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Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum
„Wie kann man verstehen, wer man ist, wenn man nicht weiß, woher man kommt?“
Sie lebt seit über 12 Jahren in New York, ist verheiratet mit einem amerikanischen Juden und fühlt sich deutscher als jemals zuvor. Woher kommt das? Und wer ist sie eigentlich? Die preisgekrönte, 1977 in Karlsruhe geborene Autorin und Illustratorin Nora Krug fragt sich, was Heimat für sie bedeutet, und unternimmt eine literarisch-grafische Spurensuche in der Vergangenheit ihrer Familie: Was hatte Großvaters Fahrschule mit dem jüdischen Unternehmer zu tun, dessen Chauffeur er vor dem Krieg gewesen war? Und was sagen die mit Hakenkreuzen dekorierten Schulaufsätze über ihren Onkel, der mit 18 Jahren im Zweiten Weltkrieg fiel? Ihre gezeichneten und handgeschriebenen Bildergeschichten fügt Krug mit Fotografien, Archiv- und Flohmarktfunden zu einem völlig neuen Ganzen zusammen. „Heimat“ ist ein einzigartiges Erinnerungskunstwerk, in dem Familiengeschichte auf Zeitgeschichte trifft. Ein Graphic Memoir, lebendig, wahr und poetisch erzählt.
Sie lebt seit über 12 Jahren in New York, ist verheiratet mit einem amerikanischen Juden und fühlt sich deutscher als jemals zuvor. Woher kommt das? Und wer ist sie eigentlich? Die preisgekrönte, 1977 in Karlsruhe geborene Autorin und Illustratorin Nora Krug fragt sich, was Heimat für sie bedeutet, und unternimmt eine literarisch-grafische Spurensuche in der Vergangenheit ihrer Familie: Was hatte Großvaters Fahrschule mit dem jüdischen Unternehmer zu tun, dessen Chauffeur er vor dem Krieg gewesen war? Und was sagen die mit Hakenkreuzen dekorierten Schulaufsätze über ihren Onkel, der mit 18 Jahren im Zweiten Weltkrieg fiel? Ihre gezeichneten und handgeschriebenen Bildergeschichten fügt Krug mit Fotografien, Archiv- und Flohmarktfunden zu einem völlig neuen Ganzen zusammen. „Heimat“ ist ein einzigartiges Erinnerungskunstwerk, in dem Familiengeschichte auf Zeitgeschichte trifft. Ein Graphic Memoir, lebendig, wahr und poetisch erzählt.
286 pages, Hardcover
First published August 27, 2018
271 people are currently reading
11694 people want to read
About the author
Nora Krug
16 books177 followersNora Krug is a German-American author, illustrator and associate professor in the Illustration Program at the Parsons School of Design in New York City. Her drawings and visual narratives have appeared in publications including The New York Times, the Guardian and le Monde Diplomatique, and in a number of anthologies. A recipient of numerous prestigious fellowships, her books are included in the Library of Congress and the Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Columbia University. Her illustrations have been recognized with three gold medals from the Society of Illustrators and a Silver Cube from the New York Art Directors Club. Krug's work has been exhibited internationally, and her animations shown at the Sundance Film Festival.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,497 reviews
January 19, 2019
I slowly began to accept that my knowledge will have limits, that I’ll never know exactly what Willi thought, what he saw or heard, what he decided to do or not to do, what he could have done and failed to do, and why.
This is not an easy book to read. It's a graphic memoir of what it was like to grow up in a post-Hitler Germany. In Krug's childhood, the Holocaust looms in the background of everything but is rarely spoken about. The book looks at the collective shame of the German people-- a shame drilled so deep that the word "heimat" or "homeland" brings no sense of pride; a shame that means hiding your accent to avoid provoking strong and painful emotions in those you meet.
The mixed art is very powerful. Krug uses a scrapbook-style scattering of images, clippings and traditional comic strip art to first explore her own upbringing, and then later to delve into her family's past. There's nothing simple about this book at all. It's both an informative read for the non-German reader, and an emotional memoir.
It's also a good little piece of investigative journalism, though nowhere near as dispassionate as that sounds. Krug finds herself asking the difficult questions that no one in her family seems willing to ask. She wants to know - she has to know - what role her grandparents played in the Nazi atrocities.
For what reason? She's not sure. Perhaps to absolve them in her mind; perhaps to adequately blame them. Whatever the reasoning, I felt every bit of the author’s desperation to find out about her grandparents. I sat along as she dug into their history and hoped so very much that they weren’t guilty of the worst crimes. I, too, wanted it to not be them. I wanted them to have been the good guys.
Ultimately, though, it's not that easy and Krug knows it all too well. Most Germans were complicit in some way; the true "good guys" didn't live to tell the tale. Despite an extensive investigation, many answers remain out of reach.
Not a simple read, or fully satisfying, but thought-provoking nonetheless. CW: antisemitism; holocaust (disturbing images).
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December 28, 2018
This is an unusual book, which somehow manages to be both lyrical and extremely matter-of-fact. Nora is German, and although she has lived most of her life in the US and was anyway born long after the events in question, she feels horrible guilt about what her country has done. Over six million people were cruelly murdered; surely a large part of the German population knew about it and in some way were involved. After a while, her initially unspecific feelings begin to crystallise out into a precise set of questions. What did her own relatives do during the Nazi period? Did they kill Jews? Did they concretely help Hitler's criminal regime? If so, in what ways? She starts investigating: talking to old German people, visiting archives to request files that haven't been viewed in decades, collecting postcards from flea markets and antique shops. After a several years of careful detective work, she discovers a surprising amount. The story of her persistent search is often quite moving.
I found the book emotionally engaging in two different and opposing ways. On the one hand, my father's family is Jewish, and many of my relatives were killed by the Germans that Nora is tracking down. I read about the pathetically inadequate denazification programme, which I had not previously seen described in this detail, and I was outraged. Evidently, many, perhaps even most of the murderers got away clean. People stonewalled and used the classic tactics of omerta: they didn't know anything, they weren't there, they had no part in it, when they did it was only the bare minimum because they were forced to. They did their best to be assigned to the lowest category, that of "Follower": members of the Nazi state who had not done anything worse than go with the flow, because they were too scared and lacking in moral fibre to oppose it. Evidently, a large number of the Germans assigned to the "Follower" category had in fact done much more serious things, but because there was no straightforward way to prove it they escaped the consequences of their actions. Nora goes into the details of some cases. The electrician who claimed that he'd accidentally burned down the local synagogue while fixing a fuse box got his story to stick, even though everyone knew the fire was started intentionally. After the war, he founded a successful business which is still around. Nora sees one of their vans in the street when she visits.
I was angry about the past, but as the book progressed a second feeling began to grow, a dread of the future. Politicians often talk about the judgement of history, and it's reassuring to imagine that this only applies to important public figures. But as we can see here, that isn't true. Nora, tracking things down half a century after the fact, cares passionately about what her grandfather did. Was he a member of the Nazi Party? If so, why did he join? What concrete part did he play in the persecution and eventual murder of most of the local Jews? Where was he when the critical events occurred? She manages to find plausible answers to several of these questions. So who in the future is watching me? What am I doing about the critical questions of our own time, some of which may have consequences just as horrible as the Shoah? Nora's grandfather has good practical reasons for wanting to join the Nazis. He doesn't like them much, but it makes life simpler. In general, it's almost always easier to be a Follower. At least for a while.
You will gather that this book might make you think. If you don't like doing that, I definitely advise you to avoid it.
I found the book emotionally engaging in two different and opposing ways. On the one hand, my father's family is Jewish, and many of my relatives were killed by the Germans that Nora is tracking down. I read about the pathetically inadequate denazification programme, which I had not previously seen described in this detail, and I was outraged. Evidently, many, perhaps even most of the murderers got away clean. People stonewalled and used the classic tactics of omerta: they didn't know anything, they weren't there, they had no part in it, when they did it was only the bare minimum because they were forced to. They did their best to be assigned to the lowest category, that of "Follower": members of the Nazi state who had not done anything worse than go with the flow, because they were too scared and lacking in moral fibre to oppose it. Evidently, a large number of the Germans assigned to the "Follower" category had in fact done much more serious things, but because there was no straightforward way to prove it they escaped the consequences of their actions. Nora goes into the details of some cases. The electrician who claimed that he'd accidentally burned down the local synagogue while fixing a fuse box got his story to stick, even though everyone knew the fire was started intentionally. After the war, he founded a successful business which is still around. Nora sees one of their vans in the street when she visits.
I was angry about the past, but as the book progressed a second feeling began to grow, a dread of the future. Politicians often talk about the judgement of history, and it's reassuring to imagine that this only applies to important public figures. But as we can see here, that isn't true. Nora, tracking things down half a century after the fact, cares passionately about what her grandfather did. Was he a member of the Nazi Party? If so, why did he join? What concrete part did he play in the persecution and eventual murder of most of the local Jews? Where was he when the critical events occurred? She manages to find plausible answers to several of these questions. So who in the future is watching me? What am I doing about the critical questions of our own time, some of which may have consequences just as horrible as the Shoah? Nora's grandfather has good practical reasons for wanting to join the Nazis. He doesn't like them much, but it makes life simpler. In general, it's almost always easier to be a Follower. At least for a while.
You will gather that this book might make you think. If you don't like doing that, I definitely advise you to avoid it.
October 17, 2018
Can I give it an extra star?
July 28, 2022
REREAD (JUNE 2021): I decided to reread this wonderful graphic memoir because I'm currently in a massive READING SLUMP ... and I just now realized that I read it EXACTLY two years ago (started reading this on June 13 and finished it on June 14, both in 2019 and now in 2021). That's kinda funny.
But my original views still stand. This is one of the best memoirs I've ever read and certainly the best graphic memoir (even though Satrapi's Persepolis and Sacco's Palestine come close — BUT NORA'S ART AND CREATIVITY IS UNMATCHED!!).
ORIGINAL REVIEW (JUNE 2019):
Just uploaded a video talking about my favorite comics of all time. You bet Heimat showed up in there. ///
Wow. What a feat. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that one single woman accomplished this. Nora Krug says that it took her six years to finalise this project, two years each for research, writing and drawing purposes. I've never read a graphic memoir that was so thoughtful and so beautifully laid out. You can feel on a visceral level that hours were spent on every single page. The arrangement is flawless, her writing style is beyond beautiful, not to even mention her art.
In Heimat, Nora Krug sets out to unbury her family's history, specifically the involvement of her grandparents during the time of WWII in Germany. Considered a taboo subject in her family, Nora Krug has to dig deep to find what she is looking for: memories, military files, documents, diary entries, letters, photographs, old exercise books ... All these memorabilia help her reconstruct a past, a past that she always felt distant to. As an adult, Nora Krug married and American Jew and moved to the United States of America, where she acquired US citizenship. She says she needed this outside perspective on Germany to finally confront her own past through learning more about her grandparents and parents.
Nora Krug takes us on a journey with her. A journey on which she rediscovers her love for her (lost) Heimat. For the first time in her life, she is able to become close to parts of her family that are either already dead or that she was never in contact with. Nora Krug's family is not a happy one. Her father is not on speaking terms with his sister. Nora herself never met her aunt or her cousins. Both of her grandfathers have already passed away. Nora knows that her time is running out: if she wants to have firsthand accounts of the war, she has to reconnect to her grandmother, to her aunt (who was already alive in the 1940s).
Heimat is an incredibly personal and moving book. Nora shares a lot of intimate information and makes herself very vulnerable through that. I admire that bravery. The honesty and the fact that she doesn't sugercoat anything deserves respect. By confronting her own fears and biases, by looking at her own education (and comparing it to the education of her elders), Nora slowly but surely manages to piece the picture together.
Nora Krug takes us down memory lane. She says that as a young girl, when she learned about the Holocaust in school, she wanted to show solidarity by sewing a Yellow badge for herself. She says that her aunt once advised her to tell people that she is from the Netherlands when traveling abroad.
But added to the personal nature of her comic book, Nora Krug also managed to educate me. As a German I learned a lot about WWII and the Holocaust, but still, it's impossible to know everything. I was quite shocked when I saw the pictures of Germans who were forced after the war to look at the dead bodies surrounding the concentrations camps, that some local farmers were forced to parade those bodies through the streets so that people were forced to look at them. I will never get that picture of an extremely thin limb dangling from a barrow out of my head. I also found it incredibly interesting to get a close look on her uncle's old exercise books. Her uncle, in 1939 (when he was 12), wrote an story about Jews as poisonous mushrooms. I found it chilling to see that his teacher only corrected his grammar errors and gave it a B for its content. Additionally, it was very eye opening to see the official Nazi documents and the language they implemented.
In school, we learn about the Holocaust as if from a removed perspective. Sure, we learn all of the facts and what happened each year from 1933-1945 but we somehow forgot how they relates back to us, that we are essentially talking about the generation of our grandparents. We are never asked to confront our own personal history. We don't get to read personal letters and diary entries from Germans of that time, we only get to analyse the speeches of Hitler and Goebbels.
Heimat: A German Family Album is one of the best books I've ever read in my entire life and I would highly recommend it to anyone who is in for a touching and memorable reading experience.
But my original views still stand. This is one of the best memoirs I've ever read and certainly the best graphic memoir (even though Satrapi's Persepolis and Sacco's Palestine come close — BUT NORA'S ART AND CREATIVITY IS UNMATCHED!!).
ORIGINAL REVIEW (JUNE 2019):
Just uploaded a video talking about my favorite comics of all time. You bet Heimat showed up in there. ///
Wow. What a feat. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that one single woman accomplished this. Nora Krug says that it took her six years to finalise this project, two years each for research, writing and drawing purposes. I've never read a graphic memoir that was so thoughtful and so beautifully laid out. You can feel on a visceral level that hours were spent on every single page. The arrangement is flawless, her writing style is beyond beautiful, not to even mention her art.
In Heimat, Nora Krug sets out to unbury her family's history, specifically the involvement of her grandparents during the time of WWII in Germany. Considered a taboo subject in her family, Nora Krug has to dig deep to find what she is looking for: memories, military files, documents, diary entries, letters, photographs, old exercise books ... All these memorabilia help her reconstruct a past, a past that she always felt distant to. As an adult, Nora Krug married and American Jew and moved to the United States of America, where she acquired US citizenship. She says she needed this outside perspective on Germany to finally confront her own past through learning more about her grandparents and parents.
Nora Krug takes us on a journey with her. A journey on which she rediscovers her love for her (lost) Heimat. For the first time in her life, she is able to become close to parts of her family that are either already dead or that she was never in contact with. Nora Krug's family is not a happy one. Her father is not on speaking terms with his sister. Nora herself never met her aunt or her cousins. Both of her grandfathers have already passed away. Nora knows that her time is running out: if she wants to have firsthand accounts of the war, she has to reconnect to her grandmother, to her aunt (who was already alive in the 1940s).
Heimat is an incredibly personal and moving book. Nora shares a lot of intimate information and makes herself very vulnerable through that. I admire that bravery. The honesty and the fact that she doesn't sugercoat anything deserves respect. By confronting her own fears and biases, by looking at her own education (and comparing it to the education of her elders), Nora slowly but surely manages to piece the picture together.
Nora Krug takes us down memory lane. She says that as a young girl, when she learned about the Holocaust in school, she wanted to show solidarity by sewing a Yellow badge for herself. She says that her aunt once advised her to tell people that she is from the Netherlands when traveling abroad.
But added to the personal nature of her comic book, Nora Krug also managed to educate me. As a German I learned a lot about WWII and the Holocaust, but still, it's impossible to know everything. I was quite shocked when I saw the pictures of Germans who were forced after the war to look at the dead bodies surrounding the concentrations camps, that some local farmers were forced to parade those bodies through the streets so that people were forced to look at them. I will never get that picture of an extremely thin limb dangling from a barrow out of my head. I also found it incredibly interesting to get a close look on her uncle's old exercise books. Her uncle, in 1939 (when he was 12), wrote an story about Jews as poisonous mushrooms. I found it chilling to see that his teacher only corrected his grammar errors and gave it a B for its content. Additionally, it was very eye opening to see the official Nazi documents and the language they implemented.
In school, we learn about the Holocaust as if from a removed perspective. Sure, we learn all of the facts and what happened each year from 1933-1945 but we somehow forgot how they relates back to us, that we are essentially talking about the generation of our grandparents. We are never asked to confront our own personal history. We don't get to read personal letters and diary entries from Germans of that time, we only get to analyse the speeches of Hitler and Goebbels.
Heimat: A German Family Album is one of the best books I've ever read in my entire life and I would highly recommend it to anyone who is in for a touching and memorable reading experience.
February 13, 2019
Must write a detailed review later but I have many, many thoughts.
- It seems the author's central motivator is ascertaining what amount of guilt and shame she feels (personally, ancestrally, culturally) is actually 'reasonable', based on what her relatives 'did' or 'did not' do. Along the way, the actual suffering of Jewish people in WWII (including intergenerational suffering for their descendants, some of whom she interviews) becomes a backdrop.
- The illustrations of anti-Semitism make me wonder, who is this book for? If this was a memoir of a Japanese person, detailing their ancestors' involvement in the genocide/colonization of my indigenous Uchinanchu ancestors, I would be sickened by the displays I was reading. I would be traumatized by the photographs of my ancestors' dead bodies in the background of photographs that foreground their brutalizers. There are ways for someone in Krug’s position to share these realities respectfully, and I don’t feel that she does so.
- The valuable questions that are raised by this memoir came afterward, from conversations with others. The author's questions seem to focus obsessively on how relieved or disappointed she feels, as she uncovers new information and sorts the truth from apologist family lore.
- The art (mixed media collage and illustration) is undeniably powerful. The author's handles a complex web of family history deftly, despite its twists and turns.
- I'm glad I read this, but was deeply disappointed by where the author's focus lay. I don't know how to recommend this to others, unless they were interested in reading a societally-powerful person's insufficient grappling with shame, or a meditation on collective shame that has little to do with meaningful reparation/accountability. I think this narrative meant to tease apart the crucial nuance between guilt and shame, but these aren’t thoughtfully explored — instead, Krug’s need to know just what her ancestors did or did not do overwhelms the stories, and is resolved only after barreling past a tremendous amount of trauma (those of Jewish folks, and also her dad’s obviously traumatic relationship with his sister).
- Did anyone else think it was very inappropriate for her to join a group of German & Austrian Jews, in hopes that they will love her like a granddaughter?? I was shocked and grossed out.
- It seems the author's central motivator is ascertaining what amount of guilt and shame she feels (personally, ancestrally, culturally) is actually 'reasonable', based on what her relatives 'did' or 'did not' do. Along the way, the actual suffering of Jewish people in WWII (including intergenerational suffering for their descendants, some of whom she interviews) becomes a backdrop.
- The illustrations of anti-Semitism make me wonder, who is this book for? If this was a memoir of a Japanese person, detailing their ancestors' involvement in the genocide/colonization of my indigenous Uchinanchu ancestors, I would be sickened by the displays I was reading. I would be traumatized by the photographs of my ancestors' dead bodies in the background of photographs that foreground their brutalizers. There are ways for someone in Krug’s position to share these realities respectfully, and I don’t feel that she does so.
- The valuable questions that are raised by this memoir came afterward, from conversations with others. The author's questions seem to focus obsessively on how relieved or disappointed she feels, as she uncovers new information and sorts the truth from apologist family lore.
- The art (mixed media collage and illustration) is undeniably powerful. The author's handles a complex web of family history deftly, despite its twists and turns.
- I'm glad I read this, but was deeply disappointed by where the author's focus lay. I don't know how to recommend this to others, unless they were interested in reading a societally-powerful person's insufficient grappling with shame, or a meditation on collective shame that has little to do with meaningful reparation/accountability. I think this narrative meant to tease apart the crucial nuance between guilt and shame, but these aren’t thoughtfully explored — instead, Krug’s need to know just what her ancestors did or did not do overwhelms the stories, and is resolved only after barreling past a tremendous amount of trauma (those of Jewish folks, and also her dad’s obviously traumatic relationship with his sister).
- Did anyone else think it was very inappropriate for her to join a group of German & Austrian Jews, in hopes that they will love her like a granddaughter?? I was shocked and grossed out.
February 5, 2021
Dviem prisėdimais surijau savo, jau dabar žinau, vieną iš 2021-ųjų KNYGŲ.
Skruostai dega, gumulas gerklėj. Bandau prisiminti, ką man seneliai yra pasakoję apie savo kaimynus žydus. Ar galiu tuos atsiminimuose įtarti meilę? O gal būta kokio šešėlio? Ryškiai, kaip šiandien, galvoje ataidi mano amžiną jai atilsį babos pasakojimas kaip “gulėdavom prieš miegą ir klausydavom įsitempę kaip žydus Žadeikių miške šaudo”...
Nora Krug man ką tik priminė, kad negali žinoti, kas esi, jei nesupranti, iš kur atėjai.
Kaip skausminga buvo skaityti šį intymų dienoraštį menininkės, kuri visą gyvenimą gėdijosi būti vokiete ir ryžosi išsiaiškinti savo šeimos istoriją, kad sužinotų, ar seneliai galėjo prisidėti prie Holokausto žiaurumų.
Kokia knygos vizualinė pusė! Odievai! Kitaip gal ir negali būti - Nora Krug yra iliustravimo žvaigždė, profesorė, knyga plačiai apdovanota.
Patikėkit manimi - “Heimat” privaloma namų bibliotekoje.
Ji neįtikėtinai nuostabi. Ir taškas.
Skruostai dega, gumulas gerklėj. Bandau prisiminti, ką man seneliai yra pasakoję apie savo kaimynus žydus. Ar galiu tuos atsiminimuose įtarti meilę? O gal būta kokio šešėlio? Ryškiai, kaip šiandien, galvoje ataidi mano amžiną jai atilsį babos pasakojimas kaip “gulėdavom prieš miegą ir klausydavom įsitempę kaip žydus Žadeikių miške šaudo”...
Nora Krug man ką tik priminė, kad negali žinoti, kas esi, jei nesupranti, iš kur atėjai.
Kaip skausminga buvo skaityti šį intymų dienoraštį menininkės, kuri visą gyvenimą gėdijosi būti vokiete ir ryžosi išsiaiškinti savo šeimos istoriją, kad sužinotų, ar seneliai galėjo prisidėti prie Holokausto žiaurumų.
Kokia knygos vizualinė pusė! Odievai! Kitaip gal ir negali būti - Nora Krug yra iliustravimo žvaigždė, profesorė, knyga plačiai apdovanota.
Patikėkit manimi - “Heimat” privaloma namų bibliotekoje.
Ji neįtikėtinai nuostabi. Ir taškas.
August 3, 2019
Nora Krug is German-American, married to a Jewish man. Like I imagine many Germans and those in exile, she had some anguished curiosity about her family's (possible/probable) implication in the Holocaust, so she spent several years getting answers. The resulting book is multi-genre, part illustrated story, part comics, part family history, part history, part mystery. Much of what she discovers is not particularly surprising, but there are indeed revelations worth waiting for.
Here's a New Yorker interview with Krug:
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cul...
Here's a comics review of Krug's comic tale:
https://momentmag.com/illustrated-boo...
This book is gorgeous, and often powerful. It reminded me of a book I have read many times, The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam: An Illustrated Memoir, the story of Ann Fleming's search into the life of the great grandfather she had never known much about:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S13d...
Both contain surprises, focus on racism, and are fascinating multi-genre/collages.
Here's a New Yorker interview with Krug:
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cul...
Here's a comics review of Krug's comic tale:
https://momentmag.com/illustrated-boo...
This book is gorgeous, and often powerful. It reminded me of a book I have read many times, The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam: An Illustrated Memoir, the story of Ann Fleming's search into the life of the great grandfather she had never known much about:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S13d...
Both contain surprises, focus on racism, and are fascinating multi-genre/collages.
June 19, 2021
Mixed feelings about this one. It was really interesting in a certain personal context to me - my best friend lives in Germany since 2000, we both had granddads that fought in war against nazis and we often have conversations about Germans and their historical past and especially WWII times as well as about nowadays.
I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings but I don't think that everybody over there is so historically conscious and trying to be a decent human being and at least learn about possible their ancestors' crimes as Nora Krug does in her novel. Seems like some people just "got over it" and lived on, skipping this historical period like it never happened at all and avoided any mentioning of holocaust or the many war crimes.
This book is a good deed but the naive tone of it "I wanted to make peace with my family's past and so I did, yay" was a bit annoying to me, maybe because in the end Nora is off to be far from Europe and Germany and its problems and we see everything from closer perspective, and I also see that history is very much alive and never a closed chapter... but if it helped her - well, good for her. I'm pretty sure there were questions unanswered left but they were off the general topic and none of our business.
Also, I don't like that holocaust is sort of a crutch to the personal story. Yes, I know it's not really a book about holocaust. But it annoys me.
All in all I think it's an important story and while in the end I got mixed in all uncles and aunts and cousins, it was all quite interesting.
I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings but I don't think that everybody over there is so historically conscious and trying to be a decent human being and at least learn about possible their ancestors' crimes as Nora Krug does in her novel. Seems like some people just "got over it" and lived on, skipping this historical period like it never happened at all and avoided any mentioning of holocaust or the many war crimes.
This book is a good deed but the naive tone of it "I wanted to make peace with my family's past and so I did, yay" was a bit annoying to me, maybe because in the end Nora is off to be far from Europe and Germany and its problems and we see everything from closer perspective, and I also see that history is very much alive and never a closed chapter... but if it helped her - well, good for her. I'm pretty sure there were questions unanswered left but they were off the general topic and none of our business.
Also, I don't like that holocaust is sort of a crutch to the personal story. Yes, I know it's not really a book about holocaust. But it annoys me.
All in all I think it's an important story and while in the end I got mixed in all uncles and aunts and cousins, it was all quite interesting.
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August 30, 2025(давній відгук з літакценту)
Напевно, всім, хто довший час жив за кордоном, знайоме це відчуття: з часом мимоволі починаєш перетворюватися на збірку всіх національних стереотипів про твою етнічну групу. (Згадаймо всіх своїх українських знайомих, доти навіть не помічених на любові до куховарства, які, відчувши себе на чужині ближчими до свого коріння, ніж будь-коли раніше, мимоволі починають варганити борщ). Символи малої і великої батьківщини ні для кого не є такими нагально-важливими, як для емігранта, що сумує за корінням. Навіть найменші деталі, які запам’яталися з раннього дитинства, набувають колосальної ваги, коли їх переплавити в тиглі ностальгії.
Скажімо, для Нори Круґ — німкені у Нью-Йорку — навіть пластир марки Hansaplast, невід’ємний атрибут дитинства з розбитими колінами, стає символом далекої батьківщини. Саме з пластира починається її «альбом німецьких речей емігрантки, що тужить за домом»: цей пластир дуже міцний, він надійно захищає, але його боляче відривати, а ще, припускаємо ми, він закриває рану, тож ніколи не знати, скільки гною може виявитися під ним. Таким чином, випадкова деталь із дитинства перетворюється на універсальний символ сучасної німецької ідентичності: тонка плівка, яка захищає і приховує, а під нею — кров.
Нора Круґ — представниця другого повоєнного покоління (її батьки народилися в останні роки війни й одразу після її завершення), себто першого покоління, із яким програма денацифікації працювала справді ефективно — доти-бо йшлося радше про замовчування темних сторінок в історії, ніж про виховання справжнього сорому за них. «Як зрозуміти, хто ти, якщо ти не знаєш, звідки ти?» — запитує вона себе, ставши мешканкою Нью-Йорка. Намагаючись сформулювати для себе, чим є для неї батьківщина — той самий “Heimat”, винесений у назву коміксу — вона розуміє, що всі слова, якими можна її описати, стигматизовані, а всі пейзажі-символи дому отруєні злочинами ХХ століття. «Ми не вивчали, що сталося в нашому рідному місті. Ми не вивчали слів нашого гімну. Ми не вивчали стародавніх народних пісень. Нам складно зрозуміти, що таке HEIMAT». Власне, навіть визначення цього поняття у словнику («уявний чи реальний ландшафт або місце, з яким у людини одразу виникає відчуття спорідненості … Heimat також часто позначає місце, де особа народилася і пройшла ранню соціалізацію, що, значною мірою, вплине на ідентичність, характер, ментальність і світогляд») закінчується поясненням, як цим поняттям оперували й маніпулювали нацисти.
Комікс стилізовано під родинний альбом — принагідні світлини, випадкові предмети на згадку, шкільні твори, ілюстрації з улюблених дитячих книжок, мотлох, яким обростаємо ми всі. Але навіть позірно аполітичні родинні спогади не дають авторці змоги сконструювати свою вітчизну, адже і крізь них проростають ризоми жаху. Наприклад, коли людська історія забарвлена гріхом, можна писати про природну історію й тим порятуватися. Проте дитячі спогади про те, як добре було збирати з родиною гриби, і як, поїдаючи гриби, героїня почувалася частиною лісу, співіснує зі шкільним твором дядька авторки, німецьким солдатом, який загинув у Другій світовій. Твір, написаний напередодні війни, починається так: «Гуляючи в лісі, буває, натрапляєш на гриби. Вони гарні на вигляд, але можуть отруїти цілу родину. Отак і євреї».
Таким чином, родинний альбом поступово перетворюється на папку доказів у слідчій справі. Національну ідентичність вдається утвердити, лише набувши при цьому ідентичності слідчого. Оповідачці лишається тільки вишукувати суперечності в родинній історії, намагаючись установити рівень співучасті і провини (скажімо, бабуся нібито втратила в 1940 році свою молочну крамницю, бо відмовилася вступати до Націонал-Соціалістичної партії — але в телефонному довіднику крамниця фігурує до 1946 року: помилка укладача чи самовиправдальна брехня родичів?). Але, зрештою, навіть ідентичність слідчого — це краще, ніж ніякої ідентичності.
Напевно, всім, хто довший час жив за кордоном, знайоме це відчуття: з часом мимоволі починаєш перетворюватися на збірку всіх національних стереотипів про твою етнічну групу. (Згадаймо всіх своїх українських знайомих, доти навіть не помічених на любові до куховарства, які, відчувши себе на чужині ближчими до свого коріння, ніж будь-коли раніше, мимоволі починають варганити борщ). Символи малої і великої батьківщини ні для кого не є такими нагально-важливими, як для емігранта, що сумує за корінням. Навіть найменші деталі, які запам’яталися з раннього дитинства, набувають колосальної ваги, коли їх переплавити в тиглі ностальгії.
Скажімо, для Нори Круґ — німкені у Нью-Йорку — навіть пластир марки Hansaplast, невід’ємний атрибут дитинства з розбитими колінами, стає символом далекої батьківщини. Саме з пластира починається її «альбом німецьких речей емігрантки, що тужить за домом»: цей пластир дуже міцний, він надійно захищає, але його боляче відривати, а ще, припускаємо ми, він закриває рану, тож ніколи не знати, скільки гною може виявитися під ним. Таким чином, випадкова деталь із дитинства перетворюється на універсальний символ сучасної німецької ідентичності: тонка плівка, яка захищає і приховує, а під нею — кров.
Нора Круґ — представниця другого повоєнного покоління (її батьки народилися в останні роки війни й одразу після її завершення), себто першого покоління, із яким програма денацифікації працювала справді ефективно — доти-бо йшлося радше про замовчування темних сторінок в історії, ніж про виховання справжнього сорому за них. «Як зрозуміти, хто ти, якщо ти не знаєш, звідки ти?» — запитує вона себе, ставши мешканкою Нью-Йорка. Намагаючись сформулювати для себе, чим є для неї батьківщина — той самий “Heimat”, винесений у назву коміксу — вона розуміє, що всі слова, якими можна її описати, стигматизовані, а всі пейзажі-символи дому отруєні злочинами ХХ століття. «Ми не вивчали, що сталося в нашому рідному місті. Ми не вивчали слів нашого гімну. Ми не вивчали стародавніх народних пісень. Нам складно зрозуміти, що таке HEIMAT». Власне, навіть визначення цього поняття у словнику («уявний чи реальний ландшафт або місце, з яким у людини одразу виникає відчуття спорідненості … Heimat також часто позначає місце, де особа народилася і пройшла ранню соціалізацію, що, значною мірою, вплине на ідентичність, характер, ментальність і світогляд») закінчується поясненням, як цим поняттям оперували й маніпулювали нацисти.
Комікс стилізовано під родинний альбом — принагідні світлини, випадкові предмети на згадку, шкільні твори, ілюстрації з улюблених дитячих книжок, мотлох, яким обростаємо ми всі. Але навіть позірно аполітичні родинні спогади не дають авторці змоги сконструювати свою вітчизну, адже і крізь них проростають ризоми жаху. Наприклад, коли людська історія забарвлена гріхом, можна писати про природну історію й тим порятуватися. Проте дитячі спогади про те, як добре було збирати з родиною гриби, і як, поїдаючи гриби, героїня почувалася частиною лісу, співіснує зі шкільним твором дядька авторки, німецьким солдатом, який загинув у Другій світовій. Твір, написаний напередодні війни, починається так: «Гуляючи в лісі, буває, натрапляєш на гриби. Вони гарні на вигляд, але можуть отруїти цілу родину. Отак і євреї».
Таким чином, родинний альбом поступово перетворюється на папку доказів у слідчій справі. Національну ідентичність вдається утвердити, лише набувши при цьому ідентичності слідчого. Оповідачці лишається тільки вишукувати суперечності в родинній історії, намагаючись установити рівень співучасті і провини (скажімо, бабуся нібито втратила в 1940 році свою молочну крамницю, бо відмовилася вступати до Націонал-Соціалістичної партії — але в телефонному довіднику крамниця фігурує до 1946 року: помилка укладача чи самовиправдальна брехня родичів?). Але, зрештою, навіть ідентичність слідчого — це краще, ніж ніякої ідентичності.
January 9, 2019
This would be a great companion read to Svetlana Alexievich's The Unwomanly Face of War: An Oral History of Women in World War II.
Both authors try to unearth and record the unspoken, suppressed truths of the WWII. The difference is that Russians were mandated to forget the ugly parts of the war to elevate the winners' narrative of heroism and bravery, and Germans - to hide their guilt and shame, not only from the others, but themselves and their families.
Krug's journey to discover the extent of her family members' involvement in Nazi atrocities is revelatory, for me at least. I was surprised to learn just how extensive (but not always effective) the Allies investigation of, it seems, every German's crimes was. I was even more impressed by how deliberate and systematic is German's education of their own citizens of the crimes of the past. On the other hand, it made me wonder if it goes too far maybe. Krug's pain at inability to love any part of her homeland or being proud for anything German whatsoever is quite palpable. It's no surprise really that the nationalist movement is on the rise in Germany.
Occasionally long-winded, but always thought-provoking.
Both authors try to unearth and record the unspoken, suppressed truths of the WWII. The difference is that Russians were mandated to forget the ugly parts of the war to elevate the winners' narrative of heroism and bravery, and Germans - to hide their guilt and shame, not only from the others, but themselves and their families.
Krug's journey to discover the extent of her family members' involvement in Nazi atrocities is revelatory, for me at least. I was surprised to learn just how extensive (but not always effective) the Allies investigation of, it seems, every German's crimes was. I was even more impressed by how deliberate and systematic is German's education of their own citizens of the crimes of the past. On the other hand, it made me wonder if it goes too far maybe. Krug's pain at inability to love any part of her homeland or being proud for anything German whatsoever is quite palpable. It's no surprise really that the nationalist movement is on the rise in Germany.
Occasionally long-winded, but always thought-provoking.
December 31, 2018
Started yesterday, finished this morning: this is the first adult picture book I've wanted to read, and as anticipated, I couldn't put it down.
I suppose you could shelve this in some rather specific way. The 'my grandparents were Nazis' memoir shelf. Or the 'ordinary people in the period 1930-1950 in Nazi Germany' shelf. For me, I'd put it under 'everybody should read this'. It asks all the questions, without coming up with any answers. But keeping those questions on the tip of our collective tongue is vital to stopping such horror in the future. We need an autistic attitude, we have to feel that these things have just happened, and could happen any moment again. I do believe that the reason we are seeing the resurgence of the extreme right now is at least partly because our memory is slipping, too many feel like it's a past that isn't connected to the present. But it is. By blood, by education, by culture, by belief, by greed and by all the bad features of being a human which are after all, the reason why we created society in the first place. To try to hold them in check.
Thank you Nora Krug, for your search for answers. It is your contribution to our never ending discussion about the meaning of life.
I suppose you could shelve this in some rather specific way. The 'my grandparents were Nazis' memoir shelf. Or the 'ordinary people in the period 1930-1950 in Nazi Germany' shelf. For me, I'd put it under 'everybody should read this'. It asks all the questions, without coming up with any answers. But keeping those questions on the tip of our collective tongue is vital to stopping such horror in the future. We need an autistic attitude, we have to feel that these things have just happened, and could happen any moment again. I do believe that the reason we are seeing the resurgence of the extreme right now is at least partly because our memory is slipping, too many feel like it's a past that isn't connected to the present. But it is. By blood, by education, by culture, by belief, by greed and by all the bad features of being a human which are after all, the reason why we created society in the first place. To try to hold them in check.
Thank you Nora Krug, for your search for answers. It is your contribution to our never ending discussion about the meaning of life.
October 18, 2020
Žiauriai gera, must read, must watch. Verta visų apdovanojimų ir liaupsių.
Knyga-komiksas, neįtikėtinai suvaldanti labai įvairią vizualią medžiagą: iliustracijas, komiksus, nuotraukas, dokumentų faksimiles, montažą; bent keletą stilių: autobiografinis pasakojimas (+ visa knyga rašyta ranka), enciklopediniai įrašai, interviu, dokumentikos analizė. Toks a la "Sibiro haiku", tik nevienaplanis, tokia versija suaugusiems.
Pagrindinės temos dvi - 1) emigracija, buvimas nesavoje erdvėje, tėvynės ilgesys (pasakotoja gyvena JAV, nors kilusi iš Europos/Vokietijos), ir 2) šeimos istorija, kurioje daug nutylimų dalykų, apie kuriuos tarsi nedera klausti ir kalbėti. Tėvas, pavadintas vardu kare žuvusio brolio, o tas brolis kariavo už vokiečių armiją antrame pasauliniame kare; senelis, kurio praeitis išvis neaišku kokia: dirbo žydo laikomoj vairavimo mokykloj, staiga "netikėtai" per karą pasidarė tos mokyklos savininku, dar kažkokių "neaiškių" nacių partijos ženklelių prikaupęs. Knygos intriga - tą "neminėtiną" praeitį išsiaiškinti, iššerlokinti, kiek šeimos nariai prisidėjo prie nacistinės Vokietijos nusikaltimų.
Pasakotoja ir save mato kaip to didelio neaiškios kaltės, neaiškių santykių dalį, neišvengiamą produktą; skaitydama galvojau, kad ji, siekdama išsiaiškinti, ką blogo padarė ankstesnės kartos, ir čia pat artikuliuodama, kad nuo to priklauso ir jos savivoka, tarsi sutapatina tuos nusikaltimus su savimi. Jei jie darė nusikaltimus, tarsi ir ji pati tampa analogišku nusikaltimu - arba nusikaltėle, - bet jei jie buvo "nenuoširdūs" naciai (partijoje, bet tipo nieko nežudė ir nediskriminavo, aha aha, tai čia kaip pas mus buvę KP nariai sako - taip pat ir mano tėvai ir seneliai), tai nuo jos pečių tarsi nusirita kaltė. Galbūt dėl to, o gal dėl kažko kito (taip ir nesupratau) tas beveik obsesinis aiškinimasis, kas, kur, su kuo, ar tikrai, - skaitant kažkaip prislegia. Gal taip ir būna, jei pradedi lįsti į savo artimųjų gyvenimus, paslaptis - tarsi turėtum juos suprasti, tarsi jaustumeis by default įpainiota per giminystės ryšius ir pakaltinama dėl meilės/prieraišumo/šeiminės priklausomybės santykių, - ir tuo pat metu tai yra kitų gyvenimai, visiškai nuo tavęs nepriklausantys ir dažniausiai nelabai tau suprantami. Nežinau.
Skaičiau ir galvojau, kad panašų impulsą fiksavo Vanagaitė, kai pradėjo "Mūsiškius" - kad suvokimas, jog šeimos narys galėjo dalyvauti žydų žudynėse, įpainiojo ją ir nebedavė ramybės (tarsi būtum atsakinga už tai, ką jie kažkada, dar tavęs nesant pasaulyje, galėjo padaryti). Ir dar galvojau, koks sunkus dalykas yra ta šeima - ne pasirinktinė, bet prigimtinė, kaip per kartas keliauja tie įpareigojimai, nerimas, kaltės, į kokius voratinklius jie įklampina.
Pasakotoja apie savo giminaičius aiškinasi ilgai, kaip kokia agentė Skali važinėja per skirtingas valstybes ir tiria įvairiausius dokumentus, pasakojimus ir užuominas. Įspūdingiausia tame tyrime man buvo du dalykai:
- kad nacizmo ir Vokietijos antram pasauliniam kare istorija pasidaro tokia įvairiapusė ir įvairiabriaunė, toks kitokia nei dabartinis "ir aš buvau Aušvice" bumas, biški nupiginantis šiaip jau baisius dalykus. Pasakoja, kiek įmanomų elgesio kare, dalyvavimo nacizme, šeimos iširimo arba išlikimo variacijų, kiek individualių istorijų ir kaip sunku - bet įmanoma - jas atsekti po 50 metų.
- kad knygoje lieka pasakojimo gijų, kurios taip ir nelieka išspręstos: pvz, negalintys vienas į kitą pažiūrėti giminaičiai taip ir nesusitinka, nesusitaiko.
Vienintelis dalykas, kas tikrai nepatiko: pabaiga; nedidelis siurprizas, kad pasakotoja susitaiko su savimi, savo gyvenimo vieta, nostalgija ir šeimos istorija, bet omg wow ji dar ir nėščia!!! Gal taip išties ir sutapo, bet toks gan stereotipinis būdas užbaigti pasakojimą, o ypač šeimos istoriją: nauja pradžia, naujas gyvenimo ratas. Be to, tiesiog niekaip nepatikėjau, kad taip froidiškai išsiaiškino istoriją ir bac ir susitaikė, palengvėjo, apėmė taika ir ramybė. Gal nebent - teksto rėmuose, bet vis viena nesitiki, kad tiek slėgę ir tiek daug pastangų pareikalavę dalykai taip ėmė ir sugulė į gražią, be didelių įtrūkimų istoriją ir nutiesė kelią naujam gyvenimui. Nu kažkaip ne. Net kai įveiki traumą ir sėkmingai gyveni toliau, tave vis tiek daug labiau nervina atskiri dirgikliai, jautriau reaguoji į vienus, o ne kitus dalykus, overreactini. Tas ir yra trauminių istorijų tikrumas (nesakau "grožis", nes anoks čia grožis trauma). Šitam kontekste nauja "švari" pradžia ir naujas gyvenimas atrodo kaip "La vita e bella" pabaiga - labai gražu ir norėtum, kad būtų tiesa, bet supranti, kad labai jau cukruota.
Nepaisant tos pabaigos, vis tiek - skausmingas ir tikras pasakojimas, tikrai geras, tikrai įspūdingas. Žinau, kad jau tikrai tuoj turi būti Lt - smalsu, kaip atrodys viskas perrašyta lietuviškai, - labai rekomenduoju.
Knyga-komiksas, neįtikėtinai suvaldanti labai įvairią vizualią medžiagą: iliustracijas, komiksus, nuotraukas, dokumentų faksimiles, montažą; bent keletą stilių: autobiografinis pasakojimas (+ visa knyga rašyta ranka), enciklopediniai įrašai, interviu, dokumentikos analizė. Toks a la "Sibiro haiku", tik nevienaplanis, tokia versija suaugusiems.
Pagrindinės temos dvi - 1) emigracija, buvimas nesavoje erdvėje, tėvynės ilgesys (pasakotoja gyvena JAV, nors kilusi iš Europos/Vokietijos), ir 2) šeimos istorija, kurioje daug nutylimų dalykų, apie kuriuos tarsi nedera klausti ir kalbėti. Tėvas, pavadintas vardu kare žuvusio brolio, o tas brolis kariavo už vokiečių armiją antrame pasauliniame kare; senelis, kurio praeitis išvis neaišku kokia: dirbo žydo laikomoj vairavimo mokykloj, staiga "netikėtai" per karą pasidarė tos mokyklos savininku, dar kažkokių "neaiškių" nacių partijos ženklelių prikaupęs. Knygos intriga - tą "neminėtiną" praeitį išsiaiškinti, iššerlokinti, kiek šeimos nariai prisidėjo prie nacistinės Vokietijos nusikaltimų.
Pasakotoja ir save mato kaip to didelio neaiškios kaltės, neaiškių santykių dalį, neišvengiamą produktą; skaitydama galvojau, kad ji, siekdama išsiaiškinti, ką blogo padarė ankstesnės kartos, ir čia pat artikuliuodama, kad nuo to priklauso ir jos savivoka, tarsi sutapatina tuos nusikaltimus su savimi. Jei jie darė nusikaltimus, tarsi ir ji pati tampa analogišku nusikaltimu - arba nusikaltėle, - bet jei jie buvo "nenuoširdūs" naciai (partijoje, bet tipo nieko nežudė ir nediskriminavo, aha aha, tai čia kaip pas mus buvę KP nariai sako - taip pat ir mano tėvai ir seneliai), tai nuo jos pečių tarsi nusirita kaltė. Galbūt dėl to, o gal dėl kažko kito (taip ir nesupratau) tas beveik obsesinis aiškinimasis, kas, kur, su kuo, ar tikrai, - skaitant kažkaip prislegia. Gal taip ir būna, jei pradedi lįsti į savo artimųjų gyvenimus, paslaptis - tarsi turėtum juos suprasti, tarsi jaustumeis by default įpainiota per giminystės ryšius ir pakaltinama dėl meilės/prieraišumo/šeiminės priklausomybės santykių, - ir tuo pat metu tai yra kitų gyvenimai, visiškai nuo tavęs nepriklausantys ir dažniausiai nelabai tau suprantami. Nežinau.
Skaičiau ir galvojau, kad panašų impulsą fiksavo Vanagaitė, kai pradėjo "Mūsiškius" - kad suvokimas, jog šeimos narys galėjo dalyvauti žydų žudynėse, įpainiojo ją ir nebedavė ramybės (tarsi būtum atsakinga už tai, ką jie kažkada, dar tavęs nesant pasaulyje, galėjo padaryti). Ir dar galvojau, koks sunkus dalykas yra ta šeima - ne pasirinktinė, bet prigimtinė, kaip per kartas keliauja tie įpareigojimai, nerimas, kaltės, į kokius voratinklius jie įklampina.
Pasakotoja apie savo giminaičius aiškinasi ilgai, kaip kokia agentė Skali važinėja per skirtingas valstybes ir tiria įvairiausius dokumentus, pasakojimus ir užuominas. Įspūdingiausia tame tyrime man buvo du dalykai:
- kad nacizmo ir Vokietijos antram pasauliniam kare istorija pasidaro tokia įvairiapusė ir įvairiabriaunė, toks kitokia nei dabartinis "ir aš buvau Aušvice" bumas, biški nupiginantis šiaip jau baisius dalykus. Pasakoja, kiek įmanomų elgesio kare, dalyvavimo nacizme, šeimos iširimo arba išlikimo variacijų, kiek individualių istorijų ir kaip sunku - bet įmanoma - jas atsekti po 50 metų.
- kad knygoje lieka pasakojimo gijų, kurios taip ir nelieka išspręstos: pvz, negalintys vienas į kitą pažiūrėti giminaičiai taip ir nesusitinka, nesusitaiko.
Vienintelis dalykas, kas tikrai nepatiko: pabaiga; nedidelis siurprizas, kad pasakotoja susitaiko su savimi, savo gyvenimo vieta, nostalgija ir šeimos istorija, bet omg wow ji dar ir nėščia!!! Gal taip išties ir sutapo, bet toks gan stereotipinis būdas užbaigti pasakojimą, o ypač šeimos istoriją: nauja pradžia, naujas gyvenimo ratas. Be to, tiesiog niekaip nepatikėjau, kad taip froidiškai išsiaiškino istoriją ir bac ir susitaikė, palengvėjo, apėmė taika ir ramybė. Gal nebent - teksto rėmuose, bet vis viena nesitiki, kad tiek slėgę ir tiek daug pastangų pareikalavę dalykai taip ėmė ir sugulė į gražią, be didelių įtrūkimų istoriją ir nutiesė kelią naujam gyvenimui. Nu kažkaip ne. Net kai įveiki traumą ir sėkmingai gyveni toliau, tave vis tiek daug labiau nervina atskiri dirgikliai, jautriau reaguoji į vienus, o ne kitus dalykus, overreactini. Tas ir yra trauminių istorijų tikrumas (nesakau "grožis", nes anoks čia grožis trauma). Šitam kontekste nauja "švari" pradžia ir naujas gyvenimas atrodo kaip "La vita e bella" pabaiga - labai gražu ir norėtum, kad būtų tiesa, bet supranti, kad labai jau cukruota.
Nepaisant tos pabaigos, vis tiek - skausmingas ir tikras pasakojimas, tikrai geras, tikrai įspūdingas. Žinau, kad jau tikrai tuoj turi būti Lt - smalsu, kaip atrodys viskas perrašyta lietuviškai, - labai rekomenduoju.
August 23, 2018
I am almost overwhelmed at the depth and intensity of this graphic memoir. My husband is a second generation German American, his father was born in Germany shortly before the end of WWII and his mother is of Jewish heritage. As a child, my husband wasn’t taught German and learned very little of his father’s family, never heard stories of the homeland. Reading this book felt like peeking behind an unspoken curtain into some inkling of my father-in-law’s thoughts. I was absolutely captivated both for Krug and myself. I will share this digital advanced copy with my husband and hope to build the courage to share a copy with my father-in-law after publication.
April 25, 2021
Цікаві дуже як і стилістика цього мальопису, так і сама історія. Раджу до ознайомлення, бо ж з такого боку я ще на історію не дивилася
September 8, 2021
The last time I read a book that was printed in handwriting was probably around the third grade, so I was not expecting it when I checked out Belonging. Each page is embellished with child-like drawings of people, flowers, buildings, and the like. Given the size of the handwriting and the space taken up by the drawings, though the book is 300 pages each page has the printed equivalent of only a paragraph or two of text. As a result, it can be read in one sitting.
I had expected it to be a more scholarly approach to how the Germans dealt with their Nazi past, but this is definitely not scholarly. It is a personal, almost diary-like examination of Nora Krug’s own history and her search to understand relatives who had been part of the Nazi regime. She herself is two generations removed from World War II; her parents were born after the war and she in 1977. For me the most interesting part of the book was the description of her childhood, growing up not fully understanding why some topics could not be discussed, and some words could be used only in reference to animals, never to people.
The rest of the book then follows a conventional Searching for Your Ancestors narrative. In particular, she was trying to understand the lives of her grandfather, who was a member of the Nazi party, and her uncle, who was in the Waffen-SS and only eighteen years old in 1944 when he died in combat in Italy. She talks to relatives and the men’s former friends and neighbors to try to connect with them, and searches archives for historical documents. There are some details on them to be found, but as with all books like this, the quest is ultimately self-defeating, since after all, how far can we ever get into the minds of others, not being immersed in their times and the context of their lives? There are no diaries or intimate letters to reveal their innermost thoughts, just faded memories and disjointed facts.
A theme that runs through the book is the unreliability of memory. This is probably especially true in Germany, where people want to distance themselves from the crimes of the Nazi regime, and any participation they might have had in them. For instance, hundreds gathered to watch the burning of the town synagogue, but later few would admit having been there, and even those were old people decades after the war who no longer had to fear any repercussions; the others all claimed that they had been “out in their fields” or doing something else when it happened.
The warped memories of the author’s own family are probably typical of how Germans dealt with their past. Some memories were suppressed, such as her grandfather’s membership in the Nazi party, which came as a “surprise” to her parents.
Other memories were twisted, perhaps to avoid shameful truths. Her grandfather claimed that he was ordered to join the Party because he owned a driving school in whose garage the Gauleiter, the regional party boss, parked his car. That seemed improbable to me, since the Nazi party claimed to represent society’s leaders; I doubt they forced their gardeners and servants to join. The money to start the driving school came from her grandfather’s former boss, who was Jewish, and who supposedly gave it to him as a gift before leaving town. Was it a gift, or payment to hide him from the Nazis, since there were other family memories of someone having hidden a Jew? Similarly, her grandmother had a milk business that was supposedly shut down by the Party in 1940, but it still showed up in the local phone books through 1944; was it just a printing error, or was there something about it they did not want to have to explain?
Similar questions hang over her uncle’s death. It is only when she finds the letter from his company commander informing the family that he had died that the reader learns he was in the Waffen-SS, and Ms. Krug makes no comment about it. Why the SS? Later she gives what sounded to me like another implausible explanation, that when he was inducted in the military he was told to just check the box that said SS. Although it seems likely that by the time of his induction in 1943 the Waffen-SS had relaxed its rigorous prewar admission standards, I found it hard to believe that acceptance would be simply a matter of checking the box on the form that said SS instead of the one that said Heer. The SS was accused of some terrible atrocities in Italy during the war, but she never identifies the unit to which he was attached, so there is no way to tell what actions he might have been involved in.
Of course, thinking about what parts of her family history may have been altered or concealed made me think about my own. When I look back on the stories I was told as a child I have to wonder how many of them were revised and edited. Certainly none of them included any disreputable or criminal behavior, except in the case of my father’s black sheep uncle.
This book has received glowing reviews and won awards. I found it interesting but not particularly illuminating about the lives of Germans under the Nazi regime. By the end I wasn’t sure what to believe, only that no one seemed to be telling the whole truth about their past, including the author. But then, as Pontius Pilate said, what is truth?
I had expected it to be a more scholarly approach to how the Germans dealt with their Nazi past, but this is definitely not scholarly. It is a personal, almost diary-like examination of Nora Krug’s own history and her search to understand relatives who had been part of the Nazi regime. She herself is two generations removed from World War II; her parents were born after the war and she in 1977. For me the most interesting part of the book was the description of her childhood, growing up not fully understanding why some topics could not be discussed, and some words could be used only in reference to animals, never to people.
The rest of the book then follows a conventional Searching for Your Ancestors narrative. In particular, she was trying to understand the lives of her grandfather, who was a member of the Nazi party, and her uncle, who was in the Waffen-SS and only eighteen years old in 1944 when he died in combat in Italy. She talks to relatives and the men’s former friends and neighbors to try to connect with them, and searches archives for historical documents. There are some details on them to be found, but as with all books like this, the quest is ultimately self-defeating, since after all, how far can we ever get into the minds of others, not being immersed in their times and the context of their lives? There are no diaries or intimate letters to reveal their innermost thoughts, just faded memories and disjointed facts.
A theme that runs through the book is the unreliability of memory. This is probably especially true in Germany, where people want to distance themselves from the crimes of the Nazi regime, and any participation they might have had in them. For instance, hundreds gathered to watch the burning of the town synagogue, but later few would admit having been there, and even those were old people decades after the war who no longer had to fear any repercussions; the others all claimed that they had been “out in their fields” or doing something else when it happened.
The warped memories of the author’s own family are probably typical of how Germans dealt with their past. Some memories were suppressed, such as her grandfather’s membership in the Nazi party, which came as a “surprise” to her parents.
Other memories were twisted, perhaps to avoid shameful truths. Her grandfather claimed that he was ordered to join the Party because he owned a driving school in whose garage the Gauleiter, the regional party boss, parked his car. That seemed improbable to me, since the Nazi party claimed to represent society’s leaders; I doubt they forced their gardeners and servants to join. The money to start the driving school came from her grandfather’s former boss, who was Jewish, and who supposedly gave it to him as a gift before leaving town. Was it a gift, or payment to hide him from the Nazis, since there were other family memories of someone having hidden a Jew? Similarly, her grandmother had a milk business that was supposedly shut down by the Party in 1940, but it still showed up in the local phone books through 1944; was it just a printing error, or was there something about it they did not want to have to explain?
Similar questions hang over her uncle’s death. It is only when she finds the letter from his company commander informing the family that he had died that the reader learns he was in the Waffen-SS, and Ms. Krug makes no comment about it. Why the SS? Later she gives what sounded to me like another implausible explanation, that when he was inducted in the military he was told to just check the box that said SS. Although it seems likely that by the time of his induction in 1943 the Waffen-SS had relaxed its rigorous prewar admission standards, I found it hard to believe that acceptance would be simply a matter of checking the box on the form that said SS instead of the one that said Heer. The SS was accused of some terrible atrocities in Italy during the war, but she never identifies the unit to which he was attached, so there is no way to tell what actions he might have been involved in.
Of course, thinking about what parts of her family history may have been altered or concealed made me think about my own. When I look back on the stories I was told as a child I have to wonder how many of them were revised and edited. Certainly none of them included any disreputable or criminal behavior, except in the case of my father’s black sheep uncle.
This book has received glowing reviews and won awards. I found it interesting but not particularly illuminating about the lives of Germans under the Nazi regime. By the end I wasn’t sure what to believe, only that no one seemed to be telling the whole truth about their past, including the author. But then, as Pontius Pilate said, what is truth?
September 27, 2019
4 1/2 ⭐️ A beautifully constructed memoir, with graphics that utilize hand-drawn panels, archival material, family photographs, and some surprising pieces of cultural paraphernalia. This is some stunning, painstakingly thorough and emotionally compromising visual storytelling, with a probing, worried narrative about family, personal and collective memory, personal and collective guilt, grief, the meaning of homeland, and much more – left me a lot to think about, especially in light of what’s going on in the world today.
October 20, 2024
Review of the German Kindle Edition (One Star)
You know I am getting absolutely and totally sick and tired of the ridiculous and massively disrespectful for readers fact of the matter (and in particular so for those of us with less than so-called twenty/twenty vision or if we have issues with visual contrast) that in particular with regard to Kindle editions of books that rely equally heavily on both text and images (such as picture books and graphic novels), the general e-book format and set-up is far far too often annoyingly substandard and massively uncomfortable on the eyes and as such of course also difficult to adequately and with ease peruse. And indeed, this usually leaves me actively and with increasing anger cursing the ridiculously minuscule texts, the often blurry accompanying illustrations and that in order to even be able to sufficiently understand what I am supposed to be reading, I am usually having to zoom in on every single page (something that is usually not all that huge a deal if I need to use the zoom function only very occasionally with an electronic book, but if this becomes necessary for the WHOLE AND ENTIRE tome, I do now increasingly tend to react not only with major negativity, I also very quickly become so frustrated, and with so much discomfort for and to my ageing eyes, that I usually decide to abandon and often even permanently delete the offending Kindle edition in question, but bien sûr, if the contents still sufficiently interest me, to then try to obtain a traditional hardcover or paperback version of the respective book).
And yes, the above has precisely and absolutely been the case for me with the Kindle edition of Nora Krug’s 2018 graphic novel Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum. For even though the contents of what I did manage to read through do definitely and indeed feel very much personally relatable (and that Krug’s illustrations for Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum although not really personal favourites also seem to visually correspond very interestingly and even sometimes rather spectacularly to her words), that much of the guilt the author as a German born in 1977 has felt and keeps feeling about WWII and the Holocaust also mirrors my own attitude and experiences as a German born only ten years earlier, and not to mention that many of the uncomfortable questions (with usually no adequate answers) Nora Krug kept asking at school and at home are also often akin and alike to my own life, sorry, but I still have had to give up after about a hundred pages. Because with Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum being over 270 pages in length, I just could not imagine, I just could not accept having to read every single page by clicking and focussing, zooming in on each of the pages removed and separately (and even then still finding the size of the words much much too tiny, massively headache inducing, and Nora Krug’s artwork blurry and wishy-washy). And thus, I am most definitely and also most gladly going to no longer be continuing reading the Kindle edition of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum and will be trying to obtain the book as a hardcover or softcover instead.
But please do note and realise that my one star rating is in fact ONLY regarding the annoyingly horrible, generally unreadable for my eyes Kindle format, and indeed that once I do manage to obtain Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum in a traditional dead tree format, I certainly will be rereading (or rather continuing with) Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum and I will of course also post my perusal be posting another review specifically focussing on Nora Krug’s presented narrative and on how her illustrations work presenting her life and and her feelings as a German born post WWII.
Review of the German Hardcover Edition (Five Stars)
So after finally obtaining a hardcover copy of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum (which was sadly kind of difficult and expensive), I do now totally and fully understand as well as appreciate why Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum has garnered such high ratings from many of my Goodreads friends and actually in general (and that my one star rating for the Kindle edition of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum truly is JUST for the Kindle edition and how it is set up, but that I also hugely and utterly stand by that one star rating and will keep it in my review, not to mention that the Kindle editions of the English language translations of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum most likely will exhibit the same issues, the same annoyances as the German one does). And just to say that Nora Krug (and just like me for that matter) is obviously too young to have ANY memories of the Nazi era (she was born in 1977 in Germany while I was born in 1966 in Germany) and that Krug's parents like my parents also have nothing to do with Nazi Germany per se as well (my father was seven years old when WWII ended, my mother was five and Nora Krug's parents were actually born post WWII). And yet, Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum both textually and illustratively demonstrates how the author/illustrator, how Krug (and indeed very much mirroring me) always seems to feels uncomfortably drawn to what happened during WWII, during the Third Reich, how she needs information and closure regarding the Holocaust, Adolf Hitler etc. and with Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum thus presenting a both wonderful and also painfully uncomfortable search for identity that also risks feelings of guilt and shame (and with Nora Krug's parents seemingly not knowing much about their familial Nazi ties or to be inquisitive about learning more either, and well, this has also been pretty much my own experience asking both my parents and their siblings and even more so older family members like my grandparents and my grandparents' cousins about WWII, either receiving an answer of I do not know or I do not want to talk about this and please shut up and keep quiet).
A graphic novel that I am glad to have read and experienced is Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum, painful, not particularly pleasurable but indeed important, necessary and emotionally wrenching in a very good and also positive manner (and I certainly and also find Nora Krug feeling stigmatised by some of the rather ridiculous and common German stereotypes totally relatable, how people in Canada, the United Kingdom etc. and even close friends for example often expect me to be meticulously organised and "Prussian" and consider this being rather funny if this is actually the case for certain aspects of my personality but then will twit me and actually consider me somehow a bad and even an insufficient German if I am sloppy, not on time and forgetful). Therefore and indeed, what Nora Krug writes and illustrates in Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum is a marvellous combination of narrative and pictures that is intensely autobiographical, is deeply personal, moving, enlightening and a graphic novel I would most definitely highly recommend (but most definitely NOT as a Kindle, and I also have NOT read the English language translations of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum so that I cannot and will not say anything specific about Heimat: A German Family Album or Belonging: A German Reckons with History and Home, but I would assume that contents and thematics wise, the translations would probably mirror the original German and vice versa).
Combined Rating for the German Kindle and the German Hardcover Editions (Three Stars)
And just to point out that because I am showing my original August 2021 one star review regarding the atrocious format for Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum as an e-book on the same page as my current October 2024 five star review for the hardcover edition of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum, my combined rating for both books will be therefore be three stars, although yes, I do most definitely think that Nora Krug's text and her illustrations for Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum are totally and absolutely solidly and gloriously five stars.
You know I am getting absolutely and totally sick and tired of the ridiculous and massively disrespectful for readers fact of the matter (and in particular so for those of us with less than so-called twenty/twenty vision or if we have issues with visual contrast) that in particular with regard to Kindle editions of books that rely equally heavily on both text and images (such as picture books and graphic novels), the general e-book format and set-up is far far too often annoyingly substandard and massively uncomfortable on the eyes and as such of course also difficult to adequately and with ease peruse. And indeed, this usually leaves me actively and with increasing anger cursing the ridiculously minuscule texts, the often blurry accompanying illustrations and that in order to even be able to sufficiently understand what I am supposed to be reading, I am usually having to zoom in on every single page (something that is usually not all that huge a deal if I need to use the zoom function only very occasionally with an electronic book, but if this becomes necessary for the WHOLE AND ENTIRE tome, I do now increasingly tend to react not only with major negativity, I also very quickly become so frustrated, and with so much discomfort for and to my ageing eyes, that I usually decide to abandon and often even permanently delete the offending Kindle edition in question, but bien sûr, if the contents still sufficiently interest me, to then try to obtain a traditional hardcover or paperback version of the respective book).
And yes, the above has precisely and absolutely been the case for me with the Kindle edition of Nora Krug’s 2018 graphic novel Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum. For even though the contents of what I did manage to read through do definitely and indeed feel very much personally relatable (and that Krug’s illustrations for Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum although not really personal favourites also seem to visually correspond very interestingly and even sometimes rather spectacularly to her words), that much of the guilt the author as a German born in 1977 has felt and keeps feeling about WWII and the Holocaust also mirrors my own attitude and experiences as a German born only ten years earlier, and not to mention that many of the uncomfortable questions (with usually no adequate answers) Nora Krug kept asking at school and at home are also often akin and alike to my own life, sorry, but I still have had to give up after about a hundred pages. Because with Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum being over 270 pages in length, I just could not imagine, I just could not accept having to read every single page by clicking and focussing, zooming in on each of the pages removed and separately (and even then still finding the size of the words much much too tiny, massively headache inducing, and Nora Krug’s artwork blurry and wishy-washy). And thus, I am most definitely and also most gladly going to no longer be continuing reading the Kindle edition of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum and will be trying to obtain the book as a hardcover or softcover instead.
But please do note and realise that my one star rating is in fact ONLY regarding the annoyingly horrible, generally unreadable for my eyes Kindle format, and indeed that once I do manage to obtain Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum in a traditional dead tree format, I certainly will be rereading (or rather continuing with) Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum and I will of course also post my perusal be posting another review specifically focussing on Nora Krug’s presented narrative and on how her illustrations work presenting her life and and her feelings as a German born post WWII.
Review of the German Hardcover Edition (Five Stars)
So after finally obtaining a hardcover copy of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum (which was sadly kind of difficult and expensive), I do now totally and fully understand as well as appreciate why Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum has garnered such high ratings from many of my Goodreads friends and actually in general (and that my one star rating for the Kindle edition of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum truly is JUST for the Kindle edition and how it is set up, but that I also hugely and utterly stand by that one star rating and will keep it in my review, not to mention that the Kindle editions of the English language translations of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum most likely will exhibit the same issues, the same annoyances as the German one does). And just to say that Nora Krug (and just like me for that matter) is obviously too young to have ANY memories of the Nazi era (she was born in 1977 in Germany while I was born in 1966 in Germany) and that Krug's parents like my parents also have nothing to do with Nazi Germany per se as well (my father was seven years old when WWII ended, my mother was five and Nora Krug's parents were actually born post WWII). And yet, Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum both textually and illustratively demonstrates how the author/illustrator, how Krug (and indeed very much mirroring me) always seems to feels uncomfortably drawn to what happened during WWII, during the Third Reich, how she needs information and closure regarding the Holocaust, Adolf Hitler etc. and with Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum thus presenting a both wonderful and also painfully uncomfortable search for identity that also risks feelings of guilt and shame (and with Nora Krug's parents seemingly not knowing much about their familial Nazi ties or to be inquisitive about learning more either, and well, this has also been pretty much my own experience asking both my parents and their siblings and even more so older family members like my grandparents and my grandparents' cousins about WWII, either receiving an answer of I do not know or I do not want to talk about this and please shut up and keep quiet).
A graphic novel that I am glad to have read and experienced is Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum, painful, not particularly pleasurable but indeed important, necessary and emotionally wrenching in a very good and also positive manner (and I certainly and also find Nora Krug feeling stigmatised by some of the rather ridiculous and common German stereotypes totally relatable, how people in Canada, the United Kingdom etc. and even close friends for example often expect me to be meticulously organised and "Prussian" and consider this being rather funny if this is actually the case for certain aspects of my personality but then will twit me and actually consider me somehow a bad and even an insufficient German if I am sloppy, not on time and forgetful). Therefore and indeed, what Nora Krug writes and illustrates in Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum is a marvellous combination of narrative and pictures that is intensely autobiographical, is deeply personal, moving, enlightening and a graphic novel I would most definitely highly recommend (but most definitely NOT as a Kindle, and I also have NOT read the English language translations of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum so that I cannot and will not say anything specific about Heimat: A German Family Album or Belonging: A German Reckons with History and Home, but I would assume that contents and thematics wise, the translations would probably mirror the original German and vice versa).
Combined Rating for the German Kindle and the German Hardcover Editions (Three Stars)
And just to point out that because I am showing my original August 2021 one star review regarding the atrocious format for Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum as an e-book on the same page as my current October 2024 five star review for the hardcover edition of Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum, my combined rating for both books will be therefore be three stars, although yes, I do most definitely think that Nora Krug's text and her illustrations for Heimat: Ein deutsches Familienalbum are totally and absolutely solidly and gloriously five stars.
October 26, 2019
Are we responsible for the sins of our parents?
It's an idea that has helped bankroll many religions, including Christianity, which tells us that thanks to "original sin" (Adam and Eve's initial act of eating those bad apples) we all now need salvation.
It's also a belief that fuels much of "woke" culture today, that because of slavery, because of the massacre of the Native Americans (and other horrible crimes), the descendants of white Europeans owe a debt, and not just a financial debt, to the descendants of those slaves and various indigenous peoples who were murdered or cast off their land.
What price needs to be paid? Should there be reparations for slavery? Do policies like affirmative action help lighten this "white man's burden"? Is it righting past wrongs when Native Americans are able to attend college and university tuition free while others are buried up to their ears in debt?
Whether or not we are responsible for the sins of past generations is a fascinating question, one that in our increasingly trivialized culture sees people shouting from the extremes on both sides.
But how far down our family trees does our guilt extend? For the actions of which ancestors are we responsible? Does time bury guilt, or will we all one day find ourselves united in our shame while our ancestors' crimes are excavated for all to see?
This is, in essence, the question that Nora Krug is wrestling with in "Belonging". How should she "reckon with" her history and home?
This is a wonderful, beautiful book that tackles these questions in perhaps the best way — by illustrating them, literally. Each and every page in "Belonging" is wonderfully illustrated. This is part graphic novel, part scrapbook, part photo album. It reads like a novel and like a philosophical treatise. Like an investigative report and like the front page of the paper.
It is so many things all in one. Its unique style reminded me at times of Marcus Zusak's The Book Thief as well as W.G. Sebald's Austerlitz. Indeed, Krug cites Sebald's On the Natural History of Destruction as a selected source in the back of her book. The way that Nora Krug uses images to conjure the past is positively Sebaldian, and I think Krug does his oft-used technique justice here.
Towards the end of her book and investigation into her maternal grandfather's activities during WWII, Krug ruminates on which outcome would be preferable. Would she rather discover that her father actively opposed the Nazis, even going so far as to hide a Jewish man in his shed?
"Or would it be easier to navigate my shame if I had been able to prove his guilt, if I had learned that he had been a Nazi through and through, without the shadow of a doubt?"
There is something in the way Krug posits this question that feels familiar, even to those of us relatively confident that we don't have Nazis lurking in our bloodlines. It's that desire to both worship our fathers, to see them as heroes, and to hate them, to loathe them and to love loathing them because it's far easier to reject someone we don't respect and don't have to answer to than it is to live up to the heroic expectations of the revered. It is all too easy to blame our faults on parents who were Nazis — even metaphorical Nazis — than to cast about for someone to blame for our shortcomings but coming back only to ourselves.
One thing most people can agree on is that the way the majority of Germans have reacted to the atrocities of the Second World War should serve as a model for the rest of us. But where is the line between "making sure it can't happen again" and feeling nothing but shame for your country, your heritage, your family, for things that happened before you were even born?
When does shame end?
It's an idea that has helped bankroll many religions, including Christianity, which tells us that thanks to "original sin" (Adam and Eve's initial act of eating those bad apples) we all now need salvation.
It's also a belief that fuels much of "woke" culture today, that because of slavery, because of the massacre of the Native Americans (and other horrible crimes), the descendants of white Europeans owe a debt, and not just a financial debt, to the descendants of those slaves and various indigenous peoples who were murdered or cast off their land.
What price needs to be paid? Should there be reparations for slavery? Do policies like affirmative action help lighten this "white man's burden"? Is it righting past wrongs when Native Americans are able to attend college and university tuition free while others are buried up to their ears in debt?
Whether or not we are responsible for the sins of past generations is a fascinating question, one that in our increasingly trivialized culture sees people shouting from the extremes on both sides.
But how far down our family trees does our guilt extend? For the actions of which ancestors are we responsible? Does time bury guilt, or will we all one day find ourselves united in our shame while our ancestors' crimes are excavated for all to see?
This is, in essence, the question that Nora Krug is wrestling with in "Belonging". How should she "reckon with" her history and home?
This is a wonderful, beautiful book that tackles these questions in perhaps the best way — by illustrating them, literally. Each and every page in "Belonging" is wonderfully illustrated. This is part graphic novel, part scrapbook, part photo album. It reads like a novel and like a philosophical treatise. Like an investigative report and like the front page of the paper.
It is so many things all in one. Its unique style reminded me at times of Marcus Zusak's The Book Thief as well as W.G. Sebald's Austerlitz. Indeed, Krug cites Sebald's On the Natural History of Destruction as a selected source in the back of her book. The way that Nora Krug uses images to conjure the past is positively Sebaldian, and I think Krug does his oft-used technique justice here.
Towards the end of her book and investigation into her maternal grandfather's activities during WWII, Krug ruminates on which outcome would be preferable. Would she rather discover that her father actively opposed the Nazis, even going so far as to hide a Jewish man in his shed?
"Or would it be easier to navigate my shame if I had been able to prove his guilt, if I had learned that he had been a Nazi through and through, without the shadow of a doubt?"
There is something in the way Krug posits this question that feels familiar, even to those of us relatively confident that we don't have Nazis lurking in our bloodlines. It's that desire to both worship our fathers, to see them as heroes, and to hate them, to loathe them and to love loathing them because it's far easier to reject someone we don't respect and don't have to answer to than it is to live up to the heroic expectations of the revered. It is all too easy to blame our faults on parents who were Nazis — even metaphorical Nazis — than to cast about for someone to blame for our shortcomings but coming back only to ourselves.
One thing most people can agree on is that the way the majority of Germans have reacted to the atrocities of the Second World War should serve as a model for the rest of us. But where is the line between "making sure it can't happen again" and feeling nothing but shame for your country, your heritage, your family, for things that happened before you were even born?
When does shame end?
August 10, 2021
Forma pakenčiama, bet idėja sunervino. Toks narciziškas darymas aukos iš savęs ir heroinių jausenų iš savo kaltės pergyvenimų, iš tėvynės "netekimo" ir ypač iš baimės, kad o jeigu vis dėlto... senelis ar dėdė prisidėjo prie nacių. Šiaip jau ŽIAURIAI gėda už nacius, nesvarbu, kokios jie tautos ir giminės - mano ar ne mano; gėda kaip už žmones. Tiesiog gėda, kad žmogaus protas pajėgus pateisinti tokio lygio kito žmogaus pažeminimą ir kankinimą, ir ar tie žmonės buvo seneliai ar dėdės, ar nebuvo - čia, atsiprašau, penktaeilis klausimas. O taip, seneliai iš tiesų gali būti siaubingi žmonės (net ir naciais nebūdami): būna senelių žudikų, senelių pedofilų, senelių chroniškų kleptomanų, jau nekalbant apie tradicinius alkoholikus, tinginius ir tiesiog nemokšas. Kodėl senelis turi būti Tas Manasis Senelis, o dėdė tai jau būtinai Tas Herojus Mano Dėdė, to niekad nesupratau ir nesuprasiu. Kolektyvinė kaltė nėra šiaip jau skausmas dėl to, kad mano giminė, pasirodo, buvo neheroiška. Kolektyvinė kaltė jaučiama tada, kai gėda tas pačias sąvokas vartoti, tomis pačiomis kategorijomis galvoti ir tomis pačiomis teorijomis žaisti/ tikėti, kokiomis žaidė ir tikėjo tie, kurie gana šlykščiai istorijoje atrodo.
July 7, 2021
I enjoyed the art and I liked parts of this "looking for the nazi past of my family" style memoir, but a lot of times I really did not like the writing style at all. It felt very amateurish and cheapened the book for me. More than the writing style, I just grapple with these kind of books in general. There is something so "woe is me" about them. I understand this is a personal and emotional story for Krug, but I always think: Well, your story is not really the one most worth telling here, is it? What do I care if a random man was in the NSDAP or not, just because he's your grandfather? There's always something so extremely self-important and navel-gazing about these kind of books, that really rubs me the wrong way and I find it hard to articulate. Because I do think Krug and others are allowed to talk about their complicated feelings about their family history, of course. Maybe I just need to avoid these kind of books and recognize that they, as a genre, just aren't my thing.
March 23, 2019
Intrigerend boek, zit erg goed in elkaar en beantwoordt de vraag die ik mijzelf vaak stelde: 'Hoe voelt het (of kan het voelen, want één verhaal maakt niet alle verhalen) om na zo'n allesvernietigende oorlog Duits te zijn.' Nora Krug geboren in 1977, Karlsruhe, haar ouders net na de oorlog en ze is getrouwd met een joodse man. De tweede wereldoorlog hing als een grote stilzwijgende schaduw over haar jeugd en leven. Ze had vragen, ze voelde schaamte, ze had problemen met haar identiteit. Na jaren gaat ze op onderzoek uit om meer te weten te komen over haar eigen familie, op zoek naar antwoorden. Het leverde een prachtige graphic novel op. Op zijn breedst, want het is onderzoeksjournalistiek in een graphic novel jas, ze maakt daarbij gebruik van brieven, foto's, oude schoolschriften, archiefmateriaal en spullen van de rommelmarkt. Dat ze oorspronkelijk een opleiding tot documentaire maakster heeft gedaan aan het Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts is goed te zien. Erg mooi en goed gedaan.
Het blijft belangrijk om over na te denken, wie zijn wij als mens in tijden van oorlog. Misschien is dat wel het allermoeilijkste om onder ogen te zien. Hoe graag we ook moedig en wilskrachtig willen zijn, als het erop aankomt is het vaak de angst aan de ene kant en de macht aan de andere die regeert. We zijn vele kleine radertjes en we hebben elkaar ook nodig om in opstand te komen, maar ook dan is er het gevaar van de massa en het de kunst om bij jezelf te blijven. Bij jezelf blijven is geregeld een eenzame actie.
Het blijft belangrijk om over na te denken, wie zijn wij als mens in tijden van oorlog. Misschien is dat wel het allermoeilijkste om onder ogen te zien. Hoe graag we ook moedig en wilskrachtig willen zijn, als het erop aankomt is het vaak de angst aan de ene kant en de macht aan de andere die regeert. We zijn vele kleine radertjes en we hebben elkaar ook nodig om in opstand te komen, maar ook dan is er het gevaar van de massa en het de kunst om bij jezelf te blijven. Bij jezelf blijven is geregeld een eenzame actie.
March 25, 2019
This graphic memoir is a mix of text, illustrations, photographs, and art. It's not an easy read, but is well worth the time it takes to do so.
How many of us really think about the history of our cultures, or country, or of how much we benefited or lost due to events that occured before we were born? This German author is born after the fall of the Nazi regime, but how does one grapple with the legacy of the Holocaust and its unspeakable atrocities?
I remember once working with a German of a similar age, who refused to talk about the topic at all. She wouldn't even my answer questions about what they taught in school about WW2. She felt that it was all in the past and that's where it deserved to stay.
Unlike my one time co-worker, the author takes a deep dive into learning more about her family, and what their connections/actions were before, during, and after the war. It is an exploration of one's roots, and guilt, and lack of cultural belonging to a nation that you were born in. There were sections that could have used tighter editing, but overall I found it to be a thought provoking read.
I really liked how all the material uncovered is presented. The mixed media variety added to the overall charm of this book. There is only so much one can know for sure about one's ancestors, but I appreciated this honest and conflicted personal look into a dark time in history.
How many of us really think about the history of our cultures, or country, or of how much we benefited or lost due to events that occured before we were born? This German author is born after the fall of the Nazi regime, but how does one grapple with the legacy of the Holocaust and its unspeakable atrocities?
I remember once working with a German of a similar age, who refused to talk about the topic at all. She wouldn't even my answer questions about what they taught in school about WW2. She felt that it was all in the past and that's where it deserved to stay.
Unlike my one time co-worker, the author takes a deep dive into learning more about her family, and what their connections/actions were before, during, and after the war. It is an exploration of one's roots, and guilt, and lack of cultural belonging to a nation that you were born in. There were sections that could have used tighter editing, but overall I found it to be a thought provoking read.
I really liked how all the material uncovered is presented. The mixed media variety added to the overall charm of this book. There is only so much one can know for sure about one's ancestors, but I appreciated this honest and conflicted personal look into a dark time in history.
February 21, 2021
Потужне дослідження у форматі графічного роману про пам'ять, забування, історію як сукупність безкінечних локальних історій (як правило сімейних, а отже сповнених різних таємниць), травму. Читаєш і постійно рефлексуєш, паралельно розглядаючи артефакти, світлини, рисунки, записи й усе інше, що могли би подолати відчуття провини німців (і водночас усього людства) за скоєне.
Місцями графічний роман (хоча чи доречний цей термін тут? я б усе ж послуговувався мемуарним мальописом чи щось таке, але й це недостатньо вичерпне позначення) вкрай переповнений текстом, тому візуальна складова втрачає свій наративний потенціал, а більше стає супроводом, ілюстрацією. От чисто мальописна складова не така й часта тут, вона складає чи не десяту частину усього цього візуального полотна.
Утім, а яка різниця? Авторське бачення (ба більше, глибоке переживання на межі постійних сумнівів і домислів) щодо провини німців переважає усілякі понятійні й жанрові умовності, тому повністю засмоктує у свій розгалуджений світ. Незвичний, дуже персоналізований погляд на Голокост справді вирізняє роботу Круґ з-поміж інших графічних мемуарів, заслужено робить цей експериментальний продукт чи не обов'язковим для вивчення у школах і університетах.
Місцями графічний роман (хоча чи доречний цей термін тут? я б усе ж послуговувався мемуарним мальописом чи щось таке, але й це недостатньо вичерпне позначення) вкрай переповнений текстом, тому візуальна складова втрачає свій наративний потенціал, а більше стає супроводом, ілюстрацією. От чисто мальописна складова не така й часта тут, вона складає чи не десяту частину усього цього візуального полотна.
Утім, а яка різниця? Авторське бачення (ба більше, глибоке переживання на межі постійних сумнівів і домислів) щодо провини німців переважає усілякі понятійні й жанрові умовності, тому повністю засмоктує у свій розгалуджений світ. Незвичний, дуже персоналізований погляд на Голокост справді вирізняє роботу Круґ з-поміж інших графічних мемуарів, заслужено робить цей експериментальний продукт чи не обов'язковим для вивчення у школах і університетах.
February 19, 2020
When I was in university way back when, I was very interested in the work of historians who focus on memory and what we do collectively with the past, the stories we choose to tell (or not), what we choose to memorialize (or not). It was especially impressive and fascinating that the Germans had developed and engaged extensively with a concept/process of Vergangenheitsbewältigung, loosely translated as 'coming to terms with,' 'working through' or 'overcoming' the past, in light of course of their own terrible past. So I was excited to come across this graphic memoir by Nora Krug, a German living in New York, which engages in its own working through of the past. It's beautifully rendered - gorgeous art, fascinating collages - and thoughtfully depicts Krug's own efforts to delve into what really went on during the Nazi regime in her family, her town, her country. Not relevant only to Germans, but to all those of us without unblemished collective histories.
July 21, 2019
This is a story in a graphic novel format about a German woman’s family during World War II, and her reckoning with her family’s past, as well as her feelings about Germany. I love graphic novels and whenever we visit a good bookstore they’re often the books that I go searching for first. I really wanted to love this one. The artwork and scrapbook-type design are splendid. The overall content however, wasn’t my favorite. I felt that it was slightly lacking in emotion, and the book dragged a bit.
December 8, 2020
“¿Cómo vas a saber quién eres si no sabes de dónde vienes?”, se pregunta Nora Krug en el primer capítulo de este cómic llamado ‘Heimat’, el término alemán que significa ‘Patria’. Y eso es lo que la autora se propone: llevar a cabo un complejo y doloroso viaje hacia el pasado. El pasado de ella misma, el de su familia y el de su país. Y en ese viaje quiere entender cómo Alemania (y los alemanes) pudieron seguir adelante después de que sucediera lo que sucedió.
Krug usa multitud de medios gráficos para contar su compleja historia: de árboles genealógicos a transcripciones de documentales, de fotografías de su adolescencia a retratos familiares de principios de siglo, de viñetas con bocadillos a postales antiguas. Y con esta enorme variedad de voces crea un coro: un coro de voces destempladas y discordantes que al sonar de forma conjunta construyen la historia de un siglo y de un país.
El libro profundiza en el concepto de la culpa heredada: los sentimientos con los que cargan las generaciones nacidas después del Holocausto. La autora reflexiona sobre cómo esos sentimientos han marcado su percepción de su entorno, pero también cómo se la percibe a ella fuera del mismo. Cada interacción con un judío, muchas palabras contundentes de su propio idioma, la fama de sus compatriotas fuera de sus fronteras e incluso gestos físicos despiertan en la autora un malestar con el que es capaz de convivir pero que nunca olvida.
‘Heimat’ es un trabajo de investigación con gran variedad de fuentes orales y documentales expuestas con una finalidad más informativa que literaria. La obsesión de la autora por tratar de descubrir cómo de involucrado estaba su abuelo con el nazismo se convierte también en una preocupación que acaba afectando al lector. Quizás me hubiese gustado que la voz de la narradora estuviera más presente y que no se fuese por otras ramas familiares que distraen un poco de la historia principal, pero eso no le resta ningún valor a este libro que me parece una obra magnífica en forma y contenido y que, inevitablemente, conversa de tú a tú -aunque enfocando la mirada en otros asuntos- con el archiconocido ‘Maus’ de Art Spiegelman.
Krug usa multitud de medios gráficos para contar su compleja historia: de árboles genealógicos a transcripciones de documentales, de fotografías de su adolescencia a retratos familiares de principios de siglo, de viñetas con bocadillos a postales antiguas. Y con esta enorme variedad de voces crea un coro: un coro de voces destempladas y discordantes que al sonar de forma conjunta construyen la historia de un siglo y de un país.
El libro profundiza en el concepto de la culpa heredada: los sentimientos con los que cargan las generaciones nacidas después del Holocausto. La autora reflexiona sobre cómo esos sentimientos han marcado su percepción de su entorno, pero también cómo se la percibe a ella fuera del mismo. Cada interacción con un judío, muchas palabras contundentes de su propio idioma, la fama de sus compatriotas fuera de sus fronteras e incluso gestos físicos despiertan en la autora un malestar con el que es capaz de convivir pero que nunca olvida.
‘Heimat’ es un trabajo de investigación con gran variedad de fuentes orales y documentales expuestas con una finalidad más informativa que literaria. La obsesión de la autora por tratar de descubrir cómo de involucrado estaba su abuelo con el nazismo se convierte también en una preocupación que acaba afectando al lector. Quizás me hubiese gustado que la voz de la narradora estuviera más presente y que no se fuese por otras ramas familiares que distraen un poco de la historia principal, pero eso no le resta ningún valor a este libro que me parece una obra magnífica en forma y contenido y que, inevitablemente, conversa de tú a tú -aunque enfocando la mirada en otros asuntos- con el archiconocido ‘Maus’ de Art Spiegelman.
July 5, 2021
Buvo Vasaros skaitykloje, pasiėmiau ir per porą valandų perskaičiau.
Nora ieško atsakymo į klausimą, kur buvo artimieji II pasaulinio karo metu - ką jie veikė, kuo užsiėmė, ar galėjo būti prisidėję prie nacių nusikaltimų? Sunkūs klausimai, kadangi galintys atsakyti už save jau mirę, o jų vaikai ne viską žino, nes ne apie viską kalbėtasi. Visoje istorijoje daug kaltės, nutylėjimų ir baimės, kas bus, jei išteisinimo ar pateisinimo nerasi.
Perskaičiusi pagalvojau, kad labai sunku turėtų būti atsakyti sau, ką tu veikei, kai blogis vyko, net jei ir atrodo, kad šiaip jau buvai iš viso ne prie ko. Neseniai skaičiau apie nužudytus Platelių žydus - mano babytė, kuri kilusi iš tų kraštų, apie žudynes niekad nėra nieko pasakius, nors apskritai apie karo patirtis (jo metu buvo paauglė) pasakodavo. Nematė? Nežinojo? Ar nematė reikalo prisiminti? Nežinau ir nebepaklausiu.
Nora ieško atsakymo į klausimą, kur buvo artimieji II pasaulinio karo metu - ką jie veikė, kuo užsiėmė, ar galėjo būti prisidėję prie nacių nusikaltimų? Sunkūs klausimai, kadangi galintys atsakyti už save jau mirę, o jų vaikai ne viską žino, nes ne apie viską kalbėtasi. Visoje istorijoje daug kaltės, nutylėjimų ir baimės, kas bus, jei išteisinimo ar pateisinimo nerasi.
Perskaičiusi pagalvojau, kad labai sunku turėtų būti atsakyti sau, ką tu veikei, kai blogis vyko, net jei ir atrodo, kad šiaip jau buvai iš viso ne prie ko. Neseniai skaičiau apie nužudytus Platelių žydus - mano babytė, kuri kilusi iš tų kraštų, apie žudynes niekad nėra nieko pasakius, nors apskritai apie karo patirtis (jo metu buvo paauglė) pasakodavo. Nematė? Nežinojo? Ar nematė reikalo prisiminti? Nežinau ir nebepaklausiu.
July 17, 2018
In "The Germans" episode of Fawlty Towers, Basil is told not to mention the war, but he does, frequently, until the guest break out in tears. At the time, I thought it odd that the germans would be upset about it. As Basil said, they started it.
I bring this up, because the author of this story, is one such German, who knows about the war, but it is not talked about, though her father's older brother fought and died in World War II. This memoir of how she doesn't feel that she has a home in her former homeland, and how she goes in search of what her family did in the war, and what happened to them.
There has been a sense of guilt she has felt, from her homeland, and she finds it follows her abroad.
It is an amazing book. When the Americans came and saw what had happened in the concentration camps, they forced the citizens to not only look on the dead, but to transport them and give them decent burials.
And so, with this background, and the feeling of shame, the author goes in search of the uncle that died int he war, as well as her grandfather. She wants to know if her family really was evil. Did they support Hitler, of were they sheep, just followers.
She goes and talks to relatives still living in Germany, and finds source documents, to find the story of those that came before her.
It is a long and interesting journey, and one that is part speculation.
But the depth that she goes to, in her search, is amazing. What a fanstastic, book, going into the heart and soul of the survivors.
Thanks to Netgalley for making this book available for an honest review.
I bring this up, because the author of this story, is one such German, who knows about the war, but it is not talked about, though her father's older brother fought and died in World War II. This memoir of how she doesn't feel that she has a home in her former homeland, and how she goes in search of what her family did in the war, and what happened to them.
There has been a sense of guilt she has felt, from her homeland, and she finds it follows her abroad.
It is an amazing book. When the Americans came and saw what had happened in the concentration camps, they forced the citizens to not only look on the dead, but to transport them and give them decent burials.
And so, with this background, and the feeling of shame, the author goes in search of the uncle that died int he war, as well as her grandfather. She wants to know if her family really was evil. Did they support Hitler, of were they sheep, just followers.
She goes and talks to relatives still living in Germany, and finds source documents, to find the story of those that came before her.
It is a long and interesting journey, and one that is part speculation.
But the depth that she goes to, in her search, is amazing. What a fanstastic, book, going into the heart and soul of the survivors.
Thanks to Netgalley for making this book available for an honest review.
August 12, 2019
Too many people build a family tree of names and dates or get their DNA print out and consider their quest done. Nora Krug does the hard research and bravely reaches into her family history. This is recent history: only two generations past. How did her grandparents, uncles and aunts react to the Nazi’s? How deeply were they into Nazi dogma.
Krug visits and interviews relatives. Some are hard to face given the family history. She visits sites, archives and government offices. She sends out letters and makes cold calls. She examines family photos and tries to imagine the people. The result is a very personal story.
These are real people, so their stories are not simple. What really happened with her grandfather and his Jewish employer? What of her young uncle who died in the war and how did it relate to her father being cast out on his own? Did her family participate in the burning of the town’s synagogue or the drowning of a Jew in the town’s fountain? Each piece of research poses more questions.
Through this story you can see how Nazism took over a small town. You see the violence and how those in control intimidated people. You also see how the post-war de-Nazification took place. Uniforms were dyed; badges removed; insignias scratched off of photos. The author, true to the art form of the book, shows how her grandfather answered questions on his involvement with the Nazi party and with the war.
The book has to be seen to be appreciated. The selection of the color scheme, type, page layout and paper (its weight and texture), to say nothing of the elegant drawings, are worthy of book design awards.
Not only is a beautiful book to look at, it reads like a poem.
Krug visits and interviews relatives. Some are hard to face given the family history. She visits sites, archives and government offices. She sends out letters and makes cold calls. She examines family photos and tries to imagine the people. The result is a very personal story.
These are real people, so their stories are not simple. What really happened with her grandfather and his Jewish employer? What of her young uncle who died in the war and how did it relate to her father being cast out on his own? Did her family participate in the burning of the town’s synagogue or the drowning of a Jew in the town’s fountain? Each piece of research poses more questions.
Through this story you can see how Nazism took over a small town. You see the violence and how those in control intimidated people. You also see how the post-war de-Nazification took place. Uniforms were dyed; badges removed; insignias scratched off of photos. The author, true to the art form of the book, shows how her grandfather answered questions on his involvement with the Nazi party and with the war.
The book has to be seen to be appreciated. The selection of the color scheme, type, page layout and paper (its weight and texture), to say nothing of the elegant drawings, are worthy of book design awards.
Not only is a beautiful book to look at, it reads like a poem.
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