![]() Hickins, Michael. The Silk Factory: Finding Threads of My Family’s True Holocaust Story. Amsterdam Publishers, 2023, 208 pp., $16.95 pb. Writing the Past (WTP): What inspired you to write this book? Michael Hickins (MH): One evening, working at my home office, a message from a person I didn’t know came into my work email with the subject line “Viviane Bronstein Castillo Hickins was my grandmother.” Which was strange, because Viviane Bronstein Castillo Hickins was my mother, and yet I didn’t know the sender. It turned out that this was the son of one of my brothers I had never met – so you can see already that this isn’t a very typical family. So this suddenly acquired nephew, by the name of Luis, said he didn’t even know what his father (my estranged brother) even looked like, and asked if I had a photo of him. As it happened, I had a stash of letters and old photos and various documents that were in a metal file box my mother had passed on to me when she died a year or so earlier, and that I had not had a chance to look into in any detail. So I went to the basement to look for a photo of the brother I had never met for the nephew I never knew existed. Several hours later, I came back upstairs with a photo of my brother Johnnie as a kid, shadow-boxing an imaginary villain, as well as a bunch of other photos that raised more questions than they answered: a photograph of a road marker announcing the entrance to Meillon (a small town in France), as well as a poem written by my father who never wrote poetry and only liked to read science books. I sat at my computer Googling to find out if I had any more surprise relatives, and discovered that the silk factory my great grandfather had founded in Ansbach, a small town in Bavaria, was still in operation. My family had been forced to give it up by the Nazis, and yet there was their website, with the tag line: family owned and operated for more than 135 years. Whose family are we talking about, I thought. That was the genesis of this book. I traveled across the Atlantic with my third wife and our infant son Max, named for his grandfather, and together with my older son who lives in France, we drove to Germany and met with the people who now run the factory, and later we drove to Meillon – that mysterious small town in the south of France — and I knew that what I was learning about the war, about atonement, about historical amnesia, about repressed anger – especially about repressed anger – was something I needed to write about. I also realized the importance of atonement and the role of acknowledgement in helping us heal from psychic pain. My experiences in Ansbach were so different from what I felt in Wiesbaden, both German cities where Jewish residents were deported and murdered in camps. My experiences were different because of how differently those places commemorated the Holocaust, and how differently the people behaved towards me and my family. It’s something I describe in some detail in the Silk Factory because it’s definitely something that inspired me to write this book. ![]() WTP: What were the challenges? Satisfactions? MH: There were several minor challenges – not being able to speak or read German chief among them, but also more significant challenges, such as the frustration of realizing that the answers to so many questions – such as ‘why didn’t anyone tell me about this?’ — are buried along with the people who might have answered them. It was also challenging to confront my own character flaws and limitations as a human being – things that make me a difficult partner and a less-than-ideal parent. And frankly, it was challenging to write honestly about myself and the people I love, knowing there would be bruised feelings and difficult conversations to follow. But it was also very satisfying to get answers to certain questions, and to find confirmation that there were truly admirable people who behaved heroically – almost to defy belief – without whom I most certainly would not be alive. And to have met their descendants and to have developed friendships with them that will last a lifetime. WTP: Please describe your writing process. MH: I have a day job, and always have, so I’ve had to be very disciplined about my writing. I write for an hour every morning, and I read in the evening. No exceptions, almost no days off. I don’t often write for long stretches, but I write every day, and as a result, it feels like I never walked away, so I never have that part where I’m searching for what to say or write. I just stay in the flow. I read a lot of non-fiction when I’m writing fiction because I don’t want my voice to change as I’m writing, but when I’m writing non-fiction (such as this memoir), I allow myself the pleasure of reading fiction. I also read a lot of journals – Eugene Delacroix’s journal is one I go back to, and also letters and journals by modernist writers like Henry James and DH Lawrence (whose fiction I abhor, but whose letters and notes on writing I find fascinating and insightful). I also read a lot of contemporary writers on writing – Laurie Stone is one, and Lincoln Michel is another. WTP: How did you decide what to keep in the manuscript and what to take out? MH: One of my mentors once said that you have to be willing to sacrifice your sideshow, and the reasoning there is that sometimes you can fall in love with a turn of phrase or a terrific anecdote that doesn’t serve your larger purpose. And then you have to weigh whether you’re just being self-indulgent versus serving the larger purpose, which is always your reader. I always ask myself whether I’m serving the reader by keeping something in that my gut tells me I may need to cut. WTP: Were there any surprises? MH: You mean, other than the surprises of learning that I had living relatives I never knew about (it turns out there was more than one)? Yes, I learned about other people who had been murdered in the camps that my father had never talked about, which can be ascribed to his not wanting to dredge up painful memories. But I also learned about some amazingly heroic people that I never knew about, and it was hard wrapping my head around why he never mentioned them either. It turned out that the explanation was hidden in the poem I found that he had written. And sometimes, as I’m working on things like this questionnaire or a presentation I’m giving to a local Reform synagogue, I suddenly start weeping out of nowhere. I’ve never cried over my own material this way before, so I guess that’s a surprise. WTP: Did you share the manuscript with family before submitting? MH: No, but I did share it before publication. I didn’t want close family to be surprised, and I wanted to give them an opportunity to clear something up or ask me to take something out if I had written something they just couldn’t stand seeing in print. WTP: One of the characteristics of the writing style, I find, is the tongue-in-cheek voice. Can you talk about that? MH: I think that’s just part of my natural style as a person – I like using tongue-in-cheek in conversation as well, because I think it gives your interlocutor room to interpret something on their own – like are you on the level or not. I do try to avoid using the tongue-in-cheek tone in a negative way – when it veers into sarcasm, I find that can be a passive-aggressive way of communicating, and I don’t like that. WTP: What do you think are the three most important factors when writing a memoir? MH: I don’t know that there are three. The single biggest factor is whether you think anyone needs to read it. Many years ago, I used to hear people saying they were writing just for themselves or just for the desk drawer, but that approach never described me or my process. I only write for an audience, and I always keep that imaginary reader in mind. So I would want that reader to have a valuable and unique experience and not just rehash something they have already heard. And I don’t think it’s worth sharing an experience just because I had it – no more than I think people should describe what they dreamed about last night – there’s nothing harder to listen to! Another factor is to make sure you’re not punching down – by which I mean, don’t retell anecdotes at the expense of people unless they’re more powerful than you. If you had a bad experience at a restaurant, there’s nothing that makes you seem pettier than ragging on the waiter. As a writer, you have power to tell things and to be heard, and it’s a power that relatively few people master. Don’t abuse that power by hitting out at someone who can’t hit back. Finally, when you’re writing any kind of nonfiction, even memoirs, it’s vitally important that you give anyone you mention a chance to review what you’ve said about them. There should be no surprises. You’re not giving anyone the ability to censor you, but you are giving them a heads up and/or a chance to clarify. As the one with the power in this situation, you owe it to people to let them know. WTP: How did you come to Amsterdam Publishers? MH: Yet another newly discovered relative, Peter Kupfer, was also working on a memoir about his family’s travails during the Holocaust, and when he posted to social media that he was getting published, I congratulated him and asked him who his publisher was and whether he minded if I contact them as well. He very graciously pointed me to Amsterdam Publishers. WTP: What’s next for you? MH: I’m doing a bit of speaking about this topic, because one of the most important things I’ve learned is that we all have to do a better job of acknowledging what happened, and also of acknowledging when we’ve done harm. One of the things I learned through my travels is that even when people have wronged you, even grievously, a heartfelt apology goes a long way towards helping you heal. There doesn’t necessarily have to be monetary reparations – atonement comes in many forms, some of them as simple as being willing to acknowledge a wrong, to share or commiserate with someone. It’s important for us as Jews to receive this, and as Jewish Americans, it’s important to commiserate with others and show empathy. And then it’s on to the next novel – set in 1980s Paris. |
Categories
- #52snapshots
- 52 Snapshots
- Agents
- Author Services
- Authors
- Book Reviews
- Conference on Jewish Story
- Contests
- Editorial Services
- Editors
- field notes
- Four-in-One
- Holocaust
- In the Spirit of Poetry Has Value
- Jewish Travelers Notebook
- Librarians
- literary offerings into the world
- Mid-week Musing
- Mid-Week Notes
- On My Night Stand
- Online Writing Classes
- Playwright's Notebook
- Poets
- Publicists
- Report from Prague
- Three-in-One
- Two-in-One
- Uncategorized
- Writers Conferences
- Writing Chai
- Writing Prompts
- year of the book
Top Posts
- Author's Notebook | The Silk Factory by Michael Hickins
- A History of Jewish Children’s Books—Part Two
- PJ Our Way: An Interview with Director Catriella Freedman
- Report from Prague | Old Jewish Cemetery, Part 2
- Author's Notebook | Jacqueline Jules
- Author's Notebook: Carol Matas, Tucson Jo - National Jewish Book Award Finalist
- Author's Notebook | Tammar Stein, The Six-Day Hero
- Author's Notebook | Meg Wiviott, Paper Hearts
- Author's Notebook | The Singer and the Scientist by Lisa Rose
- Author's Notebook | I Will Protect You by Eva Mozes Kor with Danica Davidson
-
Join 1,043 other subscribers
Archives
- June 2023
- May 2023
- April 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- September 2022
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- February 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- June 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
Book news and reviews
Holocaust Children's Literature
Journals and Magazines
Jewish Museums
Research & Archives
Yiddish Language, Culture, and History
Meta
The Whole Megillah
- Author’s Notebook | The Silk Factory by Michael Hickins
- Mid-Week Field Notes–May 31, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–April 25, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–April12, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–March 29, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–March 22, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–March 15, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–March 8, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–March 1, 2023
- Mid-Week Field Notes–February 22, 2023
-
The Whole Megillah on Twitter
Tweets by TWMblog