A descendant charts a Jewish family’s unusual course through the years of the Third Reich.
In 1938, Adolf Hitler ordered that the Munich synagogue be demolished, and its rubble was bulldozed into the Isar river. Years later, writes English novelist Dunthorne, workmen noticed that the “rubble buried in the riverbed was unusually ornate” and began the long course of excavating it to restore the building. It’s a perfect metaphor for his book, which, among many other storylines, charts his Jewish great-grandfather’s problematic career as a chemical manufacturer who promoted the received wisdom of the day that thorium and other radioactive elements constituted “a miracle cure and the source of mysterious powers,” used as ingredients in things as various as toothpaste, energy drinks, and even lingerie. Great-grandfather Siegfried also made poisonous gases, some quite diabolical: One penetrated a gas mask and prompted retching, driving the wearer to take off the mask and inhale still more deadly components. Siegfried’s laboratory was in Oranienburg, a center not just of scientific research but also of the SS, the chemical plant next door to a concentration camp, and a production facility that made uranium oxide for the secret Nazi atomic bomb project. Siegfried and his family left for Turkey when anti-Jewish laws were promulgated, but in exile he still worked for the chemical firm, one of whose poisonous gases was used against Kurds in eastern Turkey, killing some 13,160 civilians around the town of Dersim, which, Dunthorne writes, “has led to rumors that the Nazis saw Dersim as a proof of concept.” That Siegfried was aware of the implications of his work may have led, after he emigrated to the U.S., to a mental breakdown. Dunthorne’s winding story embraces other family members whose histories were less freighted with guilt, but Siegfried’s lies at its heart as a cautionary tale of accommodating evil.
A thoughtful, troubling addition to the literature of the Holocaust.