Non­fic­tion

Ten Green Bottles

Vivian Jeanette Kaplan
  • Review
By – August 27, 2012

Nini Karpel believed she was lucky to be born in Vien­na. She thrived on the city: live­ly dis­cus­sions in cafes, accom­pa­nied by cof­fee and won­drous pas­tries, ski­ing in the win­ter and strolling through gar­dens in the sum­mer, glo­ri­ous music, and a large and lov­ing fam­i­ly of aun­ties and uncles. 

An ide­al­ist and activist, Nini believed that her cul­tured Aus­tria was above the stri­dent nation­al­ism of Ger­many. But by the late 1930s, anti-Semi­tism began to invade Vien­na, first slow­ly and then unmis­tak­ably, as Jews were bru­tal­ized dai­ly. Fran­tic, Nini stum­bles into the office of a lawyer who arranges pas­sage to Shang­hai for her entire family. 

Shang­hai, 1939 — crowd­ed, reek­ing with sewage and strange cook­ing smells, a world away from Vien­na. Mod­est suc­cess is soon wiped out in the squalor and men­ace of the Shang­hai ghet­to, estab­lished by the Japan­ese con­querors in 1944. Vic­to­ry in the war brings unimag­in­able accounts of the Holo­caust. Know­ing there is no return to Vien­na, Nini’s fam­i­ly decides to make its life in Shang­hai. Then the Com­mu­nist Chi­nese take over. Forced to flee again, the entire fam­i­ly — a full gen­er­a­tion of broth­ers and sis­ters and their chil­dren — man­ages to emi­grate to Canada. 

This is Nini’s com­pelling sto­ry, as told to her daugh­ter, Vivian Jeanette Kaplan. Kaplan writes in the present tense in her mother’s voice, mak­ing the nar­ra­tive imme­di­ate although some­times a lit­tle con­trived. But this sto­ry of both hor­ror and tri­umph bears full-voiced wit­ness to the cru­el­ty of the Holo­caust — here on the less famil­iar East­ern front as well as in Europe — and to a fam­i­ly of remark­able endurance.

Maron L. Wax­man, retired edi­to­r­i­al direc­tor, spe­cial projects, at the Amer­i­can Muse­um of Nat­ur­al His­to­ry, was also an edi­to­r­i­al direc­tor at Harper­Collins and Book-of-the-Month Club.

Discussion Questions