I recently heard a very interesting presentation from Anne Sebba about her book The women's orchestra of Auschwitz hosted by the Oxford Centre for Life Writing. I feel reasonably well-informed about the topic, after reading Anita Lasker-Wallfisch's memoir as well as her daughter's, and the book Cello by Kate Kennedy (who hosted the event at Wolfson College), so I didn't rush to buy the book, although I will pick it up if it crosses my path again. As I understand from the presentation it interweaves biographies of several of the women who were involved with the orchestra. (I am told a recording of the event is due to be posted on the OCLW website soon.)
One new insight I took away from the event arises from the author's insistence that she felt her father's involvement as a young soldier in the liberation of Bergen-Belsen, where the surviving members of the Auschwitz orchestra had ended up, gave her permission to write about their lives. Even though she never found positive confirmation whether her father had specifically met any of the women in the orchestra, she felt that in such a highly sensitive and much debated field as the Holocaust, writing about the lives of the victims and survivors would be an intrusion, and that her very marginal family connection gave her an excuse for being nosy.
Hearing her making this argument both in the presentation and in the discussion afterwards made me feel that I use family history in a similar way, as an excuse for being nosy about ordinary people of the distant past, most of whom weren't important enough to justify specific historical interest. When I am writing biographies of clergymen in the 9th to 16th generation of our family tree, as I have done in the first half of this year, there is the obvious risk that some of the connections may be erroneous. However, the assumed, and sometimes quite speculative family connection gives me an excuse to take interest in their lives and write about them, which is great fun and always enlightening.
Also, even if some of them may be the wrong person for a specific position in the family tree, they are quite likely to share similarities with the genetically correct ancestor, so the lessons I learn about the lives of my ancestors still broadly hold, even if the details may in some cases be misattributed. And as I get to know these people, they become family, even if I cannot prove with certainty that they are genetically related.
Some of the more general themes emerging from this research include:
- migration (mainly in the 17th century), listed here
- family networks of protestant clergymen since the Reformation, tagged Eckweiler
- musical traditions, as explored in my cello memoir
- sense of place, as highlighted in the lost cities series.
- origins of namelines, see the list at the end of this entry
















