Book Review: The Tattooist of Auschwitz: 9 Hours of Countless Tears

I didn’t mean to finish it in one sitting. But I did. It's just me, this book, and a growing knot in my chest for 9 hours straight!

Reading The Tattooist of Auschwitz was like holding someone’s pain in your hands. You want to look away, but you can’t. You owe it to them not to.

It follows Lale, a Slovakian Jew, who survives the camp by tattooing numbers on the arms of incoming prisoners. That alone is heavy. But through that job, he meets Gita. And somehow, in the middle of death and decay, something fragile and beautiful blooms.

Love.

Yes, love in Auschwitz. I know how strange that sounds. But I felt kilig. The stolen glances, the whispered promises, the desperate need to hold onto something human. It made my heart twist in two ways~one for the horror around them, and one for the quiet magic between them.

There were moments I had to stop reading just to breathe. Their fear felt too close. Their pain, too familiar. But what struck me most was their WILL. To survive. To believe. To love, against all odds.

Aside from learning more and more about tragic experiences during WWII, It was also a reminder of how strong people can be when they have something...or someone...to live for.

I don’t think I can read it again. It's too heartbreaking. But it’s the kind of story that lingers. The kind you carry long after the last page.

4.8/5. And all the tears I didn’t know I was still holding.

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