One of my summer goals is to read ten books on my "100 greatest books of all time" list.
Today, I read Night by Elie Wiesel.
It is his first person account of his time spent at Auschwitz.
Over the years I have read a few books about the Holocaust. Some fiction, the Diary of Anne Frank...then this.
I expected to feel sad...who wouldn't, given the subject matter?
Instead, I felt hollow.
It was the same feeling I had when I visited Dachau- a concentration camp just outside of Munich, Germany.
I felt as if I were there again, as I read. In that cold, rainy, empty, dark place. Even 60 years of history had not taken the horrible feeling from that place.
The only passage that broke through the feeling of numbness which enveloped me, was when the author talked about his first night at the camp. When he saw children being thrown into a fire.
I felt sick. I imagined it was my precious James, or silly and sweet Elly, or anxious and warm hearted Jack-Jack. Or worst of all, sweet toddling little Katy, still a baby really.
Now that I've read it, I will cross it off my list.
And I don't think that I will read it again.
Lori Ann