Ari Richter’s debut graphic memoir, Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz, begins with a captivating table of contents. Chapter titles range from the ominous “In the Shadow of the Shoah,” to the seemingly literal “The Rabbi Will Be Hanged in the Stadium Next Sunday,” to the comical “Tikkun Olameter.” Indeed, Richter uses dark humor, historical details, and extended metaphors to great effect. He also succeeds in moving between perspectives and combining documentation of the Holocaust with unflinching self-questioning.
The opening chapter describes Richter’s childhood in a culturally desolate Florida exurb, where Christian antisemitism and Jewish assimilation compete to alienate him. Richter’s parents are therapists who empathize with his loneliness. This sets them apart from their fellow Jews, who have chosen to acculturate themselves and blend in with the locals. While Richter’s emotional state is tenuous, at least he is safe.
Then the author quickly changes course. The mass murder at Pittsburgh’s Tree of Life Synagogue brings his intergenerational trauma to the surface; both sets of his grandparents were Holocaust survivors. He begins to examine family documents and other written and oral accounts, all of which challenge his idea that Jews are safe in America, or anywhere. When Richter recounts his realization that “this whole paradigm is a miscalculation,” an illustration shows a Jew smoking a pipe while thoughtfully considering a false equation on a blackboard: “assimilation + affluence = privilege.”
Both the narrative and graphics intensify as Richter describes the horrors endured by his grandparents, as well as their eventual emigration. A gnarled family tree resembling a Dr. Seuss caricature has branches labeled with names, and there’s a key that numbers generations of Jews according to their relative distance from genocide. Richter provides detailed accounts of Kristallnacht, Dachau, and other sites of degradation where individuals’ humanity was totally lost. Dark colors are dominant in these scenes. Pictures of Richter’s grandparents show their expressive faces as they recall the past.
After emigrating, Richter’s grandfather and uncle served in the US Army, which brought them back to Europe. After the war, they confronted the perpetrators of mass murder, sometimes with schadenfreude and even with “extrajudicial punishment.” There is some disparity between Richter’s “revenge fantasies” — “I got to settle some old scores” — and his grandfather’s straightforward recitation of facts.
When Richter himself goes to Europe and tours Auschwitz, he corrects the non-Jewish guides who emphasize the experiences of Christian prisoners. In reality, ninety percent of those killed at the camp were Jews. In one image, two Jews resembling ventriloquist’s dummies offer gratitude to their Christian rescuer, begging her to “Please convert us IMMEDIATELY!”
Richter became a parent during the pandemic. This, combined with the rising threats of authoritarianism in his own country, heightened his fears about Jewish safety. He also devotes a chapter to comparing German responses to their history of fascism with America’s woefully incomplete rejection of racism. Never Again Will I Visit Auschwitz is dauntless in its exploration of questions that have no definitive answer.
Emily Schneider writes about literature, feminism, and culture for Tablet, The Forward, The Horn Book, and other publications, and writes about children’s books on her blog. She has a Ph.D. in Romance Languages and Literatures.
