Synopsis:

On the morning of May 10, 1940, the last thing Sofie Rijnfeld expected was the sky to start raining German paratroopers. She and Jan, her husband of 3 years, were living contentedly in Amsterdam with Jan's six daughters. Life held the promise of a bright future for the Rijnfelds, until the German occupation of Holland and a six-pointed star made of yellow cloth with the word Jood in the middle.

As the Nazi persecution of Europe's Jewry escalates, all six Rijnfeld girls are called up for deportation. Rather than allow her stepdaughters to venture alone to an arcane fate, Sofie insists on accompanying them, ignoring the dangerous implications. In Auschwitz, Sofie discovers a strength and ingenuity she never knew she had, but can her indomitable spirit help keep her daughters alive?

A must-read for adults and young adults alike, this is based on the true story of a woman who refuses to be bested by circumstances. Like a phoenix, she rises from the ashes of tragedy to triumph as a heroine who calls to mind the passage from Proverbs, "A woman of valor, who can find? For her price is FAR ABOVE RUBIES."

Book Excerpt:

With each passing day, Sofie thought she had seen the worst. But the events of this evening proved she was wrong.

After final roll call, the women settled in for the night as best they could. At the east end of the barracks came the soft strains of a familiar melody that Sofie could not immediately place. Where had she heard it before? Oh, of course — at shul. Someone was singing the Kol Nidre.

One by one, everyone climbed out of their bunks and went to stand by the woman chanting the haunting melody. Sofie had forgotten all about the High Holidays. Tomorrow was Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year for Jews. Although the Rijnfeld family had never been overly religious, they always observed the fast that was required on Yom Kippur, and had attended services. In the midst of this living nightmare, Sofie marveled that the rites of the Holy Days were performed as if nothing was amiss.

Yes, she realized, this is one thing the Nazis can’t take from us. We are what we are, and nothing they do will ever change that.

The realization struck her that they were luckier than the Marranos, the secret Jews of the Spanish Inquisition. Forced to choose between conversion to Christianity or death, they appeared to convert while secretly maintaining their Jewish faith and way of life. In Auschwitz there wasn’t the option for such a pretense. But the Nazis failed to realize that even as they punished them for being Jews, they enabled them to remain Jews.

Sofie turned to her daughters. "Girls, we forgot all about the Holy Days. Tomorrow we will fast for Yom Kippur."

Anneke was incredulous. "Fast! We’re as good as doing that already!"

"Then it won’t be much to give up, will it? Anneke dear, we must remember who we are."

"I know who we are, Soof. We’re here because of who we are. But I think God will forgive us if we don’t fast this year."

"She’s right, Soof," Carla put in, "The Nazis may want us to starve, but God doesn’t."

The sisters all chimed in, agreeing with Anneke and Carla. Only Mirjam was silent, torn between her hunger and her loyalty to her stepmother.

Sofie tried again. "Girls, you’re all old enough to make up your own minds about this. But I think this year it’s more important than ever to hold to our rituals." She looked at the six pairs of eyes that rested on her, some with blatant resentment. " I intend to fast tomorrow. I hope all of you will, too."

For the first time that she could recall, Jopie was furious with her stepmother.

"Rituals!" she sputtered, "Look at us, Soof! Look at Mirjam! We’re malnourished already and we don’t need to help the Nazis by killing ourselves."

Sofie’s voice was quiet. "As I said, Jopie the choice is yours."

Jopie turned away in disgust. When had Sofie become so pompous? All of a sudden she was so frum?

Had Jopie been aware of the self-doubt plaguing Sofie at that moment, she might not have been so hard on her stepmother. The girls returned to their bunks, clearly angry with her. Sofie’s throat constricted with the hurt she felt. It wasn’t easy to be the strong one all the time, to make choices that affected all their lives. She did what she thought best; couldn’t they see that? Jan’s image appeared in her mind’s eye. He, too, was angry at her. How can you deny the girls what little morsel they get? he accused. Is this the kind of care you promised me?

Sofie turned away from the image now blurry with tears. She sought only to keep up a sense of normalcy in the midst of this madness. She had also meant to divert the girls’ attention from their situation by focusing on something else. And yes, it was also a matter of pride. To go hungry at God’s command was to purify one’s soul. To starve at the Nazis’ command was merely to die.

When Sofie climbed into her own space in the bunk next to Carla, it was obvious the girls were still upset with her. Sofie stretched out her hand to touch Carla’s lank curls in a gesture of truce, but Carla strained out of Sofie’s reach. Her unyielding back presented as much a barrier between them as a brick wall. Maybe Sofie was wrong about the fast, but she felt if she backed down now and changed her mind, her self- imposed position as pillar of strength would be mitigated. And her stepdaughters seemed to forget one thing: she was as hungry as they were.

Sofie fell into a troubled sleep, as much from the emotional turmoil as from physical exhaustion. Just before dawn, the barracks door flung open and the kapos charged in, randomly beating the women awake with their knobby sticks. Sofie only glanced at the girls to inventory their condition, then quickly turned away. For the first time in her adult life, she felt very vulnerable and alone. She sighed as she stepped into her wooden clogs. It was going to be a particularly difficult day. She hadn’t realized how much her own courage was fueled by her stepdaughters’ support and their need for a figurehead.

Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the female S.S. guards. She was a Brunhilde of a woman who was reputed to be as cold as ice. She entered the barracks trailed by a kapo carrying a large carton. "We have a special treat for you today, frauen," said the guard. "This morning you will each receive a whole slice of bread with marmalade."

Her grin was malevolent as she gestured to the kapo to distribute the bread. She knew what day it was. She knew it would be particularly hard for some of the more religious Jews to eat that bread, as hard as it would be for them to forego it. It was a lose-lose situation for the prisoners, and the guard reveled in it.

While the women eagerly crowded around to receive their pieces of bread, Sofie questioned one of them. "Why are they so solicitous of us, all of a sudden? Is the bread poisoned or something?"

"I don’t know and I don’t care," the woman replied, "If it’s offered, I’m going to eat it."

Sofie saw her stepdaughters among the throng clamoring for the extra rations. Only Elli caught her eye, anger written plainly on her face. Anneke stepped back from the crush with bread in hand, smacking her lips in anticipation of the treat. She noticed Sofie standing to one side, and set her mouth in defiance. The message was clear. The girls had made their choice, and resented their stepmother’s.

Sofie turned away. Their ostracism pained her more than her empty belly.

A raspy voice came from behind. An emaciated, middle-aged woman with large circles under eyes set in a sunken face stood in a corner. She rocked back and forth, crooning to herself and holding a clenched fist to her breast. At frequent intervals she thumped her fist against her breast, all the while davening the Al Chet, the recitation of one’s sins. She intoned the traditional Yom Kippur prayer unmindful of the delicious bread and marmalade being doled out. As Sofie watched her, her own stomach growled with a vengeance, needlessly reminding her of her constant hunger.

She felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned to find Mirjam smiling at her, her outstretched hand proffering a thick slice of black bread spread with orange marmalade. She could see bits of orange rind in it.

A peace offering or a show of spite? Sofie’s ears caught part of the litany of sins the praying woman enumerated. "…and for the sin of spurning our parents and teachers, for the sin of spreading gossip, for the sin of being stiff-necked…"

"Soof?" Mirjam proffered the bread again.

Without a word, Sofie took the bread and devoured it.

Copyright 2008 Cynthia Polansky. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

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Author Comment:

I am happy to join in book club discussions of FAR ABOVE RUBIES, either by phone or in person when geographically feasible. Please contact me for more information.

Topics/Categories:

Auschwitz, Courage, Holland, Holocaust, Inspiration, Judaism, Stepmothers, Survival, true stories, Women, World War II

Genre:

Fiction, Historical Fiction

Type of Work:

Book

Publishers:

Martin and Lawrence Press

Awards:

2003 ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Award Finalist in Historical Fiction (self-published edition) Finalist

Purchase From:

Amazon.com
BluSky Media Group
Barnes & Noble.com
J. Levine & Company Books and Judaica

Original Publish Date:

2008-04-15

ISBNs:

978-0-9773898-2-7

Formats:

trade paperback