This is a moving account of the books plundered in tens of millions by the Nazi’s – from the Jewish community, but also from Communists, émigré libraries, Freemasons and others. As the Nazi party gained power, not only people, but libraries and book collections were scattered. I am, and have always been, a lover of books. To take books and burn them, as the Nazi’s famously did; to blacklist books and authors, is to try to control the history, and thoughts, of a population. The Nazi party instinctively realised the power of books, but there was opposition to this theft of literary culture and attempts to smuggle out important works – to hide them, or even to destroy them before they were stolen.
Much of this book centres on the attempts to catalogue the books that have been found since the war, when it was gradually realised that many of the books in public libraries in Europe had been stolen from libraries, or individuals. Inscriptions, letters, bookplates and any identifying marks are extensively researched to try to return the books to the relatives of the original owners.
Along the way, and intertwined with information about the immense job of both cataloguing the huge numbers of books found and reuniting them with the original owners, or relatives of these owners, we read of the history of these books and of Jewish literature. Of Amsterdam, the centre for Jewish literature during the 1600’s, of the Freemason’s Lodge in the Hague, of Rome, Greece, Berlin, Prague, Paris and Lithuania. When you read that those in the Jewish ghetto of Vilinius borrowed books by the thousands; as a reader, you understand the need for words to transport you to another place (the most borrowed book was “War and Peace,” as a matter of interest).
During this work, the author personally returns a book to the granddaughter of the man it once belonged to. There is something so touching about this event and of the author’s knowledge that the small volume he carries from one country to another is so precious. The recipient lives in Cannock, outside Birmingham and, at times, even she is unsure about why this means so much to her – to have a book, written in a language she cannot read, which belonged to a man she did not know. However, I am sure that her grandfather would have liked to have had something so personal to him in the hands of his relative, and that this object (and a book is an object like no other) will help her feel close to him. This really is a wonderful read, exploring all of the lost books – and lost lives – that still haunt the present.