A half century after the Holocaust, Daria Abramson, suffering nightmares of the Lodz ghetto and her time with its infamous ruler, Chaim Rumkowski, turns for help to a sensitive but dogged therapist. During their intense sessions, she lays bare buried memories and faces deep feelings of guilt about the war and the death of her husband. Secrets long held by Daria spill out in fierce succession, revelations disclosed to those she loves most – her daughter, granddaughter, and Ruth, a lifelong friend and fellow survivor. In turn, they expose their own shocking surprises. In Daria’s Secrets, by Jeff Ingber, we travel together with a courageous woman as she attempts to overcome the anguish of the heart’s remembrance, in order to finally live.
A half century after the Holocaust, Daria Abramson, suffering nightmares of the Lodz ghetto and her time with its infamous ruler, Chaim Rumkowski, turns for help to a sensitive but dogged therapist. During their intense sessions, she lays bare buried memories and faces deep feelings of guilt about the war and the death of her husband. Secrets long held by Daria spill out in fierce succession, revelations disclosed to those she loves most – her daughter, granddaughter, and Ruth, a lifelong friend and fellow survivor. In turn, they expose their own shocking surprises. In Daria’s Secrets, by Jeff Ingber, we travel together with a courageous woman as she attempts to overcome the anguish of the heart’s remembrance, in order to finally live.
A stooped man, wearing a stained charcoal suit with a Star of David stitched onto the lapel, stands on the far end of the attic. His pallid face, pooled in sweat, is marked by bushy eyebrows and a shock of unruly cotton white hair. Thick-lensed owlish glasses shield eyes swollen with foreboding. He peers into a wooden crib bordered by weathered spindles. Tossing aside a worm-eaten blanket, the man rocks on his heels and shrieks in Yiddish, “The baby! Where is she?”
Rather than help him search, I stand mutely in a corner as the frail light filtering in from a window screened by iron bars grows dimmer. Stepping away from the crib, he stares at the sloped ceiling and bellows, “I am the head of this orphanage. I cannot lose a child.”
Suddenly shivering, I glance down to observe that I'm naked. I gasp, alerting the man to my presence. He approaches rapidly. I turn to run, but the stairs have vanished. From deep within, I unleash a high-pitched, piercing scream.
I awaken with a pulsing heart in free fall.
"'Some days,' I announce, 'It seems that death has cheated me, not the other way around.'"
Trigger warning: This book deals with the holocaust, child sexual abuse, murder, infidelity, panic attacks, age differences in relationships and many other dark themes.
Daria Abramson is a mother, a grandmother, a widow and a holocaust survivor. She has lost more in her life on this Earth than many of us can fathom, and now, half a century after her experiences in the Lodz Ghetto and her subsequent stay in an orphanage run by an infamous paedophile, she is seeking therapy at the advice of her lifelong friend Ruth and her daughter, Keren. Daria has been plagued by nightmares. The topics of these nightmares range, some concerning her sister and her parents, who all died during the holocaust, her dead husband, Rumkowski (the leader of the orphanage) and has been struggling with panic attacks. Despite her initial hesitations about therapy, Daria finds herself able to talk and think more about her past, her revelations highlighting her shortcomings in her relationship with her family and ultimately, they enable her to do better as a mother, grandmother and as a friend to Ruth. The secrets revealed throughout this book are hard-hitting and emotive, which are probably adjectives I would use to describe this book as a whole.
Ingber writes Daria as an incredibly strong individual who isn't always aware of her own strength, often placing the blame upon herself for things she may not have been able to control. She struggles throughout this book with being a "good person," wishing she was stronger for her family, and the reader finds themselves invested in her character totally. The dynamic difference between Daria and her daughter Keren, to Daria and her grandchildren, is so clear. The frigid hostility that exists between the mother and daughter for issues not communicated is completely eradicated between the grandmother and grandchildren, something I think is often reflected in the real world. Parents often see their grandchildren as a second chance to do better. I loved reading the moments between Daria and her grandchildren, Melanie and Josh.
"Three things cannot hide for long: the Moon, the Sun and the Truth."
This book ultimately deals with Truth. Secrets that have had their grip on Daria for almost fifty years and as a reader, your heart bleeds for all the characters. For Daria and her loss, for Keren and her difficult marriage, for Ruth and her what-ifs in life. The secrets (which I won't reveal because I urge you to go and read this book) are revealed in such an ordinary, slice of life kind of way. This book could truly be a snapshot of reality with the natural character interactions and relationships depicted. Nothing is perfect, everything can be hard, but life is always worth it. Once again, I'm urging you to pick up this book. The themes are hard, but it is such a well-told story about an incredible individual who you can't help but want something good for in the end.