Books

Reminder of humanity’s light

The passage across the Øresund, the body of water that separates the Danish peninsula from Sweden, is, at its narrowest, about the same distance as Horseshoe Bay to Bowen Island. But the waters can be treacherous – especially when it’s 1943 and the waters are swarming with Gestapo Kriegsmarine boats. Yet, for two weeks at the beginning of October 1943, 7,000 Danish Jews – about 95% of Danish Jewry (including the wonderful Victor Borge) – were safely transported across the Øresund in small fishing boats to the “sacred soil” of neutral Sweden.

In his new book, A Light in the Northern Sea: Denmark’s Incredible Rescue of Their Jewish Citizens During WWII, Tim Brady, author of the popular story of the Dutch Resistance Three Ordinary Girls, uses his excellent narrative skills to outline in detail how Danish Jews were warned about Nazi deportation plans, how they escaped and how they were treated when they arrived in Sweden.

Brady has described himself as a storyteller, rather than as a professional historian, but he has done his research and he tells this story in great detail. As he did with Three Ordinary Girls, Brady brings history alive with the telling of stories through the eyes of participants, rather than simply cold facts. The eyes here are, for the most part, those of the remarkable Dutch resistance fighter Jurgen Kieler, whose recently published memoirs (encouraged by Elie Wiesel) would not have been available to earlier rescue historians.

Readers might be surprised that the “light in the northern sea” of the title refers to welcoming Sweden, not, as you might expect, given the book’s subtitle, Denmark. But, as Brady is quick to point out, the Swedish “light” was not always bright – before, and early in the war, Sweden had demanded that Germany mark the passports of Jewish emigrés with a “J” so they could be more easily refused, and Sweden refused potential Jewish immigrants who were not financially independent.

However, as Brady notes, largely due to the enormously influential intercession of the great Danish Nobelist Niels Bohr (a dedicated Nazi-hater) with the Swedish government, Sweden’s position regarding the Jewish immigrants changed radically by October 1943, when it decided to admit all 7,200 Jews fleeing the recently occupying Nazis in Denmark.

Swedes almost universally opened their homes to the Danish Jews. The refugees were also made to feel comfortable in churches, community centres, hotels and schools, as welfare agencies constructed camps, provided clothing and household items, and helped them find employment. Also, as Brady notes, during the post-rescue months of the Danish resistance, Sweden provided a 25 million kroner (about $70 million in today’s dollars) credit to help Denmark train and organize the Danish Brigade revolutionary group.

Interestingly, the “rescue of Denmark’s Jewish citizens” referred to in the book’s subtitle has a double reference for Brady. On the one hand, there is the escape across the Øresund. But there is a second “rescue” described in the ending chapters of the book. These chapters deal with the 1943-45 undertakings of the Danish resistance, including detailed accounts of both their successful and non-successful sabotage activities. However, most of these Danish fighters were ultimately captured, and Brady carefully narrates their terrible experiences in German concentration camps. But, once again, the Danish Jews were “rescued.” Thanks to a coordinated effort of the Swedish Red Cross and the Danish government, most of the Danish concentration camp prisoners were returned to Denmark in the remarkable “White Bus Rescue” that was made possible in March 1945 by negotiations instigated between the Swedish diplomat Folke Bernadotte and Heinrich Himmler, which Brady describes at the end of his book.

When put into historical perspective, as Brady is careful to do, the rescue of 95% of Danish Jewry, while utterly unique in Europe, was not completely surprising. At no time had Danish Jews been required to wear a yellow star. Moreover, King Christian X, while greeting his Danish subjects, would never salute the occupying Nazis, and would habitually visit Denmark’s Great Synagogue on Rosh Hashanah. (King Christian, in contradiction to popular myth, never wore the yellow star – but he would later be placed under house arrest.) As well, Jews lived comfortably in Copenhagen; for 100 years, they had enjoyed full human rights and become very active in arts, politics and philanthropy. For these reasons, as Brady explains, and also because the Danish population was, in his words, “peculiarly democratic,” Germany hesitated to “twist the arms of Denmark regarding its Jewish problem” (no less was Denmark anxious to “poke the Third Reich bear,” as Brady puts it).

But how did the Danish Jews know about the Nazis’ plans to deport them? To answer this question, Brady emphasizes the courageous actions of Nazi diplomat Georg Duckwitz, whom history should celebrate as a kind of Raoul Wallenberg- or Oskar Schindler-type figure. With his life on the line, Duckwitz tipped off Danish authorities when, in September 1943, the Nazis decided to solve the Danish “Jewish problem” in the way history shows they “solved” other problems. Duckwitz also, after tipping off Danish authorities, courageously traveled to Stockholm to tell Sweden’s prime minister about the impending roundup of Danish Jews.

As a result of Duckwitz’s actions, Danes were warned in time of the impending roundup and, when the Gestapo came calling, there was no one home. Almost all (except the very ill and disabled who did end up deported) were in neighbours’ homes or schools, churches, hospitals or safe houses, preparing for their trip to Sweden.

Once the fishing boats were assembled, the flight to Sweden began in earnest. The boats were usually crammed; children and babies were usually sedated; and the passage was often rough, as high winds would often raise waves four to six metres high.

As an aside, in 1989, the annual Holocaust Symposium at the University of British Columbia arranged by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre focused on the Danish rescue. The speakers were a Danish Jewish woman who was rescued and a Danish fisherman who was among the rescuers. In the Q&A portion of their presentation, the fisherman admitted that he and the other rescuers charged as much as 1,000 kroner ($5,000 in today’s Canadian money) per “Jewish ticket.” Brady notes this, but finds it “understandable,” since the fishermen’s livelihood was at stake in crossing the Gestapo-infested Øresund.

All in all, the Danish rescue, as Brady presents it, is truly a remarkable story – and a welcome reminder that, even in the roughest seas and at the darkest times, the basic light of humanity can shine brightly.

Graham Forst, PhD, taught literature and philosophy at Capilano University until his retirement and now teaches in the continuing education department at Simon Fraser University. From 1975 to 2010, he co-chaired the symposium committee of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre.

Etgar Keret comes to Vancouver

(PR photos)

Israeli author and filmmaker Etgar Keret will be at the Rothstein Theatre Oct. 30, 7 p.m., in conversation with author and columnist Marsha Lederman. The JCC Jewish Book Festival event is sponsored by the Ronald S. Roadburg Foundation.

Keret, who also teaches creative writing at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, is known for writing short stories that are lean and accessible in style, but whimsical, surrealist and darkly funny in subject. His work explores life’s smallest, most unremarkable interactions in ways that are profound and unusual, and his seventh story collection, Autocorrect: Stories (translated by Jessica Cohen and Sondra Silverston), is no different – it is vast in reach yet grounded in the bewildering absurdity of modern life. Books will be available for purchase at the Oct. 30 event and the author will be signing. For tickets ($36), go to jccgv.com/jewish-book-festival.

– Courtesy Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival

New bio gives Vrba his due

Rudolf Vrba, left, and author Alan Twigg at the University of British Columbia in 2001. Twigg’s new book on Vrba, Holocaust Hero: The Life & Times of Rudolf Vrba, breaks much new ground. (photo by Beverly Cramp)

Celebrated German factory owner Oskar Schindler is estimated to have saved the lives of about 1,200 Jews during the Holocaust. Carl Lutz, a Swiss vice-consul in Budapest, is credited with organizing protective documents and “safe houses” that helped between 50,000 and 62,000 Jews survive. Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish envoy in Budapest issued passports and sheltered people in buildings, saving somewhere between 20,000 and more than 30,000 Jews. Chiune Sugihara, a Japanese consul in Kaunas, Lithuania, wrote thousands of transit visas, enabling about 6,000 Jews to escape via the Soviet Union and Japan, some of whom came to Canada and settled in Vancouver.

But few outside certain circles know of Rudolf Vrba. The late University of British Columbia professor of pharmacology escaped from Auschwitz and alerted the world to what was happening there. Estimates of the number of Jews saved by Vrba’s report vary, but a consensus among historians worldwide suggests he helped halt the mass deportation of more than 200,000 of Hungary’s Jews to Auschwitz. The late eminent historian Sir Martin Gilbert said of Vrba: “No other single act in the Second World War saved so many Jews from the fate that Hitler and the SS had determined for them.”

And yet, Vrba’s name remains largely unknown. This is not a coincidence. After the war, especially in Israel, there was a deliberate effort to downplay Vrba’s perspective of events.

A new book – the first of a meticulous two-volume assessment of Vrba’s life – has just been released by Vancouver author Alan Twigg. It goes great lengths to broadening awareness of Vrba’s heroism and correcting the many misconceptions around his legacy. In the process, Holocaust Hero: The Life & Times of Rudolf Vrba breaks much new ground.

Coincidental to the release of this publication, a monument to Vrba’s memory is to be unveiled later this month at Schara Tzedeck Cemetery, righting what many locals see as an unjust historic oversight.

While Vrba wrote his own memoirs, somewhat incredibly, Twigg’s book is the first real Vrba biography.

“There’s never been an in-depth biography of Rudolf Vrba,” said Twigg, who deliberately did not replicate the contents of Vrba’s own 1963 book, written with Alan Bestic, titled I Cannot Forgive and re-released in the 1980s as Escape from Auschwitz. “I tried to concentrate on information that was not available anywhere.”

While this first volume is an eye-opener for those who know nothing of Vrba, it contains bombshells and fascinating depth even for those who have read Vrba’s book or who otherwise know something about his story. And Twigg promises more to come in the next volume.

“The really revealing material is going to be in Volume Two,” Twigg told the Independent. “That volume will be almost entirely original material and it will show the evolution of Rudi’s character.”

Those who know of Vrba are aware of his daring escape. But that was, in many ways, the beginning of his historic story. He joined the Partisans and was a decorated war hero. He was an extraordinary intellectual, a difficult personality, had a dark humour many people didn’t understand, and carried anger throughout his life.

“I think it’s so important if you’re writing a biography to get across his character, not just the events of his life,” said Twigg. The participation of Vrba’s widow, Robin, was invaluable and the book includes extended transcriptions of Twigg’s engaging conversations with her.

Rudolf Vrba was originally a false name that came on the forged papers given to Walter Rosenberg soon after he filed his report and then joined the Czechoslovakian resistance after his escape from Auschwitz.

Born in Slovakia, Rosenberg/Vrba was transported to Auschwitz in June 1942. He steadfastly viewed the plunder of Jewish assets – not antisemitism as its own accelerant – as the motive for the Holocaust.

Vrba is said to have had a near-photographic memory, which allowed him to store away data that would change the course of history. It is believed that he greeted almost every train arriving at Auschwitz for 10 months, mentally noting estimated numbers and places of origin.

Eventually, he gained the coveted job of registrar of Birkenau’s quarantine camp, allowing him unusual access to additional information and limited freedom of movement. He learned that plans were afoot to liquidate the last remaining large population of European Jews – the 800,000 in Hungary – whose destruction would be streamlined by the construction of a new rail line to expedite transportation to the crematoria.

Vrba connected with Alfréd Wetzler, another Slovakian Jew who was registrar of the morgue.

On April 7, 1944, Vrba and Wetzler hid in a woodpile, still on the Birkenau site but outside the barbed wire prisoner encampment. Gasoline-soaked tobacco threw search dogs off their scent. They hid there for three days and nights as search parties worked 24/7 to find the escapees. After the intensive search was called off, they made their move.

The pair made an 11-day trek by foot through Poland to the border with Slovakia, where they connected with the Jewish community.

“Their feet were bloodied and misshapen,” Twigg reports. “A doctor was summoned. The malnourished pair recovered and soon cooperated with Jewish Council officials to produce an anonymous report that would be so detailed and emotionless that it could not not be believed.”

The Vrba-Wetzler Report, as it became known, was the first to have any significant reverberations, apparently because of the mathematical tallies and objective, scientific-like writing.

With the report, pressure came down on Admiral Miklós Horthy, the Hungarian leader viewed by most as a Nazi collaborationist, to halt the deportations of Hungarian Jews to Auschwitz. By 1944, the tide had begun to turn against the Nazis and so it was not moral considerations, Twigg suggests, that turned Horthy against the deportations, but the fear of war crimes charges after the war. Regardless of Horthy’s motivations, it was this impact of the Vrba-Wetzler Report that is believed to have saved at least 100,000 and as many as 200,000 lives.

The deportations did not end permanently, though. And here Vrba’s history is inescapably tied up with that of another Rudolf – Rudolf (Rezső) Kasztner, one of the most polarizing figures in Holocaust history.

“A controversy persists to this day as to the extent prominent Jewish and Zionist leaders should be held accountable for a myriad of failures to adequately inform Jews about the lethal dangers of boarding the trains,” Twigg writes. “For the rest of his days, Vrba would chiefly lay the blame for the failure to adequately inform approximately 800,000 Jews in Hungary about the Holocaust on Kasztner, the Zionist leader from northern Transylvania.”

Kasztner was the first non-Slovakian official to see the Vrba-Wetzler Report and a harsh dispute rages still around what happened next.

In meetings among the leadership of Hungarian Jewry, it was apparently Kasztner who pressed for an approach in which, rather than alerting the Jewish population, the leadership would keep the information to themselves and negotiate directly with Adolf Eichmann for favourable terms that made it possible for Kasztner and other senior Jewish figures to save themselves and a number of others.

Kasztner (and those sympathetic to his narrative) would have seen some logic in the fact that the Nazi war effort was foundering and the Germans desperately needed goods and money, something Kasztner and his associates believed they could access through Jewish channels internationally. With the Soviets approaching from the east, they may have thought they could buy time and save more than their limited numbers.

Eventually, Kasztner negotiated with Eichmann that a trainload of about 1,684 Jews, many or most of Kasztner’s own choosing, would set off for Switzerland. It is estimated that the passage for each passenger had been “bought” from Eichmann for about $1,000.

The passengers did not go directly to Switzerland, though, but were rerouted to Bergen-Belsen. Unlike the other Hungarian Jews arriving at the concentration camps, however, these 1,600 or so were kept separate and eventually did make it to Switzerland, in two transports, later in the year.

In the meantime, 400,000 Hungarian Jews were sent to Auschwitz, where almost all of them were murdered.

The title of Vrba’s book, I Cannot Forgive, is assumed to refer to the Nazis. Twigg, among others, believes it is simultaneously a reference to Kasztner and his coterie of Jewish leaders.

Vrba was openly critical of the Jewish leadership, particularly those in Hungary and especially Kasztner, who by this time had risen to a moderately senior post in the Israeli government, along with other Hungarian Jewish leaders who were senior or mid-level figures in the governing party, Mapai. To some extent, put simply, the Hungarian Jews who had negotiated with Eichmann and who Vrba blamed for preventing his report from saving exponentially more Jewish lives, became integrated into the nascent elite of the new Jewish state. It was decidedly not in their interests to have the provocative professor, now halfway around the world in Vancouver, obtain any wider audience for his book.

Ruth Linn, an Israeli scholar of moral psychology and Holocaust memory at the University of Haifa, has Vancouver connections and stumbled onto Vrba’s story a couple of decades ago. She could not understand why his name was almost completely unknown in Israel. She spearheaded the first publication of the Vrba-Wetzler Report in Hebrew, in 1998, and, in 2004, wrote Escaping Auschwitz: A Culture of Forgetting, which examined why Vrba’s account had been marginalized in Israel and how politics and memory shaped Holocaust historiography.

Capturing the dichotomy of the debate around Kasztner’s role in the Hungarian Holocaust, Twigg juxtaposes two quotes. An Israeli judge, Benjamin Halevi, said of Kasztner, “He didn’t sell his soul to the devil; he was the devil.” Canadian author and publisher Anna Porter, who has written about the subject, said, “If you’re in hell, who do you negotiate with but the devil?”

A 1955 libel trial instigated by Kasztner proved his undoing. Ostensibly a case against Malkiel Gruenwald, who publicized the wartime actions of Kasztner, the trial turned into an examination of the facts of the case. Halevi, the judge who deemed Kasztner the devil himself, ruled that, by saving a chosen few, Kasztner had sacrificed the majority of Hungarian Jews. More than two years later, Israel’s Supreme Court overturned the judgment, but Kasztner did not live to see his legal redemption. He was assassinated outside his home in March 1957.

Twigg came to the Vrba story more by happenstance than design. Twigg edited BC Bookworld, a newspaper about books and authors, for more than three decades.

“I used to keep track of all the books of British Columbia and I had categories,” he said. He could cross-reference, for example, all books on Japanese-Canadians or forestry.

Based on this knowledge, in 2022, Twigg wrote Out of Hiding: Holocaust Literature of British Columbia. (See jewishindependent.ca/a-roadmap-to-remembering.) Its largest, though still necessarily brief, section is on Vrba. However, this was inadequate for Twigg, who decided to expand the project – first as a comprehensive website (rudolfvrba.com) – now as this book.

Not directly related to Holocaust Hero but timely, if profoundly overdue, an ad hoc group of friends and admirers of Vrba will erect the world’s only monument to him on Sunday, Oct. 26, beginning with a ceremony in the chapel at Schara Tzedeck Cemetery at 2 p.m. The program will feature reflections on Vrba’s life, legacy and enduring impact from Dr. Robert Krell, Dr. Joseph Ragaz and Prof. Chris Friedrichs, and will conclude with the dedication of the memorial monument.

Seeking middle ground

At the local launch for her new book, October 7th: Searching for the Humanitarian Middle, Globe & Mail columnist Marsha Lederman admitted she’s “not doing great.”

“A lot of us in this room can say that,” she said in her opening remarks at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver Sept. 18. “It’s been another terrible week with terrible news.”

Lederman was the Western arts correspondent for the Globe for 15 years, before moving to the opinion section in 2022. Her memoir, Kiss the Red Stairs: The Holocaust, Once Removed, was published that same year. (See jewishindependent.ca/a-story-of-two-families.)

On Oct. 9, 2023, Lederman began writing columns on the aftermath of the Oct. 7 massacre in Israel and the tide of antisemitism that followed it. When an editor suggested she publish a book containing a full year of those columns, together with other material she’d written on Jewish identity, she began working on October 7th.

The process of collecting material for the book was emotionally wrenching, said Lederman, a child of Holocaust survivors whose intergenerational trauma was triggered by the Hamas attack.

“It was really hard to relive those early days, rereading the columns and remembering what was happening in the world at that time. When I read through older articles I’d written about my Jewish identity, I was shocked at how many times that subject matter had come up and the extent to which they foreshadowed what would happen in the war.”

When she filed that first column on Oct. 9, Lederman said she wrote it in a haze of shock, emotion, upset and fear. “I knew it wasn’t what had just happened, but what would happen next: retaliation, that it would be terrible for Palestinians, and that there would be anti-Israel sentiment. But I could never have predicted that all things would have exploded the way they have and that it would still be there, almost two years later.”

Describing herself as a “progressive Zionist,” Lederman said she believes the state of Israel has a right to exist but is “strongly against the war and the occupation. I’m horrified by what some of the settlers are doing in the West Bank, but I love Israel and Israelis – though not the ones in power right now. I don’t blindly approve of everything Israel does and part of my caring for Israel is what has led me to speak out.”

In an hour-long talk moderated by Kathryn Gretsinger, a journalist and associate professor at the University of British Columbia, Lederman discussed her hope for a two-state solution, her annoyance at how people speaking out in favour of Palestinians have been branded antisemitic, and the threats she has received in response to her columns.

“My trauma is nothing compared to what people in the war zone are experiencing, but it’s still a horrible experience,” she said.

Prior to Oct. 7, Lederman said she saw herself as a journalist who happened to be Jewish. After Oct. 7, as she began writing about the attack and subsequent war, she said she put herself on the page, explaining her Jewish background. When she wrote about plastic surgery recently, the Globe received a letter to the editor stating, “how dare Lederman write about that when children are dying in Gaza!”

The book’s subtitle, Searching for the Humanitarian Middle, deals with the quandary of holding several feelings simultaneously: concern for Israel and the Israeli soldiers, as well as Palestinians who are being killed.

“I believe the humanitarian middle is essential, and there are a lot of caring people who want to see an end to this war. The numbers are terrible: 60,000 Gazans have been killed in this war,” she said, citing numbers released by the Hamas-controlled Ministry of Health.

“That’s appalling to me,” she continued. “Hostages are still underground and antisemitism has reached a level that’s shocking, even to me, as a pessimistic catastrophizer. The word genocide carries so much weight for us as Jewish people. Israel was born out of the ashes of the worst genocide we have known. So, for Israel to be accused of that very crime is heartbreaking.”

Asked what her solution to the war would be, Lederman said a ceasefire deal is the way to go. “I believe what we’re seeing from Israel is an over-

reaction and I would urge the government of Israel to consider a two-state solution. I believe that’s the answer.”

She said, “My heart aches for the hostages and their families, and for all the people in Gaza. When I think about the intergenerational trauma from this time, it’s shattering. I feel a responsibility to write about this as a Jewish person, a journalist, a mother, as someone who cares about other human beings, and as a child of Holocaust survivors, but I’m feeling the weight of the world in my fingers.”

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond.

Survival in the forest

The harrowing new memoir by Vancouver’s Evelyn Kahn, They Never Left Me: A Holocaust Memoir of Maternal Courage and Triumph, written with her daughter Hodie Kahn, tells of a family’s survival while hiding in the forests of Eastern Europe.

They Never Left Me includes some of the most debasing inhumanity imaginable. Perhaps most shocking, though, is that human beings can withstand what the author and her family experienced and somehow endure and begin again in a post-Holocaust world, to raise a successful family and find meaning and happiness.

image - They Never Left Me book cover — Evelyn Kahn wrote They Never Left Me: A Holocaust Memoir of Maternal Courage and Triumph with her daughter, Hodie Kahn. On Oct. 19, at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue, Evelyn Kahn will talk about the book with Dr. Robert Krell.

Stories of Chava’s (Evelyn’s) early years, typical of traditional Eastern European Jewish shtetl life – her father’s preparations for morning prayers, her mother baking round challah for Rosh Hashanah, a live fish floating around in preparation for gefilte – read as ominously ordinary, knowing as we do a little of what is to come.

From their hometown of Eishyshok, a shtetl in Poland that historically had shifted between Lithuania, Poland and then, tragically, between the Nazis and the Soviets, the family moved a few dozen kilometres to Lida, in what is now Belarus. This relocation, an economic move driven by her father’s proficiency in the Russian language, was the least dramatic move of Chava Landsman’s young life. Nonetheless, that move might have been the first of many near-miracles that saved the lives of Chava and the women in her family.

“On the eve of Rosh Hashanah 1941, Eishyshok’s Jews were rounded up and locked in the synagogue and two schools. After three days, they were herded to the horse market.… Over the next two days, the Jews were taken in groups of 250 – first the men and then the women and children – to the old Jewish cemetery. They were ordered to undress and stand at the edge of large open ditches, where they were shot to death by Lithuanian police. Babies were bashed to death against headstones or tossed into the air for sharpshooting practice led by the chief of police, Ostrauskas, before their tiny lifeless or quivering bodies were thrown into the killing pits to join their parents. Everyone was murdered.”

The final victim of the massacre was the town rabbi, “shot after being forced to witness the murder of his entire flock.”

As the Nazis invaded Lida, the family witnessed the aerial bombardment and made the decision to flee. They headed south, and sought refuge in another shtetl, Zhetel. But this was a brief refuge – not an escape. Death was chasing them.

Chava’s father was rounded up during a cull of intelligentsia on July 23, 1941, barely a month after they arrived.

“We watched in misery as Papa climbed into the back of a truck and was driven away,” she writes. “I never saw my father again.”

Chava’s Uncle Chaim and Rivke’s husband Shael were conscripted into the Red Army, leaving the women as the only family together in the Zhetel ghetto, which was created in February 1942. Chaim was captured by the Nazis, but incredibly escaped a POW camp and returned to Zhetel, where he became a Partisan in the forest and was killed. On April 30, 1942, the first liquidation began in the Zhetel ghetto.

“My own memory of the procession along the street is of being corralled into a narrow funnel and of feeling smothered by the crush of human bodies around me,” she writes. “I remember telling my mother I could not breathe. I was worried I might pass out and be trampled. People were on top of one another – on top of me – crying and tearing their hair out. I wanted Mama to pick me up, but it was impossible. We were compressed like livestock in a cattle chute. I just held onto Mama’s hand and prayed that mine would not slip out of hers.”

In terror, Chava told her mother she was being suffocated.

“She bent down close to me and I will never forget her tearful words,” Kahn writes. “My child, it is better that you should suffocate here than my eyes should witness you being murdered.

“I took in what she said and then simply asked, ‘Does it hurt to die, Mama?’ She assured me it was a peaceful experience. ‘Neyn mayn kind, es iz vey a feygele, git a brum’ (‘No my child, it is like a chirp of a bird’).

“Her answer quieted my fears and calmed me. I was never afraid of death from that moment on. I never remember feeling despair. On the contrary, I was exceptionally calm and clear throughout the nightmare to come.”

Somehow, the women survived the first liquidation. When the second and what would be the final liquidation of the ghetto began on Aug. 6, 1942, 3,000 Jews were herded to the Jewish cemetery and murdered. Knowing what was to come, Chava’s mother Basia decided to risk going into hiding – a choice between instant death and likely later death for disobedience. Again, it was a lifesaving decision.

Basia, Chava and her grandmother (Bobe) Hoda fled to the forest. Miraculously, with the help of a non-Jewish friend of the family, they were reunited with Chava’s Aunt Rivke, and the three adult women and Chava would endure the horrors of life in the woods for two years. (Shael fought with the Red Army through the war and survived, but he and Rivke did not reunite.)

The women largely fended for themselves with some assistance from Partisans and the occasional righteous non-Jew. Like other Jews in the forests at the time, they formed fluctuating ad hoc survival “family groups” of a dozen or as many as 20 people.

“We had learned the rules of the ghetto and we had survived. Now we would have to learn the rules of the forest. And we would have to learn them very, very well and very, very quickly. We could either adapt and hopefully live or not adapt and definitely die.

“We lived with the constant nervous anticipation of being discovered and killed at any moment. We were careful to speak quietly. We were always alert. We became as hypersensitized and wary as the creatures of the forest.”

In winter, they sheltered in holes in the ground.

“Needless to say, hygiene and maintaining our health in the forest was hugely challenging,” Kahn writes. “We were malnourished and vitamin deficient. We were unwashed and unkempt. We wore the same clothes day after day with no relief. We were filthy skeletons, bulked up only by the layers of our lice-infested clothing, which we wore 24 hours a day. I often wonder how we managed to survive those two years without bathing.”

Basia’s doggedness saved her family. Even at 40 degrees below zero and with snow to her thighs, she would trudge out of the woods to beg or steal provisions from local farmers.

“It is true that many (most) farmers were unfeeling or, worse, informers. But it is important to acknowledge that there were those who hung onto their humanity during the war, righteous gentiles who were sympathetic and compassionate and gave us food and other necessities,” Kahn writes.

It is estimated that only one-half to one-third of the Jews who hid in forests survived to liberation. And, when “liberation” did come, and the Nazis were defeated, antisemitism remained. Many ordinary Russians, Poles, Lithuanians and Belarusians thought they had seen the last of the Jews and were not welcoming to the few straggling remnants who found their way back home.

The three generations of women – Bobe Hoda, mother Basia, Aunt Rivke and Chava, as well as Rivke’s baby, Joseph, who was born in and knew life only in the forest – remarkably survived and proceeded through a series of displaced persons camps, with schooling and vocational training for the young survivors. They had no family in the new state of Israel and so America seemed the more logical destination. At age 16-and-a-half, Chaya/Evelyn, her mother, aunt, cousin and grandmother were greeted at New York by the Statue of Liberty and a coterie of cousins. Eventually, Evelyn reconnected with a young man from Eishyshok, Leon (Leibke) Kaganowicz, who would become Leon Kahn and, because of American migration quotas, a Canadian who lived in Vancouver. Together, they became stalwarts of the Vancouver community.

Leon Kahn passed in 2003. His memoir, No Time To Mourn: The True Story of a Jewish Partisan Fighter, was published in 1978 and reissued in 2004. It will be released again this fall.

Evelyn has two sons, Mark and Saul, and daughter Hodie, as well as seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

The idyllic start of Chava’s life, surrounded by a tight and loving family and community, juxtaposes horrifically with the abrupt cataclysm of history that would follow. The survival of three generations of women in the forests of Eastern Europe is a monument to human resolve and resilience. They Never Left Me is a momentous contribution to the literature of the Holocaust.

An event featuring Evelyn Kahn in conversation about the memoir with Dr. Robert Krell will take place on Oct. 19, 2 p.m., at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue, presented by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, Ronsdale Press and Schara Tzedeck.

Writers fest starts soon

he 38th annual Vancouver Writers Festival takes place on Granville Island Oct. 20-26. Among the 130-plus local and international authors at 87 events are several members of the Jewish community. A glance through the lineup finds, in order of appearance, Rachel Hartman, Marsha Lederman, Guy Gavriel Kay, Katherine Ashenburg, Jill Yonit Goldberg, Eve Lazarus, Sam Wiebe and Jerry Wasserman. There are, no doubt, others.

Hartman, author of the bestseller Seraphina, comes to the festival with Among Ghosts, which has a found-family theme set in a vibrant fantasy world. She participates with other writers in Paranormal Activity: Ghost Stories for YA (grades 8-12) on Oct. 21, 1 p.m., at Granville Island Stage ($12).

Lederman talks with Linden MacIntyre about his latest work of nonfiction, An Accidental Villain, on Oct. 21, 6 p.m., at the NEST ($27), and she is in conversation with Elamin Abdelmahmoud on Oct. 22, 5:30 p.m., at the Revue Stage ($27), about her own new book, October 7th: Searching for the Humanitarian Middle. October 7th is a collection of Lederman’s columns for the Globe and Mail, which have been a real-time archive capturing a period of deep division and trauma.

Kay, the internationally bestselling author of Tigana, All the Seas of the World and A Brightness Long Ago, talks about his latest fantasy novel, Written on the Dark, which is set in a magical version of medieval France, replete with ambitious royals, assassins and invading armies. He also talks about his overall body of work with moderator Robert J. Wiersema on Oct. 24, 8 p.m., at the Revue Stage ($27).

Ashenburg, author of Margaret’s New Look, published her first fiction book at the age of 72. She will join two other writers in the session called Wisdom, Age & Beauty, which takes place Oct. 25, 5 p.m., at Waterfront Theatre ($27). She also participates with several other writers in the Afternoon Tea on Oct. 26, 3:30 p.m., at Performance Works ($50), which includes high tea delicacies, including a signature glass of sherry.

The Soundtrack of Life panel, on Oct. 25, 8 p.m., at the Revue Stage ($27), includes Jill Yonit Goldberg with her book After We Drowned, a haunting coming-of-age story with a fierce feminist subplot set in 1984 to the music of Tina Turner, Madonna and Stevie Nicks.

On Oct. 26, 10:30 a.m., at Performance Works ($40), Lazarus joins six other authors of nonfiction in an event described as TED Talk meets café social, with a morning snack included. Lazarus explores a forgotten tragedy in Beneath Dark Waters, an account of the 1914 sinking of the Empress of Ireland.

The Crime Scene on Oct. 26, 7 p.m., at Waterfront Theatre ($27) is moderated by Jerry Wasserman and the authors featured include Sam Wiebe, whose The Last Exile finds PI Dave Wakeland at the centre of gang warfare on the streets of Vancouver.

In addition to Lederman’s October 7th, there are a couple of other Israel-related books included in the program, the first directly, the second only tangentially.

Palestinian-Canadian author Saeed Teebi is one of the writers joining Blood in the Pen: Stories, Crises, Repair and the Writer on Oct. 21, 8:30 p.m., at Granville Island Stage ($27), and he will be in conversation with Adel Iskandar on Oct. 22, 8:30 p.m., at Waterfront Theatre ($27). Teebi is also one of the writers featured in A Doctor, a Lawyer and a Journalist Walk into a Literary Festival, on Oct. 23, 8:30 p.m., at Waterfront Theatre ($27). He describes his memoir You Will Not Kill Our Imagination as exploring “what it means to be a Palestinian in this moment, the effects of the genocide on Palestinian art and imagination, and that to even claim a belonging to the land from a country thousands of miles away is an act of subversion.”

Queer Stories on the Map on Oct. 23, 8 p.m., at Revue Stage ($27) includes Ziyad Saadi, whose reimagining of Mrs. Dalloway, Three Parties, follows a Palestinian refugee who plans to come out to his entire family at his birthday dinner party.

For more information about festival events and to purchase tickets, visit writersfest.bc.ca.

– from Vancouver Writers Festival program

Shoah’s generational impacts

Robert Krell did not identify as a Holocaust survivor until the age of 41. His evolving realization about his own experience mirrors a larger trend in the understanding of child Holocaust survivors. As a psychiatrist, academic and leading Holocaust educator, Krell has been at the forefront of this evolution.

In a new book, Emerging from the Shadows: Child Holocaust Survivors, Their Children and Their Grandchildren, Krell brings together a number of his lectures and presentations, as well as contributions from other scholars and survivors, to explore the multigenerational impacts of the Shoah on families.

Krell discusses a “hierarchy of survival” consensus that prevailed for decades after 1945, in which concentration camp survivors were perceived as the “real” survivors, followed by hidden adults, partisans, those who fled and others.

“Children caught up in the horrors were dismissed as ‘too young to be able to remember,’” he writes.

Krell was one of those children.

There were dark portents from the beginning of his life. When Krell was born, on Aug. 5, 1940, the Dutch hospital of his birth was already occupied as an SS headquarters.

After successive waves of neighbours and family had been relocated “to the east,” never to be heard from again, the Krell family was ordered to appear for deportation. Instead, they went into hiding.

Young Robbie was given up at the age of 2 by his parents, Emmy and Leo Krell. He was hidden by a Dutch Christian family, Albert and Violette Munnik, who he would come to know as “Vader” and “Moeder,” and their daughter (his “sister”) Nora.

The Munniks remained in Krell’s life until they passed, attending his university graduation, wedding and other simchas. They would eventually be honoured as Righteous Among the Nations at Yad Vashem.

“My days in hiding were the best that any hidden child could have had,” Krell writes.

This raises questions for him as a survivor and as a psychiatrist. “From where, then, derived my feeling that something enormous and hideous had occurred? From where came this unsettled feeling of whatever it is that haunts me still? Perhaps from the separation. Perhaps from the fear of discovery or the anxieties of the adults around me. Perhaps from my silence, the absence of ordinary play, the wish not to be disturbing or noticed.”

These feelings, which much later he would discover were common among people who, as children, had experienced similar things, drove him personally and professionally.

Krell’s self-realization that he was not only a second-generation survivor – the son of survivors – but a survivor himself, struck him at the 1981 World Gathering of Jewish Holocaust Survivors, in Jerusalem. It was a realization that others were coming to concurrently.

Later that decade, the seminal book Love Despite Hate: Child Survivors of the Holocaust and Their Adult Lives, by Sarah Moskovitz, signaled the beginning of a new understanding, and the identity of child survivors as a distinct category of survivors.

In 1991, the groundbreaking ADL/Hidden Child Conference, in New York City, attracted 1,600 participants, mostly child survivors. Krell summarizes the conversations that happened there as: “Thank God, I thought I was crazy. But you were crazy with the same issues. So perhaps we are normal.”

With Prof. Peter Suedfeld, former head of the University of British Columbia’s department of psychology, Krell conducted research into younger survivors and their children. They identified four paradoxes that were common in the families they investigated.

Survivor parents often expressed great pride in their children, but the perspective of the children was that they always fell short of fulfilling parental expectations and were often unaware of their parents’ pride.

Second, while children felt they had been provided with most of the material things, they reported feeling that they had missed out on receiving a set of values. This was belied by the evidence, Krell writes. “But it appears that, despite parental preoccupation with work and security, many second-generation survivors did absorb humanistic values for which the parents, of course, claim credit.”

The third paradox is that “though therapy groups of second-generation survivors emphasize complaints about earlier parenting, noting a relative lack of empathy for their problems, the same group members point out to each other their obvious humaneness, achievements and exceptional personal qualities.”

The fourth paradox has to do with the parental viewpoint that withholding information about their Holocaust experiences was crucial for the normal development of their children. “But from the point of view of the children, that past life was shrouded in an elusive mystery that prevented them from understanding the components of life in play from the Holocaust background,” Krell writes.

“Despite the overwhelming complexity of lives lived in the shadow of the Holocaust, it is remarkable that the havoc wreaked on Jewish children has not irrevocably crippled the next generations,” he notes, adding that 93% of Jewish children in Nazi-occupied Europe were murdered. “It is itself a miracle that so many of the remnants of surviving children and our sons and daughters have contributed so much. Let us be proud of that.”

Second-generation children learned quickly not to ask questions that could spur tears or other responses in their parents. Krell notes that some parents would ask why their children had not seemed interested in their Shoah experiences. In many cases, he urges members of the second generation to designate their children – the grandchildren of the survivors – to investigate the family history.

“They return with names, places of origin, descriptions of life (and of death), stories of defeat and loss, and of courage and heroism,” he writes. “They are enriched forever by knowing, for they are alive because their grandparents, against all odds, made it.”

Krell’s life has had multiple encounters with horrific history. In 1961, he was visiting Israel and his aunt got them seats in the courtroom of Adolf Eichmann’s trial.

In 1969, he was on TWA Flight 840 out of Rome when the plane was hijacked by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. The plane and its hostages spent several days in Damascus before being freed in Athens, after which he flew on to Israel.

“So, by age 30, I was a Jew who had survived two deadly enemies,” he writes.

Krell became an academic and a clinician, the director of child and family psychiatry at the UBC Health Sciences Hospital and director of residency training for 10 years. He was founding president of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, on whose board he remains an active member.

Krell is the author of 11 books, two dozen book chapters and many journal articles. His interests include the care of aging survivors of massive trauma. His memoir, Sounds from Silence: Reflections of a Child Holocaust Survivor, Psychiatrist and Teacher, was published in 2021, in which year he was also inducted into the Order of Canada. He and his wife Marilyn have three daughters and nine grandchildren.

Emerging from the Shadows includes lectures and speeches from Krell, as well as writings from Vancouverite Ed Lewin, Robert Melson, Harry Penn, R. Gabriele S. Silten, Leo Vogel and Zev Weiss.

In an epilogue, Krell reflects on the Oct. 7 terror attacks through the eyes of a Holocaust survivor.

Whereas the Nazis made some efforts to hide from the world their atrocities, the Hamas terrorists perpetrated their brutalities in broad daylight and livestreamed them online.

“It was done in daylight, recorded and distributed! How shall we ever rest again, given such knowledge?” he asks. “How shall a Jewish child/adolescent deal with this? And who can heal this fresh wound when the old wounds had only just begun to close after three or four generations?”

His conclusion: “May I suggest that we remain moral, courageous, and worthy of being a ‘a stiff-necked people,’ strong, proud, and determined.”

Power Metal a reality check

Clean cars humming down quiet streets. Solar panels shimmering on rooftops. A world powered by sunlight and wind, freed from the smoke and pollution of oil rigs and coal plants. The age of carbon, we’re told, is drawing to a close, and a cleaner, greener future is within our grasp. But what if that future lies on foundations just as dirty – and just as deadly – as the fossil fuel era we’re striving to leave behind?

In Power Metal: The Race for the Resources That Will Shape the Future (Riverhead Books, 2024), investigative journalist Vince Beiser delivers an exposé that cuts through the promising façade of the green revolution. As a seasoned journalist and with the narrative drive of a storyteller, Beiser reveals the secret supply chains behind today’s electric cars, wind turbines and solar panels – chains marked by extraction, exploitation and environmental ruin.

The materials at the heart of this transformation – lithium, cobalt, nickel and rare earth elements – are mined in staggering volumes. However, this increase in extraction comes at a cost that far exceeds dollars and cents, according to Beiser.

From the salt flats of Chile to the cobalt mines of Congo, from scrapyards in Canada to geopolitical flashpoints in China and Russia, Beiser introduces readers to a cast of characters who live on the frontlines of the resource race: child labourers sifting toxic waste for cobalt, Indigenous communities resisting mining on their ancestral lands, and powerful nations jockeying for control of tomorrow’s metals.

Beiser also brings to light the often-overlooked complexity of this electro-digital age, where minerals once obscure – like rhenium, crucial for jet engines, or rare earths that enable smartphones – have become linchpins of modern life. The race to secure these metals has sparked environmental havoc, political upheaval and rising violence worldwide, he contends.

In Power Metal, Beiser refuses to streamline or sensationalize. This is not a diatribe against technology, nor a rejection of the urgent need for clean energy. Rather, it’s a sobering reality check. As Beiser bluntly states, “There’s no such thing as clean energy.” The machines themselves may be green, he points out, but the systems that create them remain deeply flawed, still reliant on a resource-hungry, extraction-driven model that mirrors the very industrial forces we hoped to transcend.

If we are serious about building a sustainable future, Beiser argues, we must rethink not just how we power our lives, but how we source, use and value the raw materials that underpin our modern world. Simply swapping gas tanks for batteries is not enough, he says. We face a difficult question about what we’re willing to sacrifice – and which injustices we must confront – in pursuit of the green dream, he contends.

Power Metal challenges readers to rethink the green energy revolution. Beneath the promise of clean power lies a hidden world of environmental damage and human cost. Beiser doesn’t offer easy answers – but he shows why understanding this complex reality is essential if we want a truly sustainable future. For anyone ready to see beyond the surface, Power Metal is an essential, eye-opening read.

Uriel Presman Chikiar is a student at Queen’s University and serves as executive vice-president of external relations at Hillel Queen’s.

Traveling as a woman

Caryl Eve Dolinko, author of A Woman’s Guide to World Travel, has been to 93 countries and counting. (photo from caryldolinko.com)

Caryl Eve Dolinko’s A Woman’s Guide to World Travel literally covers everything you need to know when traveling, from choosing where to go through to reacclimatizing when you get back home. Anyone, but especially women, about to take their first international trip should have this book handy. For people who have been a few places, and even for seasoned travelers, Dolinko’s latest also has snippets of history, many short, informative travel stories, an interesting perspective – and likely at least one point you’ve not thought of before.

Dolinko, who is a member of the Vancouver Jewish community, has been exploring the world for more than 40 years. She has been to 93 countries and counting. She has journeyed on her own and with others, as a young person and as an older person, as “a working professional, a mother with kids, as a straight and gay woman, and a daughter caring for an elderly parent.”

A Woman’s Guide to World Travel, published by Whitecap Books earlier this year, is Dolinko’s third travel book, but the first as sole author. She co-wrote both The Complete Guide to Independent Travel (self-published) and The Globetrotter’s Guide: Essential Skills for Budget Travel (Red Deer Press), with Wayne Smits. The latter was a Canadian bestseller, notes Dolinko.

In the 25-plus years since The Globetrotter’s Guide came out, much has changed.

“The world’s population has almost doubled from over 4 billion in the early 1980s when I started to travel, to just over 8 billion today, putting a strain on finite resources,” writes Dolinko. “Many tourist attractions are now overused, overrun and exploited as a result of global tourism’s exponential growth. I believe it is past time for us to reconsider how we travel and become more aware of the impact we have.”

Her own approach to travel has changed since she started, at age 18, with a planned four-month trip to Europe that turned into “an epic eight-year odyssey.”

“When I first started traveling around the world in 1982, there was very little information available, especially for women, as very few were traveling the world alone,” she writes. “The internet didn’t exist, and neither did smartphones, digital cameras, selfies, social media, travel and hotel apps, GPS or texting. Lonely Planet was just starting to publish travel books and National Geographic was about the only magazine that showed exotic places around the world. Travel guides and literature were written with men in mind and, with so few women traveling, there was no need to address our particular issues and concerns. Only a small selection of useful advice was available to address women’s needs.”

That situation continues to change, with some studies estimating that “women are the primary decision-makers for travel in households, influencing up to 80% of all travel decisions. That’s a tremendous amount of buying power and it has influenced the tourism industry to change to meet our needs,” points out Dolinko, whose guide takes readers through some of the history leading to this development.

She briefly highlights six women “who dared to travel in their day,” starting with Ida Pfeiffer, who was born in Vienna in 1797. While Pfeiffer’s “travel stories and books inspired future generations of adventurers … her ethnocentric views frequently led her to be critical and intolerant of other cultures,” writes Dolinko. “As a result, she could be a harsh traveler, lacking the ability to appreciate other cultures on their own terms.”

Dolinko places great emphasis on what can be learned from other cultures, and stresses the importance of traveling with humility, not just for our own education, personal growth and safety, but for the benefit of the people and communities we encounter.

“Through our spending habits, we have the power to influence local economies and cultures, so it’s crucial to make informed decisions and be mindful of our impact,” she writes. “By supporting local businesses and organizations that prioritize sustainability and conservation efforts, we can make a positive difference and be a catalyst for change. Your actions have real consequences, so aim to leave a positive impact and a gentle footprint wherever you go.”

Elsewhere, she shares warnings, like “It’s strictly a cultural taboo or against the law in some cultures to be gay, and open displays of affection are discouraged”; “In some cultures, it’s expected and even considered impolite to accept the initial price offered by the seller without attempting to negotiate”; and “When communicating nonverbally, it is important to be aware of cultural differences and the meanings behind certain gestures. Pointing with your finger, for example, can be seen as rude or confrontational in many cultures.”

Dolinko spends time on photography in this context – reminding readers that some religious sites may prohibit photography, some people may not want to be on your social media feed and some cultures believe that a camera can steal a person’s soul. She talks about selfies, camera types and photo composition.

There is not a stone left unturned in A Woman’s Guide to World Travel. She covers factors to consider when deciding where to go (like safety, cultural norms and accessibility), budgeting (don’t forget admission fees, tips, snacks, SIM cards and so on), choosing luggage (suitcase vs backpack, for instance) and packing (she gives detailed lists of clothing, footwear, toiletries and medical supplies to bring, plus a host of other items to consider). She suggests where you should be in your preparedness two months out, one month out, a week before you leave and the day before you leave. She explains and lists the documents you’ll need, the insurance and vaccinations, how you should leave your home and office, and what the people you leave behind might need if something were to happen to you on your trip.

Specific to women, Dolinko talks about how to interact with men (“being aware of cultural differences that may affect communication and behaviour, as well as keeping an eye out for red flags and listening to your intuition”) and how to safely have a travel romance (with men or women), as well as what to do if, God forbid, you are sexually assaulted or raped. She lays out how to deal with some common gynecological issues while traveling. She offers advice on visiting religious buildings. She makes suggestions about traveling with kids. And she shares so much more.

To say that the 384-page A Woman’s Guide to World Travel is comprehensive is an understatement. It encompasses 40 years of experience traveling around the world, lots of photos (which I wish had been captioned, with some in colour) and relevant anecdotes. It’s a one-stop “shop” for anything you might want to know – and lots you didn’t know you needed to know – about travel.

Thriller delves into AI world

Daniel Kalla commands readers’ interest from the first sentence of his latest thriller, The Deepest Fake. And he keeps us turning pages straight to the end, not only as we contemplate who might be the culprit(s) of our hero’s apparent demise, but also as we consider the ideas Kalla puts forward about artificial intelligence, intellectual property, relationships, trust, measures of a successful life, and more.

Jewish Independent readers will be familiar with Kalla, who, in addition to being a writer of many international bestselling novels, is an emergency room physician here in Vancouver. The JI interviewed Kalla in 2023 and has reviewed of a few of his previous novels.

The plot-driving topic of The Deepest Fake – artificial intelligence – is new territory for the doctor-writer, who has penned many medical and science thrillers, using his physician’s knowledge to powerful effect. But he also has written an historical fiction trilogy set in Shanghai during the Second World War, where thousands of Jews fleeing Europe found safe haven, even as China and Japan were at war, so we know Kalla’s not afraid to do the research necessary to create a realistic-seeming fictional world centred around places and concepts less familiar to him, and to most readers.

As much as The Deepest Fake highlights some of the moral issues surrounding AI, it also explores other big issues, like medical assistance in dying (MAiD), fidelity in marriage and business partnerships, the foundations of trust, and where the creative process begins and who owns it. Kalla manages to cover all this ground and raise so many relevant questions while telling a great story. The Deepest Fake begins with a bang – “Liam Hirsch never seriously contemplated dying before his forty-ninth birthday – until today” – and keeps up the pace throughout.

Liam, founder and chief executive officer of a thriving AI company, TransScend, is suffering from a mysterious medical condition that’s first diagnosed as an aggressive form of ASL (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis). His symptoms – twitches and challenges with movement – have been getting worse, and he’s likely to lose basic motor function within months, maybe a year.

Despite the seriousness of his illness, Liam hesitates to tell his wife and kids, the former not only because of the pain it will cause, but because, weeks before, he discovered, with the help of a private investigator, that his wife was cheating on him. Adding to Liam’s stresses and the book’s adventure are some accounting irregularities at his company, the competitive nature of the tech world and the potentially manipulative AI app that he helped create. So, when it becomes obvious that someone wants Liam gone, the suspects are numerous, including his wife, all his staff, an aggrieved former business partner, and the technology itself.

The Deepest Fake is a fun, satisfying read.