Review of 'The Tattooist of Auschwitz' by Heather Morris

The Tattooist of Auschwitz almost became a full on trend of reading earlier this year (not quite at Eleanor Oliphant levels, but it seemed to be everywhere I looked). I'm so glad I read this slightly before the hype because I had no expectations from the book, and I do really think it's better to go in to reading like that.

The book is based on a true story, one that Lale Sokolov told as an elderly man to the author. I have been informed by the Auschwitz society that the tale depicted in the book about what Auschwitz was like is not very accurate, but I don't think this detracts from the fact that it is still a beautiful story.

A Slovakian Jew, our protagonist Lale Sokolov, was imprisoned in Auschwitz-Birkenau in the Second World War. The struggles he faces almost lead to his death, until it's noticed that he can speak several languages. Instead of being confined to the pile of bodies Lale witnesses every day, he becomes the Tattoowierer; the man who must tattoo the men, women and children entering the camps.

The book tells the story of Lale's love for Gita, a woman he meets when tattooing her arm. Using his privileged position to secure extra food, money and even jewels, Lale is determined to keep Gita safe in the monstrous environment they are imprisoned in. Every day could be their last.

This was one of my favourite books I read right at the end of 2018 (I know, I'm upsettingly behind on reviews). It's the first adult novel I've read about the Second World War that really delves into the emotive side of the atrocities people faced rather than looking at stats and figures. In a world that seems to be more and more filled with hate by the day, I don't think we can stress enough the importance of a book that helps you to empathise with minorities. 

I can't think of another book that I've read about concentration camps that discusses life after them. As I've mentioned that this is Lale's story, there's not really a need for a spoiler alert that he survived the war. A fair chunk of the novel is him trying to find Gita again, and learning how to live a life outside of the camps. This kind of trauma isn't something I've considered enough, and I think it's so important that Morris included it.

I've given this 5 stars, and I'd recommend it to everyone interested in historical novels as well as general adult fiction.

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Review of 'A History of Loneliness' by John Boyne

I grew up in a strictly Catholic household, descended from an Irish grandfather who himself would have uttered the words in the picture above. My Catholic roots are something that I question time and time again - do I still believe in any of it? Do I miss the community? Am I going to hell for turning my back on (most of) the teachings I grew up with? 

The one thing I rarely question is the idea of abuse in the church. Since the wave of stories coming out in the news about abusive priests living under the Pope's watch, any mention of this religious background now comes with a disturbing and insensitive 'did you get touched by a priest?'. The answer is no, but that's not the case for everyone, and it honestly wounds me so much that this is the case.

I promise this lil life story is relevant to the book. 

A History of Loneliness is told by Father Odran, a priest living in Ireland in the wake of the big reveal that the Church had been concealing abusers. Odran himself is not an abusive man; he takes care of the library at a Catholic boys' school, and offers advice if the boys come to him. He keeps himself to himself and that's the way he likes it. Until the Dean moves him to a parish his old seminary training pal used to be at.

Odran is forced to question his own upbringing, and the abuse and trauma he faced as a child. He's forced to question whether he really had a calling at all, or whether the celibacy of priesthood was a way to keep himself safe. Most importantly, he's forced to question the integrity of the institution he believed in, and those with any power working within it.

John Boyne is an author that I love more and more every time I read one of his books. This is the third one I've got stuck into (after The Boy in the Striped Pajamas and The House of Special Purpose). Each one has made me cry. 

This book forced me to face some very uncomfortable truths. Growing up in a Catholic environment, the idea of sexual abuse from the institution wasn't something I ever really came across, and it's not something I've looked into in great detail. It hurt more than I expected to start to understand the manipulation and the evil within a place that is supposed to be wholly good. But sometimes we need to be forced to squirm and to understand things we don't want to listen to because it's easier not to. This was such an important read, and I would highly recommend it.

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