I have a...strained relationship with my mother (that's being kind) and so, Holocaust history aside, this book hit me viscerally. I could see my own mother in Helga's--selfish, covert-aggressive, impossible to tell if she's being sincere or not, to the point where you don't even think she knows herself.
And then, of course, there is the fascinating story of a mother who abandoned her family in search of what can only be called 'evil'. How do you go through life growing up as a daughter of the SS? I can't imagine, but my heart breaks for Schneider.
A short, but absolutely gripping read.