Hitler, Stalin, Mum and Dad by Daniel Finkelstein review – escape from tyranny | Biography books

Mirjam and Ludwik were both born into prosperous families. Both had happy early childhoods. Like millions of others, both had their lives shattered by the second world war. Mirjam was caught with her mother and sisters in the occupied Netherlands, living under increasingly oppressive Nazi rule before being moved to the Dutch holding camp for Jews at Westerbork, and then Belsen. Ludwik, who grew up in Poland, was exiled to eastern Kazakhstan by the Soviets with his mother, where they lived through a Siberian winter with little food and no shelter. Both somehow survived through a combination of willpower, help from distant family and moments of miraculous luck in a sea of misfortune. They ended up, through circuitous means, in Britain, met, married and lived a blissfully quiet life in Hendon.

Like many survivors, neither wrote their story. They did not want to be defined by the worst of their experiences. As Mirjam said: “I think of myself as a person, a wife and mother first, and a survivor last.” Nor did they realise how incredible their journeys would seem to the rest of us.

Luckily their son, Daniel Finkelstein, a Times columnist and member of the House of Lords, has put pen to paper for them. It’s hard to imagine how he could have done it better. What he has produced is carefully researched and beautifully written; as gripping as any thriller and in places so overwhelming that I had to stop to compose myself. I’ve been moved to tears by books before, but never from page three and then consistently throughout.

While there are wider political messages, this is at heart a book about the power of maternal love. In a tale containing many deeds of self-sacrifice and bravery, the standout heroines are Mirjam and Ludwik’s mothers, Greta and Lusia. Their ability to endure terrible hardships, and fight the maddening illogic of totalitarian bureaucracy in order to protect their children, is extraordinary. It is a reminder that while love sadly does not always conquer hate – there are too many families that didn’t survive to believe that – it can give us the hope and fortitude required to persist in the face of unimaginable odds.

Mirjam, as an adult and survivor, also emerges as a woman of remarkable wisdom, someone who has seen the worst of humanity and chosen to represent the best. For instance, there is an ongoing controversy over the decision taken by the leadership of the Dutch Jewish community to work with the Nazis so as to avoid immediate retribution. Her response is the correct one: it was the Nazis’ fault. There is no value in blaming the victims for making one impossible choice over another.Likewise when Justin Bieber created global outrage for commenting in the visitors’ book at Anne Frank’s house that he hoped “she would have been a belieber”, Mirjam defends him. The whole point about Anne was her ordinariness, someone who absolutely would have been a fan of a teen idol. In a world of perpetual outrage such calm reason from someone who had every right to play the victim is a balm.

While personal drama drives the story, there is much of contemporary relevance. The author tells us that the global turmoil of the last decade has shaken his former confidence that we are perpetually safe from the fate that befell his parents. When he writes that their tormenters, both Nazi and Soviet, “believed the will of the people was being thwarted by elites, and that the individuals who made up the elites needed to be eliminated by force”, it’s not hard to hear the echoes today.

Which is why Mirjam and Ludwik celebrated the ordinary and mundane and passed on the importance of the things that protect that – liberal norms, civil rights, and the rule of law – to their children. They died peacefully in the house they lived in for more than 50 years after escaping the horrors of their youth, enjoying the gentle rituals of family life. If I learned anything about them from this book, it’s that they would be tremendously proud of the job their son has done in telling their story.

Mirjam and Ludwik were both born into prosperous families. Both had happy early childhoods. Like millions of others, both had their lives shattered by the second world war. Mirjam was caught with her mother and sisters in the occupied Netherlands, living under increasingly oppressive Nazi rule before being moved to the Dutch holding camp for Jews at Westerbork, and then Belsen. Ludwik, who grew up in Poland, was exiled to eastern Kazakhstan by the Soviets with his mother, where they lived through a Siberian winter with little food and no shelter. Both somehow survived through a combination of willpower, help from distant family and moments of miraculous luck in a sea of misfortune. They ended up, through circuitous means, in Britain, met, married and lived a blissfully quiet life in Hendon.

Like many survivors, neither wrote their story. They did not want to be defined by the worst of their experiences. As Mirjam said: “I think of myself as a person, a wife and mother first, and a survivor last.” Nor did they realise how incredible their journeys would seem to the rest of us.

Luckily their son, Daniel Finkelstein, a Times columnist and member of the House of Lords, has put pen to paper for them. It’s hard to imagine how he could have done it better. What he has produced is carefully researched and beautifully written; as gripping as any thriller and in places so overwhelming that I had to stop to compose myself. I’ve been moved to tears by books before, but never from page three and then consistently throughout.

While there are wider political messages, this is at heart a book about the power of maternal love. In a tale containing many deeds of self-sacrifice and bravery, the standout heroines are Mirjam and Ludwik’s mothers, Greta and Lusia. Their ability to endure terrible hardships, and fight the maddening illogic of totalitarian bureaucracy in order to protect their children, is extraordinary. It is a reminder that while love sadly does not always conquer hate – there are too many families that didn’t survive to believe that – it can give us the hope and fortitude required to persist in the face of unimaginable odds.

Mirjam, as an adult and survivor, also emerges as a woman of remarkable wisdom, someone who has seen the worst of humanity and chosen to represent the best. For instance, there is an ongoing controversy over the decision taken by the leadership of the Dutch Jewish community to work with the Nazis so as to avoid immediate retribution. Her response is the correct one: it was the Nazis’ fault. There is no value in blaming the victims for making one impossible choice over another.Likewise when Justin Bieber created global outrage for commenting in the visitors’ book at Anne Frank’s house that he hoped “she would have been a belieber”, Mirjam defends him. The whole point about Anne was her ordinariness, someone who absolutely would have been a fan of a teen idol. In a world of perpetual outrage such calm reason from someone who had every right to play the victim is a balm.

While personal drama drives the story, there is much of contemporary relevance. The author tells us that the global turmoil of the last decade has shaken his former confidence that we are perpetually safe from the fate that befell his parents. When he writes that their tormenters, both Nazi and Soviet, “believed the will of the people was being thwarted by elites, and that the individuals who made up the elites needed to be eliminated by force”, it’s not hard to hear the echoes today.

Which is why Mirjam and Ludwik celebrated the ordinary and mundane and passed on the importance of the things that protect that – liberal norms, civil rights, and the rule of law – to their children. They died peacefully in the house they lived in for more than 50 years after escaping the horrors of their youth, enjoying the gentle rituals of family life. If I learned anything about them from this book, it’s that they would be tremendously proud of the job their son has done in telling their story.