In this debut graphic memoir, New York-based artist Ari Richter weaves together two haunting stories – his grand- and great-grandfathers’ imprisonment in Dachau and Auschwitz, and his own awakening to the contemporary rise of authoritarianism and the continuing crisis of anti-Semitism – with delicacy, immediacy, and an attention to surreal detail. Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz is an act of self-discovery and the resuscitation of historical memory. At its heart is the intersection of a genocidal political moment in 20th century history and the author’s own family history. Told from the perspectives of four generations of the author’s family, spanning pre-war Germany to post-Trump America, it is both a celebration of Jewish cultural resilience and a warning of democracy’s fragility in the face of the seductive forces of authoritarianism. Part travelogue, part memoir, part historic retelling, author Ari Richter recreates his family’s journey leading up to and extending beyond the Holocaust. Relying on extensive genealogical research and his family’s archiving, Richter illustrates the lives of his grandparents while reflecting on the burden of a storyteller to carry on these legacies. It is a rare glimpse into the firsthand stories of both Holocaust survivors and their descendants, told as an intertwined tapestry of faith, grief, and ultimately, survival. Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz is an intimate reflection on coming to grips with the past. Harrowing and humorous in equal measure, this evocatively drawn graphic novel will be discussed for generations to come. Full-color illustrations throughout
Some reviews point to this being a readalike to Maus I: A Survivor's Tale: My Father Bleeds History, but while I read it I was really thinking of Plunder: A Memoir of Family Property and Nazi Treasure. This book is very much a descendant looking back at what the Holocaust wrought on his German Jewish family that escaped to the U.S. It sifts through the ways Holocaust survivors talk or don't talk about their experience (even with the jokes they choose to tell), who decides to travel to retrace the family's steps out of Europe, and the decision to reclaim citizenship. This book in particular contextualizes this family story with American politics post-2016 and certainly post-COVID, contrasting how Germany remembers the Holocaust vs. how the U.S. wrangles with its own racial discrimination, which ultimately influences what is permissible in our society today. I thought this was an insightful memoir that made me think and consider how the world can be led down these paths and how that connects to my life today. I thought the art was great.
brilliantly illustrated. i really enjoyed the memory aspect of it weaving in accounts from the author’s grandfathers with the author’s modern day reflection as a 3g. it would come as no shock i cried throughout the book. im going to be thinking about the pole-ish section for a little while. a lot to unpack there
i got to listen to a short lecture about this book by the author so i was very excited to read this. a really unique look at the holocaust and generational trauma resulting from it. seeing these different perspectives and how they come together to form the author’s life and how he tells his relative’s stories made this book a fascinating read.
Comparisons to Art Spielman’s Maus will be automatically be made. Yet, unlike that seminal Holocaust graphic novel, Richter’s depicts the actual family impacted by the Holocaust, and explains Jewish traditions, history and the contemporary events that eerily seem to make dated the resolve of survivors and the righteous of “ Never Again.”
This one exists, necessarily, in the shadow of Maus, but that’s no shame. Parts of it echo Speigelman’s work, and parts extend it – both historically and thematically.
Maus is a masterpiece. In many ways it invented the serious graphic novel (with apologies to Will Eisner, of course). Much of its power comes not just from the graphic qualities of the narrative but from the memorable, “My father bleeds history” elements – from Spiegelman’s giving voice to his father’s previously unspoken story.
Richter also tells a Holocaust story from the previous generation(s), but he complicates it. As the striking cover image suggests, he’s exploring an entire tree rather than the story of one man. I doubt he could do it if he (we) didn’t have the example of Maus; I also doubt Maus would have had the same impact if it had spread its history across so many branches.
I’m wrestling with how to tell some of the same branching history myself. This narrative comes alive for me in the third chapter when Richter explains that he’s become the family ‘collector.’ Relatives from both his parents’ sides have emptied their attics of family documents and passed them on to him. He has files – a personal archive – and he has the sense that either he will tell the tangled story of his many ancestors, or those stories will be lost.
I empathize with the emotion, and I envy that – in the face of it – Richter has managed to tell his story.
If there’s a running weakness here it’s that it’s sometimes hard to tell which grandparent (or great-grandparent) he’s focusing on. It’s a tangled history, one that reflects the collect-it-all impulse that he expressly admits.
But, while that can be frustrating at times, it’s also central to the project. There is a story here – a story of suffering, death, and survival – but there are also threads that don’t fit into that story. (Did a distant cousin once employ a young Harry Truman as a Shabbos goy?)
Part of the story, though, is determining what the story is. What fits, what can be made to fit, what should be discarded, and what should be discarded with regret.
This text then is cluttered with other texts. Richter’s drawings often have a rushed quality to them (though the work as a whole is clearly thought out), a sense that he’s working to get it all on the page before it disappears. That’s in contrast to the lovingly rendered drawings of his grandparents and to the occasional collages of old family photos and documents.
The story of his grandparents is heart-rending and important to tell (even as it echoes Maus as a graphic narrative and countless other text narratives). What’s new here – or amplified to a degree I’ve never seen before – is the story of the story. It’s Richter’s examination of his personal and documentary challenge in weaving all his material together.
It’s in that light that we get the title and the rather late anecdote it refers to. Very little of the narrative concerns his trip to Auschwitz. In fact, he has a more compelling experience at Dachau.
The event is properly the title, though, both for its shock value and because he finds himself rejecting that experience as part of the story he wants to tell. The Auschwitz he encounters is almost a theme park, one that exaggerates the non-Jewish experience, one that sells only pork products at its concession stand.
Ironically, then, that title experience is distinct because it’s one of the few things that’s not part of the story he tells.
In that light, I might complain about the last couple of chapters where he talks about his emotions around becoming a parent and his experiences during Covid. That is, just as his story begins as a tangle of documents and stories, it ends in a tangle of what might yet happen. (And it’s particularly chilling to read his fears about Trump as reminiscent of European fascism.)
This is not an easy book to read, and it’s often not pretty. But it’s the fruit of someone who’s managed to curate a story that comes so close to being lost. And it’s a triumph that he’s reclaimed it.
I think everyone goes through a WWII/Holocaust phase, and for some of us that fascination never ends. If that sounds like you, here's your next read.
Richter's grandparents on both sides survived the Holocaust, and he chronicles his relationship with that history along with their recorded memories. From collecting ephemera to creating sequential art based on his granfather's recollections, Richter grapples with an overwhelming generational trauma. His art is rough - we go from photorealistic illustrations to messy, scribbled action shots. It's intentional, though until you get through the first pages you might not understand that. What I love about this book is how Richter extends it into the present; not just how that generational trauma still affects him, but how the Holocaust is viewed and framed in different areas, and the affect that has on him and his family members.
I'd love to see more hallmarks of the genre in Richter's future works - there's so much you can do with the format of a graphic novel, and I think some stylistic changes in the outline of the panels could go a long way in amplifying his message. All-in-all though, a fantastic, powerful book.
***Review of a digital Advanced Reader Copy (ARC). The text of an advance edition may differ slightly from the final market version that is distributed for sale. Received via NetGalley.
Thank you NetGalley and Fantagraphics for this arc!
5/5 stars
This was a harrowing, informative, and extremely well done graphic novel that's part history lesson and part personal and familial memoir. Ari Richter has done a fantastic job seamlessly blending his own personal experiences with the history of the Holocaust and the truly terrifying modern day similarities that are on the rise. All of his familial accounts of their experiences before, during, and after the Holocaust are done with frankness and care, absolutely not shying away from the vicious realities they faced and respecting what they lived through. I really like his style of storytelling, how he fairly seamlessly would go from his childhood to his parents, then to his great grandparents then to modern day and back around again, it was a very fluid and conversational storyline that really made it feel much more personal. I really enjoyed Ari's art style, voice, and the deeply personal tales throughout. This was clearly a labour of love honouring his family, and I'm glad he shared it with the rest of us 💜
This sobering graphic memoir depicts a family’s trauma during and after the Holocaust. In it, author Ari Richter unpacks his own experience grappling with his Jewish identity as a Shoah descendant living in a post-Trump USA. Richter plays with point of view throughout this memoir, and several sections are dedicated to the stories of his grandparents in first-person narratives. The detail in the illustrations is really impressive and each page had a lot to look at. I did get somewhat confused at times remembering how the characters were all related (this was a thoroughly researched family history) but it was easy enough to follow the plot without fully grasping the lineage. It brought back a lot of memories of my year studying Jewish history and genocide & racism in Poland. I’ve always found that spending time learning more about the Holocaust and other historical traumas makes me really slow down to consider different perspectives, human nature, finding purpose in life, and what gets lost when we erase difficult parts of history.
Ari Schwartz's Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz is a powerful and thought-provoking graphic novel that effectively translates a harrowing chapter of history into a visually compelling narrative. This book is a testament to the power of the medium, demonstrating that graphic novels can be sophisticated and impactful for readers of all ages.
Schwartz masterfully weaves together the personal and the historical, following Ari Richter as he uncovers the heart-wrenching stories of his family's survival during the Holocaust. The author's meticulous research is evident in the seamless transitions between the present and the past, creating a rich and immersive reading experience.
The illustrations are a standout feature of the book, serving as both storytelling and emotional catalysts. The deliberate shift in artistic style mirrors the narrative's progression, enhancing the reader's understanding of the characters and their experiences.
Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz is essential reading for students and adults alike. It is a vital tool for teaching about the Holocaust and promoting empathy and understanding. This graphic novel should be included in school curricula and on the shelves of every library.
Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz is a graphic novel family memoir. The author details the work entailed to preserving the legacy of his forbears, both literally in the form of notebooks and photos to figuratively in the field of inherited traumas. The text considers the nationalist bias of the camp tours and memorials as well as other contemporary news items concerning antisemitism. Several panels utilized a mixed media approach, which I wish would have been in more of the text. I recommend this as a companion text for ELA and library programs to other Holocaust narratives in use in secondary education.
Thank you NetGalley and Fantagraphics Books for this ARC in exchange for my review.
As the title suggests, this is a story (really, many stories tangled together that Richter tries to parse and unspool) of complex emotion — alternately funny and horrific, sometimes in juxtaposed cels. That it’s incredibly readable and left me grappling with so much once it was over is a testament to Richter’s storytelling, his approachable and humble voice and illustrations. It’s both a vivid revival of the past and a reminder that both the Holocaust and the legacy of it for its many extended descendants is utterly contemporary.
This graphic novel having ties to Tampa was not on my bingo card this year. I loved it, I've read a lot of graphic novels and other literature about the Holocaust and memory of it and you can tell Richter did as well and this book was a wonderful tribute to those that came before it. I'm also glad he made his families stories know so that way the world never forgets. The only part I didn't like was the when he got to the pandemic era stuff, I know why it's in there but I can only take so much trauma in a book.
I know it seems that my reading this year has been centered around certain not quite so happy topics. Graphic memoirs of the Holocaust have been one of those genres. I know Maus is considered the pinnacle, but I’m telling you that this book is just as good. I learned several things from this book that I didn’t know, and the art in particular helped me to look at things in a different way. Richter also does a great job exploring Jewish write privilege and connecting it to modern conservative thought.
Another wonderful addition to the many moving and remarkable stories of courage and survival. I am in awe of artists abilities to share their stories in new and different ways, especially when it comes to the graphic format. Ari's art is beautiful and helps bring his family's story to life. My only critique is the title. It plays such a small part of the story that I found myself thinking about it more than I should have after finishing the book.
I loved this graphic novel, and it contains some of the best artwork of the genre. Having just returned from Auschwitz, I understood the criticism somewhat better, and having also visited Dachau, I couldn't help but agree with most of the critique, which applied probably more broadly to how both Germany and Poland have dealt with their past. I would highly recommend this unique take to anyone who is serious about Holocaust remembrance and research.
I appreciated Richter’s multigenerational approach to memoir writing. He tells not one story, but many, all woven together in the fabric of past, present, and future. I also appreciated that he touched in the field of epigenetics, but didn’t play that subject with a heavy hand. It’s clear that Richter sees how genetics, generational trauma and blessing, family stories, ethnicity, and (ir)religious values all shape us. I found it all to be engaging.
The book seems to end with a lot more questions. Does the author think the 2nd Trump admin is yet another Jewish pogrom? How does he feel that most in Democratic party are anti-zionist and justifies the Hamas attack and taking of hostages? What does he think of the right wing shift of Germany in 2025? Does he reallly think that Germany has a better quality of life option now than America? This book seem to be overtaken by events but still good to read for Holocaust references.
Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz is a hugely ambitious graphic novel, blending memoir, history, and meta-narrative as the process of making the book becomes part of the story itself.
Creatively constructed, it sometimes feels slow and occasionally veers into political territory, but overall, I was impressed.
The most compelling aspect was the critique of Auschwitz as a tourist attraction, which offered a thought-provoking perspective on how history is presented and consumed.
I thought this graphic novel memoir about a man's exploration of his family history and his Jewish identity was powerful and touching. The book was quite effective with its multiple perspectives on the Holocaust, and I thought it was especially prescient with respect to our current concerns about authoritarianism. I also appreciated the overall message of optimism and mankind's ability to survive.
This was a fairly heavy book to go through. I had to take several breaks. The author was very thorough in his telling of this story/history. That's good, because it's personal for him and it's important. I didn't really care for the art style. It was very fitting for some portions of the book, however.
This is fascinating and moving memoir that conveys the author’s family’s history and his own state of mind while relating this story. While every Holocaust memoir is particular and necessary, the perspective and method used here make it a standout.
I think my issue with this book is that I'm just the wrong generation to enjoy graphic boox. My own background provided me with much of the information in the memoir, but I think I would've been better had it come to me in text form.
Combines graphic novel adaptations of the creator's relatives' Holocaust experiences with his own thoughts about remembrance and anti-Semitism. His experience at the Auschwitz memorial is illuminating and, frankly, pretty shocking.