Jorge Semprún died earlier this summer. He was a great radical activist, brilliant screenwriter (Z, anyone?), and searing Buchenwald memoirist. But to really understand Semprún, you have to understand the time and place, which was Paris after the war, with Sartre and Camus and Mailer, and thousands of kids who wanted to be just like them. Today in Tablet Magazine, his old friend Barbara Probst Solomon transports us there.