The story follows Sarah, a girl born in Auschwitz, who grows up amid the ruins of war and memory. From her survival as a baby in impossible conditions to her complicated relationships with families, lovers, and the ghosts of her past, the novel stretches across decades. It is a portrait of a life shaped by trauma yet driven by the relentless pull of love, survival, and identity. The book traces how one woman carries both the horror and the humor of her history, and how those who come after her must reckon with what remains.

Reading this book was not easy, and I don’t think it was meant to be. The writing felt raw and startlingly alive. Sometimes the prose slowed me down with its density, but I kept going because every page had something sharp and true. I loved how the author wasn’t afraid to mix beauty with ugliness. She gave me moments of dark humor right after scenes that tore at me. The characters were flawed, sometimes unlikeable, yet unforgettable. Sarah, especially, lingered in my head long after I closed the book.

There were also times I felt overwhelmed. The shifts between past and present, memory and dream, tested me as a reader. But maybe that was the point. Trauma doesn’t follow neat lines. The way Botnick wrote mirrored the chaos of living with scars you can’t see. And when I let myself stop fighting the structure, I found myself swept into it. I laughed in places I didn’t expect, and I cried in places I thought I wouldn’t.

I came away from Becoming Sarah feeling both heavy and strangely hopeful. This isn’t a typical Holocaust novel. It’s about the long aftershocks, the way history worms its way into kitchens, bedrooms, and even jokes. I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to feel a story as much as read it, especially those who care about how the past seeps into family, motherhood, and love.

Pages: 347 | ASIN : B0DVCX64WV