The Puppet Boy of Warsaw: A compelling, epic journey of survival and hope

by Eva Weaver

The streets were lined with Christian Poles, watching our exodus with curiosity or pity, and some with that particular grin the Germans call Schadenfreude: joy at the expense of others, less fortunate souls like ourselves.

Sometimes, when the wind was blowing in a particular direction, we heard the tinkling of the merry-go-round on Krasinski Square on the Aryan side. Round and round it went, with its jolly melodies, carrying Polish children while we continued our last fight amid thick smoke, fire, and the sound of gunshots. Did those people who put their children on horses and elephants have no shame, no compassion, no conscience? How could the carousel still turn when for us everything had ended? Their indifference to our struggle was the worst insult.

As lonely as Mara may have been, she loved the company of books: their smell and weight, and the way each one, once opened, carried a whole world inside itself.