This is an old post, from November, that I somehow failed to publish:
I watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas tonight. Overall, not sure what I think of it. Some of the greatest horrors in history, seen from a child's uncomprehending perspective.
The brightness of the leaves, the beauty of the piano, all leading to what? An accidental death? A German child burned to death with his Jewish friend? So that his parents can learn a lesson? Can experience the reality of the horror?
The one part that really got to me was the beginning. The haunting paradox of the idyllic German household and the liquidating Jewish ghetto. Of living a normal life, a simple life, oblivious to the horrors taking place within your country's borders.
Looking back, how would you make sense of it? The decaying monstrosity that had taken place while you had been happy, while life had been normal. How do you recover from such an awakening?