Sunday Book Review – The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris

Book reviews by D.G. Kaye

 

This week’s Sunday Book Review, I’m sharing my review of The Tattooist of Auschwitz, a gripping telling of a true survivor story written by Heather Morris, told by Lale Sokalov of his imprisonment in Auschwitz and what he did to survive. This is a compelling story of the human spirit with a determination to survive despite all odds of doing so.

 

 

 

 

Blurb:

 

The #1 International Bestseller & New York Times Bestseller

This beautiful, illuminating tale of hope and courage is based on interviews that were conducted with Holocaust survivor and Auschwitz-Birkenau tattooist Ludwig (Lale) Sokolov—an unforgettable love story in the midst of atrocity.

The Tattooist of Auschwitz is an extraordinary document, a story about the extremes of human behavior existing side by side: calculated brutality alongside impulsive and selfless acts of love. I find it hard to imagine anyone who would not be drawn in, confronted and moved. I would recommend it unreservedly to anyone, whether they’d read a hundred Holocaust stories or none.”—Graeme Simsion, internationally-bestselling author of The Rosie Project

In April 1942, Lale Sokolov, a Slovakian Jew, is forcibly transported to the concentration camps at Auschwitz-Birkenau. When his captors discover that he speaks several languages, he is put to work as a Tätowierer (the German word for tattooist), tasked with permanently marking his fellow prisoners.

Imprisoned for over two and a half years, Lale witnesses horrific atrocities and barbarism—but also incredible acts of bravery and compassion. Risking his own life, he uses his privileged position to exchange jewels and money from murdered Jews for food to keep his fellow prisoners alive.

One day in July 1942, Lale, prisoner 32407, comforts a trembling young woman waiting in line to have the number 34902 tattooed onto her arm. Her name is Gita, and in that first encounter, Lale vows to somehow survive the camp and marry her.

A vivid, harrowing, and ultimately hopeful re-creation of Lale Sokolov’s experiences as the man who tattooed the arms of thousands of prisoners with what would become one of the most potent symbols of the Holocaust, The Tattooist of Auschwitz is also a testament to the endurance of love and humanity under the darkest possible conditions.

 

 

My 5 Star Review:

 

Love Among the Horrors.

A gripping horror story of the atrocities of the holocaust where death was impending for every victim imprisoned in Auschwitz, and only the tiniest of miracles kept them alive.

Lale Sokolav was taken to Auschwitz and by the grace of God because he could speak several languages, he was afforded the heinous job of tattooing the incoming truck loads of new prisoners. This job afforded Lale a few luxuries such as, extra rations of food – an extra helping of insidious looking broth and an extra slice of stale bread, and the chance to move freely within the camp.

Lale’s unfettered resolve to survive the horrors he endured and witnessed was remarkable. But the love he held for Gita, one of the women he freshly tattooed upon her arrival, became the driving force which gave him reason to continue living.

Lale takes us with him into the horror with his stories about how he managed to keep many alive by a plan he hatched with father and son coworkers he met while building a new crematorium. These coworkers were not prisoners but people who lived nearby the camp who worked there during early construction of the camp where more manpower was needed. Gita was assigned to work in a building where the belongings of new prisoners were taken and searched for hidden valuables. Lale made a deal with the two Polish workers and a group of Gita’s friends. The girls would smuggle out money and jewels for Lale to collect, which he used in trade with the Poles who would bring to work food and medicine. Lale distributed these items to prisoners he knew and were most desperately in need of and used some of the jewels to blackmail Kapos for favors. Kapos were not SS, but usually Jews themselves who were lucky to have been granted those positions, mainly for roll call of prisoners of barracks they were assigned to.

The author, Morris, evokes our compassion and empathy by bringing the love story of Gita and Lale in the horrific tale of merely trying to survive another day of hunger, disease and beatings, and the mere threat of wondering if they could survive another tomorrow.

No spoilers here, but I’m sure if you’re reading this review, you are wondering if Lale was ever caught by the SS for smuggling. But you will have to read this book to find out. Through reading this book, it’s no secret that Lale survives, but how he survived, escaped and found Gita again will keep you reading till the very last word and beyond. I say beyond because at the end of the book, Morris discusses her own personal interview with Lale and his son, which prompted her to write this book. For me, this book was unputdownable! A moving testament for the human spirit and for the determination to remain alive.

 

Random People We Meet

community

 

“Hold the elevator please,” a feeble voice with a Polish accent I could barely hear beckoned as the heavy door had almost shut. As he shuffled in slowly with a wobbly grip on his cane, the man and I exchanged pleasantries and discussed how bitterly cold the weather had suddenly become compared to yesterday’s balmy 10 degrees Celsius.

We both got off on the lower lobby level. I was en route to the management office of the building I am moving into after checking on the latest renos that were done to my new apartment.

Morris introduced himself to me when I discovered that he was going in the same direction as me. He wasn’t able to keep pace with my hurried steps so I slowed to walk along side him as we continued to converse. He began to tell me that it had been two years since he hadn’t gone down south for the winter because he could no longer afford the enormous $20,000 insurance cost to cover out of town medical coverage for five months a year, even though he’s been fine for the past few years after surgery.

“I have a place down in Miami,” Morris told me with his still Yiddish/Polish accent. “I rent it out now and can’t bring myself to sell it.”

He then asked me to guess his age. I could tell by his posture and weakness and the worn look on his face that he was well into his eighties, but I told him he looks seventy-eight. His eyes twinkled with pride as he announced that he was ninety-one years old.

The walk was long through the corridor to the adjoining building where the management office was, so we continued to chat. I told Morris that I was also concerned about when the day would come that my own husband wouldn’t be able to get health coverage for travel with all its stipulations. He asked me with gleaming curiosity how old my husband was because he couldn’t fathom that someone my age would have those concerns yet. I told him my husband is seventy-six.

When I told him how good he looks, he began to tell me bits about his long life and about how much he has seen of the world. And then he told me that he was a holocaust survivor.

I had already acquired a soft spot for this gentle man, but when he told me that he had survived the camps, it struck a deep chord within me. I had studied many books on WWII and the dehumanization of the Jews and being born one myself, when I speak with people who have survived such atrocities, it always boggles my mind how miraculous it is for any Jew to survive that reign of terror.

Morris told me a few stories about where he used to work before he retired, quickly abandoning the brief mentioning of the holocaust. I found him to be meek and humble. I told him that perhaps he should write a book about his eventful life. He retorted, “I don’t think I have the patience to write my whole life, besides, there’s lots that I forget.” I didn’t ask him, but wondered if he really forgot things because of his age, or if he just chose not to remember.

When we reached the management office, I told him it was lovely  to meet him and and hoped to see him again when I moved in. He smiled with his aged eyes again and thanked me for the chat and said he looked forward to seeing me around soon.

DGKaye©2014