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Not all books on the Holocaust are of similar moral or aesthetic worth. A lengthening shelf of nonfiction often seems to lessen the intensity of history. In many recent books, Auschwitz becomes mere metaphor, and moral distinctions are blurred in references to Viet Nam, Biafra, the boat people. Other books by survivors seek to remind the world that the Holocaust was a unique and discrete event but use personal experiences for special pleading. Of Blood and Hope by Samuel Pisar (Little, Brown; 311 pages; $12.95) is the account of a survivor who journeyed from Auschwitz to Harvard to a law practice of international renown. The accounts of his early life, of prison, of his rescue by a Negro soldier—a black angel in a tank-shaped chariot—are the stuff of redemptive drama. Thereafter, the narrative becomes a self-congratulatory dropping of names—Jackie Kennedy, Henry Kissinger, Arthur Rubinstein—"Yes, your life has been a fascinating journey, Sam Pisar," punctuated with lofty pleas for "transideological enterprise" and dire bromides: "The entire planet is being transformed into a chessboard for potential war."
Jack Eisner's The Survivor (Morrow; 320 pages; $11.95) offers no philosophy beyond that of living to the next sunset, a near miracle in the author's ghetto and death-camp days. But his recital of agonies is told in the terse style of a scenario, and the incessant, heightened savagery and betrayals soon lose the power to convince or move the reader.
Yet even these volumes have their value. Those who were in the Holocaust are stamped not merely with the numbers on their arms but with the burning images in their minds. Some could not bring themselves to write about an occurrence of such magnitude until they were distanced from it. All seem to be modern versions of the Ancient Mariner, forever compelled to bear witness and warning.
At a time of the resurgence of swastika graffiti and synagogue bombings, silence is no longer valid, and warnings cannot be regarded simply as distortion or indulgence. The record of Pastor Martin Niemoller, the German theologian, has a desperate and modern ring: "First the Nazis went after the Jews, but I was not a Jew, so I did not object. Then they went after the Catholics, but I was not a Catholic, so I did not object. Then they went after the Trade-Unionists, but I was not a Trade-Unionist, so I did not object. Then they came after me, and there was no one left to object."
—By Stefan Kanfer