“Soul…” starts where most memoirs start, with introductions to a life before… friends, family, fond memories of establishing ones’ place in the world.  Yet unlike many other Holocaust survival stories, it does not jump quickly to the horrors.  Instead, Fahidi takes us on a relaxed and leisurely journey through her earlier days…beautifully written, often funny descriptions of childhood experiences, growing up in privilege but always grounded in the structure and security provided by loving parents, family members, and her close-knit community.  There is no rush to get to a specific or defining moment; the time and investment in the storytelling is on the beautiful things that made the author who she is, who she was, and how all of those things are what saved her. 

The reader very quickly discovers this story is unique.  Yes, there is the the fight to survive and there are descriptively written accounts of the daily, if not hourly, atrocities that were faced.  But they do not define this book.  We leave this story knowing the author wants to be defined, not by only one part of her, but by her family, her life, her friendships.  It is these things that helped her survive and what she wants to pay homage to. The insight and self-reflection, the focus and energy of the storytelling goes to her family, to the power the people in her life gave her. Not to the horror.

But the reality of her experiences still remain and she takes us through many scenarios of starvation, despair, humiliation, and fear.  The loss of family, home, country shapes a person forever and we walk hand in hand with the author as she leads us past those losses and down a new road of friendships, of loyalty, and honor.  Fahidi never loses her voice…both pragmatic and wry, she reminds us that even in the depths of despair, fear, and filth, one can maintain ones civility and even sanity as she describes how she and her “Row of Five”  bolster each other up by pretending to “go to the theatre” or “experience the opera” through descriptive memories shared.

The Author describes how often people have apologized for what their forefathers or countrymen may have done and she unilaterally dismisses those comments and suggests blame isn’t inherited by default.  She speaks about her belief that the descendants are not the sinners and that “sins of the father” do not apply here. She speaks highly of her relationship with and to Germany; the many forms of outreach she has experienced from Germany in the forms of apology, respect, and acknowledgement to her and her fellow survivors.  Herein lies the other most notable difference of this Holocaust survival story from others… where the anger lies. 

The other voice we hear on this journey is one of deep disappointment.  That disappointment is rooted in anger towards her own country – Hungary.  There is a deeply profound sense of betrayal by Hungary; for what it didn’t do to protect it’s citizens- all of it’s citizens- through the Hungarian Holocaust of 1944 and the four anti-Jewish laws passed by Hungary throughout 1920-1941.  There are multiple references to Hungary’s overzealous cooperation with and participation in supporting Hitler’s malevolent agenda that claimed over 600,000 Hungarian lives.   How Hungary’s betrayal continues to be perpetuated is by its’ failure to acknowledge or take any accountability for the role it played.  Germany’s open acknowledgement of what it allowed to happen and its overtly demonstrated desire to not repeat it stands in stark contrast from the resounding silence of her homeland.  It is abundantly clear that this betrayal remains an open wound for the author.

In spite of the subject matter and for as many horrors as are described here, this book is not about fear, violence, or despair.  It is about endless optimism.