But what if you found out, one day, that the father you had never known was indeed that man who delighted in brutality? And what would you make of your mother, who had worked on her tan within screaming distance to a Polish concentration camp?
And what if your only key for making sense of this was via a woman whose family had been exterminated, a woman who was brutalized and ridiculed in the ornate villa ruled by Goeth? What if you had to encounter the most damaged by that man in order to know that man in order to know yourself?
It’s a story of atonement that not even Philip Roth could have conceived, and it’s entirely true.