By Renata Polt
Those letters to a loved son and his family members inform the poignant tale of 1 woman's lifestyles in Nazi-occupied Prague and support clarify why a few Jews stayed in the back of. Henriette Pollatschek was once sixty nine years previous while the Nazis marched into Prague, the place she and her daughter had sought safe haven after fleeing their German-held place of birth in northern Bohemia. Henriette's son and his relations had already escaped to Switzerland and later to Cuba and the U.S.. At each one step of how, her relations recommended Henriette to hitch them. yet within the face of what was once then just a obscure and, to many, unimaginable possibility of hazard, she used to be unwilling to desert her monetary independence, her accustomed lifestyle, and the familial items she had accrued over a life-time. As dwelling stipulations for Jews worsened in Nazi-occupied Prague, besides the fact that, Henriette started to have moment options. Her letters to her son and his relations in Havana show an more and more determined scenario because the stumbling blocks to flee fixed whereas residing stipulations eroded. finally either Henriette and her daughter perished.Henriette Pollatschek's letters offer an in depth photo of the lives of Jews in Prague through the warfare years: the evictions, the meals shortages, the concerns approximately livelihood, and the expanding prohibitions and rules, in addition to the courageous and joyful makes an attempt to take care of a regular lifestyles and undergo hardships. Henriette's letters additionally support clarify why extra Jews didn't get away. As Renata Polt, Henriette's granddaughter, concludes, "Who may think a Holocaust?" Translated, edited, and annotated through Polt and illustrated with intimate relatives snapshots, this e-book brings the horrors and dilemmas of the Holocaust alive in a relocating, own account whereas answering pertinent old questions on the explanations of Jews who stayed at the back of. Renata Polt is a free-lance author and picture critic dwelling in Berkeley, California.
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Extra info for A thousand kisses: a grandmother's Holocaust letters
Nonetheless, there are much worse fates than mine; above all, up to now I have suffered no deprivation, and then too I know you to be in safetythat means so much in our explosive times. In order to distract myself a bit, I am equipping myself with everything I need by way of dresses, underwear, and shoes, so as to be set for a long time in that respect at least, and not to have to buy anything else. , so then I would at least have something to wear. I also keep looking around for some practical furniture that I could put into the lift, if I live to see the day it is sent off.
My deepest thanks go to the following: My mother, Elizabeth Polt, who kept the letters safe after my father's death and shared her memories of specific events and people, without which my task would have been immeasurably harder; My husband and in-house computer guru, Fred Schmitt, who never failed to encourage me in my task while also providing the essential technical expertise; My brother, John Polt, who remembered facts and looked up those he didn't remember and got library books and made contacts with other helpful people; The members of my writing groupSue Brown, Naomi Cavalier, Alice Wirth Gray, Mary Kent, Ellen McKaskle, Mollie Poupeney, Jane Strong, and Dorothy Stroupwho listened to portions of the manuscript week after week, lending their suggestions and encouragement; My friends Nola Perla and Elizabeth and Peter Ryan, who read the manuscript through from top to bottom and urged me on with their enthusiasm; My cousin Patricia Millward and her husband Richard, who read and commented and provided data; And the folks at The University of Alabama Press: Curtis L.
My father, raised in some nominally Jewish way, had broken with religion altogether when he was about eighteen (because of a falling-out with the rabbi, he once told me, without elaborating). My brother and I were baptized Lutheran, though I can scarcely remember attending church. The fact is that nobody in the family took religion, of whatever denomination, seriously, with the exception of Mamina's brother, known as Onkel Fritz, who was an ardent convert to Catholicism. Lene and her family had also converted, but the change had apparently had little effect on their lives.
A thousand kisses: a grandmother's Holocaust letters by Renata Polt