The Holocaust is one subject which has been written about, talked about and filmed about enough number of times to cover every possible aspect, one would think. And yet, once in a while comes a work which throws a curveball, which opens our eyes to the tragedy from a still different angle. 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' is that kind of a book.
The book, written almost entirely from the perspective of a 9-year old boy, the son of a German army officer, drawn one in slowly. The early parts, as seen in the sporadic flashbacks of Bruno, the principal character, seem quite humdrum, what with his rivalry with his 12-year old sister (the 'Hopeless Case'!), his 'friendships for life' with other school boys, the Christmas plays directed by his grandmother (an ageing thespian), and so on. But here too the portends of the sinister happenings all around are palpable, if only as snippets of Bruno's narration - the 'history' lessons with 'injustices' mentioned, the visit of 'Fury' to their home, the distaste displayed by his grandmother to the Nazi actions and her son being part of all that, and so on. Some parts of the narration may look contrived, with modern expressions slipped into 1940s conversations, but that's probably a necessary device to relate to contemporary readers.
Then the narrative moves to 'Out-With' where Bruno's father is posted, ostensibly as the jailor, and to where the family moves despite tearful rebellion by Bruno and protests by his mother. And it's here that Bruno's character is etched out in all its aspects. From his noticing the prisoners in 'striped pyjamas' across the big fence, his puzzlement at the lack of interaction between those living on the two sides of the fence, his noticing the plight of a Jew doctor prisoner serving as a waiter, to the in your face anti-Semitism of a young sergeant, and so on. Bruno's father's character is also etched out with due complexity, avoiding black and white judgments, pointing at how patriotism has the potential to evolve into jingoism with more sinister manifestations, even in inherently decent people (after all, he had taken an ostensibly Jewish maid under his wings).
The high point of the narrative comes with Bruno's chance meeting with 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' across the fence, while roaming far and wide as 'exploration'. The way the relationship of the two boys, one German and the other Polish, born on the same day, on two sides of the 'fence' (physical but also metaphorical), develops, the reader gets totally absorbed in the story. Their innocent conversations on earlier and current lifestyles and treatment, also illustrated when Shmuel is brought to Bruno's house to clean glasses, and the physical deprivation of the prisoners, are touching, not the least because of the children's perspectives, bereft of the usual 'adult' understanding and rationalizations. Initially, Bruno almost comes across as a privileged boy with an entitlement syndrome, but his innate humanism comes across not only in his trying to help Shmuel with food and other things, but also in the sensitive way in which he talks (or avoids talking) about certain things.
The reader gets so invested in the two boys that, towards the end, when one realizes what's going to happen, the reaction is like "Don't go there... Just walk away... Plan for another day!". But it's like watching someone dear go to his doom, and not being able to do anything about it! It's heart-rending to see how, in innocent 'exploration', Bruno dons the prisoner's garb and slips inside the camp, only to be swept away along with a crowd of prisoners into a gas chamber. The climax plays out within such a short span of time that it's almost traumatic, giving no time to the reader to even note Bruno's eventual discovery of the squalid lives lived by the prisoners, something of a revelation to him.
The father's subsequent discovery of what had happened almost tempts one to say 'Serves him right'. But then, the loss of even one precious life, what to say about the millions who perished there, is an occasion not for gloating, but for mourning, and for internalizing the lesson that 'it could happen anywhere and any time'. So constant vigil against such tendencies is the price of freedom and justice for all.
The book, written almost entirely from the perspective of a 9-year old boy, the son of a German army officer, drawn one in slowly. The early parts, as seen in the sporadic flashbacks of Bruno, the principal character, seem quite humdrum, what with his rivalry with his 12-year old sister (the 'Hopeless Case'!), his 'friendships for life' with other school boys, the Christmas plays directed by his grandmother (an ageing thespian), and so on. But here too the portends of the sinister happenings all around are palpable, if only as snippets of Bruno's narration - the 'history' lessons with 'injustices' mentioned, the visit of 'Fury' to their home, the distaste displayed by his grandmother to the Nazi actions and her son being part of all that, and so on. Some parts of the narration may look contrived, with modern expressions slipped into 1940s conversations, but that's probably a necessary device to relate to contemporary readers.
Then the narrative moves to 'Out-With' where Bruno's father is posted, ostensibly as the jailor, and to where the family moves despite tearful rebellion by Bruno and protests by his mother. And it's here that Bruno's character is etched out in all its aspects. From his noticing the prisoners in 'striped pyjamas' across the big fence, his puzzlement at the lack of interaction between those living on the two sides of the fence, his noticing the plight of a Jew doctor prisoner serving as a waiter, to the in your face anti-Semitism of a young sergeant, and so on. Bruno's father's character is also etched out with due complexity, avoiding black and white judgments, pointing at how patriotism has the potential to evolve into jingoism with more sinister manifestations, even in inherently decent people (after all, he had taken an ostensibly Jewish maid under his wings).
The high point of the narrative comes with Bruno's chance meeting with 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' across the fence, while roaming far and wide as 'exploration'. The way the relationship of the two boys, one German and the other Polish, born on the same day, on two sides of the 'fence' (physical but also metaphorical), develops, the reader gets totally absorbed in the story. Their innocent conversations on earlier and current lifestyles and treatment, also illustrated when Shmuel is brought to Bruno's house to clean glasses, and the physical deprivation of the prisoners, are touching, not the least because of the children's perspectives, bereft of the usual 'adult' understanding and rationalizations. Initially, Bruno almost comes across as a privileged boy with an entitlement syndrome, but his innate humanism comes across not only in his trying to help Shmuel with food and other things, but also in the sensitive way in which he talks (or avoids talking) about certain things.
The reader gets so invested in the two boys that, towards the end, when one realizes what's going to happen, the reaction is like "Don't go there... Just walk away... Plan for another day!". But it's like watching someone dear go to his doom, and not being able to do anything about it! It's heart-rending to see how, in innocent 'exploration', Bruno dons the prisoner's garb and slips inside the camp, only to be swept away along with a crowd of prisoners into a gas chamber. The climax plays out within such a short span of time that it's almost traumatic, giving no time to the reader to even note Bruno's eventual discovery of the squalid lives lived by the prisoners, something of a revelation to him.
The father's subsequent discovery of what had happened almost tempts one to say 'Serves him right'. But then, the loss of even one precious life, what to say about the millions who perished there, is an occasion not for gloating, but for mourning, and for internalizing the lesson that 'it could happen anywhere and any time'. So constant vigil against such tendencies is the price of freedom and justice for all.