FOREWORD Both quests are successful, at least on the surface. After many years of shutting out his unbearable memories, Levendel learns to confront them, accept the finality of his mother's death, and cope with his sense of guilt for not having accompanied her on the journey that led to her death. Levendel also succeeds, by dogged persistence and with some help from influential acquaintances, in finding out exactly who brought about his mother's deportation. For years he had
accepted the neighbors' explanation: "The Germans did it." It
turned out, however, that the persons responsible for identifying and
arresting Mme. Levendel were all French. The man who registered her on the prefecture's
list of Jews, saw to its regular updating, and played a large role in a first
arrest of foreign Jews for deportation in August 1942 was an eminent high
civil servant in the Vaucluse, honored after the war as a victim of the
Germans. His successors, respected civil servants, updated the lists and
transmitted them, with some foot-dragging, to the local staff of the These quests not
only brought Levendel has harsh things to say about practically everyone: not only the Nazis and their French collaborators, but, at times, his French neighbors, with their dislike of the "difference"—of people who are not like themselves; the American bombers' indiscriminate slaughter of civilians on the ground; the French Liberation Committee's summary justice after the war; self-satisfied veterans of the French Resistance; Catholics conditioned to envision Jews as "killers of Christ"; professional historians with their bloodless objectivity; archivists bent on keeping researchers away from their sensitive documents; civil servants who think only of their careers; and, last but certainly not least, his fellow Jews, with their propensity for lamentation and self-pity, their efforts to "pass," and their bland food. Levendel's harsh judgment becomes bearable in the end, however, because he is also hard on himself. He admits he was a bit of a spoiled brat, and he continues to be willful and stubborn as an adult. Otherwise, he never would have persisted in these quests despite advice from friends and officials to let the past alone. There are some heroes in this book, too. They are the Just Ones who helped the distressed child. The Steltzers, foreign Jews who also needed to hide, took the time to make sure the boy also had shelter. The Brès, a poor and uneducated but generous peasant family, took him in without hesitation and without the slightest calculation, in spite of the risks of trouble from the Gestapo or their French helpers. But the Just Ones were only a minority, and they could not change the course of events. The hospitality the Brès offered the Jewish child only magnified the neighbors' low opinion of them as irresponsible and improvident. They fit the theory that those who take risks to help members of a persecuted minority tend to be outsiders, people of independent values who are indifferent to respectable opinion.1 Levendel declines to let us take the easy way out and consider the Brès representative of the French people as a whole. After the
Liberation, another French family, the Sourets, gave the young Isaac a warmer
home than his bereaved father could. When his father returned after the war
from internment in Levendel claims he has sought only his "personal truth." He situates himself on a middle ground between the professional historians, whose bloodless abstractions are devoid of memory, and the excesses of self-serving recollection, without self-awareness and perspective, in which some victims indulge nowadays. But his book contributes in a number of ways to the more general truths sought by historians. Because Levendel
was tenacious and lucky in gaining access to his archives, he can give us a
vivid picture at the village level of how the Levendel's
discovery that his mother was identified, tracked, and stamped not by
ideological collaborators but by respectable civil servants following orders
makes us look hard at "collaboration d'état." It reminds us
how many ordinary French public officials followed a complex itinerary during
the The haphazard
manner in which some Jews were taken away and others were not is strikingly
apparent in Levendel sees
evidence that Levendel gives
us a sensitive look at the awkward matter of living in Should Levendel
have left the past alone, as many people urged him to do? Does he have the
right to look in the archives for those whom he holds responsible for his
mother's death, and to make their names public? Readers will have to decide
for themselves how to establish an appropriate balance between two
conflicting goods: their right to privacy against Levendel's right to know
what happened to his mother. Does an official's undoubted right to privacy in
his personal life extend to actions accomplished in the exercise of official
functions? In any event, it would be difficult to deny Levendel is an
accomplished computer technologist and manager who writes without the benefit
of literary artifice or training in historical methods. His book has more
basic values. He is blunt and honest with us, and aware of his own
subjectivity. That unsentimental tough-mindedness makes this one of the most
convincing and moving of this kind of memoir of the Final Solution in
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1 See Nechama Tec, When Light Pierced the
Darkness (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), a study of non-Jewish
rescuers of Jews in |