Sometimes you've got to be a jerk and be honest in a book review, even if it's a memoir. This one didn't move me; I didn't feel attached to it or affected in any way. I did enjoy seeing the duality of the father figure, Hermann Gauch, a former Nazi and strict, yet caring father. The transference of grief and trauma is clear in this intergenerational memoir, both autobiographical and biographical. However, I didn't feel at the end that I saw the father than Sigfrid did, and that should have been the outcome. I hope writing this was cathartic, a working through postmemory for the author.