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It is possible, it is very possible, that here it is impossible to live, but here we must remain, here we must die, sleep…there is no other place…—Y. H. Brenner
I have the good luck to be a Polish Jew.
If I were a Greek Jew, a Dutch Jew, a Turkish Jew, or some other kind of Jew, I would be miserable. Who would pay any attention to me and who would be…
When it came time for me to start school, my mother went to the director of the Wilhelm Pieck School in Katowice, Poland, where we were living then, to register me. My sister, nine years my senior…
Among the very few possessions my parents were permitted to take with them when they emigrated as refugees from Austria to Bolivia in June 1939 was a box camera and two family photo…
One of the comrades on sick call had a chat with an army guard. This is the account he gave:
“How stupid can you get, I ask you, what are the limits of human stupidity! This…
He felt a gnawing sensation. He knew it was hunger. Nothing in his mouth since morning except for those slops, the slops from the Judenrat kitchen, a watery soup that was almost free, just fifty…
The Readers Digest Magazine broke the American silence attending the massacre of the Jews in February, 1943. It printed my article called “Remember Us,” based on Dr. [Hayim] Greenberg’s data. Reading…
All of us—dying here in polar, ice-cold indifference of nations, forgotten by the world and its hustle and bustle—have nonetheless felt the need to leave something for posterity: if not complete…
[…] On my first research trip to France as a professional scholar in the summer of 1982, I set out to find the only fascist intellectual discussed in my dissertation who was still alive; his name was…