If Not Now, When? by Primo Levi

 

Mesmerizing, intricate, heavy novel about a band of Jewish partisans in Russia and Poland during the waning days of WWII.

Unbelievably moving account of the war winding down.

On the contrary, I believe it doesn't make much sense to say that one man is worth more than another. One man can be stronger than another but less wise. Or more educated but not so brave. Or more generous but also more stupid. So his value depends on what you want from him; a man can be very good at his job, and worthless if you set him to do some other job. [110]

Do you recognize us? We're the sheep of the ghetto,

Shorn for a thousand years, resigned to outrage.

We are the tailors, the scribes and the cantors,

Withered in the shadow of the cross.

Now we have learned the paths of the forest,

We have learned to shoot, and we aim straight. 

        If I'm not for myself, who will be for me?

        If not this way, how? And if not now, when?

Our brothers have gone to heaven

Through the chimneys of Sobibor and Treblinka,

They have dug themselves a grave in the air.

Only we few have survived

For the honor of our submerged people,

For revenge and to bear witness.

        If I'm not for myself, who will be for me?

        If not this way, how? And if not now, when?

We are the sons of David, the hardheaded sons of Masada.

Each of us carries in his pocket the stone

That shattered the forehead of Goliath.

Brothers, away from this Europe of graves:

Let us climb together towards the land

Where we will be men among men.

        If I'm not for myself, who will be for me?

        If not this way, how? And if not now, when?

Written by me, Martin Fontasch, about to die. Saturday 13 June 1943. Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. [168]

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