A Holocaust Survivor’s Letter to Her Father

Book review: But You Did Not Come Back, by Marceline Loridan-Ivens (Amazon / Book Depository)

I was quite a cheerful person, you know, in spite of what happened to us…But I’m changing. It isn’t bitterness, I’m not bitter. It’s just as if I were already gone…I don’t belong here anymore.

Perhaps it’s trite to say that a book will haunt you, particularly one about the Holocaust. How can a story told about surviving Auschwitz not haunt you?

But there’s something unusually haunting about Marceline Loridan-Ivens’ But You Did Not Come Back, a slim but powerful book written as a message to her father, who perished in the camps and whose long shadow fell over the rest of her life. Marceline was also deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau from her native France at age fifteen, captured by the collaborating Vichy government, but survived and returned home to a world she no longer understood and where she struggled to find her place. It was an experience that would characterize so many survivors’ postwar lives.

Marceline’s words, beautifully translated, capture painfully and evocatively what that felt like. The only person who could truly understand her experience, knowing who she’d been before and was becoming, and what happened during the war to alter that course forever, was gone. She describes slipping away inside her mind to talk to her father, always a blank page waiting there where she could write out the words only he could understand.

Why was I incapable of living once I’d returned to the world? It was like a blinding light after months in the darkness, it was too intense, people wanted everything to seem like a fresh start, they wanted to tear my memories from me; they thought they were being rational, in harmony with passing time, the wheel that turns…The war was over, but it was eating all of us up inside.

The book was written near the end of her life, as she sifted through what she remembered of her father, highlighting their last interaction in the camp and what it had meant to her over the years, and reflecting on life after Auschwitz, rejoining family in France and the choices made and relationships built and lost with time. All of it clusters around the absence, constantly felt, of her father and what she’s wanted to tell him. Even considering the kind of strife a parent-child relationship will inevitably encounter at times, she observes, “I’ve spent my entire life trying to find that love.”

“What do you wish for most in the world, Marceline?”
No one ever asked me that question again.

Because of the amount of time that passed between the war and writing these recollections, it’s infused with a deeper understanding that can only come with time. This could never have been written by a younger person, and it was deeply humbling in that sense. Maybe what I found especially haunting about her particular experience is that she recognizes that the loss of her father was not even so much about what she knew and loved about him, but in what was yet to come and now never could. She writes that they were at a turning point in their relationship, where she didn’t quite know him yet but would soon have begun to understand more about him. Then came Auschwitz.

The Le Parisien blurb touts this as a book to be read in one sitting, and at around 100 pages in length that’s possible, but I found that, considering the emotional impact, it was better tempered with multiple readings. Its brevity is both its strength, in how carefully selected each word feels, but also something of a drawback, as events or stories or years in her life are sometimes skimmed over despite obviously containing much more. It seems she told all she wanted or was able to tell, and at least there’s this.

Holocaust literature and accounts from the camps is a genre with no lack of entries, but this was an especially lovely and poignant one. It’s poetic, deeply felt and richly told, somehow warm and loving despite the heartbreak and pain on every page. Marceline passed away in September 2018, and what a gift she left in this enduring, affecting memoir.

But You Did Not Come Back
by Marceline Loridan-Ivens
translated from French by Sandra Smith
published in the US in 2016 by Atlantic Monthly Press
first published in France in 2015

Amazon / Book Depository

Advertisements

16 thoughts on “A Holocaust Survivor’s Letter to Her Father

    1. Thank you! ♥️ It’s tough to consider how hard it was for her, especially how others couldn’t understand why she wasn’t just overjoyed, no strings attached, at having survived and ready to move on. How lonely and hurtful that must’ve been. But it did make much more sense to me, too. She puts into words so clearly what that isolation felt like, and though it’s sad it was also beautiful that she wrote all these thoughts to her father, knowing he was the only one who would’ve understood her. Absolutely try to get it, it’s wonderful.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I especially loved a book about a French boy whose family is taken away in WWII, but he hides in a cupboard and is not found. It’s called SHHH by Raymond Federman. I get the feeling that book and yours would make good companions.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I hadn’t heard of that one and just looked it up – that sounds intensely fascinating. It also sounds like it’s some combination of novel-memoir? Or is it a novel based on his actual experiences? In any case, thanks for the recommendation, it does sound like a good companion.

      Like

      1. The author was part of a small-press in the U.S., a group that was a bit more experimental with their writing. When I read SHHH, I didn’t feel like it was different to understand because it was so “out there,” but the style of telling is different, and that I loved. I have read some experimental books that are more akin to Gertrude Stein’s writing, and that I can’t follow.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. How interesting! I don’t gravitate much towards experimental books of that kind either, but this does sound different and worthwhile, and especially an interesting medium for telling such a difficult story. Thanks for the recommendation!

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Another excellent review but I won’t be reading the book, just too heart-breaking. I read Hanns and Rudolf recently, it was brilliant but so upsetting. The Holocaust and Nazi regime makes me so angry and despairing of humanity. I need to focus on the bravery of those who went into the camps and sorted out the horrific mess the Nazis left but I can’t get past it…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I completely understand, it was heartbreaking. I read much of it with a lump in my throat and openly crying by the end, so if you’re a sensitive type it’s good to know that it’s like that. I don’t know Hans and Rudolf, I’ll have to look it up, I love brilliant histories and this was such an interesting time in contemporary history to read about but there’s no way anything from this era won’t be upsetting. I do tend to avoid it when I’m feeling too sensitive, some of the stories from the camps just make you feel destroyed. This one’s a little more positive, I guess, because she just has such a brilliant voice and did have a lot of happiness in her life, but still.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s