While reading the first half of the book, I was seriously thinking about calling this review "an unfinished read", because it was almost unbearably melodramatic and filled with the kind of fluff you add to make it look poetic. I didn't understand the reactions of neither Rachel nor Marlich and even though the subjects of the book (and there are many) intrigued me, I was put off by the semi-lecturing tone of the book. Sansal does, however, have a lot to say.
He draws parallells between nazis and islamist, which I think is both valid and important. But when he draws similar parallellt by by comparing life in the estate with life in the concentration camps, it becomes a bit much, even though I get what he's after. Same thing goes for Rachel's handling of the philosophical question about guilt and responsibility being passed down from father to son. The question is in itself interesting and the answers worth musing over, but how it's presented has more to do with a soap opera, than with a novel from a supposedly acclaimed author.
Still, the book has it's moments. Around page 140, when Sansal - in Rachels guise - describes the workings of the Holocaust machinery, it's done with a emotional detachment so chilling it grabs you by the throat and won't let go until it's finished. Having read so many books on the subject and seen so many movies - both fictional and documentary - I still haven't come across a similarly strong descriprion more than a handful times. And this without having to resort to graphic violence.

Overall, though, this was nowhere near as good a read as I had expected or hoped.