Hi, I'm Conrad Marshall and from the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age. Welcome to Good Weekend Talks, a magazine for your ears, featuring in-depth conversations with fascinating people from sport and politics, science and culture, business and beyond. Every week, you can download new episodes in which top journalists from across our newsrooms talk to compelling people about the definitive stories of the day. In this episode, on this Mother's Day weekend, we meet Rochelle Henrich, author of the best selling book A Brilliant Life My Mother's Inspiring Story of Surviving the Holocaust. This mother and daughter memoir was recently shortlisted for the ages Non-fiction book of the year and weaves together the past and the present, connecting parent to child and hosting this episode, which asks questions about combining research and memory and the lessons learned from confronting the very worst in humanity, is the editor of Good Weekend. Katrina Strickland.

Hi, I'm Conrad Marshall and from the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age. Welcome to Good Weekend Talks, a magazine for your ears, featuring in-depth conversations with fascinating people from sport and politics, science and culture, business and beyond. Every week, you can download new episodes in which top journalists from across our newsrooms talk to compelling people about the definitive stories of the day. In this episode, on this Mother's Day weekend, we meet Rochelle Henrich, author of the best selling book A Brilliant Life My Mother's Inspiring Story of Surviving the Holocaust. This mother and daughter memoir was recently shortlisted for the ages Non-fiction book of the year and weaves together the past and the present, connecting parent to child and hosting this episode, which asks questions about combining research and memory and the lessons learned from confronting the very worst in humanity, is the editor of Good Weekend. Katrina Strickland.

Thank you, Conrad, and welcome, Rochelle. Hi.

Thank you, Conrad, and welcome, Rochelle. Hi.

Thank you so much for having me.

Thank you so much for having me.

I know your book, A Brilliant Life, is about your mother, but let's hear about you to begin with. Tell us your potted life history.

I know your book, A Brilliant Life, is about your mother, but let's hear about you to begin with. Tell us your potted life history.

Well, I was raised as the youngest child in a family of four children, and being from my mother's second marriage, my siblings were a lot older than me. So my brother was 19 years older than me, my other siblings, 15 and 12. And it was a typical Jewish upbringing, I think. But what was different in Melbourne, in Melbourne was that not only were my parents quite a bit older than most of my peers parents, my mother was 39 when she had me and my father was 50. But I also knew that my mother was a Holocaust survivor and my father's family had also been through the Holocaust, so that had an impact. In terms of family. I grew up without any four grandparents. They were all murdered, and even in terms of extended family, I only had one much older cousin who lived in Melbourne.

Well, I was raised as the youngest child in a family of four children, and being from my mother's second marriage, my siblings were a lot older than me. So my brother was 19 years older than me, my other siblings, 15 and 12. And it was a typical Jewish upbringing, I think. But what was different in Melbourne, in Melbourne was that not only were my parents quite a bit older than most of my peers parents, my mother was 39 when she had me and my father was 50. But I also knew that my mother was a Holocaust survivor and my father's family had also been through the Holocaust, so that had an impact. In terms of family. I grew up without any four grandparents. They were all murdered, and even in terms of extended family, I only had one much older cousin who lived in Melbourne.

And what do you remember feeling about that as a child?

And what do you remember feeling about that as a child?

It didn't seem that different because I went to a Jewish school and there were so many Holocaust survivors. In Melbourne. We have the largest group of Holocaust survivors outside of Israel per capita, and it didn't feel that unusual. I was probably more aware of my parents age difference and how foreign they felt. They spoke English with an accent and they seemed like they were from another era. Really? Yeah.

It didn't seem that different because I went to a Jewish school and there were so many Holocaust survivors. In Melbourne. We have the largest group of Holocaust survivors outside of Israel per capita, and it didn't feel that unusual. I was probably more aware of my parents age difference and how foreign they felt. They spoke English with an accent and they seemed like they were from another era. Really? Yeah.

And what did you notice in your mother? Did she talk about what she'd done, what she'd survived a lot when you were growing up? Or did did it come up and you see her face go black? Like, how did it manifest in your conversations with her?

And what did you notice in your mother? Did she talk about what she'd done, what she'd survived a lot when you were growing up? Or did did it come up and you see her face go black? Like, how did it manifest in your conversations with her?

She weaved it in and out of conversations, not incessantly, but she certainly spoke about it openly and easily. And she spoke about it in a way where the horror wasn't necessarily punctuated for me. She would try to tell small stories, and it didn't seem like something she had to speak about. But she had the tattoo from Auschwitz on her arm, so it wasn't a way ever present. But she was such a joyful person and so buoyant that that's what I remember about her. I knew that she had lost her parents in the most terrible way, but some of her stories were told with her lens, which was one where she did always manage to see life as positive, not necessarily the terrible things that had happened to her, but she managed to put them in a context which always gave the overall impression that she felt really fortunate to be alive and felt really lucky to be raising a family in Australia.

She weaved it in and out of conversations, not incessantly, but she certainly spoke about it openly and easily. And she spoke about it in a way where the horror wasn't necessarily punctuated for me. She would try to tell small stories, and it didn't seem like something she had to speak about. But she had the tattoo from Auschwitz on her arm, so it wasn't a way ever present. But she was such a joyful person and so buoyant that that's what I remember about her. I knew that she had lost her parents in the most terrible way, but some of her stories were told with her lens, which was one where she did always manage to see life as positive, not necessarily the terrible things that had happened to her, but she managed to put them in a context which always gave the overall impression that she felt really fortunate to be alive and felt really lucky to be raising a family in Australia.

And you talk about how, yes, it was your mother, whereas a lot of your friends growing up, it was their grandparents, um, because of that age difference. Was that something you noticed amongst Holocaust survivors, amongst your friends grandparents, that there was an optimism, or do you think that was particular to your mother?

And you talk about how, yes, it was your mother, whereas a lot of your friends growing up, it was their grandparents, um, because of that age difference. Was that something you noticed amongst Holocaust survivors, amongst your friends grandparents, that there was an optimism, or do you think that was particular to your mother?

There was both. I had a family friend who told me that once when she was a young girl, she came home from school having studied the Holocaust and said to her father, dad, were you in concentration camp? And he said yes and never asked me about it again. And I've heard many stories like that, but I also only realised when I was writing the book how many of my parents friends were survivors, and you wouldn't have known it because of how joyful they were. Collectively, they'd descend on our house in a pack, and they would be playing cards and eating and laughing wildly. And all I remember was that kind of buoyancy, how the women had these big hairdos and the men were suntanned, and they all just seemed really joyful. Yeah.

There was both. I had a family friend who told me that once when she was a young girl, she came home from school having studied the Holocaust and said to her father, dad, were you in concentration camp? And he said yes and never asked me about it again. And I've heard many stories like that, but I also only realised when I was writing the book how many of my parents friends were survivors, and you wouldn't have known it because of how joyful they were. Collectively, they'd descend on our house in a pack, and they would be playing cards and eating and laughing wildly. And all I remember was that kind of buoyancy, how the women had these big hairdos and the men were suntanned, and they all just seemed really joyful. Yeah.

So let's let's go to Mira's story then, just in case some listeners haven't read your book, tell us what her upbringing was and what she survived.

So let's let's go to Mira's story then, just in case some listeners haven't read your book, tell us what her upbringing was and what she survived.

She was born in a really small town in Czechoslovakia in 1927, the youngest of five children, and it was a really modest but idyllic upbringing. There was no running water in her home, no electricity. Her family had a haberdashery store that where her mother made clothes, and they just lived simply and were part of the fabric of their society. And when she was 12, war broke out and by the time she was 13, she could no longer attend school. Her father was really deft at evading capture, and so the family managed to stay out of being deported for the most part till 1944. And they did so by being in hiding, by converting at one point to other religions, and by living under false papers. But in 1944, when they were captured, my mother. I was 17 and she would land in four concentration camps. Her father, when they were captured, was killed in front of her on her the doorstep of their home. Two days later, when my mother and her brother and her mother were taken to Plaszow concentration camp, they were part of a selection where her mother, my grandmother Zhenya, was chosen to die. She was taken off on a truck, made to walk on a plank across a pit and shot. And eventually my mother's brother, Yancy was killed when he was deported to Gross-Rosen concentration camp.

She was born in a really small town in Czechoslovakia in 1927, the youngest of five children, and it was a really modest but idyllic upbringing. There was no running water in her home, no electricity. Her family had a haberdashery store that where her mother made clothes, and they just lived simply and were part of the fabric of their society. And when she was 12, war broke out and by the time she was 13, she could no longer attend school. Her father was really deft at evading capture, and so the family managed to stay out of being deported for the most part till 1944. And they did so by being in hiding, by converting at one point to other religions, and by living under false papers. But in 1944, when they were captured, my mother. I was 17 and she would land in four concentration camps. Her father, when they were captured, was killed in front of her on her the doorstep of their home. Two days later, when my mother and her brother and her mother were taken to Plaszow concentration camp, they were part of a selection where her mother, my grandmother Zhenya, was chosen to die. She was taken off on a truck, made to walk on a plank across a pit and shot. And eventually my mother's brother, Yancy was killed when he was deported to Gross-Rosen concentration camp.

You write really movingly, I think, about how no one really believed what they were hearing. Tell us about that. When they were, they were trying to work out whether they were in danger, whether they should leave or stay.

You write really movingly, I think, about how no one really believed what they were hearing. Tell us about that. When they were, they were trying to work out whether they were in danger, whether they should leave or stay.

There was talk about anti-Semitism and about terrible things happening in neighboring countries. But my mother said that the overall feeling was, this is this is a modern time we live in. The Germans would never do that. They're a civilized people and educated people. And they held fast to that idea, plus the idea that they were a valuable part of society. And even when their rights became stripped down, I don't think anyone believed who could believe the horrors that would really happen to them. And at one point, my grandfather Dolfi met with somebody who said he had escaped from Treblinka death camp, which was highly unusual. To escape a camp like that where they didn't really keep prisoners, they killed them. And he alone really believed this gentleman. When he heard what was happening, he knew that he had to keep his family out of danger. But so many people denied it because I think it was so unbelievable, and it probably felt quite threatening to believe it too. But there were also families who tried to get out, who tried to do so much, and by the time they heard these things, it was generally too late.

There was talk about anti-Semitism and about terrible things happening in neighboring countries. But my mother said that the overall feeling was, this is this is a modern time we live in. The Germans would never do that. They're a civilized people and educated people. And they held fast to that idea, plus the idea that they were a valuable part of society. And even when their rights became stripped down, I don't think anyone believed who could believe the horrors that would really happen to them. And at one point, my grandfather Dolfi met with somebody who said he had escaped from Treblinka death camp, which was highly unusual. To escape a camp like that where they didn't really keep prisoners, they killed them. And he alone really believed this gentleman. When he heard what was happening, he knew that he had to keep his family out of danger. But so many people denied it because I think it was so unbelievable, and it probably felt quite threatening to believe it too. But there were also families who tried to get out, who tried to do so much, and by the time they heard these things, it was generally too late.

Um, and so your mother was sent to the first of four concentration camps. Tell us how that worked out.

Um, and so your mother was sent to the first of four concentration camps. Tell us how that worked out.

So she was in a combination of four camps for eight months plus of Auschwitz, Ravensbruck and Neustadt-glewe. On the one hand, it was a lucky sense of timing because it was towards the end of the war and there were people who'd been in camps for years at that point. But it was also incredibly hard at every turn, because in each camp there was disease running rampant. People would die that way. Hard labour would be inflicted on them. People would drop dead. There were so many ways to be killed, let alone if you were selected to be shot to go to a gas chamber. My mother was really lucky in that she was 17 when she entered those camps. Had she been 16 at Auschwitz, she would have automatically been sent to her death a year before. So timing was on her side in that way. But even being young, even going in late, by the end of eight months, she was literally at death's door. She could no longer stand up. She was lying down in the barracks because she was too weak, and she said that she was so skeletal that she was already being called a muscle man, which is the term given to the walking dead. And she said that every tooth was wobbling in her mouth and her gums were filled with pus. She was really at death's door.

So she was in a combination of four camps for eight months plus of Auschwitz, Ravensbruck and Neustadt-glewe. On the one hand, it was a lucky sense of timing because it was towards the end of the war and there were people who'd been in camps for years at that point. But it was also incredibly hard at every turn, because in each camp there was disease running rampant. People would die that way. Hard labour would be inflicted on them. People would drop dead. There were so many ways to be killed, let alone if you were selected to be shot to go to a gas chamber. My mother was really lucky in that she was 17 when she entered those camps. Had she been 16 at Auschwitz, she would have automatically been sent to her death a year before. So timing was on her side in that way. But even being young, even going in late, by the end of eight months, she was literally at death's door. She could no longer stand up. She was lying down in the barracks because she was too weak, and she said that she was so skeletal that she was already being called a muscle man, which is the term given to the walking dead. And she said that every tooth was wobbling in her mouth and her gums were filled with pus. She was really at death's door.

And you write about how, I guess, the role of fate had in her not dying. And there's one of the things that's so interesting is that you kind of depict a number of different circumstances in which if someone had made a different decision, she would have died. How do you and how did she reflect on that? Is that just sheer luck, or was there something else to do with maybe her spirit? And then is that a bit dangerous to say that when you when you think that lots of people with optimistic spirits were killed?

And you write about how, I guess, the role of fate had in her not dying. And there's one of the things that's so interesting is that you kind of depict a number of different circumstances in which if someone had made a different decision, she would have died. How do you and how did she reflect on that? Is that just sheer luck, or was there something else to do with maybe her spirit? And then is that a bit dangerous to say that when you when you think that lots of people with optimistic spirits were killed?

She thought that she was lucky. But to be honest, when I've read about the Holocaust and seen so much, everyone had to be lucky to survive. You survived because physically you were able to, but also mentally you were able to. And then so many things had to happen to stop you from being killed. So there was that. But she always believed in fate to some extent, and to the idea that she was protected by her parents, who she knew had been killed. And so at the very end of that time, when she was in Nusach Lavi, the final camp, and she was as bad as I described, she went to bed one night and she prayed to God that she be taken in her sleep. She said, I'm ready to go and be reunited with my mother, whose presence she still felt so strongly. And instead of dying that night, she had a really vivid dream, and in it her mother Zhenya came to her and washed her body with long strokes because they were filthy in camp. And then she fed her soup spoonful by spoonful. And she said to my mother, Mira, I want you to hold on until your birthday, and on your birthday I'll come and save you. And when my mother worked, she really felt like it was a not a normal dream. She felt as if her mother really had found a way to be with her. She felt sustained, with more strength than she'd had in days, even weeks. And so she said, okay, it's my birthday in four days time. I'll hold on. Until then, I've got just enough strength. And if that day comes and goes and nothing happens, I know that that will be it. I know I can let myself go this time. And on April the 30th, 1945, the camp was liberated. It was my mother's 18th birthday. On the.

She thought that she was lucky. But to be honest, when I've read about the Holocaust and seen so much, everyone had to be lucky to survive. You survived because physically you were able to, but also mentally you were able to. And then so many things had to happen to stop you from being killed. So there was that. But she always believed in fate to some extent, and to the idea that she was protected by her parents, who she knew had been killed. And so at the very end of that time, when she was in Nusach Lavi, the final camp, and she was as bad as I described, she went to bed one night and she prayed to God that she be taken in her sleep. She said, I'm ready to go and be reunited with my mother, whose presence she still felt so strongly. And instead of dying that night, she had a really vivid dream, and in it her mother Zhenya came to her and washed her body with long strokes because they were filthy in camp. And then she fed her soup spoonful by spoonful. And she said to my mother, Mira, I want you to hold on until your birthday, and on your birthday I'll come and save you. And when my mother worked, she really felt like it was a not a normal dream. She felt as if her mother really had found a way to be with her. She felt sustained, with more strength than she'd had in days, even weeks. And so she said, okay, it's my birthday in four days time. I'll hold on. Until then, I've got just enough strength. And if that day comes and goes and nothing happens, I know that that will be it. I know I can let myself go this time. And on April the 30th, 1945, the camp was liberated. It was my mother's 18th birthday. On the.

Actual day.

Actual day.

On that day.

On that day.

Yeah, yeah. That's amazing. And then tell us what happened briefly after that.

Yeah, yeah. That's amazing. And then tell us what happened briefly after that.

You know, a lot of people think that as soon as prisoners were liberated, they were free and everything was rosy. And that was not the case in my mother's situation. She still saw horror when the army came and liberated them. And it was a really it was a real struggle to actually get out of there and fight her way back to town. And there were so many people who took tried to take advantage of these prisoners, and she was subjected to cruelty. Then and again, she was protected by people along the way. But that, I think, is hard for readers to hear of how difficult it was. She witnessed rape. She had witnessed just brutality.

You know, a lot of people think that as soon as prisoners were liberated, they were free and everything was rosy. And that was not the case in my mother's situation. She still saw horror when the army came and liberated them. And it was a really it was a real struggle to actually get out of there and fight her way back to town. And there were so many people who took tried to take advantage of these prisoners, and she was subjected to cruelty. Then and again, she was protected by people along the way. But that, I think, is hard for readers to hear of how difficult it was. She witnessed rape. She had witnessed just brutality.

And then she moved to Paris. Had the first of your siblings?

And then she moved to Paris. Had the first of your siblings?

She got married really quickly after the war. She was 18, as I said, and 19 when she got married to another survivor. And I think all those survivors came together trying to forge a new life because so many of their family members had been wiped out. And there. Instinct was to recreate that, to try and join together and also find somebody who really understood what they were going through. So she married at 19, had her first child at 20, and then raised three children in Paris for a decade before coming to Australia.

She got married really quickly after the war. She was 18, as I said, and 19 when she got married to another survivor. And I think all those survivors came together trying to forge a new life because so many of their family members had been wiped out. And there. Instinct was to recreate that, to try and join together and also find somebody who really understood what they were going through. So she married at 19, had her first child at 20, and then raised three children in Paris for a decade before coming to Australia.

And then often those marriages stick to right to the very end. What did she talk about as to why they broke up?

And then often those marriages stick to right to the very end. What did she talk about as to why they broke up?

They came to Australia in 1959 and they had very different views of Australia. For her husband, Pavel, it was so different from Europe and he could never quite acclimatise. Plus he couldn't get his head around the language and so didn't speak much English for my mother, who was in her 30s and 11 years younger than him, she found Australia to be just the most marvellous place. She felt safe here because it was so geographically distant from the war and from Europe, and she just loved the landscape, she loved the people, she loved the way of life, and it really allowed her to flourish. And she picked up English so quickly. She went to night school and she already spoke so many languages. By the time she died, she spoke seven fluently. And so that difference was really apparent. And I think she was very much a young girl. She had really missed out on her teenage years during the war, and there was a sense I got from my siblings that she was trying to relive them in her 20s and still, I think a bit in her 30s. So she was really young and gay and lively, and he was much older and more serious and had been far more traumatised by his Holocaust survival and found it hard to sleep at night, had terrible nightmares so amicably they just decided it wasn't working. And he left Australia and she a few years later met my father, Manny.

They came to Australia in 1959 and they had very different views of Australia. For her husband, Pavel, it was so different from Europe and he could never quite acclimatise. Plus he couldn't get his head around the language and so didn't speak much English for my mother, who was in her 30s and 11 years younger than him, she found Australia to be just the most marvellous place. She felt safe here because it was so geographically distant from the war and from Europe, and she just loved the landscape, she loved the people, she loved the way of life, and it really allowed her to flourish. And she picked up English so quickly. She went to night school and she already spoke so many languages. By the time she died, she spoke seven fluently. And so that difference was really apparent. And I think she was very much a young girl. She had really missed out on her teenage years during the war, and there was a sense I got from my siblings that she was trying to relive them in her 20s and still, I think a bit in her 30s. So she was really young and gay and lively, and he was much older and more serious and had been far more traumatised by his Holocaust survival and found it hard to sleep at night, had terrible nightmares so amicably they just decided it wasn't working. And he left Australia and she a few years later met my father, Manny.

And so then how was it for you growing up with siblings who were almost a different generation to you? So you were kind of like an only child, did you feel or not?

And so then how was it for you growing up with siblings who were almost a different generation to you? So you were kind of like an only child, did you feel or not?

Yeah, it was sort of the best of both worlds, because I really looked up to them and they were pretty indulgent with me as siblings, and they opened up worlds to me that I don't think I would have had. And yet I had all the attention of my parents. But my brother started Outback Press, an independent publishing company, with Morrie Schwartz, Colin Talbot and Mark Gillespie in the 70s. And so very early on, that opened up the idea to me that words could become a manuscript, which could become a book. Yeah.

Yeah, it was sort of the best of both worlds, because I really looked up to them and they were pretty indulgent with me as siblings, and they opened up worlds to me that I don't think I would have had. And yet I had all the attention of my parents. But my brother started Outback Press, an independent publishing company, with Morrie Schwartz, Colin Talbot and Mark Gillespie in the 70s. And so very early on, that opened up the idea to me that words could become a manuscript, which could become a book. Yeah.

And did you feel when you've discussed it with them since that you had different experiences of your mother's trauma because of the different? You know, she had them in her early 20s and then you in her late 30s, had she processed what had happened and therefore was different about it with you, not.

And did you feel when you've discussed it with them since that you had different experiences of your mother's trauma because of the different? You know, she had them in her early 20s and then you in her late 30s, had she processed what had happened and therefore was different about it with you, not.

About her trauma, but more about the way she was. So with them, she was much younger. She was in a fairly comfortable situation by the time they were born and was able to have help. She had a nanny and she had help around the house, and so I don't think she was that hands on, and she really wanted to explore who she was, both intellectually and just experienced life. Whereas by the time I was born, she was working really hard. She had me. She was older, so much less energetic, and she also just didn't have the experience of looking after a child that many hours in a day. It was full on, I think, for her.

About her trauma, but more about the way she was. So with them, she was much younger. She was in a fairly comfortable situation by the time they were born and was able to have help. She had a nanny and she had help around the house, and so I don't think she was that hands on, and she really wanted to explore who she was, both intellectually and just experienced life. Whereas by the time I was born, she was working really hard. She had me. She was older, so much less energetic, and she also just didn't have the experience of looking after a child that many hours in a day. It was full on, I think, for her.

Yeah, right.

Yeah, right.

The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age are releasing new episodes of the highly successful podcast Bondi Badlands. Plenty has happened since the first season over two years ago. Two men have been sent to prison, one for the manslaughter of gifted mathematician Scott Johnson in 1988, another for the murder of martial artist Raymond Keene. Listen to exclusive interviews with Scott Johnson's brother Steve and findings from the world's first gay hate inquiry last year. Bondi Badlands wherever you get your podcasts.

The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age are releasing new episodes of the highly successful podcast Bondi Badlands. Plenty has happened since the first season over two years ago. Two men have been sent to prison, one for the manslaughter of gifted mathematician Scott Johnson in 1988, another for the murder of martial artist Raymond Keene. Listen to exclusive interviews with Scott Johnson's brother Steve and findings from the world's first gay hate inquiry last year. Bondi Badlands wherever you get your podcasts.

And so then you finish school, go to university, become a journalist. You choose to go and live in LA. Tell us about that.

And so then you finish school, go to university, become a journalist. You choose to go and live in LA. Tell us about that.

I had studied arts law at uni, but I started writing when I was in uni just accidentally, and I got published in the age as my first article. So by the time I finished uni I had a full time writing career. I was freelancing mainly for The Age and Sydney Morning Herald, but also for Dolly magazine and a few other magazines. And UCLA in Los Angeles was connected with Monash and I did a year there. I convinced them that I wanted to tack on an extra major to my arts degree, so I did screenwriting and ended up, um, finishing some law credits there as well. But I really longed to go to America, and I think that was partly feeling the disconnect of being a Jewish Australian at that time. When I was growing up, you didn't feel evidence of a Jewish community around you in Australia at large, although I went to a Jewish school, when I walked down the streets and went to a card store, let's say for around Christmas time, you wouldn't see Hanukkah cards. You people hadn't really known so much about the Jewish community. And whenever I studied books at school, there would be American books or English books, but I felt really drawn to the works of, say, Neil Simon or I remember reading Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk. And in general, we had a pretty American upbringing in Australia at that time. I'd watched The Brady Bunch and so really longed to go to America, and I was at UCLA for a year and then worked at Hollywood Pictures, which was a Disney studio, for a year, came back to Sydney, where I worked at Dolly magazine and couldn't wait to go back to the States. So I landed in New York for five years, where I was working for ACP, Australian Consolidated Press, and also freelancing as a journalist, but mainly interviewing celebrities on the junket trail.

I had studied arts law at uni, but I started writing when I was in uni just accidentally, and I got published in the age as my first article. So by the time I finished uni I had a full time writing career. I was freelancing mainly for The Age and Sydney Morning Herald, but also for Dolly magazine and a few other magazines. And UCLA in Los Angeles was connected with Monash and I did a year there. I convinced them that I wanted to tack on an extra major to my arts degree, so I did screenwriting and ended up, um, finishing some law credits there as well. But I really longed to go to America, and I think that was partly feeling the disconnect of being a Jewish Australian at that time. When I was growing up, you didn't feel evidence of a Jewish community around you in Australia at large, although I went to a Jewish school, when I walked down the streets and went to a card store, let's say for around Christmas time, you wouldn't see Hanukkah cards. You people hadn't really known so much about the Jewish community. And whenever I studied books at school, there would be American books or English books, but I felt really drawn to the works of, say, Neil Simon or I remember reading Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk. And in general, we had a pretty American upbringing in Australia at that time. I'd watched The Brady Bunch and so really longed to go to America, and I was at UCLA for a year and then worked at Hollywood Pictures, which was a Disney studio, for a year, came back to Sydney, where I worked at Dolly magazine and couldn't wait to go back to the States. So I landed in New York for five years, where I was working for ACP, Australian Consolidated Press, and also freelancing as a journalist, but mainly interviewing celebrities on the junket trail.

Fun. And did you find the Jewish diaspora in America different to to what was here? Tell us about what you found.

Fun. And did you find the Jewish diaspora in America different to to what was here? Tell us about what you found.

Yeah, I really did so here because I'm say first generation Australian. There was not that much assimilation. Most Jewish people I knew went to a Jewish school, and if they didn't, they were so few in number that you knew them too. So it felt like a tight community and people hadn't strayed so much from their European roots. So even there weren't so many different types of synagogues. There was an Orthodox synagogue and a reform synagogue in America. There were so many different types of ways to practice Judaism, and I met people who probably felt much more assimilated to me. They were more cultural Jews. It was a smoked salmon and bagel kind of Jewishness that they practiced, and that felt really different to me. But they also had a confidence, I guess, in their standing in the world, that I didn't quite feel at that time in Australia in the same way.

Yeah, I really did so here because I'm say first generation Australian. There was not that much assimilation. Most Jewish people I knew went to a Jewish school, and if they didn't, they were so few in number that you knew them too. So it felt like a tight community and people hadn't strayed so much from their European roots. So even there weren't so many different types of synagogues. There was an Orthodox synagogue and a reform synagogue in America. There were so many different types of ways to practice Judaism, and I met people who probably felt much more assimilated to me. They were more cultural Jews. It was a smoked salmon and bagel kind of Jewishness that they practiced, and that felt really different to me. But they also had a confidence, I guess, in their standing in the world, that I didn't quite feel at that time in Australia in the same way.

And do you think that was more about numbers, more about community being bigger?

And do you think that was more about numbers, more about community being bigger?

It was that and there had been there just for so many more generations. I don't feel that any way any more here now, like here, I feel really differently about my Jewishness and the way I see it practiced. But then most people came after World War two, so in the 60s it was still really new, even though there had been many Jewish people before the war here as well.

It was that and there had been there just for so many more generations. I don't feel that any way any more here now, like here, I feel really differently about my Jewishness and the way I see it practiced. But then most people came after World War two, so in the 60s it was still really new, even though there had been many Jewish people before the war here as well.

And how observant was your household as you were growing up?

And how observant was your household as you were growing up?

Pretty observant in some ways. I wouldn't have called us a very religious family, but we cherry picked things, as a lot of Jewish families do, so out of the home. We didn't eat kosher for some of my childhood. I remember my parents catching a lobster when we were, which is not allowed in in the laws of kosher. When we were away on a holiday and we'd eat, I'd eat, tried bacon and things like that. But in the home we were pretty strictly kosher, and we observed high holidays and festival festivals really properly so. And I remember those being such magical times of my childhood. So for Passover, where one sits around and has a Seder, a big meal, my mother would cover the armchairs with doonas and put those around the dining table, interpreting one of the requirements where you're meant to recline. When you have that meal and that's how she interpreted it. So it was so fun. We would have this meal that lasted hours wrapped in doonas on our armchairs. It would finish at 11:00 at night. We'd go for long walks. So, so much about the way we observe things felt really beautiful.

Pretty observant in some ways. I wouldn't have called us a very religious family, but we cherry picked things, as a lot of Jewish families do, so out of the home. We didn't eat kosher for some of my childhood. I remember my parents catching a lobster when we were, which is not allowed in in the laws of kosher. When we were away on a holiday and we'd eat, I'd eat, tried bacon and things like that. But in the home we were pretty strictly kosher, and we observed high holidays and festival festivals really properly so. And I remember those being such magical times of my childhood. So for Passover, where one sits around and has a Seder, a big meal, my mother would cover the armchairs with doonas and put those around the dining table, interpreting one of the requirements where you're meant to recline. When you have that meal and that's how she interpreted it. So it was so fun. We would have this meal that lasted hours wrapped in doonas on our armchairs. It would finish at 11:00 at night. We'd go for long walks. So, so much about the way we observe things felt really beautiful.

Yeah. And if we just fast forward a bit, your. Your mother got sick with cancer, and it was at that point that you decided that you'd like to write her memoirs. Had you always wanted to write a book, had you always wanted to write her story, or did it just kind of come about from realizing that, you know, time was finite?

Yeah. And if we just fast forward a bit, your. Your mother got sick with cancer, and it was at that point that you decided that you'd like to write her memoirs. Had you always wanted to write a book, had you always wanted to write her story, or did it just kind of come about from realizing that, you know, time was finite?

I had always wanted to write her story since I was about 20 and I started getting published. But as I knew that I needed a perspective and gravitas behind me, I knew that I had to be older to write it. But as I got older, I lost confidence a bit. Working as a journalist, I started losing faith that I could write something as unwieldy as a book. And when I did interview her in the last few months of her life, I did it partly because I thought I wanted to know bits and pieces of her life before she died, but I also was just looking for a way to distract her because she was so ill and had lost so much a sense of who she was. She was her buoyancy, her, even the sound of her voice, which was so singsongy my whole life had changed, and so I would have approached it much more methodically if I really was looking for material. But I knew it was important one day to get her story, and I hoped that I would do it.

I had always wanted to write her story since I was about 20 and I started getting published. But as I knew that I needed a perspective and gravitas behind me, I knew that I had to be older to write it. But as I got older, I lost confidence a bit. Working as a journalist, I started losing faith that I could write something as unwieldy as a book. And when I did interview her in the last few months of her life, I did it partly because I thought I wanted to know bits and pieces of her life before she died, but I also was just looking for a way to distract her because she was so ill and had lost so much a sense of who she was. She was her buoyancy, her, even the sound of her voice, which was so singsongy my whole life had changed, and so I would have approached it much more methodically if I really was looking for material. But I knew it was important one day to get her story, and I hoped that I would do it.

And so then you had her story and she died. And we all know that memory can be faulty. How did you go about fact checking it? And one of the things that you do very deftly in the book is weave research on the Holocaust through her personal story. But how did you how did you make sure that you knew that it was all accurate?

And so then you had her story and she died. And we all know that memory can be faulty. How did you go about fact checking it? And one of the things that you do very deftly in the book is weave research on the Holocaust through her personal story. But how did you how did you make sure that you knew that it was all accurate?

Well, I also had to rely on some testimonies she'd given, and she'd given a wealth of those. She'd done two with the Melbourne Holocaust Museum, and she'd done another ten hours with the author, Elliot Perlman, who is a friend of mine, but also spoke to her ahead of writing The Street Sweeper. But generally he was trying to get information for our family and I really, as a journalist, know that there is a discrepancy between memory and facts. So first I got down her story on the page and once that was down, I went about verifying it because I knew, particularly with Holocaust stories, if there is one small thing wrong, people can easily jump and say the rest is wrong, and I just didn't want that. So I contacted everyone in the Holocaust space from Yad Vashem in Israel, the Holocaust Museum in Washington, the Melbourne Holocaust Museum. I started with all those major Holocaust memorial places. I went through academics. So Professor Konrad Kwiet at the Sydney Jewish Museum was incredibly helpful, and I ended up reaching out to museums in Poland. In Slovakia, I went on genealogy sites to look for descendants. I combed through relatives and find out their stories. I just tried to turn over every single stone.

Well, I also had to rely on some testimonies she'd given, and she'd given a wealth of those. She'd done two with the Melbourne Holocaust Museum, and she'd done another ten hours with the author, Elliot Perlman, who is a friend of mine, but also spoke to her ahead of writing The Street Sweeper. But generally he was trying to get information for our family and I really, as a journalist, know that there is a discrepancy between memory and facts. So first I got down her story on the page and once that was down, I went about verifying it because I knew, particularly with Holocaust stories, if there is one small thing wrong, people can easily jump and say the rest is wrong, and I just didn't want that. So I contacted everyone in the Holocaust space from Yad Vashem in Israel, the Holocaust Museum in Washington, the Melbourne Holocaust Museum. I started with all those major Holocaust memorial places. I went through academics. So Professor Konrad Kwiet at the Sydney Jewish Museum was incredibly helpful, and I ended up reaching out to museums in Poland. In Slovakia, I went on genealogy sites to look for descendants. I combed through relatives and find out their stories. I just tried to turn over every single stone.

And did anything that you heard prove incorrect?

And did anything that you heard prove incorrect?

No, there was. The only thing I couldn't really work out was my mother said that when she was in Auschwitz, she was there was a brothel in her right near her. And I couldn't work out exactly where it was near her. There was a brothel there, so I managed to verify that, but I couldn't work out the actual location. But it wasn't incorrect. I just couldn't really pin it down. No, in fact, she was surprisingly good with dates, so even there was a she would know the date that she went on the death march. And then I would look up what death marches took place and realized that was correct. When I'd find deportation lists and realize that when she remembered her sister Olga being taken away, that was correct. As I found Olga's name on a list. It was incredible. And I think that came from telling the story perhaps quite often. And she had, I guess, the sort of psychology where in her attitude, where she didn't feel like she had to shut down and bury it all.

No, there was. The only thing I couldn't really work out was my mother said that when she was in Auschwitz, she was there was a brothel in her right near her. And I couldn't work out exactly where it was near her. There was a brothel there, so I managed to verify that, but I couldn't work out the actual location. But it wasn't incorrect. I just couldn't really pin it down. No, in fact, she was surprisingly good with dates, so even there was a she would know the date that she went on the death march. And then I would look up what death marches took place and realized that was correct. When I'd find deportation lists and realize that when she remembered her sister Olga being taken away, that was correct. As I found Olga's name on a list. It was incredible. And I think that came from telling the story perhaps quite often. And she had, I guess, the sort of psychology where in her attitude, where she didn't feel like she had to shut down and bury it all.

Mhm. And we have as, as you know, we've had a lot of Holocaust memoirs and books and films over the decades. Were you worried about that, about being, you know, another Holocaust book. How do you stand out. How do you make yours different? Yeah.

Mhm. And we have as, as you know, we've had a lot of Holocaust memoirs and books and films over the decades. Were you worried about that, about being, you know, another Holocaust book. How do you stand out. How do you make yours different? Yeah.

Well, when I was thinking about writing it as a book, I did get discouraged. I remember when The Tattooist of Auschwitz came out and was such a hit. I thought, well, it's all over for me.

Well, when I was thinking about writing it as a book, I did get discouraged. I remember when The Tattooist of Auschwitz came out and was such a hit. I thought, well, it's all over for me.

And there won't be another one for a while. Then when I.

And there won't be another one for a while. Then when I.

Started feeling a bit better and The Happiest Man on Earth came out, and that was about a man who was positive, as was my mother. And I also felt a bit discouraged. So in the end, I didn't try to write a book that would be published. I tried to write the book I wanted to write, which was, first of all, to record my mother's history, which I thought was really important. She was a witness to some incredible things at that time. She saw a resistance leader being hung in Auschwitz. She saw some historical moments, but more than that, I wanted to capture how it was. She lived with the attitude she did. I wanted to write about more than the Holocaust story, because I really thought that she had lessons to pass on about how to overcome trauma, about how to look forward in the future. And I also realized that if people like me, descendants don't write stories, then Holocaust literature will come to an end, and that's a really dangerous thing as well. So I felt compelled for those reasons, but I didn't know it would necessarily end up being a book.

Started feeling a bit better and The Happiest Man on Earth came out, and that was about a man who was positive, as was my mother. And I also felt a bit discouraged. So in the end, I didn't try to write a book that would be published. I tried to write the book I wanted to write, which was, first of all, to record my mother's history, which I thought was really important. She was a witness to some incredible things at that time. She saw a resistance leader being hung in Auschwitz. She saw some historical moments, but more than that, I wanted to capture how it was. She lived with the attitude she did. I wanted to write about more than the Holocaust story, because I really thought that she had lessons to pass on about how to overcome trauma, about how to look forward in the future. And I also realized that if people like me, descendants don't write stories, then Holocaust literature will come to an end, and that's a really dangerous thing as well. So I felt compelled for those reasons, but I didn't know it would necessarily end up being a book.

Yeah, or one that's selling very well and about to go overseas. Tell us quickly about the international plans for the book.

Yeah, or one that's selling very well and about to go overseas. Tell us quickly about the international plans for the book.

So it's actually already out in quite a few territories. Harpercollins bought it in America and Canada. So it's been out there since end of November. It's out in the UK, came out in January with black and white publishing. It's in South Africa with Pan Macmillan and it's about to have its first Dutch translation and be distributed there in Dutch provinces.

So it's actually already out in quite a few territories. Harpercollins bought it in America and Canada. So it's been out there since end of November. It's out in the UK, came out in January with black and white publishing. It's in South Africa with Pan Macmillan and it's about to have its first Dutch translation and be distributed there in Dutch provinces.

Amazing. And I know it's taking a whole book to say it, but if you could distill it, what what lessons are there in mirrors story do you think about overcoming trauma?

Amazing. And I know it's taking a whole book to say it, but if you could distill it, what what lessons are there in mirrors story do you think about overcoming trauma?

I think she felt that no matter how unfathomable the darkness, you always had to look for the light beneath. And in the very first step, believe that that light is there. And then if you couldn't see it, you had to light the way yourself with your own essence. I think that to me, it's a book about faith. She had faith in humanity. She she said in the Holocaust she learned about the goodness of people and she had faith in God. She had faith in herself, but she really had faith in the possibility of a bright future. Mhm.

I think she felt that no matter how unfathomable the darkness, you always had to look for the light beneath. And in the very first step, believe that that light is there. And then if you couldn't see it, you had to light the way yourself with your own essence. I think that to me, it's a book about faith. She had faith in humanity. She she said in the Holocaust she learned about the goodness of people and she had faith in God. She had faith in herself, but she really had faith in the possibility of a bright future. Mhm.

Amazing. Your book came out in November. Obviously we all know what happened in October, the kidnappings of of young Israelis and then the response of Israel in Gaza. How has that affected, I guess, how you talk about it and the kind of questions you get asked at writers festivals and those kind of things.

Amazing. Your book came out in November. Obviously we all know what happened in October, the kidnappings of of young Israelis and then the response of Israel in Gaza. How has that affected, I guess, how you talk about it and the kind of questions you get asked at writers festivals and those kind of things.

I realized after October 7th that I would not make a good spokesperson of somebody talking about the Middle East. And so I've really been focusing on the book and what that has to offer. I think it has lessons for today because it shows how terrible it is when stereotypes are perpetuated, when hate is allowed to run unchecked. And it also shows what the correct response to all of that should be, that one must lead with compassion and humanity and empathy, and try not to put people in boxes of other that you must always remember that we are all connected, and that we all have a responsibility to seek connection and to seek understanding. And so that's what I've really tried to focus on. That said, I do get questions that I wouldn't have anticipated if it wasn't for this landscape, and I've just tried to treat them individually. But at writers festivals, I have to say, I've been greeted well. I was just at Sorrento Writers Festival. It was fantastic. I didn't feel any negativity at Adelaide Writers Festival was also brilliant. I did have apparently a protester in the audience who held up a sign. I wasn't aware of it, but she also sat down when I started talking about my mother and her need for people to understand each other. So I like to think there's something really powerful in my mother's lessons, and that while it might have an impact on the sales of the book, and there's a big star of David on the cover of my book in Australia and in England, it perhaps is more necessary for the people it does reach. Right.

I realized after October 7th that I would not make a good spokesperson of somebody talking about the Middle East. And so I've really been focusing on the book and what that has to offer. I think it has lessons for today because it shows how terrible it is when stereotypes are perpetuated, when hate is allowed to run unchecked. And it also shows what the correct response to all of that should be, that one must lead with compassion and humanity and empathy, and try not to put people in boxes of other that you must always remember that we are all connected, and that we all have a responsibility to seek connection and to seek understanding. And so that's what I've really tried to focus on. That said, I do get questions that I wouldn't have anticipated if it wasn't for this landscape, and I've just tried to treat them individually. But at writers festivals, I have to say, I've been greeted well. I was just at Sorrento Writers Festival. It was fantastic. I didn't feel any negativity at Adelaide Writers Festival was also brilliant. I did have apparently a protester in the audience who held up a sign. I wasn't aware of it, but she also sat down when I started talking about my mother and her need for people to understand each other. So I like to think there's something really powerful in my mother's lessons, and that while it might have an impact on the sales of the book, and there's a big star of David on the cover of my book in Australia and in England, it perhaps is more necessary for the people it does reach. Right.

Thank you Rochelle, it's been wonderful talking with you and good luck for the rest of the book.

Thank you Rochelle, it's been wonderful talking with you and good luck for the rest of the book.

Thanks, Katrina.

Thanks, Katrina.

Good Weekend Talks is brought to you by the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age Subscription's power our newsrooms to support independent journalism. Search, subscribe Sydney Morning Herald or The Age? And if you enjoyed this episode, please remember to subscribe, rate and comment wherever you get your podcasts. This episode of Good Weekend Talks is produced by Kai Wong. Technical assistance from Cormac Lally. Editing from Konrad Marshall. Tom McKendrick is head of audio and Katrina Strickland is the editor of Good Weekend.

Good Weekend Talks is brought to you by the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age Subscription's power our newsrooms to support independent journalism. Search, subscribe Sydney Morning Herald or The Age? And if you enjoyed this episode, please remember to subscribe, rate and comment wherever you get your podcasts. This episode of Good Weekend Talks is produced by Kai Wong. Technical assistance from Cormac Lally. Editing from Konrad Marshall. Tom McKendrick is head of audio and Katrina Strickland is the editor of Good Weekend.