For better or worse, I am a man pursued by books. The ones I haven’t read. The ones I haven’t written. Even the ones I have read or written come after me without mercy—though I wouldn’t call it a tragedy.
I had spent nearly a decade working as the doorman of Port Royal, 1455, in Montreal when I suddenly realized I had written—and even published—a book. Caballo de hielo is a collection of short stories inspired by the spiritual and philosophical impact of that very job.
I believed that with that book, my relationship with Port Royal—and with books in general—had come to an end. But when books decide to chase you down, there is no such thing as a final chapter. One day, left on the lobby counter, I found a copy of The Incredible But True Life of Terry Guttmann: A Holocaust Survivor’s Memoir, written by Anne Greenberg. The astonishment I felt while reading it was staggering.
Do you remember the girl in the red coat from Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List? That flash of red—the only color in an otherwise monochrome film—has come to symbolize, for many critics, the innocent singularity that exposes the horror and disgrace of war.
Or perhaps you’ve seen The Zone of Interest, the unsettling film by British director Jonathan Glazer. In it, a young girl hides apples for forced laborers working just outside the gates of Auschwitz. Her ghostly, inverted image appears like a photo negative—a flicker of human dignity rendered in full color, amid a world awash in cruelty.
It is these girls I have always associated with World War II and the Holocaust.
And then another girl appeared: the one in Anne Greenberg’s book.
Terry’s life reads like a screenplay—if one forgets that cinema is fed, first and foremost, by reality. A film about war, about the Holocaust. It could be told in broad, familiar strokes: a quiet childhood disrupted by the German invasion; life inside a ghetto; deportation by train; the gates of the concentration camp; extermination; unimaginable survival; the arrival of the Allies; liberation, and finally, a new life in freedom.
It could be told that way—if we overlooked the fact that the girl in Greenberg’s book is very real: Mrs. Teresa Guttmann, a sharp, lively, and resilient woman, now living—remarkably—at Port Royal. A woman to whom I open and close doors every day. A woman with whom I exchange pleasantries about the weather, or our families. A woman whose story walks alongside History itself.
I had found my girl of the war. Suddenly, all the films I had seen, all the books I had read on the subject, sprang to life in the form of Teresa Guttmann. And thanks to her generosity, I came to meet Anne Greenberg. After spending time with both women, I proposed to Anne an interview to help bring Teresa’s extraordinary story to a wider audience.
Anne Greenberg and I agree: Teresa Guttmann’s memoirs deserve to be read beyond Montreal’s Jewish community. Words like genocide and fascism have become frighteningly casual. Rising authoritarianism is dragging them back into everyday discourse. The violence and dehumanization that shaped Teresa’s childhood continue to unfold in other corners of the world.
How many Terrys now wander the margins of war?
How many will live long enough for someone like Anne Greenberg to write their stories?
And how many of those books will pursue—or awaken—the conscience of readers like you, or of the one writing these lines?
What motivated me to write and publish Terry’s memoir?
After I saw Schindler’s List and learned that Steven Spielberg was setting up the Shoah Foundation to record testimonies of every survivor of the Holocaust, I understood how important these testimonies are. When I met Terry and she shared some of her stories with me, I assumed that she had written them down or that they had been recorded. Family history is very important to me, and I was sure that Terry’s family, including the generations to come who will never have a chance to meet her personally, will want to have some record of her life’s experience. I also felt that relying on passing these stories down orally would not guarantee accuracy. When we first met at her home and agreed that I will write some of her stories, I thought I would write about 3 stories, maybe one page in length each. But after I typed what I had written from what she told me, I learned that I had gotten the stories all wrong and they had to be rewritten. So I decided we should go through her life step by step, from her birth until the present. When we had written down her life up to the present, I gave Terry a typed copy in a binder. I also wanted to include some of her photos, but she did not think it was necessary. I wanted there to be a copy of her story for each child, grandchild and great-grandchild in her family, and I thought the copies should be in book form for durability through the years. I had no idea how to put her story into book form. My husband and I know a man who authors and publishes art books, so I asked him for advice on how to make my story into a book. He referred me to a publisher in Montreal, and I feel they did a great job with the publication. I planned to make only about 20 copies for Terry’s family and a few for others who were interested or helpful in the writing of the book. But I decided to make 100 copies, which I assumed would just sit in a box in a closet for many years, but the book has been very well received and the copies are going fast. I think I will order 100 more. I never planned to sell the book because I didn’t intend to profit from what Hitler did to my people. I am not sure where the publication of the book will take me. I think you are right that its value is for education.
What is my connection to the subject?
I don’t have a direct connection to the Holocaust or to Terry. I did know people who escaped from the Nazis and I heard of some people who had been in concentration camps. As a teenager, I read and saw the movie The Diary of Anne Frank, and I believed that the Nazis were very bad people who forced everyone else to follow their orders. As I learned more and more about the Holocaust, my opinion changed. I read While Six Million Died, by Arthur Morse, about how the world was complicit in the atrocities. I have since read and learned a lot about the Holocaust. I also feel very deeply that the Jews of Europe and throughout the world are my people and my family.
What were the main challenges you encountered while working with such painful and traumatic recollections?
Terry had spoken openly over the years about her experiences during the Holocaust and after, and she was very willing to talk about what had been done to her and to her family. The Holocaust had played a major role in her life, and she was not denying its impact in any way. I had learned about the Holocaust through books, documentaries, speakers and museum visits. I was well aware of the brutality inflicted on its victims. My focus was therefore in preserving Terry’s story and in understanding how she managed to survive through it all.
Were there instances in which you had to pause the writing process due to the emotional intensity of the narrative?
Not really. Terry was telling me her stories and I was listening and asking for clarification if there was something I did not understand. But I wasn’t taking dictation. We were having a conversation. At times, we talked about the emotional impact of certain events. How Terry felt about what was happening to her was a very important part of the story. For example, Terry said that when she arrived in Auschwitz on June 15, 1944, her childhood disappeared and, instantly, she became an old woman. I have heard other Holocaust survivors say the same thing, that their youth disappeared and overnight they became old. But after Terry was beaten by one of the other prisoners, she told that prisoner, “I will tell my father what you did to me.” In a way, she was still the little girl who knew she could rely on her beloved father to come to her defense. Except in this case, Terry did not know that her father could no longer be there for her, that he had already been murdered.
How did you approach the balance between historical fidelity and literary style?
I was interested only in historical fidelity. I don’t think I have a literary style, and if I do, I am not aware of it. I write the way I speak. One person who read the book told me that it was easy to read, that it was like a conversation. I wanted to make sure that what I was writing was historically accurate and written so that the reader would understand.
Were there episodes the survivor struggled to recall or chose not to disclose?
There were recollections that Terry did not want to be included in the book, either because they were painful for her to read about or because they unintentionally showed a character flaw of an individual whom Terry cares about. I tried to find out details of important events in the story without “leading the witness.” For example, Terry gave very few details about her wedding day, which would ordinarily be a very important day for a young bride. It was such an unusual wedding: two young people, with no family in attendance, being married in a former death camp. She remembered being famished after fasting for the whole day. She told me that her husband-to-be wore a suit which he had had made in Hungary before the war, and that he kept his suit pants under his mattress so that they would always be well pressed. So, I asked Terry what she wore for the wedding. I imagined she would have worn the red skirt Zsuzsi made for her from a duvet cover. But Terry had no recollection of what she wore. I asked her how she felt on that day, besides famished, and she said that maybe she was a little scared. She was marrying someone that she had known only for a short time. I wondered if there was a warm welcome by friends for the newlyweds when they went back to the displaced persons camp after the wedding, but I didn’t want to ask her how her friends greeted her, so I just asked what happened when they arrived back after the wedding. I expected that their friends hugged and kissed them and wished them “Mazel tov!” (good luck, congratulations) and that maybe there was a special meal, or maybe a cake. But Terry just said that everyone was busy with their lives and that there were accommodations for married couples in another building. Since the wedding took place before a soccer match, and there was often a victory dance held at the DP camp afterwards when their team won the match, I wondered if there was a dance after their wedding, but Terry didn’t say anything about a dance.
How did you go about verifying facts or contrasting certain events without diminishing the human dimension of the testimony?
When Terry described some aspect of her story or some event, I would sometimes check other resources to get a fuller explanation of what she was describing. For example, she told me a little bit about the area of Hungary where she lived. I tried to find out more about the Austrian nobility who had owned land there for centuries, but I wasn’t able to find too much information, so I just relied on Terry’s explanation. Also, when Terry was describing her work in the armaments factory assembling hand grenades, she said that she would apply heat to attach the “leaves” to the core of the grenade. I wanted to have a better idea of what the hand grenades looked like, so I did some research on hand grenades and never found any that had “leaves,” although there were many different kinds of hand grenades, just not those from the armaments factory where she was working. But while I was searching online, I came across a Youtube video about a young woman who was working as a slave labourer making hand grenades in the same armaments factory as Terry. And while enslaved that woman was writing a book of her favourite recipes from her home in Hungary. I asked Terry if she had ever met that woman, and it turned out that they were friends, and the woman lived in Montreal after the war. That gave me an idea for another project which I will tell you about at another time. I relied on information provided by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Encyclopedia of Camps and Ghettos about the slave labour camp in Lippstadt. Terry said that the camp was run by the Wehrmacht, not the SS. But the encyclopedia states that the camp was run by the SS, although some prisoners said that there Wehrmacht soldiers. Terry said that the Wehrmacht were not as cruel as the SS, and the treatment of the prisoners in Lippstadt was better than the treatment they received in Auschwitz, which was definitely run by the SS. After an investigation in the 1970s, it was determined that mistreatment was not an everyday occurrence in the Lippstadt slave labour factory where Terry was a prisoner. I believe that Terry’s recollection is accurate, and that it was the Wehrmacht which ran the camp.
What insights did you gain about the power and limitations of memory through the process of writing this book?
I think our strongest recollections are of those moments or events which most impacted us emotionally. The things that Terry remembers most poignantly were those events which she felt the most deeply. For example, the last moments when she saw her family and she heard her father’s last words. Also, she remembers the box of soap labeled “soap made from real Jewish fat” because that is so abhorrent. I found that the events that Terry does not recall were those of less importance to her at the time, for example, what she wore for her wedding.
In your view, are the testimonies of Holocaust survivors still being received with the seriousness and attention they deserver in today’s world?
No. After Anne Frank’s diary was published and became a play and a movie, and after the book and movie of Schindler’s List came out, both stories of hope, the testimonies of survivors were of interest to the public. But antisemitism remains widespread. I find that acts of antisemitism are treated with indifference by the vast majority today. And there is also a lot of denialism about the Holocaust. There are still many but not enough who do denounce antisemitism.
Have you received any surprising or particularly meaningful responses from younger readers or individuals previously unfamiliar with the Holocaust?
No. I haven’t heard any responses from younger readers and most people who received the book were familiar with the Holocaust. However, each of Terry’s great-grandchildren received a copy of the book, and she might be able to tell us about their responses.
Was there anything in the survivor’s story that profoundly affected or changed you personally?
I am not sure if there was any one aspect that affected me personally, but it was a very rewarding experience for me from start to finish.
In your opinion, how is it possible for someone to continue living after having endured a place like Auschwitz?
We all are endowed with different strengths and weaknesses and we react differently to our life’s experiences. I used to deliver meals-on-wheels to a woman who was a survivor of the Holocaust. She was completely shattered by her experience even after many decades. She showed me a photo of herself as a young woman – a beautiful woman playing the cello. But she was never able to overcome the horrors she lived through. I also knew survivors who screamed in their sleep throughout their lives, even though during the day, they seemed to manage well. Anyone who has endured the brutality meted out by the Germans cannot expect to live as though it had never happened to them. It is impossible.
Did the survivor speak about forgiveness? And do you personally believe that forgiveness is possible in such circumstances?
I don’t believe that the subject of forgiveness ever came up in any or our conversations. In any case, it would be irrelevant. For one thing, who asked for forgiveness? The Germans? The other countries which complied and cooperated with the Germans and which refused to allow any Jews to seek refuge on their shores? What about the Pope who refused to implicate the Church and only apologized for Christians who had participated? No one asked to be forgiven. And there is no forgiveness for crimes against humanity. It is a non-issue.
From today’s perspective, what does the book teach us about Terry Guttmann?
Unfortunately, we see today that the world learned nothing from all the exposure and the education about the Holocaust. The world has learned nothing because the world wanted to learn nothing. The German people never turned on their government and said, “Look what you made us do! We can’t sleep at night, remembering the eyes of those innocent children starring at us as we were forced to kill them!” Because the Germans were OK with that. And they still are. They regret that the world hates them because of the Holocaust and WWII, but they do not regret the Holocaust. The world has agreed with Josef Goebbels that if you repeat a lie enough times, everyone will believe it. People also believe what they want to believe. And people want to see themselves in a positive light. The mobs of people (leftists, students, other ignoramuses) who today are pro-Hamas, pro-Palestinians, pro-Iran, are accepting biased propaganda without bothering to find out if there is any truth to back it up. Critical thinking is actually being outlawed in Canada. And these people believe they are showing the world that they truly care about humanity, by standing up for the underdogs (who just happen to be terrorists). This is called virtue signalling, and it is rampant in our society. Although there was no Holocaust carried out in Africa, the Nazis were engaged in combat in Africa, and they gave the Arab populations there their master plan for disposing of the Jewish communities in their countries. Iran, Hamas, Hezbollah, all the Muslim terror groups are now following the Nazi master plan.
I am not sure if Terry’s story could have much impact in today’s world. But after speaking with you yesterday and reading your letter and notes, I saw that the value of her story Is in showing the powerful capability of the human spirit to endure and eventually thrive despite being subjected to unimaginable evil.
I hope I have answered your questions with the information that you wanted. Please let me know if there is any additional information you would like.
One thing I wanted to mention to you is that we are not sure if Terry’s brother and sister were ever selected for Mengele’s live medical experiments on twins. As far as Terry knew, her father and brother went in one direction and Terry and her mother and sister went in the other direction. There is no other information on them from that point. But what is particularly touching is that Terry, in her desperation to find her brother and sister alive, would have accepted, and maybe even hoped, that they might have miraculously survived Mengele’s horrific experiments on twins. When I asked Terry to identify which children in the kindergarten photo were her brother and sister, she described her sister Edit who was standing next to her brother, calling him “my Miki”. All these years later, she still refers to him with that term of endearment. The love for her little brother and the rest of her family is as strong in her heart as it was when they were last together so many years ago.
Montreal. July/August 2025
