Blog Post #1 - Mary Adams

“I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain.” (Wiesel, 19) These few sentences really touched me. It was honestly a little bit surprising that this seemingly insignificant bit about Tzipora and her red coat could evoke such varying emotions in me, when the rest of the memoir discussed immensely heavier things. I remember feeling a range of emotions when I read this part, I remember smiling a bit at the thought of a little girl with a red coat, but also feeling a deep sadness for her. “Not far from us, flames, huge flames, were rising from a ditch. Something was being burned there. A truck drew close and unloaded it’s hold: small children. Babies! Yes, I did see this, with my own eyes… children thrown into the flames.” (32) When I read this part, I remember envisioning a truck clumsily dumping children into a pit of flames. I can’t imagine any greater act of violence. I felt terrible imagining people actually doing something like that. “Our senses were numbed, everything was fading into a fog. We no longer clung to anything. The instincts of self preservation, of self defense, of pride, had all deserted us. In one terrifying moment of lucidity, I thought of us as damned souls wandering through the void, souls condemned to wander through space until the end of time, seeking redemption, seeking oblivion, without any hope of finding either.” (36) I think this paragraph is the best example of Wiesel’s beautiful writing style. The words he uses, the lengthy sentences, are almost like poetry. My favorite part of this scene is when he says “In one terrifying moment of lucidity,” I immediately was able to understand that Wiesel felt like he was almost in a dream, and I think the words he uses are are surprisingly perfect for this scene.

Comments

  1. AnonymousOctober 8, 2019 at 1:34 PM

    Mary,

    I really liked your post, especially the part about Tzipora and the red coat. Since his sister was so young, I remember noting that she was probably going to be killed because of her age. I agree that Wiesel's writing is almost like poetry and that he succeeded in showing that he felt like he was in a dream, but it was all too real.

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