Michael Frank: Picture Nachman heading north along a bend in the river as he makes his way to the piazza. Over the roofs of nearby buildings he sees an ominous cloud, a black bruise spreading in the sky. All this effort, all this time, vaporized in minutes. As he watches, his heart twisting, studious Nachman vows to himself to do what he can to recover this lost knowledge. He will go home and practice his calligraphy so that one day before long he will be able to sit down in the house of the generous person Samuel, son of Moses Kazis, and copy out the commentaries of ben Meir Ibn Ezra. Little does he know that with this act of defiance he will raise a phoenix that compels us to this day.
Michael Frank: The fact that the library was held collectively and was only partially catalogued—and not until 1934, at that—is very revealing of the community’s mindset, though whether this mindset was derived out of paranoia, foresight, or a robust survival instinct remains open to interpretation; it was likely a combination of all three.
Michael Frank: American officers who visited the Hungen depot in April 1945 states that a trainload of materials from Italy had been expected but never arrived. A train departs from Italy, yet never reaches its destination in Germany, and there is no record of its destruction? Curious.
