A child’s journey through war, memory, and survival—told with haunting clarity and poetic grace.

Crossing the River is a personal memoir—and more. Against the backdrop of Lithuania’s occupation—first by the Red Army, next by the Germans, and then again by the Russians—it is a story reflected through the prism of a sharp-eyed young child, Shalom Eilati. His story starts in the occupied Kovno Ghetto and ends with his flight across the Soviet border, through Poland and Germany and finally, his arrival in Palestine.

The adult survivor, while recalling the terrorized child that he was and how he then perceived the adult world, also takes stock of his present life. Throughout the memoir, Eilati attempts to reconcile his present life as a husband, father, scientist, and writer, with the images, feelings, and thoughts from the past that have left an indelible mark on his life and that continue to haunt him.

It begins by illustrating how widespread anti-Jewish feelings were among the Christian population in 19 th century, focusing on blood libel accusations as well as describing the role of modern antisemitism. Secondly, it tries to identify the structural preconditions as well as specific triggers that turned anti-Jewish feelings into collective violence and analyzes the nature of this violence. Lastly, pogroms in Lithuania are compared to anti-Jewish violence in other regions of the Russian Empire and East Galicia.

This research is inspired by the cultural turn in social sciences, an approach that assumes that violence is filled with meaning, which is “culturally constructed, discursively mediated, symbolically saturated, and ritually regulated.” The author argues that pogroms in Lithuania instead followed a communal pattern of ethnic violence and was very different from deadly pogroms in other parts of the Russian Empire.

This book of thirteen conversations introduces us to the life of an exceptional person—theatre critic, Germanist, and long-time chair of the Open Lithuania Fund board—Irena Veisaitė. The dialogue between Lithuanian historian Aurimas Švedas and a woman who reflects deeply on her experiences reveals both one individual’s historically dramatic life and the fate of Europe and Lithuania in the twentieth century.

Through the complementary lenses of history and memory, we confront with Veisaitė the horrific events of the Holocaust, which brought about the end of the Lithuanian Jewish world. We also meet an array of world-class cultural figures, see fragments of legendary theatre performances, and hear meaningful words that were spoken or heard decades ago.

This book’s interlocutors do not so much seek to answer the question “What was it like?” but instead repeatedly ask each other: “What, how, and why do we remember? What is the meaning of our experiences? How can history help us to live in the present and create the future? How do we learn to understand and forgive?”

A series of Veisaitė’s texts, statements, and letters, presented at the end of the book suggest further ways of answering these questions.

In the shadow of death, Levi Shalit wrote to remember—so we would never forget.

So We Died: A Memoir of Life and Death in the Ghetto of Šiauliai, Lithuania (Azoy zaynen mir geshtorbn) is a powerful eyewitness account of the Shavl ghetto during the Nazi occupation of Lithuania. Written in Yiddish by Levi Shalit and available now for the first time in English, the work fills a stark void in historical records.

Shalit divided his work into four sections. In the first, he describes the German invasion of Šiauliai, the murder of thousands of Jews in the city and surrounding countryside, and the forced relocation of the surviving Jews into the Shavl ghetto. In the second, he describes daily life in the ghetto in engrossing detail. In the third, titled “The Masada Book,” Shalit describes ghetto residents’ attempt to organize a resistance group of which he himself was a member. In the fourth, he narrates the transformation of the ghetto into a concentration camp and the seizure and deportation of the community’s children.

Few accounts of the Shavl ghetto survived the war. Shalit’s work offers English-language readers a rare insight into a vital chapter of history. The translators artfully reveal Shalit’s literary prowess and the ways he illuminated the Shavl ghetto’s daily struggles, false hopes, and atrocities.

More than an account of a previously overlooked episode in Holocaust history, So We Died is a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit in the face of unspeakable tragedy. It offers keen insight into a time of war, fascism, and resistance. A must-read for anyone seeking understanding and remembrance.