What do you think?
Rate this book
The Spiral Shell
April 2020 will mark the 80th Anniversary of the fall of France to Nazi Germany, and the establishment of the provisional government of the Vichy state, a puppet of the Axis regime, to carry out the arrest and deportation of all Jewish civilians. In the course of her writing residency over a three-year period in the village of Auvillar, the author learns of acts of bravery and rebellion on the part of several of the Jewish families and individuals who risked their lives to save innocent refugees and children orphaned by the Holocaust, and gradually gains their trust enough for them to share the details of their harrowing experiences of rebellion and resistance. The author in turn discovers truths about her own life and Jewish heritage in America, which she now sees in the light of the bravery and selflessness of those who elected to act and not stand by idly in the face of oppression and genocide.
244 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 14, 2020
6 people are currently reading
3 people want to read
About the author
Sandell Morse
2 books13 followersSandell Morse is the prize-winning author of the memoir, The Spiral Shell, A French Village Reveals Its Secrets of Jewish Resistance in World War II. Morse’s nonfiction has been noted in The Best American Essays series and published in Creative Nonfiction, Ploughshares, the New England Review, Fourth Genre ASCENT, Solstice, Ruminate, and Tiferet among others.
Morse has been a Tennessee Williams Scholar at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, an Associate Artist at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, a resident at the Hewnoaks Artists’ Colony and a Fellow at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. She holds an MA in English with a concentration in fiction writing from the University of New Hampshire and an MALS with a concentration in the humanities from Dartmouth College.
The Spiral Shell, A French Village Reveals Its Secrets of Jewish Resistance in World War II is a silver medalist for the Story Circle Network Sarton Women’s Book Award.
After spending many years on the coast of Maine, she is once again a resident of New Hampshire.
Morse has been a Tennessee Williams Scholar at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, an Associate Artist at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, a resident at the Hewnoaks Artists’ Colony and a Fellow at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. She holds an MA in English with a concentration in fiction writing from the University of New Hampshire and an MALS with a concentration in the humanities from Dartmouth College.
The Spiral Shell, A French Village Reveals Its Secrets of Jewish Resistance in World War II is a silver medalist for the Story Circle Network Sarton Women’s Book Award.
After spending many years on the coast of Maine, she is once again a resident of New Hampshire.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
July 17, 2022
Heroic people come to life
This text from the book sums up my overall gratitude for reading it:
‘I didn’t want anyone telling me what I could or could not believe, what I could or could not eat, whom I could or could not love. One time Germaine asked me what I liked about being Jewish, and I answered, “The stories. I love the stories.”’
I once read that Elie Wiesel and Rabbi Jonathan Sacks asked; “Why God has created humanity?” And answered: “Because God loves stories.” What an amazing connection.
Investigating the history of the heroic Hirsch family and others who rescued hundreds of Jewish children in France during WWII, got me engaged immediately, not only because of the incredible findings but also because of how the author explores her rooted Jewishness and faith during this process. Heartfelt stories mixed with wisdom thoughts. I wish there were more of those author’s personal anecdotes to keep me held with her own turmoil emotions while having dialogues with survivors and their families, and bringing to life incredible people who saved so many lives.
The author’s journey to explore her Jewishness is touching on so many levels. In particular, I felt her being personally sympathetic in the chapter where Daniel and Aline described their struggle with being Jews. And in another anecdote I was amused when the author wrote about her mother: ‘…I needed Mama’s Yiddish melodies playing in my ear. I needed her hands circling the Shabbos flames. I needed her gaze lifted to the ceiling as she railed against God. “Nu, God, I’m such a bad person, you should give me such tsurus?”’ Then, after writing about Alfred Dreyfus‘ trial the author innocently said: ‘I thought of my father and his deep desire to assimilate. Had this been his wish or was he unconsciously responding to Christian demand?‘
A lovely thought about God readers like me could share:
‘…“The pilgrim meets himself, and he meets others, and he meets his god in the respect of being of things, of nature, and which is offered to him each day. Light and then lighter, he allows himself to grow and he lacks nothing.”
“In the respect of being of things.”
What did that mean?
Ah, because the pilgrim becomes part of what he sees, “he meets his god” in nature and in what is offered each day. Interesting — “his god.” Not God. As for God, I was mostly a non-believer. I say mostly because sometimes I prayed, thanking God for a spectacular day or a lost mitten miraculously found. I felt thankful. I felt mystery. Was this God?‘
The sections the author imagined certain specific horrific or devastating scenes are mesmerizing, making this book unique. For instance: ‘I lifted my glass to the ghosts that lingered. When la colonie closed, the Jewish Scouts made plans to move the children. In my fantasy it was night. A black sedan with rounded fenders and a long hood idled outside la colonie, Adrienne Laquièze in the driver’s seat. She tapped ash from a cigarette and tucked a strand of hair into her upswept twist. She checked her rearview mirror and glanced toward la colonie. A door opened. Girls hurried out. They crowded into the backseat. Some sat on the floor. Germaine gave them kisses and wished them all a safe journey. Yvonne was not among them...’
And here is an uplifting text about Léon Poliakov who worked to save Jewish refugee children:
‘…After school, when the children returned to the flat, he did not hear their shouts or their fights, and mostly, they were on their own. Still, he loved them and called them l’equipe, the team. When they cried, he offered his hands palms up. “Give me your tears. I am the king of tears.”’ I teared up.
I couldn’t avoid noticing two words repeated throughout the book: ‘Germaine’ and ‘German’. The first is a personal name of an incredible, resilient person; the second are the people responsible for the holocaust. After all, as the author said, words and stories much contribute to our own emotions and internal identity more than anything else.
This text from the book sums up my overall gratitude for reading it:
‘I didn’t want anyone telling me what I could or could not believe, what I could or could not eat, whom I could or could not love. One time Germaine asked me what I liked about being Jewish, and I answered, “The stories. I love the stories.”’
I once read that Elie Wiesel and Rabbi Jonathan Sacks asked; “Why God has created humanity?” And answered: “Because God loves stories.” What an amazing connection.
Investigating the history of the heroic Hirsch family and others who rescued hundreds of Jewish children in France during WWII, got me engaged immediately, not only because of the incredible findings but also because of how the author explores her rooted Jewishness and faith during this process. Heartfelt stories mixed with wisdom thoughts. I wish there were more of those author’s personal anecdotes to keep me held with her own turmoil emotions while having dialogues with survivors and their families, and bringing to life incredible people who saved so many lives.
The author’s journey to explore her Jewishness is touching on so many levels. In particular, I felt her being personally sympathetic in the chapter where Daniel and Aline described their struggle with being Jews. And in another anecdote I was amused when the author wrote about her mother: ‘…I needed Mama’s Yiddish melodies playing in my ear. I needed her hands circling the Shabbos flames. I needed her gaze lifted to the ceiling as she railed against God. “Nu, God, I’m such a bad person, you should give me such tsurus?”’ Then, after writing about Alfred Dreyfus‘ trial the author innocently said: ‘I thought of my father and his deep desire to assimilate. Had this been his wish or was he unconsciously responding to Christian demand?‘
A lovely thought about God readers like me could share:
‘…“The pilgrim meets himself, and he meets others, and he meets his god in the respect of being of things, of nature, and which is offered to him each day. Light and then lighter, he allows himself to grow and he lacks nothing.”
“In the respect of being of things.”
What did that mean?
Ah, because the pilgrim becomes part of what he sees, “he meets his god” in nature and in what is offered each day. Interesting — “his god.” Not God. As for God, I was mostly a non-believer. I say mostly because sometimes I prayed, thanking God for a spectacular day or a lost mitten miraculously found. I felt thankful. I felt mystery. Was this God?‘
The sections the author imagined certain specific horrific or devastating scenes are mesmerizing, making this book unique. For instance: ‘I lifted my glass to the ghosts that lingered. When la colonie closed, the Jewish Scouts made plans to move the children. In my fantasy it was night. A black sedan with rounded fenders and a long hood idled outside la colonie, Adrienne Laquièze in the driver’s seat. She tapped ash from a cigarette and tucked a strand of hair into her upswept twist. She checked her rearview mirror and glanced toward la colonie. A door opened. Girls hurried out. They crowded into the backseat. Some sat on the floor. Germaine gave them kisses and wished them all a safe journey. Yvonne was not among them...’
And here is an uplifting text about Léon Poliakov who worked to save Jewish refugee children:
‘…After school, when the children returned to the flat, he did not hear their shouts or their fights, and mostly, they were on their own. Still, he loved them and called them l’equipe, the team. When they cried, he offered his hands palms up. “Give me your tears. I am the king of tears.”’ I teared up.
I couldn’t avoid noticing two words repeated throughout the book: ‘Germaine’ and ‘German’. The first is a personal name of an incredible, resilient person; the second are the people responsible for the holocaust. After all, as the author said, words and stories much contribute to our own emotions and internal identity more than anything else.
August 13, 2022
I received this from NetGalley.
I am always intrigued by the Holocaust in history, as well as in fictional historical novels.
The book is about a woman who goes to Europe to research her family, who were living in France when they were sent to a concentration camp.
She finds what she's looking for in more ways than one.
I highly recommend it.
I am always intrigued by the Holocaust in history, as well as in fictional historical novels.
The book is about a woman who goes to Europe to research her family, who were living in France when they were sent to a concentration camp.
She finds what she's looking for in more ways than one.
I highly recommend it.
August 14, 2022
This book is about World War 2 and the lengths this small village was willing to go to protect Jews! There was a secret group of resistance workers trying to keep as many people alive as possible! This book is about a person trying to understand their family history!
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews