Recently in one of my classes we started discussing the holocaust and World War II. It reminded me of days when I would spend hours lying in bed reading novels about World War II. I used to love that stuff! I read so many books I can’t even begin to recall how many. I have never read so many books on the same subject in such a short amount of time. I just couldn’t learn enough. Well, about two weeks ago I was at the library to get books for a research project and to no surprise got distracted with books in the young adult section. I came across a short book of poetry called “T4” by Ann Clark LeZotte. I have always loved story telling through poetry, and I figured it might be fun to reminisce in my old ways. Despite the fact that the book was obviously a reading level lower (or two) than books I should be reading, I took it off the shelf anyways. I added it to my stack and went about my way.
A week ago I was having trouble falling asleep and grabbed the shortest book in my group of “unreads”. I know my habits well, and when I start reading I don’t like to stop until I am done with a book. No matter how good or bad a book, I read it through, and I read it fast. It took me two and a half hours to get through this 105 page book. When I read the last words, I was eternally grateful for what they told me:
And so
My story
told in
Poetry
ends.
Yes, that was the ending of a published book that was supposedly the story of Paula Becke, fictional character who was young and disabled. Now, I know I said I wanted to reminisce in my old ways, but I was nine or ten when I was reading about the Holocaust. This book seemed like it should be a book titled “Let’s Read About History: for six year olds.” It reminded me of a book I would read to a kid before bedtime. But why was this book in the young adults section? The book T4 should have had a lot more revising before it was even published, and a lot more added before it was put in the young adults section. I felt like I was reading a made-up first grade narrative that went through a blender and was put back on the page. The writing was juvenile and choppy. I would not call that poetry. Of any sort. It was broken up sentences.
T4 was over all a very disappointing book. Sometimes I wonder about the standards of publishers. I did not find this book “Brilliant. Profoundly affecting. A must read.” like the author of The Whipping Boy, Sid Fleischman said on the back cover.
I guess I should give the author props for writing about a hidden arena of the horrible things done in the Holocaust, but I would not suggest this book to anyone.
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