Yehuda Nir was nine years old when he witnessed his father rounded up by the Nazis, never to be seen again—the first of countless relatives, friends and neighbors murdered during the Holocaust. Forced to flee to Warsaw and live in disguise as Catholics, for the next five years he, his mother and his indomitable sister Lala lived each moment in fear of discovery, surviving by ingenuity, wit and often sheer luck. Nir describes these at times hair-raising, at times bitterly ironic events of his “lost childhood” with humor and lucid prose. This memoir, now with the complete original text, is certain to take its place among the timeless narratives of persecution, survival, and resistance.
Praise for THE LOST CHILDHOOD
“An extraordinary memoir.”—Alfred Kazin
“Put[s] one in mind of great, understated writers like Hemingway and Singer.”—The Jerusalem Post
“An engaging, fast-paced Holocaust memoir.”—Kirkus Reviews
“An unforgettable memoir of a resilient family.”—Booklist
“You think: ‘Yet another Holocaust memoir. Why this one? Why now? What can it tell us that we haven’t already heard?’ And then on page 16 you come upon a family gathering in the Polish city of Lwow (now Lvov in the Soviet Union) just before World War II … and another window opens on a vanished world. You are held fascinated by the infinite variety of other people’s lives. Like Tolstoy’s families, those that lived through the Holocaust did so in their own ways, and each has, or had, its own story to tell. In the end, rather than repeat each other, these recollections increase our awe at the vast circle of suffering.”—The New York Times Book Review
“Marvelous … tells the story so matter-of-factly. Its very lack of hype makes it so frightening and compelling.”—Hal Prince, Tony®-Award winning producer and director (“Evita,” “The Phantom of the Opera,” more)
“For readers who have gone stale on the Holocaust, Nir’s record of a child pursued will reawaken fresh awareness, shock, understanding, and conscience.”—From the Introduction by Cynthia Ozick, Author, National Book Award Finalist
“It would be difficult, for example, to remain unaffected by Nir’s nightmarish experiences in the sewers of Warsaw during the 1944 uprising…. A rousing tale of survival.”—Library Journal
“A memorable rendering of the experience of the Holocaust by one of its younger survivors.”—Scientific American
“[A] stellar account…. Unflinching in his depiction of brutality and suffering, Nir is also empathetic in his acceptance of the feelings of his young self. His book merits and rewards serious attention.”—Publishers Weekly
“Nir is overwhelmingly successful at portraying the innocent lad in 1939 who grows into a wary, streetwise teenager by war’s end. Young readers will have no trouble identifying with his first encounters with the opposite sex. As the war progresses, so does the madness Nir experiences: dodging snipers, sneaking through putrid sewers, slaughtering dogs, cats and mice in order to eat…. An accessible historical account that’s especially valuable today, for only by learning how we endured the past can we survive the future.”—BookPage
Excerpt
Chapter 1
The Romantic Period
It all happened very fast, although not unexpectedly. The war had started only a week before, and now I was on a straw-filled cart pulled by two tired horses, a Polish peasant at the reins, running away from the Germans southeast toward Romania.
Since my ninth birthday, in March 1939, I had seem my father listening tensely to the news on the radio. We had just bought the radio, our first, a beautiful German Telefunken; but instead of listening to tangoes (which until then we could hear only on our Victrola), we had to watch my father nervously turning the dial in search of news from abroad in any language. He knew German as well as Polish,a nd claimed to understand English. During World War I he had received a degree in business from the Handelsakacemie in Vienna, where English was required as prepareion for commercial contacts with then-powerful Great Britain. But although my father did well as a businessman, his affairs had not required contact with England; so the fact that he knew English came as a surprise to me.
Until that time I hadn’t been sure of the nature of my father’s business. I sensed that we were better off than many of my parents’ relatives, who would admire our beautiful apartment, grand piano, and Meissen china on their rare visits to Lwów from the small towns in eastern Poland where they lived. My mother’s life-style enhanced that image of affluence. She would spend the morning with friends in the elegant Café Roma, leaving me and my sister Lala in the care of our Kinderfräulein, Rosa. My mother’s involvement with household affairs was limited to picking the menu for dinner and purchasing kosher meat at our local butcher. Frieda, our German maid, was in charge of the household and cooking, although Mother was an expert cook. I remember my father being criticized by my uncle Arthur for employing an ethnic German. “I love it,” Father would answer. “Don’t forget, they’re working for me!”
In the summer of 1939 I began to scrutinize my father, trying to find out how strong he was, how capable of protecting us in those difficult times. I listened carefully to my parents’ conversation, which was often in German so that Lala and I would not understand. I’d never revealed to them that I understood German, having been taught the language by Frieda and before that by her sister Adela, who had also worked for us. I gathered that my father’s business was better than ever: he was a major manufacturer of kilims, the most popular type of carpets in Poland during those days. He maintained a network of artisans to hand-weave the rugs, and army of salesmen to sell them, often door-to-door, all over Poland. I began to understand how we could afford our elegant life-style, my mother’s endless visits to the local couturiers, the car with the chauffeur we had had the summer before, my father’s fur-lined cashmere winter coat with the beaver collar, his many trips abroad. I felt safe.
That summer everyone was talking politics, but it was beyond me to comprehend the nature of the news. The names of our own Polish leaders were somewhat familiar: the chief of the armed forces, Marshal Rydz-Śmigly; the president, Mościcki; and the foreign minister, Beck. I had also seen the streets full of patriotic slogans. One of them, “Strong, United, and Ready,” we joked about at home: “Strong to retreat, united to cheat, and ready to give up.” All I remember of the foreign governments of that time is the names of Chamberlain and Hitler. The name Chamberlain had a benign association for me—his perennial umbrella made me think of Charlie Chaplin—but Hitler sounded ominous, like the man-eating monsters in stories from my early childhood.
War, the omnipresent word of those days, was still a very abstract concept. It sounded exciting. In June warplanes flew very low and trail air-raid warners were broadcast on the radio; a man with a very low frightening voice would announce: “Caution, caution: it’s coming … it’s coming.” No doubt it was. But none of us knew what was coming, or when.
In July, we were away as usual for our summer vacation in the country, but my parents were very tense. I heard my mother telling Father, after he had refused me an additional allowance, “Let him have it; you don’t know how long we will be able to afford it.” I found this special permissiveness very disturbing.
Two days before the war began, we came back from the country. School was to start that week. Despite all the warnings, we were not prepared. When the first German plane attached Lwów, the radio was playing martial music ironically appropriate to events in the air. The usual low-pitched announcer wasn’t there. Sirens started to sound only after the bombings, as the planes were leaving, A week later, almost half of Poland had been overrun by the Germans; Britain and France had declared war on Germany—and my parents, my sister Lala, and I were in a cart on our way to the Romanian border.
Our horse-drawn vehicle was not unusual for those days, but in one short week we were transformed from a well-to-do middle-class family into four refugees. It was the beginning of a long journey for which we were unprepared.
Reading Group Guide
The following questions were developed to enhance your reading experience. Discussion of THE LOST CHILDHOOD will allow you, your book group, your friends, and your loved ones to engage in a spirited discussion of this singular memoir while exploring a watershed event in human history: the savage extermination of life and of a culture.
1. The author claims he has written the book as a testament to the one million children murdered. The book’s dedication is for Ludwig Selig, a young man who helped the author’s family and others to avoid German incarceration, but who was murdered himself. What does this tell you about the author’s intention in commemorating his xperience? How does this very specific intention affect your reading of THE LOST CHILDHOOD?
2. THE LOST CHILDHOOD differs from some well-read memoirs of the Jewish experience during World War II in that the author’s family managed to survive for six years without ever going into hiding, or being identified/betrayed and sent to a concentration camp. How was this small family’s experience different from either Anne Frank’s family’s experience? What characteristics of each of them made this possible?
3. Both Yehuda and his older sister, Lala, took active roles resisting the enemy. Each one had very narrow escapes. When did you feel each of them was most at risk? As these young people learned to fight, how did your impression of them as representative of their generation change? Did you root for them? Fear for them?
4. After their father is taken away and murdered, Yehuda claims he, his sister, and his mother, formed a kind of triumvirate. “Our roles were based on individual attributes and skills,” he states (page 26). “Lala’s strengths were intelligence, beauty, age, seductiveness, charm and wit…. My mother’s strengths were her gentile appearance—blondish hair, blue eyes, fair skin—along with her composure and common sense. My main asset was my age.” What does this brief, telling passage tell you about these people? How does this stay consistent throughout the memoir, and what or when are changes noted?
5. What other memoirs or films have most influenced your understanding of the Holocaust? How does THE LOST CHILDHOOD enhance, change, or stand apart in your understanding of this time?
6. Episodes of humor and irony leaven this memoir (e.g. the barber who did not want to cut Yehuda’s hair, fearing his dark roots under longish blond hair was the result of a rare medical condition). Which one was most memorable to you? What makes including these remarkable? Important?
7. Discuss the title of this memoir: THE LOST CHILDHOOD. What do you think was the author’s impetus for selecting this as his title?
8. The author is blunt about his burgeoning adolescent sex drive and his sexual activity in this memoir. Did this surprise you? What does it say about desire?
9. It is clear from the opening pages of this memoir that the author holds Germans—not the Nazi party–responsible for their actions. How did this firm position affect the tone of the memoir? Is it depressing, or uplifting, to you? How is it different from other remembrances of this time? Do you think this vigorous resilience and burning conviction contributed to the author’s survival and triumph?
10. THE LOST CHILDHOOD ends with the small family beginning another journey, paralleling the early aborted flight the small family undertook. Does this structure leave you wondering what happened the day after, one year later, 20 years later to these people? Be creative: where do you think they went?
11. The author, Dr. Nir, went on to a successful career as an associate professor of psychiatry at Cornell University Medical Center in New York City. One of his areas of focus is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in children. Respond to this in light of reading this devastating account.