A really haunting Holocaust memoir. Szpilman was a Polish Jewish pianist who spent part of the war hiding in Warsaw, even after the Germans pretty much obliterated the city in the wake of an uprising. Szpilman's not a professional writer, but he is a very good one, with a knack for keen, poignant, understated observations that encompass everything from the initial invasion to life in the ghetto to life in the ruin to the absolute devastation in the city before the Red Army arrives. He wrote the memoir shortly after the war rather than long after, and I think it benefits from the fact that he hadn't had extensive time to reflect on his experiences and that everything was still so painfully fresh.