The Paris Library(112)
Helen Fickweiler and Peter Oustinoff got married when they returned to the States. Kate Wells of the Providence Public Library shared an article from the June 19, 1941, edition of the Evening Bulletin. “Miss Fickweiler lost 12 pounds during her stay in Nazi-occupied Paris and she says she doesn’t want to look at another turnip as long as she lives after being forced to consume the vegetable in so many different guises…” Helen and Peter’s granddaughter Alexis wrote, “Helen had been working with the resistance movement in Paris and met Peter there. He was also with the Allied forces and went on to work with the US, French, and Russian forces. Helen was a librarian in New York at the Chemists Club and later at the University of Vermont.”
The bookkeeper Miss Wedd returned from the internment camp and worked at the Library until her retirement. I have a lovely photo of her at her retirement party. Her face is radiant and she is wearing a corsage. Evangeline Turnbull and her daughter both worked at the Library until war was declared. As Canadians, and thus part of the Commonwealth, they were considered British subjects and enemy aliens. They returned to Canada in June 1940.
Dr. Hermann Fuchs, the Bibliotheksschutz or “Library Protector,” in charge of the intellectual activity in occupied France, Belgium, and the Netherlands, returned to Berlin after the war and remained a librarian. It was not Fuchs but Dr. Weiss and Dr. Leibrandt, the latter a specialist on Eastern Europe, who organized the pillaging of Slavic libraries in Paris. Martine Poulain, an expert on French libraries, writes, “The exact role that Fuchs played remains difficult to determine. Considered with goodwill (bienveillance) by his French colleagues before, during, and after the war, he was without a doubt more involved in the Nazi wrongdoings than the collective memory will allow.” Dr. Fuchs left Paris with German troops on August 14, 1944. He wrote to a French colleague, “I leave as I came, a friend of French libraries and of certain French librarians… First under the orders of Mr. Wermke, then as head of the service of libraries, I did my best to not let the ties that unite us break. I did not always succeed in what I wanted to do, and I could not help all those who asked. Often, circumstances were stronger than I was; often, military necessities forced me to give up on actions that I’d begun. It is up to you French to judge my conduct.”
In her memoir Shadows Lengthen (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1949), Clara de Chambrun wrote that Dr. Fuchs warned the ALP staff to be careful because the Gestapo was laying traps, and that she was later summoned by him to explain why the Library collection contained anti-German material. The Countess also described the time a subscriber threatened to denounce the Library. Denunciation letters were rampant at this time. One source claims three to five million such letters were sent, another claims 150,000 to 500,000. I created the denunciation letters about the Library; however, they were modeled on letters in the archives of the Mémorial de la Shoah, France’s Holocaust Museum. The letters that Odile finds in her father’s office are real. These letters, filled with such hate and anger, are hard to read. Many letters are violent and irrational. Most are anonymous and criticize family members, friends, and coworkers. In addition to denouncing Jewish people, accusations range from listening to the BBC to saying negative things about the Germans to the infidelity of wives whose husbands were POWs to people who bought or sold goods on the black market.
The events of the book are based on actual people and events, but I did change some elements. In real life, it was the secretary Miss Frikart who accompanied the Countess to the Nazi headquarters to answer to Dr. Fuchs. It was Miss Reeder who said about books that “no other thing possesses that mystical faculty to make people see with other people’s eyes. The Library is a bridge of books between cultures” when she publicized the Soldiers’ Service. Also, I condensed time after Miss Reeder’s first encounter with Dr. Fuchs. The Countess was away at her country home. Her meeting with Miss Reeder and the staff took place a few months later.
My goal in writing the book was to share this little-known chapter of World War II history and to capture the voices of the courageous librarians who defied the Nazis in order to help subscribers and to share a love of literature. I wanted to explore the relationships that make us who we are, as well as how we help and hinder one another. Language is a gate that we can open and close on people. The words we use shape perception, as do the books we read, the stories we tell one another, and the stories we tell ourselves. The foreign staff and subscribers of the Library were considered “enemy aliens,” and several were interned. Jewish subscribers were not allowed to enter the Library, and many were later killed in concentration camps. A friend said she believes that in reading stories set in World War II, people like to ask themselves what they would have done. I think a better question to ask is what can we do now to ensure that libraries and learning are accessible to all and that we treat people with dignity and compassion.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Un grand merci to agent extraordinaire Heather Jackson for her kindness and for finding the perfect house as a home for The Paris Library, and her co-agent Linda Kaplan for bringing the book to the attention of agents and editors all over the world.
Tremendous thanks to the team at Atria, from my editor, Trish Todd, who convinced me with her first words, “You had me at the Dewey Decimal system,” to Libby McGuire, Lindsay Sagnette, Suzanne Donahue, Leah Hays, Mark LaFlaur, Ana Perez, Kristin Fassler, Lisa Sciambra, Wendy Sheanin, Stuart Smith, Isabel DaSilva, and Dana Trocker for their support and enthusiasm. Heartfelt thanks to Lisa Highton and Katherine Burdon and the team at Two Roads in the UK. A round of applause to copy editors Tricia Callahan and Morag Lyall for their attention to all my details.