march reads {part two}

welcome back for part two of march reads.  the quotes for this third book are much lengthier.  sarah's key by tatiana de rosnay.  this fictional story focuses on the historical events of the vel' d'hiv roundup in paris during the holocaust where french policemen arrested jewish families and essentially led many of them to their deaths at auschwitz.

{sarah's key, tatiana de rosnay}

"'what do you mean, papa? where are we going?  why aren't we going back home?  you tell me!  tell me!' she nearly screamed the last words.  her father looked down at her.  he said her name again, very softly.  his eyes were still wet, his eyelashes spiked with tears.  he put his hand on the back of her neck.  'be brave, my sweet love.  be brave, as brave as you can.'  she could not cry.  her fear was so great it seemed to engulf everything else, it seemed to suck up every single emotion within her, like a monstrous, powerful vacuum.  'but i promised him i'd come back, papa.  i promised him.'  the girl saw that he had started to cry again, that he wasn't listening to her.  he was wrapped up in his own grief, in his own fear."

"no one loved paris better than a true parisian.  no one was prouder of his city than a true parisian.  no one was half as arrogant, so haughty, so conceited, and quite so irresistible.  why did i love paris so?  i wondered.  maybe because it never gave in to me.  it hovered enticingly close, yet it let me know my place.  the american.  i'd always be the american.  l'americaine."

"think of nice things, think of all the things you like, of all the things that make you happy, of all those special, magical moments you remember."

"her father's face.  she could no longer look at it.  he gazed down at her with such despair, such sadness.  her tears washed the image of his face away.  she cried into her palm, alone.  her father did not touch her.  in those awful, lonely minutes, the girl understood.  she was no longer a happy little ten-year-old girl.  she was someone much older.  nothing would ever be the same again.  for her.  for her family.  for her brother."

"she felt sobs welling up in her throat but she forced herself not to cry.  never cry in front of these men.  never cry.  ever.  it's only hair.  hair will grow back."

"had she ever wished that woman dead?  she pondered.  yes, she had.  so maybe that's how it worked.  that's how all this had happened.  hating people so much that you wanted to kill them.  hating them because they wore a yellow star.  it made her shiver.  she felt as if all the evil, all the hatred in the world was concentrated right here, stocked up all around her, in the policemen's hard faces, in their indifference, their disdain.  and outside the camp, did everybody hate the jews, too?  is this what her life was going to be about from now on?"

"the grass tickled her nose.  it smelled delicious.  she wanted to bury her face in it and breathe in the green, tangy scent."

"'there,' she said, exulting.  'i'm burying the stars.  they're dead.  in their grave.  forever and ever.'  the girl laughed with rachel.  then she felt ashamed.  her mother had told her to be proud of her star.  proud of being a jew.  she didn't want to think about all that now.  things were different.  everything was different.  they had to find water, food, and shelter, and she had to get home.  how?  she didn't know.  she didn't even know where they were.  but she had money.  the man's money.  he had not been that bad after all, that policeman.  maybe that meant there were other good people who could help them, too.  people who did not hate them.  people who did not think they were 'different.'"

"'be careful, julia,' he repeated.  he smiled, but his eyes remained serious.  'you're playing with pandora's box.  sometimes, it's better not to open it.  sometimes, it's better not to know.'"

"number 26 appeared in front of them.  nothing had changed in the street, she noticed.  it was still the same calm, narrow road she had always known.  how was it possible that entire lives could change, could be destroyed, and that streets and buildings remained the same, she wondered."

"an old man on my left took a handkerchief from his pocket and wept noiselessly.  my heart went out to him.  who was he crying for?  i wondered.  who had he lost?"

 "the many faces around me appeared to be serene, listening to the prime minister.  i watched them as he continued with the same powerful voice.  but every one of those faces contained sorrow.  sorrow that could never be erased.  the prime minister's speech was applauded for a long time.  i noticed people crying, hugging each other."

"yes, the war is over, at last over, but for your father and me, nothing is the same.  nothing will ever be the same.  peace has a bitter taste.  and the future is foreboding.  the events that have taken place have changed the face of the world.  and of france.  france is still recovering from her darkest years.  will she ever recover, i wonder?  this is no longer the france i knew when i was a little girl.  this is another france that i don't recognize.  i am old now, and i know my days are numbered.  but sarah, gaspard, and nicholas are still young.  they will have to live in this new france.  i pity them, and i fear what lies ahead."

find my other 2013 reading list posts here:  les mis {part one}, les mis {part two}, march reads {part one}