This is different from most Holocaust memoirs, not only because its author is famous in his own right, but because it's not really about the Holocaust. Surprisingly few of the pages -- I'd estimate perhaps one-quarter to one-third of the book -- are about Bak's experiences hiding from the Nazis. I suppose people expecting to hear all about the vicious Germans and Lithuanians and the ghetto and the kind nuns who sheltered him would be disappointed, but I thought this was a refreshing change. The book is also not written in chronological order, but rather skips around quite a bit the way people's thoughts tend to do. But I didn't find it hard to follow.
Bak's book instead is a labor of love for his family, for his ancestors and for a way of life the war destroyed forever. I was mesmerized by his tales about his great-grandfather that bore (approximately) twenty-five children starting when he was thirteen. About his grandmother who disagreed with his mother about how long Bak's shorts could be and kept sewing on fabric extensions to the legs which his mother ripped off. About his family's housekeeper and her tantrums and prejudices. This is a true painting in words, and it's painted with love and longing, without the bitterness and hate you might expect from someone who lost so much. Highly recommended.