OPINION: The question of how the Holocaust is represented in art is a thorny one

The German philosopher Theodor W. Adorno once claimed, “To write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric”. In news that will surprise nobody who knows anything about me, this was a line that popped into my head while doing some bedtime reading with my eight-year-old son.

We were reading When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr, the first book of an autobiographical trilogy detailing the writer’s formative years. The author made her name penning books for younger children, most notably Mog and The Tiger Who Came to Tea. With regards the latter, Kerr’s fellow children’s writer Michael Rosen wondered whether the story was actually about the Gestapo given her early experiences evading the Nazis. Kerr, deploying that impeccable received pronunciation, countered, “No. It’s about a tiger who came to tea.”

Kerr always reminded me of my maternal grandparents. Like my grandmother, she escaped the Nazis in her youth and came to a country where she seemed to make every effort to sound more English than the English. Like my grandfather, there was a lightness of touch when she spoke of her wartime experiences and a love for life that remained until the very end.

For my son and generations of children before him, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit serves as an introduction to the Second World War. The author’s father, Alfred Kerr, was an outspoken critic of Hitler and his books were amongst the first burned by the Nazis in May 1933. Goebbels was adamant he would be one of the first dissenters killed once they came to power and the Kerrs made the judicious decision not to stick around to find out whether or not that was a hollow threat.

The novel changes the names and tells the story in the third person from a child’s perspective. Its genius lies in the fact that the author’s proxy, Anna, sees the whole thing as a thrilling adventure. The title gives a fair idea of the general tone and thus the book allows younger readers to ask questions about the war without being subjected to the harshest truths about the era. It’s a remarkable balancing act and it is probably worth stating that Kerr was in her 50s when she finally felt able to put these events down on paper.

Kerr ran so I could walk. She found a way to write about Germany in the 1930s in a manner that was informative, funny and relatable without ever diminishing the seriousness of what occurred. The Mogg writer was an unlikely inspiration when we came to film my grandfather’s testimony a few years ago. We made sure to give as much focus to Zigi’s life after the war as the Holocaust years since he did similar whenever he gave talks. Neither wanted to be defined by their difficult youth and both were eager to stress how lucky they felt they had been to find refuge in Britain. There is plenty of time for my son to watch Shoah, Claude Lanzmann’s landmark nine-hour documentary about the Holocaust, but I’m glad Where Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit is here for him in the meantime.

The question of how the Holocaust is represented in art is a thorny one. The first reference to Hitler I can ever recall seeing on screen was in Mel Brooks’ The Producers, a riotous comedy about the world’s worst musical. With The Zone of Interest, a previous subject of this column, Jonathan Glazer made perhaps the most ethical film ever made about the subject by refusing to venture into Auschwitz itself and keeping us at a remove albeit one punctured by the startling sound design.

It feels as though we are at a tipping point in history. With survivors dying out we lose those primary sources and living history becomes history. There is a depressing inevitability about this leading to a surge in Holocaust denial and the dangers of that cannot be overstated. A survey conducted in 2020 found almost two-thirds of young American adults did not know that 6 million Jews were killed during the Holocaust while 23% believed it was a myth, had been exaggerated or weren’t sure. Any piece of art that keeps the reality of those events in the minds of the masses has to be seen as essential at this particular juncture.

Kerr’s family left Germany the night before Nazis were voted in, on 5 March 1933. The following morning the Nazis came to the Kerr residence in Berlin to arrest them. That was the difference between this remarkable woman becoming a statistic instead of a beloved national treasure who would live for almost 96 years. Kerr was always at pains to point out she was not a part of the Holocaust since she escaped it but what a remarkable gift to the world it was to introduce younger children to the concept. May her memory be a blessing since the memories she set down on paper undoubtedly are.

• Darren Richman is a journalist