Sophie Cooks fam­i­ly his­to­ry and child­hood expe­ri­ence of sur­viv­ing the Holo­caust in Hun­gary inform her first his­tor­i­cal nov­el, Anna & Eliz­a­beth. Sophie is guest blog­ging for Jew­ish Book Coun­cil all week as part of the Vis­it­ing Scribe series on The ProsenPeo­ple.

My his­tor­i­cal nov­el Anna & Eliz­a­beth was born late one after­noon, when I was a teenag­er. I was sit­ting in our liv­ing room in New York City, sur­round­ed by fam­i­ly fur­ni­ture my moth­er had res­cued from our family’s Holo­caust per­se­cu­tion in Budapest, Hun­gary. The fur­ni­ture, like my imme­di­ate fam­i­ly, was a sur­vivor from a ship­wreck. But like my fam­i­ly, the chests and armoires I was look­ing at had been lov­ing­ly restored and full of stories.

In March of 1944, when the depor­ta­tions start­ed, we had to leave our apart­ment as Jews to go into hid­ing. I was six years old. My broth­er and I were sep­a­rat­ed from our par­ents until Feb­ru­ary 1945, when Russ­ian troops lib­er­at­ed Budapest. We were final­ly reunit­ed with my moth­er and father, both of whom had mirac­u­lous­ly sur­vived; late in 1944, Hun­gar­i­an Nazi thugs had mur­dered my beloved grand­moth­er and my great-aunt. Because the two old women had been shot and thrown into the icy Danube, my moth­er would nev­er again go near the river.

It is amaz­ing how much lov­ing par­ents can do to heal a child’s tragedy. Liv­ing in a rent­ed apart­ment while my par­ents pre­pared to leave a coun­try that had betrayed them, I could be a child again. My broth­er and I played with the col­ored shards of a stained glass win­dow, shat­tered by the bomb­ing; eat­ing the home-baked bread my moth­er made for my father’s work­ers was an excit­ing treat. (With ram­pant post-war infla­tion, work­ers at my father’s stove fac­to­ry want­ed to be paid in kind.) My moth­er, my broth­er, and I left Hun­gary in ear­ly 1947, and my father fol­lowed us short­ly after­wards, before the Iron Cur­tain would have cut us off and nation­al­ized his fac­to­ry. After long delays spent as refugees in West­ern Europe, we hap­pi­ly reached New York in 1951, when I was 14 years old.

I still don’t know how my moth­er man­aged to repair and ship the Bie­der­meier fam­i­ly fur­ni­ture that she insist­ed on bring­ing to New York, but I was proud that our shab­by rail­road flat in the Hun­gar­i­an neigh­bor­hood of Man­hat­tan, for which we paid $185 per month, was beau­ti­ful­ly fur­nished. I also knew that my moth­er had gone to so much trou­ble because these heir­looms rep­re­sent­ed for her the cul­tured, tol­er­ant world of her youth, swept away by the war and the Holo­caust. My chil­dren and I now share this fur­ni­ture and the mem­o­ries that go with them.

In high school, I took a class in cre­ative writ­ing. One late after­noon, sit­ting alone in our apart­ment, the fur­ni­ture start­ed to speak to me. My ances­tors’ fur­ni­ture is from the ear­ly part of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, before the dark and heavy Vic­to­ri­an styles took over. The pieces are small­er, the fruit­wood that was used lighter, and veneer on the sur­faces glows with the same kind of gen­tle shine as the pol­ish used for vio­lins. As I sat in the dusk, I had a vision of large, cheer­ful fam­i­lies that lived among the fur­ni­ture, of girls with long braids hav­ing piano lessons, of women enjoy­ing long after­noon cof­fees with cake and whipped cream. 

At that time, my under­stand­ing of our family’s past was sen­ti­men­tal and incom­plete. It took many years for a high school essay to grow into the his­tor­i­cal nov­el of Anna & Eliz­a­beth—by which time I knew much more about my back­ground and Hungary’s his­to­ry. As a nov­el­ist, I also want­ed to cre­ate com­pelling char­ac­ters and set­tings. But my ear­ly attempt drew upon a sto­ry and feel­ings lodged deep in my consciousness.

Nov­els should be absorb­ing, enter­tain­ing, fun­ny, and sad, as I hope mine is. If they come from the heart, they reach the hearts of their read­ers, regard­less of their own back­ground. As I con­tin­ue to write, I aim at plumb­ing my own depths in order to do so. 

Sophie Cook was born in Hun­gary. Her fam­i­ly sur­vived the Holo­caust and came to the Unit­ed States in 1951. Before her retire­ment this year, Sophie worked as an attor­ney for fed­er­al agen­cies, a medi­a­tor, and a man­ag­er for non-prof­it organizations. 

Relat­ed Content:

Sophie Cook was born in Hun­gary. Her fam­i­ly sur­vived the Holo­caust and came to the Unit­ed States in 1951. She is a grad­u­ate of Rad­cliffe Col­lege, Colum­bia Law School, and Johns Hop­kins Uni­ver­si­ty. Before her retire­ment this year, Sophie worked as an attor­ney for fed­er­al agen­cies, a medi­a­tor, and a man­ag­er for non-prof­it orga­ni­za­tions. Anna & Eliz­a­beth is her first novel.