The people had never stopped singing. They had found songs to lead them, like defiant banners, into battle; they had sung on the way to concentration camps and gas chambers. By war's end, their chorus had thinned; the hungry have no songs and the dead no voices. But amid festering despair and slowly healing hope, many still sang—some to forget and some to remember, and some because they did not want to be alone with silence. Despite counterpoints of desperately wanted gaiety, what they sang in 1946 was mostly blues.
The Red Lantern. In...
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