Word: nazis
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...childhood stories have become increasingly visible in this medium thanks to the popularity of Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis, a two-volume remembrance of growing up in post-revolution Iran. We Are On Our Own by Miriam Katin recalls the author's early childhood living secretly as a Jew in Nazi-occupied Hungary. Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic, by Alison Bechdel takes place in suburban Pennsylvania, where the author's father led a secret double life. Though wildly divergent in setting, tone and approach, both books share a compelling interest in the consequences of a stressful childhood...
Miriam Katin's We Are On Our Own (Drawn & Quarterly; 128 pages; $20) can be read in less than hour, thanks to its page-turning true tale of life and death during the Nazi occupation of Hungary. Still, the return on such a short investment of time is an unforgettable tale of a mother's courage in the face of nightmarish cruelty. Along the way, it explores the precarious nature of religious faith, which for some can be stretched too thin for suspension...
...recalls Katin's mother, Esther Levy, who takes care of two-year-old Miriam alone in Nazi-occupied Budapest while her husband fights in the Hungarian army. The book opens with the urbane and middle class Esther sharing coffee with her best friend, discussing how the Nazi death trap was closing in. "I received an order to hand over the dog today," she says, as Miriam feeds ice cream to little Rexy. First denied their pets, the Jews of Budapest are soon commanded to leave behind all their possessions and report to the ghetto. Hearing rumors of round-ups from...
...Nazi Kommandante sets his eyes on the author's mother, in Miriam Katin...
...York Times Warsaw correspondent who would go on to become the paper of record's top editor, wrote what became a famous article headlined, ?There is No News at Auschwitz,? describing how the mundane of the present exists in disquieting company alongside the horrors at the defunct Nazi concentration camp. Rosenthal, who just recently died at the age of 84, movingly recalled his unease at seeing the sunny rows of poplars and hearing the sounds of town children playing just down the road from the remains of torture chambers, low-level barracks and human furnaces. ?It all seemed frighteningly wrong...