Have you ever wondered how Nazism could have appealed to so many people?

How was it possible to get millions to follow ideas that now seem so evil to us? How was it possible to get even a handful of people to follow Adolph Hitler, much less get the votes needed to elect him chancellor of Germany? How was it possible to believe in men like Goebbels and Goering in the first place, to give credence to those whom our own media and entertainment industries often depict as strutting, vicious, murderous tyrants?

Of course, many factors contributed to the Nazi rise to power — devastating inflation, the unrest and weaknesses of the Weimar Republic, the humiliation of Germany after World War I by the European victors, the ability of the Nazis to be both murderous and utterly clear-sighted in what they wanted.

Nevertheless, human beings simply don’t respond to executions, truncheons, and jackboots with any real enthusiasm. No one, for example, would say that Thailand’s Khmer Rouge, as vicious a pack of murderers as any of our other modern political gangs, was beloved by the people. These gangsters shot their way to power, then insanely closed down entire cities and massacred great numbers of people.

Even in the case of Hitler and Co., we must bear in mind that they were elected to power, that somehow, though they may have beaten and intimidated many of those who might have voted against them, the Nazis nonetheless gathered enough sympathizers willing to do those beatings.

So the question always lurked at the periphery of any discussion of Nazism: why did it appeal to so many people?

In Russell James’s novel Painting In The Dark, I think I have finally found a large part of the answer.

Although much of this tale of art, suspense, and murder is set in present times, Painting In the Dark is also the story of two fictional English sisters — Naomi and Sidonie — who were attracted to Nazi Germany in the 1930s. Although both are sympathetic toward Nazism and personally know many of the leaders, Sidonie returns home to England at the outbreak of war while Naomi, a painter, remains in Germany.

Following Naomi’s death shortly after the war, her paintings of famous Nazi leaders begin popping up in the art world. As time goes by, these unusual pieces begin capturing the interest of various collectors and dealers. Gottfleisch, a dealer, believes that the aged Sidonie is harboring some of her sister’s works, releasing them through an agent when cash is needed. He and Ticky, a minor hoodlum who gives readers a tour through modern London’s lower depths, decide to try and steal the paintings from Sidonie.

In London Ticky meets a young runaway, Cy, who assists Ticky in his efforts to steal the painting.

There are some amusing scenes involving Ticky and Cy; Cy is the more competent of the two — adept at stealing cars, breaking into houses — yet Cy also represents a sort of modern Nazi. He is utterly without conscience, a boy who murders without remorse, who regards the corpse of a slain enemy as “a piece of meat.”

What sets Painting In The Dark above the usual suspense novel are its insights into Nazism, particularly the Nazism of the late twenties and into the mid-thirties. Half of the book is told by mysterious Sidonie herself, and as she looks back on her sister’s involvement with the Nazis, she gives us glimpses into the men and their party that begin to explain their appeal and their incredible rise to power. Sidonie tells us that the Nazis had the charisma of movie stars, that they not only bludgeoned but also charmed their way into government.

I can imagine Himmler, like Lennon, hiding behind those deliberately unflattering glasses, lying in bed for a week and inviting journalists to a hotel bedroom to report his solemn prognostications on the future of mankind. He had — I’m perfectly serious — the same charisma that John Lennon had. These men were stars — yes, I do mean the Nazi leaders.



There is, of course, considerable evidence available of Hitler’s charm and sense of humor; we have only to turn to accounts of the Mitford family — Unity was immensely attracted to Hitler while her sister Diana left her husband and family to marry Oswald Mosely, the English fascist leader and a charmer himself — to begin exploring this face of Nazism. Unity, in fact, is a minor character in Painting In The Dark, a lovely and intelligent young lady who clearly found much to admire and even love in Hitler.

Through Sidonie’s eyes and unapologetic analysis of the past, we are shown this side of Nazism that is often so ignored by historians, this fascist face that so charmed and even amused those who came into contact with it. We have difficulty acknowledging this face with its humanity and enticements. We prefer instead a devil with cloven hooves and blood dripping from his fingers, fearing, to the point of covering our eyes, the possibility that the devil may embrace us with jokes, promises, and smiles.

Near the end of his book, Russell James offers us this warning through Sidonie:

She recalled a primary teacher once telling how she taught children to beware of strangers. The teacher had explained that while a frightening stranger found it hard to lure a child, an unknown man who smiled and held out a puppy persuaded the child to smile back and say, “I like that man. He is not a stranger.” But the smiling man might be the real danger.

(Jeff Minick lives in Waynesville. He can be reached at saintsbookco@aol.com)