...Despite the mayhem that followed, Bruno found that he was still holding Shmuel's hand in his own and nothing in the world would have persuaded him to let go.
John BoyneTag: life inspirational friendship love death holocaust tear-jerker wwii-fiction
The official line is that, after the war, women couldn't wait to leave the offices and assembly lines and government agencies. But the real story was that the economy couldn't have men coming home without women going home, not unless it wanted a lot of unemployed vets. So the problem became unemployed women. "How you gonna keep us down on the farm after we've seen the world,"' she ad-libs to the old World War I tune. 'Enter the women's magazines, and cookbook publishers, and all these advertising agencies carrying on about the scourge of germs in the toilet bowl, and scuffs on the kitchen floor, and, my favorite, house B.O. Enter chicken hash that takes two and a half hours to prepare. I can just hear them sitting around the conference tables. 'That'll keep the gals out of trouble.
Ellen FeldmanTag: feminism homemaking wwii-fiction
Ari: The serial number was now my new name. I was dehumanized. I was branded like an animal, but was treated worse. This is what racism can do to people.
Christopher HuhTag: prejudice racism wwii-fiction wwii-history
I stepped back and looked at all the people as they continued to weave in and out, around and around, faster and faster until they were one blur, until they were One. And then I knew what Bubbe meant. Here, was God.
Han NolanTag: god-s-will wwii-fiction if-i-should-die-before-i-wake
Hanno combattuto per la nostra libertà. Noi siamo ancora liberi, dunque loro sono ancora vivi.
Marco StrazziTag: cemetery fallen wwii-fiction
What do you say, son? Doesn’t your father look great in his new uniform?”
Poul-Erik’s Father
The Informer by Steen Langstrup
Tag: fathers uniform wwii-fiction scandinavian-mysteries
It was all a big joke. I could see that now. There was no rhyme or reason to whether we lived or died. One day it might be the man next to you at roll call who is torn apart by dogs. The next day it might be you who is shot through the head. You could play the game perfectly and still lose, so why bother playing at all?
Alan GratzTag: wwii death holocaust wwii-fiction wwii-poland
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