Florence + The Machine and Literary Anti-Semitism

I was on the bus the other day, an intercity journey from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. The bus driver turned the radio up and started to sing along to a mix of Hebrew and English pop songs. One song in particular grabbed my attention. I hadn’t heard it before but I recognised the voice of Florence Welch from Florence + The Machine, an English indie-rock band. Since that bus ride, I have listened to the song a number of times - the music is addictive and her voice is haunting - but something about the lyrics bothers me. The song begins with the soft strains of a Church organ and the following words:

Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play

And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues strong
It's always darkest before the dawn

The “pound of flesh” mentioned in the song alludes to the story of Shakespeare’s Shylock, the fictional moneylender (taken to be representative of Jews as a whole) who demands a “pound of flesh” from the Christian Antonio who has defaulted on a loan. The "pound of flesh" that Florence sings about today has taken on demonic and ghoulish connotations. I do not suggest that the song is anti-Semitic in nature, but I think it is interesting to note just how far literary anti-Semitism has travelled and filtered down into contemporary culture - sometimes unnoticed. That the 16th century Shylock should make it all the way into a 2011 pop song is pretty remarkable. His story is unforgettable. Listening to Florence Welch on repeat (her song Over The Love written for Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby is another good one!) has made me think about literary anti-Semitism in general.

My own experiences of anti-Semitism have, thank God, been few and far between. I have therefore confronted more instances of anti-Semitism in my readings of English literature than I have in my everyday life. And yet, while I found it impossible to ignore the teenage boy who whizzed past me on his bike on Bondi Road yelling “You killed Christ!” or the drunken lout who punched my “motherf-ing Jewish” best friend in the face as we walked through the park on a Sunday afternoon, it is strangely easy to gloss over instances of literary anti-Semitism, however vulgar or unjust. In my experience, Jewish English lit. students often shy away from pointing out these less than complimentary depictions, perhaps because they think that to brand the literature anti-Semitic would be to dismiss the work entirely. However, to ignore the damage done by the likes of Shakespeare's Shylock or Dickens’ Fagin would be to ignore the perpetuation of anti-Semitism through the written word. My Jewishness and love of literature perhaps compel me to take an interest in literary anti-Semitism. From Marlowe to Shakespeare to Dickens to Eliot and beyond - although their stories are fictitious, they promote a tendency to think negatively of Jews. Certainly a subject worth studying.