Is a Holocaust novel ever an enjoyable read? No, and I actually avoided reading this for a while despite the praise for it because I didn't feel up to reading about it from a child's point of view. However, I picked it up one day and read it in one sitting. It's difficult to write a Holocaust novel that isn't affecting - in fact, I don't know that it's possible, since merely describing the events is horrifying in and of itself - but this one was affecting in a very specific way because of it's narrator's perspective, and that made it unique in both it's hopefulness and its absolute desolation.

Felix is a child, a small child who was sheltered from the realities of his situation for years. So when he escapes from the orphanage, he views the things he sees with naive eyes, assuming the best of people and seeing his task as difficult but within his ability to accomplish. And even as his eyes are opened, even as the horror because undeniable, he is able to help the children around him hold on to hope and life through the his ability to tell stories. Stories keep him alive, and they keep the other children alive. Even at the end, at the grimmest, darkest hour, stories are the small white light - even in the saddest possible way.

This was a difficult, painful book, potent and sucker-punch brief. I don't know if I'm glad I read it, but I do know I picked up the sequel at the library today because at this point, I can't look away. There's a power in that, the same power that Felix wields in this book.