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I read Night, appropriately enough, at camp. It was the only book for sale in the tuck shop, where we could make small purchases with money sent from home, much as they do in prison. I pretended to be sick for three days so I could read it, until I actually did get sick, and then had a wild-eyed fever dream that terrorizes me to this day, about a secret “selection” made in the bunks while the healthy campers were horseback riding. Nightmares that seem to last forever: Is that the true meaning of the Holocaust? If it is, I learned it from Night.





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