A non-fiction book that reads like fiction but unfortunately isn’t.
It’s not a memoir where a life is laid out slowly and diligently in front of your eyes, it’s more like a set of passionate snapshots and reflections by someone who has been to a concentration camp and lost her father there. The book is addressed to the father — as in, it has sentences like
You shouldn’t have done that, just as you shouldn’t have taken her out of school when Michel was born so she could take care of him.
…which makes it sound intimate.
A hundred pages showing real impact on one real family.
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