There are many valuable books, whether biographical or historical fiction, written about the unimaginable events of the Holocaust. I’ve read numbers of both genres, in an effort to understand the horror and the true nature of man. The Lucky Ones, imagines the dispersion of one large family from Radom, Poland. The author, related though removed by two generations from one of the figures in the story, takes the reader to many fronts trying to fill in the details. From a Siberian gulag to Tel Aviv, from Toulouse to the North African coast then to Rio de Janeiro, from pre-D Day fighting in Italy to a bombed out convent outside Warsaw, the reader is taken over the Alps by foot, then briefly to a refugee camp in Stuttgart and finally across the ocean to the west. Gaining a sense of living in these war-affected places to me was the better value of this account. I found the writing often predictably repetitive however, relying on adjectives with little reflection, the characters therefore were un-convincing, and any lessons realized unfortunately shallow.