I’ll admit it: this week I fell prey to the “Recommended” table at my local book store. Being a bookseller, I find myself to be a bit of a book snob and will rarely listen to advice about my reading material. However, I am also a sucker for a nice cover (yeah, I judge a book by its cover) and “Sarah’s Key” indeed has a nice cover. So I picked it up, read a few pages and before I could resist, I was hooked.

“Sarah’s Key” is a historical fiction novel that flip flops between two story lines: Sarah’s and Julia’s. Julia Jarmond is living in modern-day Paris. She is married to a man that she describes as a typical Parisian: good-looking, successful, but also very reserved and often, cold. They live with their daughter, Zoe, and also many secrets.

Then there is Sarah, a 10-year-old French Jew who is taken from her home and sent to a concentration camp during the 1942 Velodrome D’Hiver roundup in Paris. For those of you who have no idea what the Vel D’Hiv roundup is (don’t be embarassed – I didn’t either!), here is a crash course: Basically 13, 000 Jewish men, women and children were arrested and taken to the Veldrome D’Hiver (a stadium), right in the middle of Paris, where they were left for several days before going to the Drancy and Beaune-la-Rolande internment camps and finally Auschwitz. Now, even if none of the other words in that sentence meant anything to you, I know you recognized Auschwitz. And so you know the fate of these poor, innocent people. Sarah is taken, along with her mother and father. Read More »

According to CNN.com, a woman named Misha Defonseca recently admitted that she fabricated nearly all the content from a “memoir” she wrote of her childhood as a Jew during the Holocaust.

The book, Misha: A Memoire of the Holocaust Years, claims that the author spent four years as a child wandering the European wilderness and being raised by wolves.

Would you believe that? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

The author, who has further admitted that her name is not actually Misha Defonseca but Monique De Wael, said that the book was “not actually reality, but my reality.”

I’m going to refrain from making fun of her because it’s clear that the woman needs professional help, but the point is that there’s no excuse for even disturbed people to make up stories about their lives and then market them as “memoirs.” Read More »