Page 17 of Library of Forbidden Books

“We won’t take any more of your time. Thank you so much for seeing us,” Helene added, shaking his hand. Hers was simultaneously freezing and sweaty, but she tried to keep it steady.

“The pleasure is mine, ladies. Miss Nathan, one bit of advice: Use your father’s last name from here on out. Jewish last names are not appreciated in the new Reich.”

Helene forced an expression of servile gratitude. “Ah, thank you. I’ll do that.”

When the door clicked behind them, Helene let out a long sigh.

“What happened?” Lena asked as they retraced their steps down the cold, empty hallways.

“Not now,” was all Helene could answer.

A few blocks away, Helene steadied herself against a tree, wondering if she might faint. She recounted for Lena her conversation with Kummer and concluded with, “I’ve got the list, thank goodness. But I feel like I just came face-to-face with the devil incarnate.”

Chapter 10

The Burning

Berlin

May 10, 1933

Helene had not found the right time to talk with Derek yet about what she had stolen. At first she had not known where to get the film developed without raising suspicion, but a photographer friend of Lena’s had helped them out. Then Helene wasn’t sure what to do with the images. With his mental and physical condition, Lena didn’t know what President von Hindenburg would be able to do with the list anyhow. She thought it best to give it to Herman Apecy and Alfred Kerr. Maybe they could get a copy to someone in the army and then warn everyone who was on it.

She had been surprised to find that her name wasn’t among those who would be removed from public administration. Perhaps the list was just an initial purge and more thorough hunts would follow. It was by no means the first time in Germany—or the world—that a certain population was being removed from their positions. Yet this was certainly the most far-reaching in Germany’s history, as it included all fields and branches of public services. Furthermore, the move was in direct contrast to the number of anti-Semitic laws that had been rolled back throughout the nineteenth century.

That morning in May, Helene had woken up earlier than usual. Krüss had been true to his word and had gotten funding reinstated for the Neukölln branch’s community programs. Helene was scheduled to meet with her team early to coordinate the work.

Kaiser was not himself that morning, showing none of his playful energy.

“Oh, little kitty, what’s bothering you?” Helene asked. She wrapped up Kaiser in a blanket and nestled him into a basket. Then she went to her neighbor’s door. A widow for over twenty years, Mrs. Smith loved animals. Her husband had been a well-known intellectual, highly regarded by everyone for his commitment to democracy, but pneumonia had taken him during middle age.

Helene pressed the bell twice in quick succession, and the kindly old woman answered without delay.

“Good morning, Mrs. Smith. I have a meeting I can’t miss at work this morning. Would you be kind enough to keep an eye on Kaiser for me? He’s not himself today.”

The woman reached out and pulled back a corner of the blanket. The cat kept his eyes closed as she stroked his soft head.

“At the beginning of spring, animals often get to feeling bad, just like people. I’ve got terrible allergies, which is why I don’t go out much. The park is so lovely this time of year, but what my eyes love plays havoc with my nose,” she explained.

“Oh, that’s a pity,” Helen said, shifting the basket with Kaiser into her other hand.

“Come in, dear.” Mrs. Smith stood aside.

Mrs. Smith’s apartment always had that peculiar smell that Helene had noticed with other elderly people, like an aroma indicating that the end was near. But it was clean and tidy. A young Polish woman came by every day to clean and cook. Mrs. Smith’s two cats meowed when they saw Kaiser. Though cats were typically solitary creatures, these three got along well.

“Leave the basket here,” Mrs. Smith instructed. “Kaiser tends to be rather frisky, but I don’t think we’ll see much of his spark today.”

“Thank you so much. I promise I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

“Oh no, take your time. You young women today are busy changing the world, and we’re all grateful to you. In my time, we could only stay in our husband’s shadow. You know I adored Friedrich—he was a fine man, but definitely old-fashioned. He always said that a true intellectual was a man who could take a good look inside and change himself before trying to change the world. But in some things he was thick-skulled, and that look inside wasn’t quite so keen. Anyhow, don’t let me keep you. Old women jabber on and on to hold the loneliness at bay.”

Helene smiled gratefully and left with a final stroke across Kaiser’s back, blissfully unaware that the history of Germany was about to change forever.

Toward the end of April, Rudolf Kummer had met with representatives from Deutsche Studentenschaft, the German Student Union, and with the Reichminister for Propaganda and Public Enlightenment, Joseph Goebbels, to plan a unique event. Kummer had put together the list of banned books and authors whose publications would be burned symbolically. The group elected the Opernplatz—the Opera Square, near some of Humboldt University’s buildings—as the site for the pyre that would send flames throughout Germany.

Unaware of those plans, Helene was surprised to see the streets full of members of the Hitler Youth and young men wearing SA uniforms. They thronged in large groups at a time when they should have been in school.

The streets of Neukölln were not so crowded with young Nazi supporters as the downtown area, but she did sidestep one group near the front doors of the library. Klaus was stationed at the door with his eye on them.