My rating: 2 of 5 stars
I don't understand the title of this book at all. It's nominally about 1944, but Winik bounces back and forth through time in narrative that didn't quite work. The Holocaust is front and center of this book as well - in fact, I think that it is the main thrust of the narrative, which isn't indicated in the title or subtitle. To be frank, in the end, I was sort of bored. Winik is a good writer, but the confused narrative did this one in for me.
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I also don't like reading about the Holocaust. I care deeply about the Holocaust; I think it was a Depravity of the worst kind, the sort of acts of humanity that make one believe in the Devil, or something even worse than the devil, acts that mythology and religion can't even fathom a response too. I've been to the Holocaust museum in Washington DC, I've seen Schindler's List, I've read The Winds of War and especially War and Remembrance. I don't want to read about the Holocaust anymore; I don't need to be reminded about how beyond description it was. It makes me too heartbroken, and too aware that the world is changing and forgetting again. Books like this are important, should be written. But not for me.
Also, didn't Doris Kearns Goodwin write this story already?