Tova Reich is making a point about a culture of victimization and making money off the Holocaust in My Holocaust: A Novel . Maurice Messer, chairman of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, snaps lines such as "Such crappy flowers you bring for mine donors. ... How many times do I have to tell you? The Washington Holocaust Museum is a Tiffany operation. What? Don't tell me! You never heard from Tiffany's in Brzezinia?" You may not know anyone like Messer, but you can appreciate the zingers directed toward fund-raising and commercialization of tragedy.
The basic plot follows Messer, conflating his personal history as a survivor in order to become the leader of Holocaust remembrances, as he's joined by his son Norman and cohort Monty Pincus in a crusade to bilk money from potential donors. Norman's daughter Nechama has become a nun; Monty's wife tries to commit suicide with Zyklon B; fraud, sex and death abound.
There's no question of Reich's talent, and she'll occasionally have lines that make you pause, like Messner saying "That's the beauty of our Holocaust, that's what makes it so popular. It's unbelievable. It was always unbelievable, even when it was happening. It has made anything possible."
Still, the innate problem with My Holocaust: A Novel is that by the time you get to people talking about the Tibetan and Women's Holocausts, you are ready to scream "yes, we get it already." You're supposed to dislike the characters in My Holocaust: A Novel , you're supposed to get that it's satire, but that doesn't make the book any less negative or any easier to read. You don't really care what happens to these loathsome people.
I appreciated My Holocaust: A Novel in the same way I appreciate Phillip Roth. You can recognize someone's skill without liking their work. At the end of the day, My Holocaust: A Novel is just awful to read.
