One of the most appalling things I've ever read. And I think what's so affecting about it, what's so very horrifying, is the unflinching honesty behind it. Wiesel is very clear, very aware, of the damage that is being done inside himself, the lengths to which he is driven by cruelty and privation. I'm not talking here about the rage he feels towards God - which seems entirely reasonable under the circumstances - but the effects of concentration camps on his perceptions of family and hope. The transformation of his father from someone to be loved and protected (with as much protection as any adolescent child can give a parent) to a dead weight, a burden which Wiesel is tempted to lay down... the anger he feels at his father's weakness, the realisation that the son would likely benefit from the father's death... it's horrible, and completely, utterly understandable.

This is one of those books that everyone should read. Short and hard and terrible.