The Reluctant Nazi: Searching for My Grandfather

by Gabrielle Robinson

After her father, a fighter pilot in the Luftwaffe, was killed over the South of England, Gabrielle was mainly brought up by her grandparents. Her grandfather was an ophthalmologist, a kind gentle man who as an army doctor had been forced to join the Nazi Party. His diary provides an account of what Berlin was like in the days of the Reich.

Genres: War, Autobiography

320 pages, Hardcover

First published November 30, 2011

Reviews

[Marlene · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very thought provoking book! The author makes some interesting observations and provides insight about life as a German during WWII. This is a topic that is not often written about and since my heritage is of German origin, I was interested. The book is very personal with the author's emotions present throughout the book which made the book very readable.

[Retta · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very slow moving. Too much emphasis on street and place names. I think the author tried to sway your feelings about her grandfather, when I think anyone reading tis story would have already realized from their reading that most Germans were reluctant Nazis. Self preservation is always #1 in peoples minds.

[Rhonda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Talking about this book as a reader - I chose it because it is about what was happening with the German people during WW2 and specifically the daily reality of the Holocaust. A long time ago I began to suspect that it couldn't be as simple as one particular race being totaly evil - that there had to be more to it than this - I haven't studied it in a methodical way, more an intenal antennae that picked up on things that may relate. I have always watched and read about the Holocause, the fact that it happened and the enormity of it means that any attempt to understand our fellow man has to incorporate it. The details of it haunts me, certain books and scenes, photographs, documentaries, film from the time, creative works that have grown from it - certain films, 'A beautiful life', 'The pianist', another black and white film I saw years ago late at night called 'The pawnbroker' (?I think, need to check this), 'Schindlers list', and books that came out soon after the 2WW where people wrote of their experiences in black, surreal works whose titles I have lost but who turn up when people die and their relatives turn their books over to op shops. Setting these against what I learnt about the battle of Stalingrad, and lines of old men and young boys with unreadable expressions on exhaused, hungry faces sent to battle by Hitler to fight in the last days; the young German activists who saw what was happening and acted openly against it, the Germans who helped Jewish people hanging from lamposts as warnings. The anit-semetism rife worldwide at the time. The refusal by Australia to let Jewish people into Australia after the war. The speech by Churchill admiring Hitler and members of the British aristocracy joining in support of him. A scattering of information of which this book is another piece. The hard thing is that no matter what I read about the German people the Holocaust is huger. Because it Is, not because it has been presented as such. the reality of it beyond comprehension. This book talks about the hugeness of it and about how it affected one family in a way that brings me closer to a sense of what it must have been like. It doesn't condone it, the author battles with the question of her grandfathers memberhip of the Nazi people. Even I feel I must add details about the level of his memberhip but I don't think that would be the right thing to do here. Just as this is one family's story, each reader must approach it in their own way also. A question that haunts and has haunted and still haunts me is, if I were there, at the time, would I have been all that different? I am Australian. My country has its own genocide. My past has its own ghosts. We talk about it here, but not as much as it should be, and there is still silence and denial and excuse making, and worse. The German people, according to this book, were silent about the Holocaust and have been condemned for this as well. The author does not believe her grandfather could have been ignorant of his Jewish friends, patients, colleagues, disappearing. Sometimes silence is rejection, but sometimes it is because the experience is so huge and the personal connection so apparent that there are no words. Not because the involvment or accountability is denied, but because people don't know what to do? In Germany to speak against what was happening was to die, sometimes their families as well. Perhaps that is why the silence? Because deep inside we are forced to realise that no matter how hard we try to be good people we we can't make that final sacrifice when the outcome will be to fail to make any difference? But we know that is not an excuse.

[Carrie Harville · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was challenged to keep reading this book. It moves very slowly and there are a lot of repetitive details such as street names that do not really contribute to the story. I think it was an interesting story and gave good perspective of living in Nazi Germany during WWII.