I read this last week I think, and meant to write it up immediately, but I’m actually rather glad I didn’t. Letting it sit in my mind has made me realise what a powerful story it is – usually books slip away from me quite rapidly, but instead I’ve found myself returning to some of the scenes and images over and over. Which is a triumph in itself, I don’t generally visualise as I’m reading, but the book is about an artist and some of the images described have settled themselves into my mind.
The book is set during the second world war, and as seems rather a theme atm, is not one I would recommend to anyone pregnant or likely to be emotionally affected by pregnancy issues. (trying to give warnings without spoilers!) It tells the story of Jews within a city ghetto, and as you may imagine, is not a light read. For all that though, it’s not overwhelmingly depressing either, there are glimmers of light, love and hope throughout.
I was peculiarly disappointed to discover that some of the story features real ppl – I think in a way I felt let down that some of it wasn’t purely down to the author if that makes sense. Certainly not disappointed enough to feel cheated though, I can imagine that this may be a book I revisit in a year or two, and discover more to it then.
An author to watch I feel.
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