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176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006

It could have happened.
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later.
Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you.
You were saved because you were the first.
You were saved because you were the last.
Alone. With others.
On the right. On the left.
Because it was raining. Because of the shade.
Because the day was sunny.
You were in luck - there was a forest.
You were in luck - there were no trees.
You were in luck - a rake, a hook, a beam, a brake,
a jam, a turn, a quarter inch, an instant.
You were in luck - just then a straw went floating by.
As a result, because, although, despite.
What would have happened if a hand, a foot,
within an inch, a hairsbreadth from
an unfortunate coincidence
So you're here? Still dizzy from another dodge, close shave,
reprieve?
One hole in the net and you slipped through?
I couldn't be more shocked or speechless.
Listen,
how your heart pounds inside of me.



The farmer's wife is fed up with her milking, laundering, threshing, and French and sends her to the labor bureau. She's reassigned to a canvas mill, where she works alongside German women. They tend the looms, fixing any broken threads. There are several hundred looms in the hall, the women run from thread to thread. They're deaf from all the noise, they have varicose veins on their legs and white dust in their hair, eyelashes, and brows . . . They aren't good to her. They aren't bad to her. They are tired. She asks how long they've been running from thread to thread. Fifteen years. Twenty . . . My God, she says, shocked, but the German women cheer her up: You'll get used to it.I have made a point of seeking out Holocaust books, interested in the technical problem of how you keep telling a story that must keep getting told, but finding a way to make it fresh and compelling each time. But I have never read one like this. The author, Hanna Krall (herself a Holocaust survivor as a child) is a reporter or historian, not a novelist, though she has the novelist's eye for detail. I would place her in the same category as Nobel Prize winner Svetlana Alexievich, author of Voices from Chernobyl, for her skill in telling human stories through objective reportage. Another Nobelist, Herta Müller, said of her:
Her gathering and arrangement of facts gives rise to an unwavering directness that begins to reverberate in the brain. The author's documented realities apparently narrate themselves. But it is the genius of Hanna Krall to eschew all commentary, yet by way of an invisible interference to stand behind every sentence.Clearly Izolda Regensberg was an exceptional woman. But while she refuses to become one of those million mute victims, she does not emerge as a heroine either. Once able to exit the ghetto by luck or determination, she becomes a kind of stateless person, a piece of human flotsam swirled around in the eddies of war, largely below anyone's notice. The story is so different from the grand narratives of the Holocaust, whether the inexorable path from ghetto to gas chamber, the long years passed in fearful hiding, or the brief blaze of futile resistance. And yet why should her story have a grand line? War is equally characterized by chaos and confusion. The mobility of Izolda's story was a revelation to me. Yet, for all its objectivity, it remains a human tale, not only for the determination on her part, but for her numerous chance encounters with other human beings, good or bad, trying to do the best they can: the policeman who tells her that she articulates the Ave Maria too carefully to be a Catholic, the amorous fellow prisoner who moves back to his own pallet when she tells him stories of her childhood, the torturer who suddenly starts treating her kindly when she tells him she is a Jew.

She lays out the cards and sees everything: man with blond hair, in love, in other words the king of hearts. See he’s already out of the door. Terenia studies the picture card and suddenly her voice becomes gleeful: your king has a trip ahead of him, what are you worried about. Sher’s right, there he is second row, first card on the right – the king of hearts. Next to him is the six of hears, which means a triup. Of course those three spades are a bad sign, Terenia explains, but even that’s not so tragic: you should be getting news any day now
She listens to stranger’s tales with genuine sympathy, one person hid in a basement, another in a root cellar, an attic, a closet, a haystack. They lived through terrible things, but there experiences weren’t so varied. Unlike hers. She grows more and more convinced that her life is a great subject for a book. Or even a film ….. {Elizabeth} Taylor could play the lead
The thought of her husband makes her heart ache so much she feels it will explode. She breaks into tears and the woman from the next bunk gives her a scolding look. You’re crying over a fellow aren’t you. I can bet it’s not for your mother. Now listen here and don’t you forget; you can have as many fellows as you’d like, but you can only have one mother …. I know, she agrees. I only have one mother, but as far as I am concerned the whole world can go up in flames or disappear – just as long as he stays alive
She’s supposed to meet a man they call “The Doctor”. She doesn’t know him. He’s an acquaintance of Sonia Landau (Izolda barely knows her). [Her husband] Shayek’s sisters were friends with Sonia [as children]”
If you were working for General Anders, you would be our enemy. Naturally you would die just like an enemy does. Since you are a Jew, naturally you’ll also die, but you aren’t guilty …. You can’t be guilty for the faith of your fathers
Izolda remembers her conversations with Nicole – about her children not dying, guilty of nothing but … It must have been an evil hour when she said those words, she thinks terrified
Listen to you, the policeman laughs out loud. What normal person says Hail Mary like that? Usually it’s hailmaryfullofgracethelordiswiththee … you really are a Jew!
… it never occurred to her that there might be a Jewish way of saying the Hail Mary