without a struggle. Simple and indifferent as a child, it learns betrayal from man”. This novel was written more than 100 years ago, but its focus on economic inequality makes it abundantly relevant to today’s world. This is its first appearance in English. As Stephanie Kraft states in a concluding note to her expert translation, Żeromski raises provocative questions about healthcare as a human right, the limits of sympathy and solidarity, and the extent to which background shapes behaviour. His answers are “often oblique, sometimes cryptic, never trite”.
The novel’s title, too, is ambiguous. The word “homeless” refers primarily to the disadvantaged, seen in countless episodes. Here, for example, is a heartbreaking scene early in the novel, when Judym revisits the Warsaw slum he grew up in: “These children running around this stuffy alley, enclosed by huge bare walls, reminded him, without his knowing why, of squirrels shut into a cage. With their lively movements and constant jumping, they needed open space, trees, grass, water.” The title also represents the Polish nation, with all its social and cultural divisions (Poland would not regain independence until 1918). But the main characters are themselves tragically “homeless”: Judym because he thinks he doesn’t deserve a home in the face of widespread misery, Podborska because she is denied the chance at domestic life for which she yearns. These meanings are further explored in Boris Dralyuk and Jennifer Croft’s helpful introduction, which provides the historical context for this powerful, moving, kaleidoscopic novel.
Piotr Gwiazda teaches at the University of Pittsburgh. He is the translator of Dear Beloved Humans: Selected poems by Grzegorz Wróblewski, 2023
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