There is no crime that a man will not commit in order to save himself, and having saved himself he will commit crimes for increasingly trivial reasons. He will commit them first out of duty, then from habit, and finally for pleasure.
Tadeusz Borowski’s autobiographical short stories about life as a non-Jew in Auschwitz are considered classic of Polish literature. Written in first person, they reflect the mind-numbingly horrific scenes he witnessed. But as abominable as that sounds, his life was not as abominable as that of the Jews his protagonist sometimes helps and sometimes helps to kill. He enjoys such privileges as letters and care packages from home, as well as a job at the railway station, which enables him to pilfer and survive as a relatively rich and powerful man. This position he rationalizes as the natural outgrowth of the dehumanization around him, and his resultant apathy and self-loathing make his window into the holocaust unique.
What I found most enlightening about this memoir-like fiction is Borowski’s point of view within the genre. Other stories show how desperately corrupt others survived, but this story focuses on the desperately corrupt self. It therefore came as no surprise to me to learn that Borowski died in 1951, aged twenty-eight, by suicide. I listened to the six-hour audiobook, brilliantly narrated by Roy McCrerey. To sample Borowski’s magnificent prose, watch this dramatic reading and slide show.