By Lisa Boss, Grand Rapids Public Library, Main Branch
At age 82 Felix Weinberg started writing down the history that he had tried to forget for 65 years.
“Anyone who survived the extermination camps must have an untypical story to tell. The typical camp story of the millions ended in death…”
The writing is simple and eloquent, and the story unfolds with a detachment that lends it a somber power, as if he is describing events from a hellish dream world.
Weinberg explains, “In the camps I tried to acquire the ability to look without seeing, listen without hearing and smell without taking in what was around me. I cultivated a kind of self-induced amnesia. I feared that being made to look at hangings, seeing piles of corpses on a daily basis, would somehow contaminate my mind permanently.”
In a reversal of our usual consciousness, he credits his night-time dreams of his beloved childhood in Czechoslovakia, with sustaining him during the bizarre waking hours.
The democratic republic of Czechoslovakia was short lived, and Weinberg’s happy life, along with the whole Czech Jewish community, came to an end with Hitler’s invasion of the Sudeten. His father was able to get out to England, but the rest of the family was detained, and the author’s teenage years from 12 to 17 follow the terrible road from the relocation to local Jewish ghettos, to the camps, and finally to the Nazi’s insane “final solution”.
The cover of the book speaks of depths of emotion that could never be adequately expressed. A beaming little boy, gazes admiringly, lovingly, at his older brother, as they stand together holding hands. Neither his brother nor his mother survived the camps.
“My brother was too young to work. I am convinced that, given the choice, my mother would have gone to the gas chambers with him but I doubt that was an option. I believe she died in some other slave labour camp. All my attempts to trace her, all my searches of archives for further information, have proved futile. It does not do to dwell on these thoughts if one wants to live the semblance of a normal life, but I invite anyone who wishes to share my nightmares to picture that group of children, including my terrified little brother, being herded into the gas chamber.”
Felix’s youth and strength aided him, and a large amount of luck, when so many died at every turn, going from Terezin, to Auschwitz-Birkenau, to Blechhammer, and the final death march to Gross-Rosen. He takes no credit for his survival, and often thanks others for every small kindness. There are many different kinds of holocaust stories, and all are deeply effecting. Felix Weinberg’s tale is one that no one should miss.
