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113 pages, Paperback
First published January 8, 1992

[…]there’s nothing in our lives nowadays that couldn’t be considered an aftershock.Wow. What a fucking book.
Grete Weil (18 July 1906-14 May 1999) was a German writer of Jewish origin. […] In 1932, she married Edgar Weil, a playwright at the Munich Kammerspiele. […] In 1935 she followed her husband to Amsterdam, where she operated a photo studio. In June 1941, the year following the occupation of the Netherlands by the Nazis, Edgar was arrested and soon transferred to Mauthausen concentration camp, where he was killed, within just a few months of his arrest. Grete went into hiding and survived the Holocaust. She eventually returned to Germany in 1947. […] In 1960, Weil married her longtime friend, the opera director Walter Jockisch, with whom she had been together since her return to Germany. After Jockisch's death, in 1970, Weil increasingly turned to her writing. […] Weil is one of the major proponents of Holocaust literature.Got it? Good.
They who have gotten away with their lives are doomedand the stories here manage to cover a variety of survivor responses – with at least two appearing to be almost strictly autobiographical based on certain details utilized in the stories: you have a man who is now living in New York, refusing to speak German, or in any way acknowledge his German heritage. Prior to the war he was a proponent of the arts, and yet now finds himself unable to recognize the beauty of anything created after 1933. You have a couple living in the middle of a desert in California, unwilling to hear any details of what happened to their families, clearly living in denial, slightly insane, ailing, yet insisting how wonderful it is in America. Unsurprisingly there’s a suicide. Surprisingly there is only the one.