The last live broadcast on Polish Radio, on September 23, 1939, was Chopin's Nocturne in C# Minor, played by a young pianist named Wladyslaw Szpilman, until his playing was interrupted by German shelling. It was the same piece and the same pianist, when broadcasting resumed six years later. The Pianist
is Szpilman's account of the years inbetween, of the death and cruelty inflicted on the Jews of Warsaw and on Warsaw itself, related with a dispassionate restraint borne of shock. Szpilman, now 88, has not looked at his description since he wrote it in 1946 (the same time as Primo Levi's If This Is A Man?
; it is too personally painful. The rest of us have no such excuse.
Szpilman's family were deported to Treblinka, where they were exterminated; he survived only because a music-loving policeman recognised him. This was only the first in a series of fatefully lucky escapes that littered his life as he hid among the rubble and corpses of the Warsaw Ghetto, growing thinner and hungrier, yet condemned to live. Ironically it was a German officer, Wilm Hosenfeld, who saved Szpilman's life by bringing food and an eiderdown to the derelict ruin where he discovered him. Hosenfeld died seven years later in a Stalingrad labour camp, but portions of his diary, reprinted here, tell of his outraged incomprehension of the madness and evil he witnessed, thereby establishing an effective counterpoint to ground the nightmarish vision of the pianist in a desperate reality. Szpilman originally published his account in Poland in 1946, but it was almost immediately withdrawn by Stalin's Polish minions as it unashamedly described collaborations by Lithuanians, Ukrainians, Poles and Jews with the Nazis. In 1997 it was published in Germany after Szpilman's son found it on his father's bookcase. This admirably robust translation by Anthea Bell is the first in the English language. There were 3,500,000 Jews in Poland before the Nazi occupation; after it there were 240,000. Wladyslaw Szpilman's extraordinary account of his own miraculous survival offers a voice across the years for the faceless millions who lost their lives. --David Vincent
"Stunning . . . Filled with unforgettable incidents, images, and people."--" The Wall Street Journal""Remarkable . . . a document of lasting historical and human value."--"The Los Angeles Times""Historically indispensible."--"Washington Post Book World"""The Pianist" is a great book."--"The Boston Globe""Even by the standards set be Holocaust memoirs, this book is a stunner."--"Seattle Weekly""A stunning tribute to what one human being can endure, "The Pianist" is even more--a testimony to the redemptive power of fellow feeling."--"The Plain Dealer""""Distinguished by [Szpilman's] dazzling clarity . . . Remarkably lucid."--"Publishers Weekly" (starred review)"A striking Holocaust memoir that conveys with exceptional immediacy and cool reportage the author's desperate fight for survival."--"Kirkus Reviews"""The Pianist" is a book so fresh and vivid, so heartbreaking, and so simply and beautifully written, that it manages to tell us the story of horrendous events as if for the first time . . . an altogether unforgettable book. "--"The Daily Telegraph ""Wladyslaw Szpilman's memoir of life in Nazi-occupied Warsaw and the Jewish ghetto has a singular vividness. All is conveyed with an understated intimacy and dailiness that render them painfully close."--"The Observer ""It is all told with a simple clarity that lodges the story in one's stomach through a mixture of disgust, terror, despair, rage, and guilt that grips the reader almost gently. "--"The Spectator""Illuminates vividly the horror that overcame the Polish people. Szpilman's account has an immediacy, vivid and anguished."--"The Sunday Telegraph"