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"Instead of God I believe in ghosts," writes the literary scholar Ruth Kluger in this harrowing memoir of life under the yellow star, a controversial bestseller in Germany.
Born in Vienna, Kluger somehow survived a girlhood spent in Theresienstadt, Auschwitz, and Gross-Rosen. Some of the lessons she imparts are surprising, as when she argues, against other historians, that the female camp guards were far more humane than their male counterparts, and when she admits that she has difficulty today queuing in line, a constant of camp life, "out of revulsion for the bovine activity of simply standing." Her memories of her youth are punctuated by sharp reflections on the meaning of the Shoah and how it should best be memorialized in a time when ever fewer survivors are left to act as witnesses. Those reflections are often angry--"Absolutely nothing good came out of the concentration camps," she writes, recalling an argument with a naive German graduate student, "and he expects catharsis, purgation, the sort of thing you go to the theatre for?"
But they are constantly provocative, too. Though readers will doubtless take issue with some of her conclusions, Kluger's insistent memoir merits a wide audience. --Gregory McNamee
480 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
258 people are currently reading
3780 people want to read
About the author
Ruth Klüger
25 books39 followersRuth Klüger is Professor Emeritus of German at the University of California, Irvine and a Holocaust survivor. She is also the author of the bestseller weiter leben: Eine Jugend about her childhood in the Third Reich.
When she was only six years old, Hitler marched into Vienna. The annexation of Austria to the Third Reich deeply affected Klüger's life: Klüger, who then was only six years old, had to change schools frequently and grew up in an increasingly hostile and antisemitic environment. Her father, who was a Jewish gynaecologist, lost his practitioner's license and was later sent to prison for performing an illegal abortion.
After the Nazi annexation of Austria, she was deported to Theresienstadt concentration camp together with her mother at the age of 11; her father had tried to flee abroad, but was detained and killed. One year later she was transferred to Auschwitz, then to Christianstadt, a subcamp of Gross-Rosen.
Following the end of World War II in 1945 she settled in the Bavarian town of Straubing and later studied philosophy and history at the Philosophisch-theologische Hochschule in Regensburg.
In 1947 she emigrated to the United States and studied English literature in New York and German literature at Berkeley. Klüger obtained an M.A. in 1952, and later a Ph.D. in 1967. She worked as a college professor of German literature in Cleveland, Ohio, Kansas, and Virginia, and at Princeton and UC Irvine.
Klüger is a recognized authority on German literature, and especially on Lessing and Kleist. She lives in Irvine, California and in Göttingen.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 242 reviews
May 13, 2014
(I read the German original, titled "Weiter leben: Eine Jugend")
It would be quite an understatement to say that this book is an excellent Holocaust memoir. You might as well describe Goethe's Faust as a captivating story about a sexual relationship gone bad.
"Weiter Leben" goes way beyond any Holocaust memoir I have read. If Primo Levy's "Survival in Auschwitz" goes deep into psychology and philosophy, this book digs even deeper. Yet I still found it easy to read. The psychology and philosophy of this book is smack on your head. It doesn't require the reader to be used to any psychological or philosophical terminology.
Ruth Klueger's sentence structures are a bit unusual, but readable, and her punctuation is, let's say, her own. Don't make the mistake and jump to the conclusion that this book needs more editing. It doesn't. I am positive that Ruth Klueger knows standard grammar and punctuation rules. Early on in this book, you will realize that Ruth Klueger has been born headstrong. Besides, I am rather sure that she has become allergic to rules and regulations. I don't blame her. Imagine having to suffer through all of the Nazis' senseless ordinances harassing Jews and then, of course, all the sadistic and dehumanizing enslavement in the concentration camps -- the senseless, torturing roll-calls, the humiliating nakedness during line-ups for showers, head-shavings, de-lousing, so-called medical examinations, and "selection" (which sorted for slave labor or gas chamber). Ruth Klueger no longer has to strip naked. But she does. Whereas Primo Levi bares his soul, Ruth Klueger strips hers naked.
During the first part of this book, covering Ruth Klueger’s childhood before the various concentration camps, I thought: ‘Oh, my! How can anyone be so negative? This child must have come out of her mother’s womb determined to become depressive and, apart from that, determined to aggravate every family member, relative, and family friend, within reach. Am I even going to like her?’ Yet I did come to like her, not always and in every situation, but certainly for the most part of this book.
Ruth Klueger questions everything. She questions her own thoughts, convictions, excuses, motives, and emotions, and she questions those of her fellow human beings. Nothing that anyone tries to feed her as knowledge, wisdom, or (unproven) fact remains unquestioned. This makes her rather unpopular with most people and occasionally gets her into trouble even with friends.
One might say that Ruth Klueger thinks too much. But does she really? Reading this book, I have, instead, come to the conclusion that most other people think too little.
So, for instance: Is Germany really coming to terms with its past by sending conchies to whitewash fences in Auschwitz?
And what can a human conscience expect from its owner? Is cowardice the norm and the child of a natural instinct for survival? Yet where are the limits of cowardice? When does it become complicity of evil?
Ruth Klueger points out that the luck of the Holocaust survivors does not diminish the dimension of the crime. And she disallows that the survivors are being used as “credits” to be subtracted from the great “debit”. She writes:
“How can I keep you, the reader, from rejoicing with me, now that the gas chambers are no longer threatening me, and I am headed for a happy end of a post-war world that I am sharing with you … … … How can I keep you from breathing a sigh of relief?”
(Please note that the above is my own translation. Since I read the German original, I will refrain from quoting any more passages from the book, as my translation may differ from the English version.)
Needless to say that this book is thought-provoking because you will have guessed this by now. Will it activate everyone’s brain to think? No, it won’t. Some brains are not made for thinking.
Don’t believe it? Just read the praising reviews of “Er ist wieder da” (“Look Who’s Back”), a book that depicts Hitler as a somewhat likable curmudgeon; or better still, read my 1-star review of this book and the following war with commentators who think that Hitler lends himself as a comic figure. Here is the link:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
It would be quite an understatement to say that this book is an excellent Holocaust memoir. You might as well describe Goethe's Faust as a captivating story about a sexual relationship gone bad.
"Weiter Leben" goes way beyond any Holocaust memoir I have read. If Primo Levy's "Survival in Auschwitz" goes deep into psychology and philosophy, this book digs even deeper. Yet I still found it easy to read. The psychology and philosophy of this book is smack on your head. It doesn't require the reader to be used to any psychological or philosophical terminology.
Ruth Klueger's sentence structures are a bit unusual, but readable, and her punctuation is, let's say, her own. Don't make the mistake and jump to the conclusion that this book needs more editing. It doesn't. I am positive that Ruth Klueger knows standard grammar and punctuation rules. Early on in this book, you will realize that Ruth Klueger has been born headstrong. Besides, I am rather sure that she has become allergic to rules and regulations. I don't blame her. Imagine having to suffer through all of the Nazis' senseless ordinances harassing Jews and then, of course, all the sadistic and dehumanizing enslavement in the concentration camps -- the senseless, torturing roll-calls, the humiliating nakedness during line-ups for showers, head-shavings, de-lousing, so-called medical examinations, and "selection" (which sorted for slave labor or gas chamber). Ruth Klueger no longer has to strip naked. But she does. Whereas Primo Levi bares his soul, Ruth Klueger strips hers naked.
During the first part of this book, covering Ruth Klueger’s childhood before the various concentration camps, I thought: ‘Oh, my! How can anyone be so negative? This child must have come out of her mother’s womb determined to become depressive and, apart from that, determined to aggravate every family member, relative, and family friend, within reach. Am I even going to like her?’ Yet I did come to like her, not always and in every situation, but certainly for the most part of this book.
Ruth Klueger questions everything. She questions her own thoughts, convictions, excuses, motives, and emotions, and she questions those of her fellow human beings. Nothing that anyone tries to feed her as knowledge, wisdom, or (unproven) fact remains unquestioned. This makes her rather unpopular with most people and occasionally gets her into trouble even with friends.
One might say that Ruth Klueger thinks too much. But does she really? Reading this book, I have, instead, come to the conclusion that most other people think too little.
So, for instance: Is Germany really coming to terms with its past by sending conchies to whitewash fences in Auschwitz?
And what can a human conscience expect from its owner? Is cowardice the norm and the child of a natural instinct for survival? Yet where are the limits of cowardice? When does it become complicity of evil?
Ruth Klueger points out that the luck of the Holocaust survivors does not diminish the dimension of the crime. And she disallows that the survivors are being used as “credits” to be subtracted from the great “debit”. She writes:
“How can I keep you, the reader, from rejoicing with me, now that the gas chambers are no longer threatening me, and I am headed for a happy end of a post-war world that I am sharing with you … … … How can I keep you from breathing a sigh of relief?”
(Please note that the above is my own translation. Since I read the German original, I will refrain from quoting any more passages from the book, as my translation may differ from the English version.)
Needless to say that this book is thought-provoking because you will have guessed this by now. Will it activate everyone’s brain to think? No, it won’t. Some brains are not made for thinking.
Don’t believe it? Just read the praising reviews of “Er ist wieder da” (“Look Who’s Back”), a book that depicts Hitler as a somewhat likable curmudgeon; or better still, read my 1-star review of this book and the following war with commentators who think that Hitler lends himself as a comic figure. Here is the link:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
January 17, 2021
¿Qué se puede decir de un libro que te ha gustado tanto que subrayarías todas sus páginas? ¿Qué queda por decir que no dijera ya Ruth Klüger?
He leído otras historias sobre el Holocausto, varias de las que se consideran "imprescindibles", y ninguna de ellas es como la de este libro. Porque Ruth Klüger es mujer y era una niña cuando pasó por no uno, ni dos, sino tres campos de concentración. Y también porque Ruth Klüger está de vuelta de todo. Le da francamente igual lo que tú, como lector, puedas echarle en cara. ¿Sabéis lo de las cinco fases del duelo? Ruth Klüger se mantiene en la ira. Y tan pancha que está ella.
Todo lo que has podido leer sobre el Holocausto ella te lo cuenta dándole una vuelta o de una forma que te hace pensar. Klüger es contestataria. En casi todas las facetas de su vida.
Es una lectura genial e interesante, un poco caótica en su forma (aunque se supone que sigue un orden cronológico) porque a veces Ruth Klüger salta a ideas o escenas del presente, pero siempre en lucha consigo misma, con los clichés sobre el pasado e incluso con el propio lector. Puedo decir sin temor a equivocarme que no es una lectura que deje indiferente.
He leído otras historias sobre el Holocausto, varias de las que se consideran "imprescindibles", y ninguna de ellas es como la de este libro. Porque Ruth Klüger es mujer y era una niña cuando pasó por no uno, ni dos, sino tres campos de concentración. Y también porque Ruth Klüger está de vuelta de todo. Le da francamente igual lo que tú, como lector, puedas echarle en cara. ¿Sabéis lo de las cinco fases del duelo? Ruth Klüger se mantiene en la ira. Y tan pancha que está ella.
Todo lo que has podido leer sobre el Holocausto ella te lo cuenta dándole una vuelta o de una forma que te hace pensar. Klüger es contestataria. En casi todas las facetas de su vida.
Es una lectura genial e interesante, un poco caótica en su forma (aunque se supone que sigue un orden cronológico) porque a veces Ruth Klüger salta a ideas o escenas del presente, pero siempre en lucha consigo misma, con los clichés sobre el pasado e incluso con el propio lector. Puedo decir sin temor a equivocarme que no es una lectura que deje indiferente.
May 30, 2013
what I most liked about this book was the way Kluger simultaneously asserts uncomfortable and contradictory things like: it's terrible when people assume that the catastrophe of the Holocaust must somehow have made people better, wiser, more loving, but it's also terrible when people don't recognise that survivors might have some special insight into some things; that silence and forgetfulness here is a terrible sin, but memorialisation is often empty and fetishistic; that survivors of this kind of atrocity have experienced something others can't begin to understand, and yet are, still, ultimately, denied access to the essence of this experience of mass murder, precisely because they survived, were the lucky ones; that you can be both attached to and repelled by your homeland, your home language; that love and rage can go hand in hand; that it's fair enough that people are confused and saddened by all this lack of certainty, but also, get a grip, you think that's worse than a death camp; etc
in other words, she pushes you through both the form and content of her writing to accept that there's no resolution to be found here
In line with this embrace of ambiguity, Kluger adopts what I'd consider to be a fairly measured tone, and I'm surprised that what most reviewers seem to be taking away from this book is "she's so bitter all the time and it's unpleasant", and even if that were the case, what do you want from her, what the fuck, I'm mad about it
in other words, she pushes you through both the form and content of her writing to accept that there's no resolution to be found here
In line with this embrace of ambiguity, Kluger adopts what I'd consider to be a fairly measured tone, and I'm surprised that what most reviewers seem to be taking away from this book is "she's so bitter all the time and it's unpleasant", and even if that were the case, what do you want from her, what the fuck, I'm mad about it
May 4, 2022
Im Klappentext meiner Ausgabe steht ein bemerkenswertes Zitat von Martin Walser, der in Klügers Buch als "Christoph" vorkommt und es offenbar einmal besprochen hat, ich habe es damals nicht mitbekommen: "Jeder Leser wird auf dieses Buch mit seiner eigenen Geschichte antworten müssen."
Nach der Lektüre der Christoph-Passagen wird mir die Vieldeutigkeit dieses Zitats klar, aber dennoch finde ich, das Walser recht hat. Es ist sozusagen ein Buch, das einen in die Verantwortung nimmt. Also einen zwingt, sich damit in Beziehung zu setzen, auf kunstvolle und elegante, aber auch sehr unmittelbare Weise.
Nach der Lektüre der Christoph-Passagen wird mir die Vieldeutigkeit dieses Zitats klar, aber dennoch finde ich, das Walser recht hat. Es ist sozusagen ein Buch, das einen in die Verantwortung nimmt. Also einen zwingt, sich damit in Beziehung zu setzen, auf kunstvolle und elegante, aber auch sehr unmittelbare Weise.
January 14, 2011
(Reviewing it a year after reading.) This Holocaust survivor story is different. The style, the writer's personality is unapologetic and challenged me to re-think what I as an outsider thought/presumed to know about that period of history and the people who lived through it, as if she pointed her finger directly at me and other people who want to know her story, forcing us to answer why do we want to know her story? Human beings have this need to be able to explain why something is and then when we think we have a satisfying-enough answer, we put the cap on that jar and put it on a shelf in our heads of things we have come to peace with. Reading this book challenged me to not do that with this story - there is no explaining the Holocaust, there is no explaining survival. There is no peaceful conclusion. There is no explaining it away. She doesn't feel how we think she should feel and she defies you to tell her why she should. She has changed the way I think. Thank you, Ruth Kluger, and bless you.
May 20, 2021
Ruth Klügers weiter leben: Eine Jugend ausgelesen, durchgehend gefesselt und bereichert davon. Ich hatte Klüger 2012 in Klagenfurt erlebt, wo die kluge, schöne greise Frau die "Rede zur Literatur" gehalten hatte, die Notizen dazu auf einem Kindle in der Hand (wie jeder und jede erwähnen, die dabei waren). Ihr Tod vergangenes Jahr machte mich darauf aufmerksam, dass ich noch nichts von ihr gelesen hatte, das wollte ich ändern.
An ihren Jugenderinnerungen gefiel mir von Anfang an der persönliche, oft mündliche Tonfall. Anders als in vielen Autobiografien berühmter Menschen geht es ganz klar nicht um das Abhaken von historischen Hintergründen und das Aufzählen von Kontakten zu anderen berühmtem Menschen. Klüger weist immer wieder darauf hin, dass das nun mal ihr Leben sei und ihre ganz persönliche Holocaust-Geschichte - auch wenn gerade Letzteres zu vielen Vorstellungen davon nicht passe. Und immer wieder wehrt sie sich, in der erzählten Zeit oder beim Erzählen, gegen Einordnungen. Dagegen, dass Menschen wegen eines Details, das sie über sie wussten, glaubten sie zu kennen: Kind. Jüdin. KZ-Überlebende. Frau. Österreicherin. Einwanderin. US-Amerikanerin. Und dann ihr erzählen wollten, wer sie sei und wie ihre Erlebnisse zu sehen seien - bis hin zum Paradoxon, dass ihr Überleben mehrerer Konzentrationslager und Transporte dazwischen als Beleg genommen wurde, dass es ja dann dort nicht so schlimm gewesen sei.
Klügers Blick und Reflexion auf ihre Vergangenheit, auf sich und die Menschen in ihrer Umgebung sind immer erhellend und oft überraschend, ich lernte viel Neues (und sei es, dass ich mir nie Gedanken über die Schulbildung der Menschen gemacht hatte, die Kindheit und einen Teil ihrer Jugend in Ghettos und Konzentrationslagern verbringen mussten). Besonders fiel mir eine Passage auf, mit der sie beschreibt, wie sie in den USA an der Uni endlich Freundinnen fand, darunter eine, die in dem Buch den Namen Anneliese trägt.
(Schreibung original, Hervorhebung von mir.)
An ihren Jugenderinnerungen gefiel mir von Anfang an der persönliche, oft mündliche Tonfall. Anders als in vielen Autobiografien berühmter Menschen geht es ganz klar nicht um das Abhaken von historischen Hintergründen und das Aufzählen von Kontakten zu anderen berühmtem Menschen. Klüger weist immer wieder darauf hin, dass das nun mal ihr Leben sei und ihre ganz persönliche Holocaust-Geschichte - auch wenn gerade Letzteres zu vielen Vorstellungen davon nicht passe. Und immer wieder wehrt sie sich, in der erzählten Zeit oder beim Erzählen, gegen Einordnungen. Dagegen, dass Menschen wegen eines Details, das sie über sie wussten, glaubten sie zu kennen: Kind. Jüdin. KZ-Überlebende. Frau. Österreicherin. Einwanderin. US-Amerikanerin. Und dann ihr erzählen wollten, wer sie sei und wie ihre Erlebnisse zu sehen seien - bis hin zum Paradoxon, dass ihr Überleben mehrerer Konzentrationslager und Transporte dazwischen als Beleg genommen wurde, dass es ja dann dort nicht so schlimm gewesen sei.
Klügers Blick und Reflexion auf ihre Vergangenheit, auf sich und die Menschen in ihrer Umgebung sind immer erhellend und oft überraschend, ich lernte viel Neues (und sei es, dass ich mir nie Gedanken über die Schulbildung der Menschen gemacht hatte, die Kindheit und einen Teil ihrer Jugend in Ghettos und Konzentrationslagern verbringen mussten). Besonders fiel mir eine Passage auf, mit der sie beschreibt, wie sie in den USA an der Uni endlich Freundinnen fand, darunter eine, die in dem Buch den Namen Anneliese trägt.
Nachgelaufen bin ich ihr auch in Museen. Mein Kunstsinn ist gering, verglichen mit ihrem, und ich muß mir erst einreden oder einreden lassen, daß etwas schön ist. Mich lockte die Statik des Gesammelten, die nicht von Umziehen, Herumziehen, Aufbruch und Abbruch bestimmt war. Ein Museum war wie ein Schwamm, der mich aufsaugt, eine geistige Suppe, die mich minderwertiges Gemüse würzt und gar kocht. Schmackhaftes, Abgeschmecktes war da vermischt, und keine Kartoffelschalen, die der Mensch nur aus Not frißt. Dazugehören, einfach dadurch, daß man hinschaut. Bibliotheken empfangen mich ähnlich, aber die versprechen nur (weil man die Bücher ja nicht auf der Stelle lesen kann), während Museen ihr Versprechen gleich einlösen, dir den Dinosaurus oder den Matisse zum sofortigen Genuß servieren.
(Schreibung original, Hervorhebung von mir.)
September 22, 2013
A very different Holocaust survival memoir than I am used to. Kluger purposefully wrote this memoir for a different purpose - this was not meant to show us what we already know about the Holocaust. This does not look at grotesque portraits of concentration camp conditions or satanic SS generals and Nazis. Kluger looks back at herself as a child during World War II with an objective mindset. It is as if Kluger is psychoanalyzing herself through her writing.
It is surprising in many ways - Kluger does not ask for sentimentality. She confesses the lack of familial relationship between her, her family, and the Jewish community. She expresses the excitement she felt once she knew she was to partake in an event that would be worth talking about in the future. Do not read this expecting to see more details about what we already know from Anne Frank, Corrie Ten Boom, or Elie Wiesel. Kluger takes you somewhere else that you have not been before.
It is surprising in many ways - Kluger does not ask for sentimentality. She confesses the lack of familial relationship between her, her family, and the Jewish community. She expresses the excitement she felt once she knew she was to partake in an event that would be worth talking about in the future. Do not read this expecting to see more details about what we already know from Anne Frank, Corrie Ten Boom, or Elie Wiesel. Kluger takes you somewhere else that you have not been before.
October 10, 2022
I wish I'd read this sooner. Now trying to figure out how to incorporate it into my next "Holocaust Literature" syllabus.
July 31, 2025
Profound and unlike any memoir I've read before. Klüger has constructed something of a trickster book here: a memoir that also comments on the genre (and particularly the exploitativeness and hypocrisy of the demand for, and disgust at, Holocaust narratives, which marked her experiences as a survivor and writer in the mid-late 20th century). But it is also a means of backing into the rich, emotional, often overwhelming memory work she must do to bring this book into existence, yet also documents herself fighting against tooth-and-nail, from her bold entry into segregated Austrian movie theaters as a child to her distaste for refugee trauma one-upmanship.
Another refreshing, often disturbing element of this text was Klüger's willingness to expound upon not only the horrors an astute student of the Holocaust may know, but also the quotidian miseries that come not with being incarcerated, but simply with living in a dysfunctional family, a dysfunctional community, and experiencing the result of generations of poor communication and internalized prejudice. She does not downplay the torture and victimization of herself nor her fellow inmates, and yet equally speaks plainly about the pain they caused each other, of the impact of her mother's mental illness on her adolescence and later adulthood in America. She speaks, too, of her own self-absorption, her teenage mistakes, her misjudgements of character, such that readers truly get the sense of Ruth the character, Ruth the young girl not uniquely suited to survive the horrors of the Holocaust, but rather an unlucky child grasping at survival wherever she could find it, and often succeeding through sheer dumb luck.
I can understand having read this the praise for Klüger as a writer and scholar, and can see very clearly that this is certainly a "poet's memoir." But this memoir, given the circumstances of its publication and the unique attitude of its writer, has the added benefit of formal and content-based dissent from the popular Holocaust narrative, charting instead a much rougher, more difficult, and ultimately more meaningful course.
Another refreshing, often disturbing element of this text was Klüger's willingness to expound upon not only the horrors an astute student of the Holocaust may know, but also the quotidian miseries that come not with being incarcerated, but simply with living in a dysfunctional family, a dysfunctional community, and experiencing the result of generations of poor communication and internalized prejudice. She does not downplay the torture and victimization of herself nor her fellow inmates, and yet equally speaks plainly about the pain they caused each other, of the impact of her mother's mental illness on her adolescence and later adulthood in America. She speaks, too, of her own self-absorption, her teenage mistakes, her misjudgements of character, such that readers truly get the sense of Ruth the character, Ruth the young girl not uniquely suited to survive the horrors of the Holocaust, but rather an unlucky child grasping at survival wherever she could find it, and often succeeding through sheer dumb luck.
I can understand having read this the praise for Klüger as a writer and scholar, and can see very clearly that this is certainly a "poet's memoir." But this memoir, given the circumstances of its publication and the unique attitude of its writer, has the added benefit of formal and content-based dissent from the popular Holocaust narrative, charting instead a much rougher, more difficult, and ultimately more meaningful course.
September 21, 2022
So ein unglaublich intensives Buch. Was für eine Bereicherung, die Gedanken dieser klugen Frau lesen zu dürfen.
November 4, 2019
Ez egy baromi fontos könyv a holokausztról. Egyrészt azért, mert nagyon erős női szemszöget visz be a témába – ebben a kontextusban a zsidó nő tulajdonképpen kettős áldozat, áldozata a náciknak, és jóval kisebb mértékben ugyan, de áldozata a patriarchális hagyománynak is, ami megtiltja neki, hogy kaddist mondjon az áldozatokért, ezzel hovatovább megtiltja neki magát az emlékezést. És fontos azért is, mert maga a holokauszt eseményei szinte csak mellékesen jelennek meg benne – ami igazán fontos, nem a történet, hanem ami a történtek hatására végbemegy az elbeszélőben. Az elmesélhetetlenség, a feldolgozhatatlanság, a külvilág közönyére vagy téveszméire adott reakciók állnak a könyv középpontjában, és ezek jobbára csak a háború után kerülhetnek előtérbe, hisz szükségképpen csak akkor válnak problémává, ha a legfőbb probléma (hogy miképp éljünk túl) már megoldást nyert. Nagyon-nagyon keserű írás ez, kertészien keserű, mert a szenvedés értelmetlenségét állítja fókuszba. Klüger tagadja a kerek „megmenekülés-történetek” létjogosultságát, és tagadja azt is, hogy a történtekben bármilyen mítoszt, mondjuk a hősiesség mítoszát kéne felkutatnunk. Nincs tanulság, nincs felemelkedés, csak ok nélkül okozott mérhetetlen szenvedés van – de a szenvedés nem teszi jobbá azt, aki elszenvedi. Ha jobbá tenné, az talán értelmet adna neki, de Klüger határozottan elveti, hogy akár ilyen közvetett módon is azt állítsuk, a népirtás jó volt valamire. Története is szinte csak úgy muszájból van elmondva, a szerző kedve ellenére, hogy az értelmetlenség értelmét értesse meg velünk – magát pedig olyasvalakinek tekinti, aki túlélt ugyan, de ez nem jogosítja fel semmire, mert egyszerűen szerencse dolga, sőt: ha arra gondolunk, hogy a túlélő gyakran valaki helyett élt túl, tán még egy kicsit pironkodni is illik miatta. És azonosulni sincs mód a szenvedővel, mert az olvasó és „főhős” azonosulása szükségképpen fikció, amit a regényíró az irodalmi macchiavellizmus eszközeivel visz véghez – tehát nem közelebb visz ahhoz, amit igazságnak szokás nevezni, sokkal inkább távolabb. Úgyhogy nincs más, mint: „Tisztelet a holtaknak, az élőknek inkább bizalmatlanság.”
December 30, 2008
"Instead of God I believe in ghosts"
This was a very different memoir than the others I've read. I think because the author is a writer and her story doesn't have the direct simplicity of someone just telling their story of survival. She is more abstract and more analytical. Her story has a sharper edge. That doesn't make it better or worse, but it gave me a different perspective.
Ruth Kluger grew up in Vienna and did not have an idyllic childhood. Her parents and relatives vacillated between petty and brutal behavior. The fact of their horrific deaths doesn't soften her memories of them.
Ruth's father escapes to Italy and the women are left alone. Ruth's mother has a chance to send her on a kindertransport and does not take it. They are sent to Terezin, Auschwitz, and Gross-Rosen. Her unflinching accounts of the hunger, brutality and banality of these camps allows you to sense the reality of that existence.
This was a very different memoir than the others I've read. I think because the author is a writer and her story doesn't have the direct simplicity of someone just telling their story of survival. She is more abstract and more analytical. Her story has a sharper edge. That doesn't make it better or worse, but it gave me a different perspective.
Ruth Kluger grew up in Vienna and did not have an idyllic childhood. Her parents and relatives vacillated between petty and brutal behavior. The fact of their horrific deaths doesn't soften her memories of them.
Ruth's father escapes to Italy and the women are left alone. Ruth's mother has a chance to send her on a kindertransport and does not take it. They are sent to Terezin, Auschwitz, and Gross-Rosen. Her unflinching accounts of the hunger, brutality and banality of these camps allows you to sense the reality of that existence.
March 24, 2024
Imprescindible: por su valor testimonial, pero no solo eso, sino por su singularidad de narración testimonial escrita por una mujer. Klüger no miente cuando dice que “El lenguaje está de parte de los hombres […]. Las guerras pertenecen a los hombres”. Esto, lamentablemente, engloba también el sistema editorial y la publicación de memorias testimoniales sobre el Holocausto desde una perspectiva femenina.
Ruth Klüger lleva a la lectora (como ella misma acentúa) a un viaje cronológico de sus recuerdos, un viaje al que ella parece tener acceso también solo a través de su propia escritura.
La nota de la traductora advierte que esta obra fue ya descatalogada una vez en su versión en español: luchemos para que no vuelva a pasar. “Seguir viviendo” merece un espacio obligatorio en toda biblioteca crítica.
Ruth Klüger lleva a la lectora (como ella misma acentúa) a un viaje cronológico de sus recuerdos, un viaje al que ella parece tener acceso también solo a través de su propia escritura.
La nota de la traductora advierte que esta obra fue ya descatalogada una vez en su versión en español: luchemos para que no vuelva a pasar. “Seguir viviendo” merece un espacio obligatorio en toda biblioteca crítica.
May 8, 2023
Pese a tener un inicio extraño al estilo "stream of consciousness" al que me costó acostumbrarme, creo que nunca habia sentido tanto leyendo un libro histórico. Ruth Klüger te cuenta su vida sin tapujos, contradiciéndose a si misma y incluso añadiendo aclaraciones sobre lo que acabas de leer. Constantemente tenía que recordar que esto no es ficción, fue una de tantas vidas afectadas por la crueldad humana.
Me gustó mucho también la perspectiva feminista de Ruth y como mucha gente no es capaz de creer su historia por el simple hecho de que, tal como dice ella, "las guerras pertenecen a los hombres" y las historias heroicas también.
Fantástica lectura pero complicada de asimilar a veces por la dureza y la crueldad.
Me gustó mucho también la perspectiva feminista de Ruth y como mucha gente no es capaz de creer su historia por el simple hecho de que, tal como dice ella, "las guerras pertenecen a los hombres" y las historias heroicas también.
Fantástica lectura pero complicada de asimilar a veces por la dureza y la crueldad.
November 30, 2023
I don't understand how this book isn't more well known.
January 22, 2012
Ruth Klueger’s Still Alive: A Holocaust Girlhood Remembered is a powerful book that is difficult to describe. The work is divided into four sections and an epilogue. “Vienna” recounts Klueger’s early childhood in the city. “The Camps” discusses Klueger’s time spent as a twelve- and thirteen-year-old in Theresienstadt, Auschwitz-Birkenau, the labor camp at Gross-Rosen, and on a death march throughout Germany. “Germany” discusses time spent in the country after running away from the death march until Klueger’s emigration to America, while “New York” discusses Klueger’s experiences of immigration and, more generally, the rest of her life spent in America. The book is difficult to describe for a few reasons. First, the book covers nearly 70 years of experiences. While the impacts of the Holocaust are at their heart, the book covers a great deal more of Klueger’s life than simply her time spent in the camps. Relatedly, Klueger’s background as a poet shines in the ways that she destabilizes the chronological backbone of her narrative by interjecting things that happened long before or long after key events in question. In this way, I would describe Klueger’s work as more of a “meditation” than an exact chronological account.
“But a meditation on what?” remains the difficult question to answer. The answer seems to be the ambiguity and dilemmas surrounding a life after the Holocaust, expressed particularly through the themes of childhood and gender. On one hand, Klueger demands that the reader accept her childhood as just that, a childhood not unlike anyone else’s. On the other hand, Klueger reasserts the particularities of a childhood endured during the Holocaust and the ways it has transformed and continues to transform her life. For instance, Klueger recounts her hatred for an aunt who lived with them before the camps, because the aunt constantly told her to be more ladylike and punished her by taking away a collection of tram tickets she kept as a hobby. Although this aunt died in the Holocaust, Klueger says she still feels no real pity, just a lingering sense of outrage toward her aunt. This causes Klueger some distress, because of the "bad fit between facts and feelings, between actual, normal, petty sentiments and the horrendous suffering to which childhood is innocent." (33) Klueger's feelings are typical feelings for a slighted youth, but they cannot change or transform because of her aunt's demise in the unforeseeable Holocaust. What does one do with such feelings? As another example, Klueger contends her entire life with a mother who, among other mental problems, suffered from paranoia. While her mother’s harsh words and behavior hurt Klueger deeply, Klueger is clear that it might be that very paranoia that got both of them through the camps. How does one deal with the ambiguities surrounding these competing facts and emotions? Klueger does not provide clear answers to any of these questions. What she does do, however, is show the reader that Holocaust survivors (and perhaps people in general) must be understood within the full breadth of their experiences, which are complicated and convoluted. Holocaust survivors cannot be reduced only to their Holocaust experiences, but neither can the impact of the Holocaust on its survivors be denied or easily accounted for. Historians must be willing to face ambiguities, rather than search for easy answers.
“But a meditation on what?” remains the difficult question to answer. The answer seems to be the ambiguity and dilemmas surrounding a life after the Holocaust, expressed particularly through the themes of childhood and gender. On one hand, Klueger demands that the reader accept her childhood as just that, a childhood not unlike anyone else’s. On the other hand, Klueger reasserts the particularities of a childhood endured during the Holocaust and the ways it has transformed and continues to transform her life. For instance, Klueger recounts her hatred for an aunt who lived with them before the camps, because the aunt constantly told her to be more ladylike and punished her by taking away a collection of tram tickets she kept as a hobby. Although this aunt died in the Holocaust, Klueger says she still feels no real pity, just a lingering sense of outrage toward her aunt. This causes Klueger some distress, because of the "bad fit between facts and feelings, between actual, normal, petty sentiments and the horrendous suffering to which childhood is innocent." (33) Klueger's feelings are typical feelings for a slighted youth, but they cannot change or transform because of her aunt's demise in the unforeseeable Holocaust. What does one do with such feelings? As another example, Klueger contends her entire life with a mother who, among other mental problems, suffered from paranoia. While her mother’s harsh words and behavior hurt Klueger deeply, Klueger is clear that it might be that very paranoia that got both of them through the camps. How does one deal with the ambiguities surrounding these competing facts and emotions? Klueger does not provide clear answers to any of these questions. What she does do, however, is show the reader that Holocaust survivors (and perhaps people in general) must be understood within the full breadth of their experiences, which are complicated and convoluted. Holocaust survivors cannot be reduced only to their Holocaust experiences, but neither can the impact of the Holocaust on its survivors be denied or easily accounted for. Historians must be willing to face ambiguities, rather than search for easy answers.
April 5, 2015
Auf dieses Buch wurde ich durch eine frühe "Das literarische Quartett" Sendung aufmerksam. Schon lange wollte ich ENDLICH aufhören damit, historische- und autobiografische- Bücher über die Kriegs- und Nachkriegszeit zu lesen. Aber irgendwie werden immer wieder in den Büchern selbst Verweise zu anderen lesenswerte Bücher gemacht, so komme ich nie dazu was "erfreulicheres" zu lesen. Anna Segher wird wohl bald folgen. Mit der Shoah selbst kann und will ich mich nicht mehr befassen (in ihrer Schrecklichkeit für mich nicht zu ertragen!) womit der Übergang zur Rezension dieses Buches geschafft wäre.
Ruth Klügers Buch fand ich unglaublich interessant. Sie beschreibt die "Rassentrennung" - die sie selbst miterlebt hat - in einer Weise, dass man es mit ihr miterlebt, als junges Mädchen im Wien der späten 1930er herum, vor und nach dem Anschluss von Österreich an Hitlerdeutschland. Sie beschreibt die Not und das Elend eher beiläufig und konzentriert sich hauptsächlich auf ihre Wahrnehmung und ihr Überleben. Immer wieder unterbricht sie ihre Erinnerungen durch ihre "jetzige" Sicht - also die Sicht einer älteren Dame - auf diese geschilderten Erlebnisse.
Sehr eindringlich ist ihre Zeit in den Konzentrationslagern geschildert. Selbst in so einer kompromittierten Situation ziehen es Menschen vor eher gegeneinander als miteinander zu agieren. Unglaublich fand ich das. Dass es in den KZs untereinander nicht wie man glaubt einen Zusammenhalt gab, sondern genauso Reibereien undundund.
Interessant auch ihre Berichte über die Zeit nach der Emigration in die Vereinigten Staaten. Dass dort wieder eine Art von Rassentrennung stattfand, wo sich doch die Amerikaner preisen die letzten Juden aus den KZs gerettet zu haben. Dass es sogar teilweise zu einer Gleichstellung mit den Deutschen kam "gegen euch haben wir den Krieg gewonnen"... unfassbar.
Aber am eindringlichsten fand ich was Klüger über erstens ihre Schulgefühle schreibt, dass sie überleben durfte: die Geister die sie umzingeln und zweitens über die Anderen: also jene, die nicht in den KZs waren, aber meinen es zu verstehen und über uns: die späteren Generationen, die auf Sightseeing nach Mauthausen fahren, gar nichts Genaues mehr wissen wollen und alles abkanzeln. Die Ignoranz die ihr entgegenkommt... unfassbar.
Zeitweise fand ich das Buch mühsam, aber ich finde es wichtig es gelesen zu haben weil man einen ganz anderen Blick auf die Geschehnisse bekommt. Das ist kein Buch über die Gräueltaten und den Schreckenserinnerungen in den KZs, sondern eine eher nüchterne Betrachtung aus der damaligen und der heutigen Sicht. Empfehlenswert.
Ruth Klügers Buch fand ich unglaublich interessant. Sie beschreibt die "Rassentrennung" - die sie selbst miterlebt hat - in einer Weise, dass man es mit ihr miterlebt, als junges Mädchen im Wien der späten 1930er herum, vor und nach dem Anschluss von Österreich an Hitlerdeutschland. Sie beschreibt die Not und das Elend eher beiläufig und konzentriert sich hauptsächlich auf ihre Wahrnehmung und ihr Überleben. Immer wieder unterbricht sie ihre Erinnerungen durch ihre "jetzige" Sicht - also die Sicht einer älteren Dame - auf diese geschilderten Erlebnisse.
Sehr eindringlich ist ihre Zeit in den Konzentrationslagern geschildert. Selbst in so einer kompromittierten Situation ziehen es Menschen vor eher gegeneinander als miteinander zu agieren. Unglaublich fand ich das. Dass es in den KZs untereinander nicht wie man glaubt einen Zusammenhalt gab, sondern genauso Reibereien undundund.
Interessant auch ihre Berichte über die Zeit nach der Emigration in die Vereinigten Staaten. Dass dort wieder eine Art von Rassentrennung stattfand, wo sich doch die Amerikaner preisen die letzten Juden aus den KZs gerettet zu haben. Dass es sogar teilweise zu einer Gleichstellung mit den Deutschen kam "gegen euch haben wir den Krieg gewonnen"... unfassbar.
Aber am eindringlichsten fand ich was Klüger über erstens ihre Schulgefühle schreibt, dass sie überleben durfte: die Geister die sie umzingeln und zweitens über die Anderen: also jene, die nicht in den KZs waren, aber meinen es zu verstehen und über uns: die späteren Generationen, die auf Sightseeing nach Mauthausen fahren, gar nichts Genaues mehr wissen wollen und alles abkanzeln. Die Ignoranz die ihr entgegenkommt... unfassbar.
Zeitweise fand ich das Buch mühsam, aber ich finde es wichtig es gelesen zu haben weil man einen ganz anderen Blick auf die Geschehnisse bekommt. Das ist kein Buch über die Gräueltaten und den Schreckenserinnerungen in den KZs, sondern eine eher nüchterne Betrachtung aus der damaligen und der heutigen Sicht. Empfehlenswert.
April 26, 2011
This book made me aware of how glossed over other Holocaust accounts are; we don't get "real" characters - we get a "shocked" stereotype that has emerged from publishers trying to emphasis the innocence of Holocaust victims. The reader is left to supply the feelings of horror, sadness, & anger - the character almost never feels or displays these emotions.
This book isn't like that. We are presented with a real person - at various points, this could have easily been me; Kluger's reactions are psychologically normal. She's a little girl who disliked an aunt and was all too aware of the distance between her and mother. She wasn't allowed a normal childhood because of the restrictions on Jews. She wasn't an angel - an innocent child, yes, but a child as imperfect as anyone else and yet, she managed to grow up despite the destruction threatening her culture. She survived and had a book published by The Feminist Press.
This isn't an account from the "nice" girl stereotype that the early 20th-century admired. This is a girl who learned to rely on herself for survival; she learned all too well that this is a dog-eat-dog world. We see the anger - we hear it in every sarcastic and bitter remark. She tells us of the lingering despair - she has imaginary conversations with her father, who died in a gas chamber, trying to reconcile the feeling "of him not taking me with him and his not returning." We are given the opportunity to see how the Holocaust affected the way she thought - and those thoughts aren't what is typically published.
I can understand some people being put off by her introspection, and by the anger -and fear- that became her coping technique. But these emotions are very true of all survivors - no matter what trauma they endure - so I feel as though this book is a true look at the Holocaust from a victim's perspective. We see all the dirty thoughts that are left out of other accounts.
I love that she mentioned Primo Levi, another Auschwitz survivor, early on in the book - a reminder that these horrible thoughts and feelings did -and do- exist (Levi never fully recovered from his time spent in Auschwitz and eventually killed himself). Kluger has taken a big step towards dismantling the Jewish stereotype that has emerged among Holocaust accounts and reminds us that these were no angels - they were real people being murdered in the thousands. I found this to be a refreshingly honest book.
This book isn't like that. We are presented with a real person - at various points, this could have easily been me; Kluger's reactions are psychologically normal. She's a little girl who disliked an aunt and was all too aware of the distance between her and mother. She wasn't allowed a normal childhood because of the restrictions on Jews. She wasn't an angel - an innocent child, yes, but a child as imperfect as anyone else and yet, she managed to grow up despite the destruction threatening her culture. She survived and had a book published by The Feminist Press.
This isn't an account from the "nice" girl stereotype that the early 20th-century admired. This is a girl who learned to rely on herself for survival; she learned all too well that this is a dog-eat-dog world. We see the anger - we hear it in every sarcastic and bitter remark. She tells us of the lingering despair - she has imaginary conversations with her father, who died in a gas chamber, trying to reconcile the feeling "of him not taking me with him and his not returning." We are given the opportunity to see how the Holocaust affected the way she thought - and those thoughts aren't what is typically published.
I can understand some people being put off by her introspection, and by the anger -and fear- that became her coping technique. But these emotions are very true of all survivors - no matter what trauma they endure - so I feel as though this book is a true look at the Holocaust from a victim's perspective. We see all the dirty thoughts that are left out of other accounts.
I love that she mentioned Primo Levi, another Auschwitz survivor, early on in the book - a reminder that these horrible thoughts and feelings did -and do- exist (Levi never fully recovered from his time spent in Auschwitz and eventually killed himself). Kluger has taken a big step towards dismantling the Jewish stereotype that has emerged among Holocaust accounts and reminds us that these were no angels - they were real people being murdered in the thousands. I found this to be a refreshingly honest book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 16, 2014
A different holocaust experience than the ones more widely known and celebrated- Ruth Klüger is not afraid to show the raw emotions that go along with such a jarring experience as hers. There is sometimes bitterness, and raw anger- the anger of the child who had the bad luck (she refuses to attribute it to fate or God) to be born Jewish in Vienna in 1931. Seven years old at the Anschluss, she did not have the usual childhood experiences of learning to swim or ride a bike. She learned different lessons- lessons in loss, in Otherness, in unfairness. She was deported to Theresienstadt with her mother at 11, and sent to Auschwitz at 12. So if she sometimes sounds abrasive or argumentative, she has every right to be. As she reminds us, there is no single narrative of the Holocaust, no magic formula that could be applied to equal survival or destruction. Yes, she and her mother (as well as the sister they adopted in Auschwitz) were tenacious, but they were also lucky. She tells her story unflinchingly, warts and all, and takes a critical look at the 'museum culture' of the Holocaust. .
February 2, 2023
Such a memorable and poignant read, Klüger is frank and unapologetic and lends a unique tone and perspective that sets her apart from other Holocaust survivors. In comparison to more famous works of testimony Klüger stood out to me because she was extremely transparent in what she couldn't reconcile with, intimate in describing her conflicted feelings and identity as a Jew yet having a deep connection to Germany and German culture in her upbringing, and unafraid to pose severe questions to outsiders like the sin of silence and forgetting history against the danger of the fetishization of memorial/memory. Very thought-provoking memoir that I learned a lot from
June 13, 2016
Este libro te hace comprender, a cada página, por qué existe la literatura. Ya no es sólo que sea buenísimo, es que es como si alguien hubiera destilado la esencia de literatura y la hubiera guardado entre portada y contraportada.
October 31, 2020
A tough to read but excellent Holocaust memoir.
May 31, 2017
Ein außergewöhnliches Buch über die Erlebnisse eine auch außergewöhnlich denkenden Frau.
Ihre Kindheit gab es eigentlich nicht. Die verbrachte sie als verfolgte Jüdin im okkupierten Wien, in Theresienstadt, Auschwitz und Groß-Rosen. Überlebt hat sie nur, weil sie sich, als es an die Selektion ging, auf Rat einer anderen in der Reihe, als älter ausgab.
So kam sie als Zwangsarbeiterin von Auschwitz nach Christianstadt, einem Teil des KZs Groß-Rosen.
Die Autorin gehört so zu den jüngsten Überlebenden der, wie sie sagt jüdischen Katastrophe. Den Begriff Holocaust oder Shoa gab es erst später.
Sie räumt auf mit Klischeedenken, falschem Mitleid, vergleichen von Kriegserlebnissen und vielem mehr. Dabei verwendet sie eine eines Teils sehr nüchterne, nichts beschönigende Sprache zum andern wunderbare, die Situation und Gefühle beschreibende Bilder.
Ihre Kindheit gab es eigentlich nicht. Die verbrachte sie als verfolgte Jüdin im okkupierten Wien, in Theresienstadt, Auschwitz und Groß-Rosen. Überlebt hat sie nur, weil sie sich, als es an die Selektion ging, auf Rat einer anderen in der Reihe, als älter ausgab.
So kam sie als Zwangsarbeiterin von Auschwitz nach Christianstadt, einem Teil des KZs Groß-Rosen.
Die Autorin gehört so zu den jüngsten Überlebenden der, wie sie sagt jüdischen Katastrophe. Den Begriff Holocaust oder Shoa gab es erst später.
Sie räumt auf mit Klischeedenken, falschem Mitleid, vergleichen von Kriegserlebnissen und vielem mehr. Dabei verwendet sie eine eines Teils sehr nüchterne, nichts beschönigende Sprache zum andern wunderbare, die Situation und Gefühle beschreibende Bilder.
August 4, 2024
The ending made me feel emotional, really powerful book
April 28, 2024
És genial. Klüger el va escriure dècades més tard i, per tant, no només testimonia sinó que també hi integra tot el que ve després. Parla de com la gent s'enfronta a l'Holocaust anys més tard i del malestar que provoca la figura del supervivent. Ajunta moltes veus, es baralla amb l'escriptura i amb el seu record i el de la seva mare i discuteix sobre quina pot ser la manera de seguir parlant de l'Holocaust.
October 2, 2017
I had never heard of this memoir before being assigned it on a reading list for my university course. I am a relative newcomer to Holocaust memoirs, but found Kluger's writing style to be engaging and interesting.
She both presents facts we have come to accept as westerners learning about the Holocaust in school (the terrible conditions, the somewhat haphazard and luck-related survivals of the persecuted, and the absolute despair of the entire operation, for example) but also provides insight into ideas I had never considered. She is not a fan of the Holocaust museums and the use of the Concentration Camps, the museums, in her opinion, tell you what to think rather than letting you come to your own conclusion, and the Concentration Camps are a disservice to the memory of the victims and the survivors. She mentions in passing difficult subjects like the politicisation of the Holocaust and the debates that have opened up about what one can say about it, and what is banned as anti-Semitic.
Intertwined with this horrific backdrop is a story about a broken family. Those that died and those that survived, and those that were never in the camps themselves and avoided such a fate, who she comes to meet later in her life. It is unflinching in its representation, she doesn't glorify people she disliked just because they died, but she still makes it clear the horrible fate that awaited them.
It made me think. It made me consider how humans understand one another. Do we need a shared experience, even the smallest of occurrences, to empathise and listen to one another? Do we ever truly listen to each other's stories? Or do we just listen to what we want to hear? I became more self-critical for reading this book, and considered my pre-conceived opinion of the Holocaust. It didn't answer many questions it raised, but it didn't need to, Kluger knew many of the questions held no easy answers. It's more than worth a read. It was lengthy in places, but I enjoyed her thoughts and her questions, her life before, during and after the Holocaust. I enjoyed her self-reflection and her consideration for what had happened to her. And she taught me that there's a difference between sympathising and dismissing someone, and that all too often the wider world opts for dismissal. Hopefully now I'll have learnt to truly listen to someone, or at least consider whether I've really heard them.
She both presents facts we have come to accept as westerners learning about the Holocaust in school (the terrible conditions, the somewhat haphazard and luck-related survivals of the persecuted, and the absolute despair of the entire operation, for example) but also provides insight into ideas I had never considered. She is not a fan of the Holocaust museums and the use of the Concentration Camps, the museums, in her opinion, tell you what to think rather than letting you come to your own conclusion, and the Concentration Camps are a disservice to the memory of the victims and the survivors. She mentions in passing difficult subjects like the politicisation of the Holocaust and the debates that have opened up about what one can say about it, and what is banned as anti-Semitic.
Intertwined with this horrific backdrop is a story about a broken family. Those that died and those that survived, and those that were never in the camps themselves and avoided such a fate, who she comes to meet later in her life. It is unflinching in its representation, she doesn't glorify people she disliked just because they died, but she still makes it clear the horrible fate that awaited them.
It made me think. It made me consider how humans understand one another. Do we need a shared experience, even the smallest of occurrences, to empathise and listen to one another? Do we ever truly listen to each other's stories? Or do we just listen to what we want to hear? I became more self-critical for reading this book, and considered my pre-conceived opinion of the Holocaust. It didn't answer many questions it raised, but it didn't need to, Kluger knew many of the questions held no easy answers. It's more than worth a read. It was lengthy in places, but I enjoyed her thoughts and her questions, her life before, during and after the Holocaust. I enjoyed her self-reflection and her consideration for what had happened to her. And she taught me that there's a difference between sympathising and dismissing someone, and that all too often the wider world opts for dismissal. Hopefully now I'll have learnt to truly listen to someone, or at least consider whether I've really heard them.
November 13, 2018
I have mixed thoughts about this book. On the one hand, it's certainly an honest look at the thoughts and feelings of a survivor of the Holocaust. It is not a formulaic, rising-above-the-tragedy, triumph-of-the-human-spirit memoir. It is raw.
On the other hand, the writing style is unappealing. The author shifts time periods far too frequently, within the same paragraph, sometimes within the same sentence, making it difficult to follow what is going on and where the author is in her story. There are too many very esoteric metaphors, which often make it hard to relate to her emotions (although no doubt her anger comes blasting through on nearly every page). Kluger does not strike me as someone I would like to know; she is far too critical and unforgiving of the people around her. She seems unable to accept that other people's thoughts, feelings, and experiences are valid even if they are lacking in understanding or misinformed, yet she demands that people uncritically accept and understand hers. Although she has a worthwhile story to tell, her unrelenting anger and lack of ability to see other people as little more than thorns in her side are very offputting.
I came away from the book with the feeling that Kluger's troubled home life before the Holocaust set the stage for a life of unhappiness, and that she was never able to overcome her negative feelings, and I find that sad.
On the other hand, the writing style is unappealing. The author shifts time periods far too frequently, within the same paragraph, sometimes within the same sentence, making it difficult to follow what is going on and where the author is in her story. There are too many very esoteric metaphors, which often make it hard to relate to her emotions (although no doubt her anger comes blasting through on nearly every page). Kluger does not strike me as someone I would like to know; she is far too critical and unforgiving of the people around her. She seems unable to accept that other people's thoughts, feelings, and experiences are valid even if they are lacking in understanding or misinformed, yet she demands that people uncritically accept and understand hers. Although she has a worthwhile story to tell, her unrelenting anger and lack of ability to see other people as little more than thorns in her side are very offputting.
I came away from the book with the feeling that Kluger's troubled home life before the Holocaust set the stage for a life of unhappiness, and that she was never able to overcome her negative feelings, and I find that sad.
July 31, 2012
I struggled with the rating on this book.
On the one hand, there are many elements of the book I would criticize. The author's writing, particularly in the first fifty pages, is loaded with metaphors, to the point that each line appears to be a witty soundbite; the style is therefore disjointed. The book is also replete with references that I'm not sure a non-academic would appreciate--authors and academics quoted with last names and throwaway mentions. And finally, the author herself has such a tone of anger--against herself, her family, her world--that the book can be off-putting at times.
On the other hand, though--the book is incredibly powerful. Kluger pulls no punches and she steadfastly refuses to play to cliches. She will tell you what she thinks, whether it may be a popular idea (that women guards were nicer than men) or unpopular (that the concentration camp museums are a superficial gesture with no meaning to the victims). She shows us the damage living in a racist society (pre-war Vienna as well as the wartime years in the camps) did to her, both in that time and through the rest of her life, and she does so in a way that is vicious, uncomfortable, and not in the slightest self-pitying. And throughout the text, she demands, repeatedly, that we think--whether we agree with her or not, Kluger does not allow us to be passive readers.
On the one hand, there are many elements of the book I would criticize. The author's writing, particularly in the first fifty pages, is loaded with metaphors, to the point that each line appears to be a witty soundbite; the style is therefore disjointed. The book is also replete with references that I'm not sure a non-academic would appreciate--authors and academics quoted with last names and throwaway mentions. And finally, the author herself has such a tone of anger--against herself, her family, her world--that the book can be off-putting at times.
On the other hand, though--the book is incredibly powerful. Kluger pulls no punches and she steadfastly refuses to play to cliches. She will tell you what she thinks, whether it may be a popular idea (that women guards were nicer than men) or unpopular (that the concentration camp museums are a superficial gesture with no meaning to the victims). She shows us the damage living in a racist society (pre-war Vienna as well as the wartime years in the camps) did to her, both in that time and through the rest of her life, and she does so in a way that is vicious, uncomfortable, and not in the slightest self-pitying. And throughout the text, she demands, repeatedly, that we think--whether we agree with her or not, Kluger does not allow us to be passive readers.
November 23, 2017
Over the years I have read a lot of 'holocaust' books, both fiction and non fiction, and thought this would be another typical book. I was wrong. It is a very honest book about the author's relationship with her mother during the holocaust period and it certainly does not try to shock the reader with any type of expose of the realities of the camps. In fact she deliberately refrains from doing that and tells the reader there are many other books to read which depict the atrocities if that is what you want. As a result the book is very intriguing to read and is very thought provoking. Well worth a read.
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