On Reading The Librarian of Auschwitz During a Pandemic

Why would anyone want to read about people, especially children, experiencing the horrors of a concentration camp at any time but especially in the midst of a pandemic? Because stories of hardship and loss and struggle remind us that humans are resilient even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. We need to hear stories of overcoming even when things are going well. And we need them, even more, when things are hard or confusing. The Librarian of Auschwitz is such a story.

Spanish author Iturbe was researching the children’s block of the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp when he came into contact with a survivor named Dita Kraus who was living in Israel at the time. After corresponding with her and eventually meeting her in Prague as well as doing extensive research on his own, he produced this gorgeous work of historical fiction. It traces the lives of Dita and her family from a comfortable home in Prague to the ‘model ghetto’ Terezin (designed to belie rumors of death camps) to Auschwitz to finally Bergen-Belsen where she seems to have briefly overlapped with Anne Frank and from which she and her mother were liberated in May 1945.

The novel illuminates both the horrors and evils of life in the camps as well as the strength and creativity of many of its occupants, including Dita. She managed and protected a small library of texts various people had managed to smuggle into the camps, at daily risk to her own and others’ lives. She also coordinated ‘living books’—teachers or others who could recount classic tales like The Count of Monte Cristo from memory. She did so because she and the few teachers in the mysterious experimental children’s camp knew that stories and learning were as essential to life as food and water.

This is, unsurprisingly, often a hard book to read at times. And since this is a work of fiction, thoroughly researched though it is, I especially appreciated the short biographies of key characters and the real people they were based on at the end of the text. I was saddened and shocked to learn that ‘Dr. Death’ Josef Mengele was able to escape and was never caught, though, after the late 50s, he became aware he was being pursued and his life ended with less freedom and comfort. I was, as expected, sickened by the indifference, sadism, and efficiency of the SS’s ability to torture, oppress, and kill. But I found myself more awed and encouraged by the bravery and creativity of Dita and her companions. I encourage reading it alongside I Never Saw Another Butterfly (which features one of Dita’s drawings) to learn from history and to be heartened by the resilience of the human spirit in the face of oppression, conflict, and loss.

Key quotes:

On courage in the face of oppression:

When many of those from the family camp are separated and told they’re being transferred, Dita and the others left behind hear the condemned singing as they are taken away: “The male and female prisoners being taken away in the trucks to die are singing!” [that night, March 8, 1944, 3792 prisoners were gassed and cremated in Crematorium III of A-B] (252).] The next morning, those who remained in Auschwitz were horrified by thick falling ash the following morning, so thick it looks as if it night was falling. The leader of the school told the children, “Don’t be afraid…It’s our friends from the September transport. They’re returning.” (254).

On the power of silly, even irreverent, stories and satire in the face of oppression:

Dita, who was a teenaged teaching assistant who managed the library, was encouraged to get rid of one of the books in her care. It told the story of Svejk, a ridiculous soldier who was always saying rude things and subverting the authority of his superiors. As the students and teachers sat in stunned grief following the loss of many of their fellow students and their families, Dita is reminded of her responsibility as the librarian. “As she makes her way to the…cubicle, she wishes she could ask Mr. Utitz, the chief librarian at Terezin, which would be the most appropriate book for her to read to the children under these tragic circumstances. She has a serious novel, some math books, and some books about understanding the world. But before she has even lifted the pile of rags which hide the trapdoor to the hidey-hole, she’s already made up her mind. She takes out the messiest of the books—little more than a bundle of unbound sheets. It may be the least suitable, the least pedagogic, and the most irreverent of them all. There are even teachers who disapprove of it, finding it indecent and in poor taste…The library has now become her first-aid kit and she’s going to give the children a little of the medicine that helped her recover her smile when she thought she’d lost it forever” (256-257).“Dita continues to read more unexpected events and adventures of that soldier who, by pretending to be a fool, ridicules war, any war” (260).

After the school is closed and as Dita and her mother are being evaluated to determine whether they’ll be sent to another camp or executed:

“The Germans haven’t removed the children’s pictures from the walls. There are various versions of Snow White and her dwarves, princesses, jungle animals, and ships drawn in many colors from the early days when there were still some drawing classes. She realizes how much she misses being able to draw in Auschwitz as she used to in Terezin, to turn the chaos of her emotions into a picture” (358).