We gave it a B
Stepping through the space blasted open by Art Spiegelman’s Maus, the Canada-born Bernice Eisenstein illustrates her slim prose testimony with drawings in a dreamy, sad-faced style. Her boldest statement is summarized by the title, I Was a Child of Holocaust Survivors, which sounds like a zombie tale. And, in a terrible way, of course it is. Best is when the author remembers how she used to ”socially trade” on the shock announcement that ”my parents were in Auschwitz”; less riveting are her murmuring tours of Yiddish words, books, and movies that have shaped her understanding of life as such a marked child.