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The Brothers of Auschwitz, a biographical novel, is the most moving and disturbing Holocaust book I’ve ever read and there have been quite a few. Yes, any story about the experience of being in a concentration camp is deeply upsetting but this one was extremely raw and emotional for me. The detail is exceptional and it will shock you to your core. The reader will feel the pain, anguish, desperation, helplessness, terror, and the horrors of it all as experienced by these two brothers who were taken at 15 and 16 years old. You can’t help but feel outrage that human beings were treated in such a brutal and barbaric way.
We all knew the method at Zeiss. The method: No food, no water, no place to breathe, no shower, no coat, no medication, just work, work fast, until death comes. It takes about three months to come. In the meantime they bring a fresh, healthy consignment and the old-timers get on a train to the nearest available crematorium. Yes. Three months was enough for the Germans to turn healthy young men into a pile of disgusting rags.
There are aspects of being a concentration camp prisoner that I never even contemplated but are on clear display in this book. Yes, it is very difficult to read at times but I feel it is an important book that is worth reading because it brings the experience to life like no other book. There is a marked tension throughout the story that had me on the edge of my seat, unable to put this book down.
This is a story about family, love, the will to survive and above all else, hope. The bond between these two brothers is remarkable and you cannot help but wonder if either would’ve made it through without the other. It is a miracle that they even found each other and were able to stay together.
What really makes this story stand out from all the others I’ve read is that roughly one-third of the way through the book the war ends. It’s the aftermath that we witness up close and the post traumatic stress that the brothers experience for the rest of their lives. Acclimating to civilized life after suffering and struggling to merely survive is no easy task. It is impossible for them to escape the images, memories and even the smells.
Sometimes I have images with sound from life in the camps. The images and sounds come like thieves in the day.
There are so many things these former prisoners had to learn or relearn — not to gulp their food, not to steal food, not to keep food in their pocket or hidden in their bed, to say please and thank you, to wash their hands before a meal, and so much more. There were many newly acquired fears that stuck with them. Because they were shuttled in cattle cars from one camp to the next, one brother won’t ever get on a train. Also feared are hospitals and one brother refuses to ever set foot in one — as a result, he won’t even go for a much needed cataract surgery. One brother confesses that he can’t and won’t go anywhere near a BBQ. Going to a bakery is a very scary proposition because of the ovens. Then there are the mental images and sound bytes that assault their senses at any time. You may leave the concentration camp but the camp never leaves you.
I realized that the war had ended in the world but not in people’s hearts. I knew, the war would never ever leave us. Just like putting a boiling iron with a number on the body of a calf. The calf grows older, the number remains unchanged.
In fact, after the war was over, the brothers discovered there was a new “hell.” Safely ensconced in Israel, they faced humiliation and later felt shame.
...you went like sheep to the slaughter and didn’t resist. You didn’t fight like men. There were thousands of you in their trains, why didn’t you revolt. You could have grabbed their guns, at least wiped out a few Germans before the crematorium. Aah. We felt new enemies had risen against us. For the Germans we were garbage, in Eretz-Israel we were sheep.
We should have attacked them. We should have caused havoc, stopped those convoys walking and walking to the crematorium as if they were handing out candies on sticks in there. They’d have fired their rifles, so what, was gas any better? At least we’d have stopped the pace of death, I think about that and go mad.
Before the hunger we could have risen against them. The hunger weakened our minds. A hungry person can’t think about anything, his mind is stupid. The Germans took care to make us stupid in the camps, so we wouldn’t notice the convoys going to the crematorium, is it any wonder that we were silent? People didn’t even have the strength to commit suicide. The mind needs a lot of strength to think it’s better to die.
There seems to be some issue with the translation as what’s written seems “rough around the edges.” Perhaps it will be improved when published but if it’s not, it is still a book that needs to be read.
Thank you to Harper Collins UK One More Chapter and NetGalley for an advance reader copy in exchange for my honest opinion and review.
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