In 1944, when she was just fifteen, Marceline Loridan-Ivens and her father were arrested in occupied France, and sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau. At the concentration camp, the pair were forcibly separated, and she was only able to speak to her father once more. But You Did Not Come Back is a letter to the father whom ‘she would never know as an adult, to the man whose death has enveloped her life. With poignant honesty, she tells him of the events that have continued to haunt her, of the collapse of their family, and of her efforts to find a place in a changing world’. Le Parisien calls Loridan-Ivens’ memoir ‘one of the most beautiful books of the year’, and promise that ‘you will read it in one sitting’. But You Did Not Come Back has been translated from its original French by Sandra Smith, who handles all of the Irene Nemirovsky translations. It was first published in 2015, and in English last year.
But You Did Not Come Back begins in the following way: ‘I was quite a cheerful person, you know, in spite of what happened to us. … But I’m changing. It isn’t bitterness, I’m not bitter. It’s just as if I were already gone. … I don’t belong here anymore. Perhaps it’s an acceptance of death, or a lack of will. I’m slowing down.’ She goes on to harrowingly describe the situation which she and her father were thrust into, and how their separation affected her: ‘Between us stood fields, prison blocks, watchtowers, barbed wire, crematoriums, and above all else, the unbearable certainty of what was happening to us all. It was as if we were separated by thousands of kilometers.’
Loridan-Ivens meets her father once more, quite by chance when returning from a work detail. When the pair embrace, she describes the following: ‘Our senses came alive again, the sense of touch, the feel of a body we loved. That moment would cost us dearly, but for a few precious seconds, it interrupted the merciless script written for us all.’ The next day, she passes him again: ‘You were there, so close to me, very thin, wearing a baggy striped uniform, but still a magician, a man who could astonish me.’ She is just as honest about what being imprisoned in such a notorious concentration camp does to her, and those around her: ‘The first things we lost were the feelings of love and sensitivity. You freeze inside so you don’t die. There, you know very well how the spirit shrivels, the future lasts for five minutes, you lose who you are.’ Whilst detailing her experiences within the camp, Loridan-Ivens often writes using ‘we’ rather than ‘I’; through this narrative choice, she demonstrates just how many were in the same situation as her, and the collective feelings which were shared. Her voice continually speaks to her father; she addresses questions to him, and aches to know his opinions.
Loridan-Ivens was eighty-six when she chose to write But You Did Not Come Back, and it is clear that doing so was a very painful experience. She describes her isolation when the war ends and Bergen-Belsen, where she is transported to, is liberated; returning home, she finds that nobody but her father understood what she went through in the camps, and the majority of people around her forbid her to talk of her experiences. She writes: ‘I wasn’t running away from ghosts, quite the contrary, I was chasing after them, after you. Who else could I share anything with?’
But You Did Not Come Back is incredibly moving and poignant; it is as heartfelt as it is heartbreaking. Just one hundred pages long, it can be read in a relatively short time, but its messages are unlikely to be forgotten. Loridan-Ivens demonstrates in her beautiful and brave memoir, which has been seamlessly translated, that the bond between father and daughter can never truly be broken.