Sarah’s Key: a balanced, beautiful book
Sarah’s Key sat on my dining room table through the end of the school year, the beginning of summer and the entire overnight camp packing event of 2009. The book was recommended by a friend who usually ‘gets it right’ when it comes to me and books, and even though I knew this was a Holocaust story, I thought I’d give it a go. But I didn’t.
I read to be entertained and challenged, not to be troubled. I don’t read missing children or sorrowful illness stories. I don’t need happy endings but I don’t want to be scared or sad through an entire volume. I just don’t find that enjoyable. A little suspense, intrigue, sadness? Sure — if it’s well-balanced. And to me, rave reviews and awards, accolades and recommendations — well, they usually do not outweigh my own gut feeling.
And then my gut said to read the damn book already.
Instead of telling you what it’s about, listen to it from the author’s mouth. Just know that I am glad I went outside my apparent comfort zone to read this book – which is perfectly balanced between the past and the present, sadness and joy.
Sounds like an amazing book. Thanks for linking the video. I’m like you. Generally speaking, I can’t read books or see films that have anything to do with the Holocaust – it’s far too upsetting. This sounds like an amazing read, however. I’ll pass it along to my family as well. They’re much braver readers than me.
This sounds like a very good book….. thanks for introducing me to it!
Sounds interesting Amy, and at least it’s nothing to do with missing children…um yes it is, missing French children. These stories are good for the empathy muscle once in a while it needs a workout. Being half French, I found this interesting on another level.
Thanks, Amy. I forward this link to a friend who teaches the Holocaust every year to her high school and junior high students. She’s always looking for good books on the subject.
I do the same thing with books that I have purely because of a friend’s recommendation. I don’t know why… but they often sit there for ages before I devour them and smack myself on the forehead.