In My Brother's Shadow: A Life and Death in the SS

Received in timely manner. Book in condition stated by seller. Absolutely fascinating read!

This is less an account of Uwe Timm's brother's life and death in the SS -- though it is that -- than it is a reflection on memory and history, specifically on what they mean in postwar Germany. Timm's brother's diary, kept against regulations ("it ought not to exist," Timm writes), is brief and ambiguous. And in those ambiguities lie the greatest turmoil and conflict, with no real answers. What did the brother mean when he referred to a "big louse hunt"? Clearly, he was involved in criminal activities ("plenty of loot!"), and clearly, he was coarsened by the war ("fodder for my MG"). But was he involved in atrocities? Did he murder civilians? Those are the questions that Timm can't answer with any certainty. They point to the doubt and guilt of an entire people, a people who still struggle to come to terms with the war. Sixty years: still no answers, still no resolution.

I was born and raised in Germany. Even though my parents were born after the war and both my grandfathers were dead by the time I started asking questions I can still relate very well to the unease when it comes to talking about WWII. Where I grew up we had a neighbour whom I only knew as a mild mannered older guy, who loved us kids, would give us sweets and let us play in the big old trees in his garden. At one point I discovered that he was a member of the SS in WWII and had fought somewhere in Russia. He had no family. When he was in his eighties, he started opening up to a few people in the neighbourhood, among them my family. He would talk about the war, his comrades and generally the hard life they lived. He would always start crying. He would never mention fighting, killing civilians and all the other things he most likely saw and did. We all knew about those things, but we also felt sorry for the old guy and nobody pressed questions. He was a neighbour, not close family after all. Timm's book perfectly captures the conflict of the - very normal - desire to love and admire a brother (father, uncle, grandfather, neighbour) while at the same time knowing that that person must have consciously participated in something unspeakably atrocious. Obviously there is no easy solution and that conflict is one that generations of Germans had to deal with after the war. It is impossible to excuse what happened, but it is equally impossible to condemn all these people around you who all might have participated to various degrees, and be it just by keeping silent.