They Went Left

Memory and Trauma continues to function as a pivotal and recurring theme through Zofia’s grappling with her unreliable memory. She ponders whether ignorance is sometimes a safer option than knowing a terrible reality, which relates to her unconscious suppression of her memory of the deaths of her family. Zofia ponders: “What’s the line between the amount of information that brings hope and the amount that brings despair?” This question alludes to the fact that Zofia is choosing hope over the despair of remembering. She further wonders, “Do you choose comfort or fantasy? Or do you choose real pain?” (188). Tension builds toward Zofia being forced to confront the untruth of the comfortable fantasy that Abek has returned to her and instead remember the facts of her family’s deaths, including the death of the real Abek on the train carriage on the way to Birkenau.

The mystery of Abek is compounded by the knowledge he seems to have of their family and home, which reassures both Zofia and the reader of his legitimacy. A widow he planted for over spring was “like Mrs. Schulman” (225), Zofia and Abek’s strict old tutor. When Zofia recounts the alphabet she sewed into Abek’s jacket, which has become a kind of chant for her, he helps to jog her memory: “O is for Lake Morskie Oko” (229). However, at other times, he seems ignorant of their family’s history and reticent to join in conversations with Zofia about their relatives: “‘Isn’t that right, Abek? Can you imagine how angry Baba Rose would be?’ He smiles and shakes his head” (232). In this conversation, Abek doesn’t supply any additional details about Baba Rose or choose to speak about how Baba Rose would be angry. His silence is a subtle hint that Abek doesn’t actually have any memory of Baba Rose, as he isn’t actually Abek.

The boy masquerading as Abek is able to maintain the lie for weeks based partly on the fact that Zofia hadn’t seen her younger brother for four years but also due to Zofia’s patchy memory, which the boy can exploit. Zofia tells him of her confusion, “There are a lot of holes I filled in or other things I was afraid I made up” (234). He asks her to elaborate on her imaginings and reassures her that some of the events really happened to add legitimacy to his status as her long-lost brother. When Zofia recounts how she buried a turnip for him, thinking that she saw him through a window but isn’t sure if she made this up (she likely did make it up), the boy is quick to reassure her, thereby adding himself to her narrative: “‘No, No, I did find it,’ he says. ‘The turnip’” (235).

Zofia and Josef’s relationship also develops in these chapters, culminating in the long-held stare at Breine and Chaim’s wedding ceremony. Their mutual feelings of romantic attraction are characterized by this, especially given the romantic connotations of the wedding ceremony, alluding to Josef and Zofia’s budding romance: “We’re staring at each other between the poles of the makeshift chuppah” (246). Their romance is complicated by Josef’s inconsistency; while she is making Breine’s dress, Zofia expresses her confusion at Josef’s hot and cold treatment of her: “I can’t tell whether you like me at all, or don’t like me, or want to be my friend, or want to be something—I can’t tell how you feel at all” (214). Josef’s response, “It’s not that simple” (214), alludes to his secret identity as an ex-Nazi soldier; he doesn’t know how to admit this to Zofia and whether a relationship between them is immoral as a result of her persecution by the group to which he used to belong.

The theme of The Power of Love in Bringing Happiness and Redemption continues to function as an important theme in the characters’ recovery from the horror of the concentration camps. Chaim and Breine’s wedding is characterized as a joyous moment amid devastation and tragedy. Breine’s beauty is emphasized, as well as the beauty and righteousness of the simple ceremony: “Her auburn hair glows with the setting sun. It’s beautiful, it’s so beautiful, this wedding” (245). Their union suggests that happiness is possible after the war, even amid immense loss and tragedy, as is emphasized by the juxtaposition of the joy of the event with the losses of the families and the threadbare nature of the dress and decorations: “In a different world, the sheet might be a fine, embroidered cloth, just as in a perfect world, Breine would be escorted by her parents. But she no longer has parents” (245).

The theme of Antisemitic Violence, Genocide, and Displacement During and After World War II is signaled in Breine’s loss of her parents, but the wedding is a moment of determined joy and celebration in spite of loss. It is a symbol of the resilience of the Jewish race in spite of the horrific genocidal actions of the Nazis, especially in the Jewish rituals: “The rabbi reaches the Seven Blessings,” and “The breaking of the glass is the final part of the ceremony” (247). The wedding guests find connection through these familiar rituals in spite of significant displacement:

A Hungarian man is marrying a Polish and Czech woman, who is escorted by a Dutch woman standing in for her mother and an estranged uncle standing in for her father, and they all know what to do right now because their faith is the same language (246).

The determinedly Jewish wedding signals the resoluteness of survivors that life and joy will continue for Jewish people. The tears of the gathered crowd attest to the power of this moment of joy amid so much loss and sadness: “Tears pool in my eyes and run, salty, down my face” (246).