When I read "Night", I read it as a Jew and as a person. I found "Night" on my shelf last year before we took off for the summer in Italy. To be honest, as I've wandered, it's more the New York Woody Allen-esque kind of quick humor that I missed. How didn't they know that this kind of fear mongering would push me in precisely the opposite direction? Who was this madman who played the violin here, at the edge of his own grave?

Source: Huffington Post July 04, 2016 19:52 UTC