This is one of those books that is important to keep in circulation, especially among young people. It feels awkward to review because it is, as one critic put it, “beyond criticism.” Any short, blunt memoir from an Auschwitz survivor is bound to be important and beyond reproach. Most people today are no longer holocaust deniers. To most educated people, the very idea now seems sacrilegious. Brilliantly, Elie Wiesel begins the book with a story about a man who witnessed a massacre before the population was shipped off to concentration camps, who made it back to his town to warn them. They didn’t listen. They, the future victims of genocide, treated him the same way they themselves were to be treated after the war. They thought him insane; they thought he exaggerated for pity’s sake. They did not believe, and they did not act. I will repeat the oft-repeated treacle: Keeping books like this alive is the only way to keep history from repeating itself, because a tragedy of this magnitude must never be allowed to happen again.