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Silvie
Silvie, the remarkable memoir of Silvia Grohs-Martin, is at once a celebration of the human spirit and a sobering reminder of the tragedies that can never be forgotten.
- GenresNonfiction
320 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
February 7, 2019
Full disclosure- I met Silvia (the author) just a few years before she passed away (in 2008 or 2009?) on my birthday. She was 89 at the time. Or, at least, that’s what she was telling “the press.” 🤣 After all, she was still an actress first and foremost, so her REAL age is anyone’s guess.
We became very close. I was her neighbor, about fifty years her junior. And when I first met her I had no idea she was a Holocaust survivor. I didn’t know about her book either. But shortly after our first meeting, I was no longer just a neighbor patting myself on the back for helping out an eccentric little old lady in my apartment building. I was soon a full-fledged GROUPIE. I was like an annoying kid sister who kept knocking on her door asking if we could hang out.
I’m determined to communicate to the world someday (through film) not just the story of her survival during the Holocaust, but the story of who she became AFTER the war. She was a one-woman victory march.
With every step she took, her whole body (tiny as she was— just four feet eleven inches) puffed up like a “power to the people” protest rally, a solo civil rights march, and a giant middle finger shooting up out of the ground. This nearly five foot tall middle finger of a woman was fragile as glass, scarred, and arthritic— yet there she was, defiantly sticking it to the SS with every step of her dancer’s feet, walking her little dog Wellington up and down the steep inclines of the Hollywood Hills. Even well into her 80s she was totally self-sufficient.
Such a pale little woman, but the energy exuding from her was palpable. The only way you could tell for sure where her physical presence stopped and the rest of the world began was her hair. It seemed to be the only thing that contained her. Had it not been for the shock of bright red hair on top of her head, she might’ve kept going, and glowing, and growing... up up up - like Jack’s beanstalk and Jacob’s ladder combined. Her hair screamed “Silvia- stop! Leave some room for the rest of these people! Don’t be so greedy! You’re four feet eleven and that’s what you’ll stay whether you like it or not! The hair punctuated her. It made her finite. 🤣
And the combined look of that pale, skinny white body and the burst of Bozo-red curls at the top gave her the appearance of animated, quite human, blue-eyed matchstick. Just walking around, enjoying the jasmine and her doggie, waiting for some stranger to approach her and say “Got a light?” At which point she’d just rub her stubborn head against a tree, triggering the tippy-top of her to burst into flames for his cigarette.
Given the length of this post I may need to write my OWN book about Silvia. :-) I now need a nap. 💤 💤 💤
We became very close. I was her neighbor, about fifty years her junior. And when I first met her I had no idea she was a Holocaust survivor. I didn’t know about her book either. But shortly after our first meeting, I was no longer just a neighbor patting myself on the back for helping out an eccentric little old lady in my apartment building. I was soon a full-fledged GROUPIE. I was like an annoying kid sister who kept knocking on her door asking if we could hang out.
I’m determined to communicate to the world someday (through film) not just the story of her survival during the Holocaust, but the story of who she became AFTER the war. She was a one-woman victory march.
With every step she took, her whole body (tiny as she was— just four feet eleven inches) puffed up like a “power to the people” protest rally, a solo civil rights march, and a giant middle finger shooting up out of the ground. This nearly five foot tall middle finger of a woman was fragile as glass, scarred, and arthritic— yet there she was, defiantly sticking it to the SS with every step of her dancer’s feet, walking her little dog Wellington up and down the steep inclines of the Hollywood Hills. Even well into her 80s she was totally self-sufficient.
Such a pale little woman, but the energy exuding from her was palpable. The only way you could tell for sure where her physical presence stopped and the rest of the world began was her hair. It seemed to be the only thing that contained her. Had it not been for the shock of bright red hair on top of her head, she might’ve kept going, and glowing, and growing... up up up - like Jack’s beanstalk and Jacob’s ladder combined. Her hair screamed “Silvia- stop! Leave some room for the rest of these people! Don’t be so greedy! You’re four feet eleven and that’s what you’ll stay whether you like it or not! The hair punctuated her. It made her finite. 🤣
And the combined look of that pale, skinny white body and the burst of Bozo-red curls at the top gave her the appearance of animated, quite human, blue-eyed matchstick. Just walking around, enjoying the jasmine and her doggie, waiting for some stranger to approach her and say “Got a light?” At which point she’d just rub her stubborn head against a tree, triggering the tippy-top of her to burst into flames for his cigarette.
Given the length of this post I may need to write my OWN book about Silvia. :-) I now need a nap. 💤 💤 💤
February 6, 2019
One of the most incredible books about a person surviving the Holocaust that I have ever read. I finished it yesterday and I am still not over it. On top of the story being unread, it was beautifully written.
March 13, 2010
Incredible book about a brave,inspiring Holocaust survivor! Her words brought the Holocaust to life to me.
Read it!!
Read it!!
August 14, 2022
I found it difficult to relate to her because I couldn't always like her. Maybe that isn't the right thing to say, but sometimes the way she would talk about people, the way she would describe them, was less-than-kind at times, and she seemed to be very much about herself. I don't know, maybe it was just the way it was written and edited, but she never seemed connected to anyone in a meaningful way...not her mother or sisters or romantic partners. For this reason, I didn't finish it.
January 1, 2024
Heel aangrijpend verhaal, verteld door een Holocaust survivor. En jammer genoeg hebben “we” nog steeds niks geleerd uit deze horrorverhalen. ‘Nie wieder’ geldt blijkbaar niet voor iedereen…
April 11, 2024
A compelling story and even more impressive to hear her tell the stories firsthand. I told her to get Spielberg to make her story into a movie and it would have made a great one too!
January 21, 2012
Very impressive and heartbreaking story of a woman who fought her way through the hardship of World War II. She endured horrid travels and concentration camps and somehow managed to make it through.
But it is also very angry and "in your face" and that made it quite difficult for me to get through it. The accounts of the camps are written so realistic and detailed that you have to resist the urge to stop reading. It is not an easy read but these kind of stories have got to be told and read.
But it is also very angry and "in your face" and that made it quite difficult for me to get through it. The accounts of the camps are written so realistic and detailed that you have to resist the urge to stop reading. It is not an easy read but these kind of stories have got to be told and read.
October 18, 2014
An amazing story, rendered virtually unreadable due to the lack of an editor
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews