The Postcard

In January 2003, an unsigned postcard is delivered to the Berest home with a picture of the Opera Garnier in Paris addressed to the author’s late grandmother. Handwritten, on the back of the postcard were four names – Ephraïm, Emma, Jacques, and Noémie – the names of four members of the Rabinovitch family, all of whom lost their lives during the Holocaust at Auschwitz. Ephraïm and Emma were the parents of Anne’s grandmother Myriam who was the only member of the Rabinovitch family who survived the Holocaust. However, that traumatic era in family history was seldom discussed at the Berest home and though Anne and her mother were Jewish, faith did not play a significant role in Anne’s upbringing. In fact, after the postcard show more arrived, it was filed away without much thought given to it. This novel is inspired by the author’s investigation of her family’s history.

Fifteen years later, after an uncomfortable Passover gathering at a friend's home and an unfortunate incident with her six-year-old daughter at school, Anne begins to ponder over her family history and more importantly her identity as a Jew. She recalls the postcard with the names of her ancestors and decides to use that as a starting point for research realizing that by understanding her painful family history and the struggles her mother and grandmother endured will she be able to begin to understand her legacy and how it has impacted her life. What follows is an in-depth exploration of the history of the Rabinovich family spanning four generations from 1918-19 to the present day. Anne’s research begins with whatever information she can glean from her mother, existing documentation and her mother’s own research into Myriam’s family. Anne’s journey is one of looking backward in an effort to move forward.

“I found myself confronted with a latent contradiction. On one side, there was the utopia my parents described as a model society to be built, instilling in us, day after day, the idea that religion was an evil to be fought against. And on the other side, hidden away in some dark crevice of our family life, was the existence of a hidden identity, a mysterious heritage, a strange lineage that drew its raison d’être from the very heart of religion. We were all one big family, no matter the color of our skin or our country of origin; we were all connected to one another through our humanity. But, in the midst of this enlightened discourse, there was that word that kept returning, circling back like a dark star, like some bizarre constellation, surrounded by a halo of mystery. Jew.”

Meticulously researched, informative and insightful, thought-provoking and profoundly moving, The Postcard by Anne Berest (translated by Tina Kover from the original French) is the story of a family, the story of war-torn Europe, the Holocaust and the story of survival and generational trauma. The author also explores anti-Semitism both in the context of the Holocaust as well as in contemporary times. The narrative moves between past and present with the past timeline tracing the family history beginning in the pre-WWII years and how Ephraim and Emma moved their family from Russia to Latvia, with a few years in Palestine, and finally, France from where they were deported to Auschwitz, where they perished in 1942. The author vividly describes the oppression of Jews in Nazi-occupied France and the atrocities exacted upon the Jewish population per the dictates of the Nazi regime. Myriam’s story in the later years of the war gives us a glimpse into the Resistance movement in France and the post-war years after the liberation of the concentration camps. Much of what we learn of Myriam's later life is from memories shared by Lelia. The present-day timeline follows Anne and Lelia as they leave no stone unturned in trying to track down the identity of the person who sent the postcard. The author skillfully weaves the different timelines and characters into a gripping and well-paced narrative. Part –memoir, part historical fiction, this is an important book that I would not hesitate to recommend. A must-read for those who enjoy historical fiction with an element of mystery and appreciate stories inspired by true events.

Many thanks to Europa Editions and NetGalley for the digital review copy of this extraordinary novel. All opinions expressed in this review are my own.

“I see obstacles where others do not. I struggle endlessly to make a connection between the thought of my family and the mythologized occurrence that is genocide. And that struggle is what constitutes me. It is the thing that defines me. For almost forty years, I have tried to draw a shape that resembles me, but without success. Today, though, I can connect those disparate dots. I can see, in the constellation of fragments scattered over the page, a silhouette in which I recognize myself at last: I am the daughter, and the granddaughter, of survivors.” show less

One of my best reads of the year. Difficult (as it should be) and worth it. Heart-shattering, impactful, and tragic both beyond comprehension and across generations.

The worst and hardest part: the blithe promise of 'never again' that seems, increasingly, to have been well-intentioned, false hope as patterns of history seem to be on repeat.

Wholly recommend.

What a sensational read, immensely traumatic, and yet, not off-putting. The story arises from the viewpoint of descendants of Holocaust survivors.

There's no Holocaust horror porn in this book, but there is a lot of detail, not so much about their fates but more about who they were and how much was lost to us all in this period. In lots of ways it brings home the tragedy more than the likes of those other Holocaust novels.

There's much here to upset anyone who wants to read this book. I don't know what else to say except that I could not put it down and I am so glad I read it.

But, in the midst of this enlightened discourse, there was that word that kept returning, circling back like a dark star, like some bizarre constellation, surrounded by a halo of mystery. Jew.

from the Postcard by Anne Berest
Anne Berest has a remarkable family history. Her grandparents moved from country to country seeking a safe harbor. Her grandmother married a Spanish Dada artist. She survived the Holocaust, worked in the Resistance, while her parents and younger siblings disappeared into the death camps. Berest’s mother was a political activist who never told her she was Jewish. Berest recalls asking about the family members with numbers on their arms and was told it was their telephone numbers.

Each generation contended with the show more same legacy, each a victim of anti-Semitism. Even Berest’s daughter. 1925. 1950. 1980. “The pattern was undeniable,” Berest writes, yet wondering “What does it mean to be Jewish?”

History can not be erased or forgotten. “Every time I met someone, I’d wonder: victim or perpetrator?” Berest brings to life the world that made this question a chilling reality.

She takes us into Vichy France, to the concentration camps, into hiding and the Resistance, and the chilling scenes where the survivors, walking skeletons, are repatriated.

Her journey began with a post card, written decades before it was mailed and delivered. On it were written the names of her mother’s parents and siblings who died in the death camps. Who had sent it? Why did it take so long to be mailed?

She researched and interviewed and pressed her mother for information, seeking to recreate her family’s lives and experiences. Decades of repressed memories is a wall she must break through. She feels the legacy of trauma carried in her own body, demanding to understand what her ancestors endured.

Intensely drawn, these people come to life on the page in this shattering and haunting story.

I received a free ebook from the publisher through Edelweiss. My review is fair and unbiased. show less

A postcard arrives with four names on it. The names are of family members who perished in the Holocaust. Who sent the card? Why was it sent? The author takes us on a journey like no other as she explores her family roots through a fictional account of the search. This is finely crafted historical fiction told in a propelling narrative with a perfect ending. What more do you want?
Berest introduces us to characters representing a variety of experiences as she traces her grandmother’s story from 1939 forward. The plot unfolds slowly as we get to know each one more deeply. In doing so we can examine the decisions made in light of their time and place in the world. Of course, parts of the story are gritty as families struggle to survive show more or meet their end during war time, but it is not graphic.
For me one of the loudest messages is the importance of filling the silence. Each generation has an obligation to leave behind a record of their lifetime experiences. Whether it is oral or written it helps the descendants find their place in history. Revealing the whole story helps hold the family together backwards and forwards. show less

The Postcard by Anne Berest is a beautifully written (and beautifully translated by Tina Kover) work of autofiction, taking the reader through both the trauma of the holocaust and the contemporary world of thinly (sometimes) disguised hatred that shares many characteristics with the hatred of the past.

As I read more works that fall under the heading of autofiction, I come to appreciate what it has to offer. For example, when you read Hemingway's fiction, much of it based on personal experience, it is not a retelling of actual events but his fictionalized telling of his perception of the events. Autofiction, however, tracks much closer to a work of nonfiction but uses the tools of fiction to make the narrative flow better. Dialogue that show more didn't take place but could have, time compression to place events in closer proximity to emphasize connectedness, things like that. But the events are the actual events, the story is the actual story. No doubt there are times this doesn't work, but the works I've read so far have used this approach very well.

I know that many approach this as historical fiction, and it is, but because the story is confined to what actually happened, there isn't the same freedom to embellish things to make it more sensationalized, so what is gained through autofiction can also limit its appeal as historical fiction. For me, however, knowing these are actual events, not simply a story based on actual events, more than makes up for any minor shortcomings.

The timeline involving WWII era is, like most holocaust literature, heartbreaking. The knowledge that such family tragedy mirrors societal tragedy, and that this is being passed down from generation to generation (both as oral history and genetically) makes the story more powerful.

The contemporary timeline is disturbing because it seems to highlight just how little we have learned about our worst tendencies as human beings and how history, while maybe not actually repeating itself, does run in similar cycles. It is in this timeline where we can more easily relate to the characters, their lives are familiar to us, so disturbances in them make more sense to us.

Empathy is a positive emotion, but it needs to be a catalyst, not the ending point. Become an activist against hate. That doesn't necessarily mean marching in the streets, though that isn't a bad idea at times. But stand up to the comments we all hear from time to time within our own circle of friends. Don't let casual hate go unchecked just because confronting it might be uncomfortable. Silence is usually taken as agreement when comments are made. We don't need hate thinking it is the majority.

There were times I thought maybe the book dragged, but I couldn't think of anything I wanted to potentially not have known. I also found that the pacing often reflected what was happening in the lives. While looking back it seems like things progressed rapidly, and in a historical sense they did, the lived experience was gradual. A little at a time so there wouldn't be much resistance. The writing during these periods reflect that. We don't go from a growing family to concentration camps and murder in a few short pages. We experience it gradually, and painfully, similar to how it was for the characters. So, ultimately, I think both the length and the pacing work very well here.

I would highly recommend this to any reader who enjoys living in the novel they're reading and not just watching a quick synopsis of the characters' lives. Any readers who simply can't stay focused on a book over a couple hundred pages might want to skip it, this is meant to be experienced, not breezed through, so you probably won't enjoy it.

Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley. show less

NOTE: This multi-award-winning, TRUE family saga was first published in France in 2021. I was given early access to the English version (translated by Tina Kover) in exchange for writing an impartial review. The English publication date is May 16, 2023. Thank you edelweis and Europa.

This is one of the most emotionally powerful books I've ever read. It is horrifying, brutally honest, and painful to read -- but also a story you won't be able to put down. Five stars does not do it justice. It's genuinely brilliant.

THE POSTCARD begins in 2003 when the author's family receives a postcard from an unknown sender. On it are four names -- the names of four relatives who perished during the Holocaust. What does it mean? Is it some sort of show more message? Is someone still alive? Could it be a warning of some kind? The book then recounts the diligent, forensic-like research involved in trying to find out who sent the postcard. And through this research, like the author's family, we slowly come to learn the story of Anne Berest's ancestors, along with the lasting devastation the Holocaust inflicted across generations of this family. For me, it also felt like I was living through different aspects of World War II -- alongside those who fought, those who hid, some who spied, and others who got caught.

Berest is at the center of the research effort, relying heavily on her mother Lelia's often painful memories. Both work to flesh out details from Lelia's mother's (Myriam) life during the war. The book moves back and forth in time and does not follow the structure of a traditional novel. Many sections read like a novel but another section might be an exchange of letters between family members. Another could recount a trip to find old friends whose memories might shed light on the mystery. For me, some of the unpredictability of the book's construction helped me experience the process of genealogy research -- where often one bit of information is found at a time. And only when you have enough bits are you able to put together a full picture of someone's life.

The story of the Rabinovitch family begins when they are forced to leave Russia and then follows members of the family as they move around -- to Poland, Palestine, Spain, England, and France. Their story mirrors the story of thousands (perhaps millions) of Jewish families caught up in the virulent antisemitism pervasive throughout Europe in the 20th century, culminating in Nazi Germany's systematic genocide. And lingers today.

What makes the story so emotional and so powerful is how deeply the reader becomes immersed in the family. Following four generations, both children and adults, we witness their quarrels, their dreams and disappointments, their loves, and their unpredictable fates. Out of the dozens of books I've read about World War II and the Holocaust (so many of which end with the end of the war), none has illustrated the aftermath, the lasting guilt and devastation experienced by survivors as well as THE POSTCARD. I felt what it was like to be in Paris after the war ended. I saw the condition of concentration camp survivors returning home. I accompanied members of this family as they tried to track down missing family members. All of this is part of what made it such a hard book to read.

If you read Suite Francais by Irene Nemirovsky you have some sense of how powerfully a gifted writer can make real the truth of a wretched episode of history. For all lovers of historical fiction, for those interested in World War II, and for those who share my fascination with the Holocaust story -- this is a book NOT to be missed. show less