WE MUST NOT THINK OF OURSELVES

An English teacher documents life in the Warsaw ghetto.

Before the Nazis invaded, 42-year-old Adam Paskow was a secular Jew. He lived in Warsaw with his cat, taught at a Polish school, and mourned his late wife, a wealthy Pole who died too young. After the Nazis invade, he is forced out of his home and into the Jewish ghetto where he shares a small apartment with two families (though the kids often sleep on the roof or in the sewers or hallways). He works in a soup kitchen and gives English lessons to children in the basement of a bombed-out movie theater, teaching them poems he has memorized, due to the lack of books. Early on, Adam is given a notebook from a real, historical organization called Oneg Shabbat to write everything he can about life under the Nazis for posterity. His account—this book—is moving and tender. “The truth is,” Adam writes, “it was hard to know what to think or how to behave, and I spent an awful lot of time either staring into space or digging myself into the deep hole of memory.” But Adam’s memories of his fairly average life before the war provide a contrast to the intentional, increasing meagerness of the life allowed in the ghetto. His interviews with his students and housemates offer a wealth of distinct histories, subtle but potent rebukes to the cruel and useless labeling perpetuated by the Nazi regime. Adam has the poetic optimism of a person for whom the worst has already happened, who is content for a while to count small blessings, but he is neither foolish nor passive. When risking death by missing curfew in order to walk a wayward student home, he notes, “there were corpses on the street, covered with newspapers that fluttered in the wind. We pretended not to see them.”

Delicate, warm account of a brutal, cold time, grounded in humanity, small details, and unwavering clarity.