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The sequel to the Holocaust novel ‘Boy in the Striped Pajamas’ is here. Its author has no regrets.

(JTA) – At one point in John Boyne’s new novel “All The Broken Places,” a 91-year-old German woman recalls, for the first time, her encounter with a young Jewish boy in the Auschwitz death camp 80 years prior.

“I found him in the warehouse one day. Where they kept all the striped pajamas,” she says.

The woman, Gretel, quickly realizes her mistake: that “this was a phrase peculiar to my brother and me.” She clarifies that she is referring to “the uniforms. … You know the ones I mean.”

Boyne’s readers are, in fact, likely to know what Gretel means, as “All The Broken Places” is a sequel to Boyne’s 2006 international bestseller “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.” At a time when other Holocaust books intended for young readers have been challenged or removed from some American schools, the enduring popularity of “Striped Pajamas” has conjured up love and loathing in equal measure for its depiction of Nazi and Jewish youths during the Holocaust. It has sold 11 million copies, appeared in 58 languages and in major motion picture form, and been the only assigned reading about Jews or the Holocaust for countless schoolchildren, mostly in Britain. Yet Holocaust scholars have warned against it, panning it as inaccurate and trafficking in dangerous stereotypes about Jewish weakness.

Speaking to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency from his Dublin home on Tuesday, the day “All the Broken Places” hit U.S. shelves, Boyne said he hoped readers would take his new book on its own terms — as a more sophisticated meditation on guilt, culpability and evil, for an adult audience rather than children this time. But he also wants to defend the original work that made him famous.

“I do feel it’s a positive contribution to the world and to Holocaust studies,” said Boyne, who estimates that he has personally spoken to between 500 and 600 schools about “Striped Pajamas.”

Not everyone agrees. A 2016 study published by the Centre for Holocaust Education, a British organization housed at University College London, found that 35% of British teachers used his book in their Holocaust lesson plans, and that 85% of students who had consumed any kind of media related to the Holocaust had either read the book or seen its movie adaptation.

That level of widespread familiarity with the book led many students to inaccurate conclusions about the Holocaust, such as that the Nazis were “victims too” and that most Germans were unaware of the horrors being visited upon the Jewish people, the study found.

A promotional image from the 2008 film adaptation of “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.” (Miramax)

As overall awareness of the Holocaust has decreased among young people especially, Boyne’s novel has become a casualty of its own success. Holocaust scholars in the United Kingdom and United States have decried the book, with historian David Cesarani calling it “a travesty of facts” and “a distortion of history,” and the Holocaust Exhibition and Learning Centre in London publishing a long takedown of the book’s inaccuracies and “stereotypes.”

“With the rise in antisemitism, such as it is in this country, and that so often manifests through trivialisation, distortion and denial of the Holocaust, this book could potentially do more harm than good,” Centre for Holocaust Education researcher Ruth-Anne Lenga concluded at the end of her 2016 study.

Boyne came to the Holocaust as subject matter purely on his own, having never been taught about the history growing up in Ireland. (He attended a Catholic school, where, as he has recounted publicly, he was physically and sexually abused by his teachers.) Reading Elie Wiesel’s “Night” as a teenager, Boyne said, “made me want to understand more.”

He would read many more Holocaust books during his twenties, from Primo Levi to Anne Frank to “Sophie’s Choice,” fascinated by the sheer recency of the atrocity. “How could something that seems like it should have happened, say, 1,000 years ago — because the death count is so enormous and so horrifying — how could that happen so close to the time that I’m alive in?” he thought. “And if it could, then what’s to stop it happening again?”

That fascination led to the publication, when Boyne was 33, of “Striped Pajamas,” which he’d always conceived of as a children’s story. In the book, Bruno, the 9-year-old son of a Nazi commandant, befriends Shmuel, a Jewish concentration-camp prisoner of the same age; it ends with Bruno donning the “striped pajamas” and following his friend into the gas chambers. Further driving home the fable conceit, an initial draft included a framing device of Boyne as a character reading the story to an audience of children, before an editor advised him to cut it.

During his writing process, Boyne said he was concerned with “the emotional truth of the novel” as opposed to holding to historical accuracy, and defended much of the book’s ahistorical details — such as moving the Auschwitz guards’ living quarters to outside the camp, and putting no armed guards or electric fences between Bruno and Shmuel — as creative license. A common critique of the book, that the climax encourages the reader to mourn the death of Bruno over that of Shmuel and the other Jews in the camps, makes no sense to Boyne: “I struggle to understand somebody who would reach the end of that book and only feel sympathy for Bruno. I think then if somebody does, I think that says more, frankly, about their antisemitism than anything else.”

He also justified his decisions by reasoning that a novel like his shouldn’t be the basis for Holocaust instruction.

“I don’t think that it’s my responsibility, as a novelist who didn’t write a school book, to justify its use in education when I never asked for that to happen,” he said. “If [teachers] make the choice to use a novel in their classrooms, it’s their responsibility to make sure the children know that there is a difference between what happens in this novel and what happened in real life.”

Boyne added that he was “appalled” by a recent JTA report about a Tennessee school district removing Art Spiegelman’s graphic Holocaust memoir “Maus” from its curriculum. If teachers are choosing between teaching the two books, he said, “‘Maus’ is better, no question about that. And a much more important book.” (Earlier this year, Spiegelman himself took a swipe at “Striped Pajamas” by telling a Tennessee audience that no schools should read Boyne’s novel because “that guy didn’t do any research whatsoever.”)

“The Boy in the Striped Pajamas,” John Boyne’s 2006 bestseller, has been critiqued for the way it presented the Holocaust to children. (Illustration by Grace Yagel)

For the first decade of his book’s release, Boyne would frequently receive invites to speak at Jewish community centers and Holocaust museums. He met with survivors who shared their stories with him.

Over the years, more research has been published about the book’s popularity in the classroom, which has led to more scrutiny of its factual inaccuracies. Other authors, Holocaust researchers and some educators have come out forcefully against the book’s use in the classroom. At the same time, Boyne said, his invitations to Jewish venues dried up.

The author has also been known to exacerbate the issue by sparring with his critics, even when they are respected institutions. Most infamously, in 2020, Boyne got into a Twitter feud with the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum, which said his Auschwitz-set book “should be avoided by anyone who studies or teaches about the history of the Holocaust.”

The back-and-forth was provoked after Boyne criticized what he saw as the crassness of more recent Holocaust novels, such as “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” by Heather Morris. Reflecting on the spat, Boyne said of the Auschwitz memorial, “I hope that they do understand that, whether my book is a masterpiece or a travesty, that I came at it with the very best intentions.”

Boyne conceived of the sequel shortly after finishing “Striped Pajamas.” It follows Bruno’s older sister Gretel as she lives in hiding after the war and successfully conceals her Nazi upbringing all the way into the present day. A preteen during the Holocaust, Gretel becomes gradually more aware of its horrors after seeing newspaper articles and documentaries and encountering former Resistance members and Jewish descendants of survivors (including one, David, who becomes her lover without knowing her true background).

Unlike “Striped Pajamas,” “All the Broken Places” is intended for adults. It’s filled with sex, violence, suicide attempts and bad language — and also some of the details of the Holocaust that were omitted from the first book. It mentions the Sobibor death camp by name, for example, and also takes the time to correct Bruno’s childish assumptions about the death camps being a “farm.”

But it tells the story from the perspective of a German who was directly implicated in the Holocaust. Throughout, Gretel reflects on her complicity in the Nazi regime, and her self-interest in hiding from authorities in the following years rather than trying to bring people like her father to justice. Missing from the book is any serious discussion of antisemitism as an ideology, and to what extent Gretel ascribes to it — though there is plenty of hand-wringing over postwar anti-German sentiment. In one shocking moment, a former S.S. lieutenant in hiding presents Gretel with a pair of Hitler’s eyeglasses and urges her to try them on; she is terrified to discover that this excites her.

The book’s reception has been mixed. While praised by publications including Kirkus Reviews (“a complex, thoughtful character study”) and the Guardian (“a defense of literature’s need to shine a light on the darkest aspects of human nature”), the New Statesman took Boyne to task for writing an “immoral” and “shameless sequel” that further erodes the “Jewishness” of the Holocaust.

At the behest of his publisher, Boyne has included an author’s note with “All The Broken Places” alluding to criticisms of “Striped Pajamas.” “Writing about the Holocaust is a fraught business and any novelist approaching it takes on an enormous burden of responsibility,” he tells the reader. “The story of every person who died in the Holocaust is one that is worth telling. I believe that Gretel’s story is also worth telling.”

Still, “Striped Pajamas” has its Jewish defenders. One, the 24-year-old composer Noah Max, is behind a new opera adaptation of the book, to be titled “The Child in the Striped Pyjamas.” It will debut in London in January; a recent story by the U.K. Jewish Chronicle helped convince the film’s rights holder Miramax to waive a $1 million licensing fee for the project.

A great-grandson of Jews who fled Vienna when the Nazis arrived, Max told JTA he’d initially read the book “years before I was capable of absorbing testimony,” and that it inspired him to seek out actual survivor testimonies and to begin composing the opera at the age of 19. He compared its message to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’ writings on moral relativism.

“Ultimately, the book motivated me to write an opera about the Shoah and integrate Holocaust education into my music,” Max said. “Any book capable of that is worthy of attention.”

Composer Noah Max (center) rehearses for his upcoming opera adaptation of “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas,” to premiere in January 2023. (Courtesy of Noah Max)

Max’s passion for “Striped Pajamas” inspired at least one Holocaust group to change its mind about its educational merits. The Holocaust Educational Trust, a London-based group that advocates British educators on how to teach the Holocaust, had as recently as 2020 declared that “we advise against using” the book in the classroom.

But following what Max described as “richly fulfilling conversations” about “the story’s symbolic and artistic worth,” the trust fully endorsed the opera and, he said, has begun to rethink its view of the book. (The group did not respond to a JTA request for comment.)

Even with 16 years of hindsight and the chance to rethink his bestseller, Boyne said he wouldn’t change anything. Reflecting on his youthful audience, he said, “If they weren’t reading ‘Striped Pajamas,’ it’s more likely they would be reading something that has no relevance to this subject at all.”

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The post The sequel to the Holocaust novel ‘Boy in the Striped Pajamas’ is here. Its author has no regrets. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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HaKarot HaTov: Artificial Intelligence Can Never Replace Human Love and Wonder

Illustrative: Fourth grade students from Kibbutz Parod with certificates they received from the Israel Antiquities Authority for finding and turning in an ancient oil lamp. Photo: IAA.

One of the things that primary teachers regularly encounter is children calling them “mom” or “dad.” This is usually followed by serious embarrassment on behalf of the child, and possibly nervous laughter from their classmates.

Most teachers will just smooth incidents like this over, but the good ones will perhaps reflect on its underlying meaning — how in a very real sense for the child, they can temporarily become the child’s mother or father. It’s an expression of the incredibly important role teachers play in the lives of children, acting as the adult presence that bridges across from their family existence to their encounters with the larger world. This is what, unconsciously, children are tapping into when they mix up “mom” and “miss.”

Teachers are really important to kids — and the emotional investment that teachers make in children, and that children make in teachers, is enormous. Sometimes teachers can even provide the love and care that a child’s parents cannot. Teachers matter. Or at least they did.

What it seems the future holds, as AI models improve exponentially, is children each having their own AI-powered tutor responding in real time to their learning needs. AI’s ability to gauge the progress, challenges, and requirements of each child are likely far beyond anything a human teacher could ever hope to achieve. I don’t doubt that this is coming soon, and that many parents, and many governments, will be thinking of the undeniable benefits that these AI tutors will bring.

They don’t need a salary, they don’t need time off, and they can be there at any time of day. On top of that, millions of children are already using AI chat bots for emotional support. AI tutors will soon combine academic and emotional and pastoral support in one package. Unlike human teachers, they will never get tired, or angry, or disappointed, or get distracted from their charges’ needs.

We might wonder why any of this might be a problem. In a near future where robots will care for the elderly, do our shopping, and undertake surgery, and other AI bots will be our lawyers and accountants, as they already are our software engineers, why does it matter if children are taught by AI tutors?

Perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps children and parents won’t be able to tell the difference, or even care if they can. Having human teachers won’t be important. Maybe we will just need a few humans to check if the AI tutors are on track to ensure that the kids of the future (or the kids of next year) learn enough to read and write, and to count well enough so that they don’t spend their universal basic income all at once.

I had a friend who was a great teacher who taught in Jewish schools in London. He died a decade ago, far too young. He was dyslexic and he told me how he used to share this with his pupils and get them to help him with his spelling on the board. A small thing perhaps, but I just think how much this communicated to those young people — about dealing with adversity, compassion, and empathy. I also remember how, when I was walking with him, we might bump into some of his old pupils. Always, they were so pleased to see him.

He was still “sir,” someone important in their lives, who had helped them navigate the path from their families, out to the world as independent adults. There was also, I would venture, something there that no robot teacher or AI tutor could ever truly have. That thing was love. The love that teachers bring to their work, that drives their professionalism and their commitment and care for the next generation.

Children know that teachers are not parents — that they only come into their lives for a short time and then leave. Yet they also know that just like their parents, teachers can love and care about them — really care about what happens to them. Children also learn how adults apart from their parents can, like my friend, not be perfect, and not know everything, but still set an example through their own behavior, and push them to achieve or keep going, even when it is challenging. They can feel how this connection with adults, with other human beings, molds and creates their adult selves.

Another thing that my friend’s pupils had was gratitude. As Dostoevsky wrote, gratitude is a fundamentally human quality, because someone has to give it, and someone has to receive it.  But Judaism recognized this decades before the Russian literary geniuses of the 19th century.

The Jewish concept of HaKarot HaTov or “Recognizing the Good” means gratitude, but it also implies something transcendent — the wonder of just taking the time to stop and reflect on what we have. HaKarot HaTov teaches us that it’s through gratitude to other people that we come closer to G-d. Large language models and algorithms don’t have aims, or desires, or feelings. They can’t love. AI tutors quite literally are incapable of caring whether the children they work with live or die. They can’t receive gratitude from their students, or give it, not really, because there is no “them.” Perhaps we should think more than twice before we sign up to an education system where children have no one to say thank you to.

Joseph Mintz is Professor of Inclusive Education at UCL. Follow him @jmintzuclacuk. His views are his own and do not reflect those of his employers.

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The Palestinian Authority Just Paid ‘Pay-for-Slay’ Salaries to 8,000 Terrorists

The opening of a hall that the Palestinian Authority named for a terrorist who killed 125 people. Photo: Palestinian Media Watch.

The mask is off: The Palestinian Authority (PA) announced that 8,000 terrorist prisoner pensioners would receive their monthly Pay-for-Slay “pension” salary this week — and confirmations of receipt of the deposits are already being observed over social media.

A Palestinian social media post confirming Pay-for-Slay payments have gone out.

The minimum amount for such salaries is 4,000 shekels for terrorists who spent five years in prison. Going by that minimum, the PA just paid these terrorists — which constitute only one third of all Pay-for-Slay recipients — at least 32 million shekels — over US $10 million.

However, in actuality, this most conservative estimate is far lower than the amount that was likely paid out, as some of the more infamous terrorists released in recent hostage deals have spent 30 or more years in prison. Terrorists with such status receive at least 12,000 shekels each month.

A chart detailing Palestinian payments to terrorists.

One year after PA President Mahmoud Abbas promised the US, Canada, UK, Australia, and the EU that he was ending Pay-for-Slay, there is no escaping the fact that this was just another deception and a lie.

The PA remains an unreformed sponsor of terror.

The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared. 

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Is Hebrew a European Language? Debunking Five Myths About Modern Hebrew

A researcher of MiDRASH, a project dedicated to analyzing the National Library of Israel’s digital database of all known Hebrew manuscripts using Machine Learning, including manuscripts from the Cairo Geniza, holds up a 12th century fragment of a Yom Kippur liturgy in Jerusalem, Nov. 24, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun

If you spend enough time on social media, you’re likely going to come across claims about Hebrew that will make your head spin:

Hebrew is a European language.

Hebrew is actually stolen Arabic.

There is no connection between Modern Hebrew and Biblical Hebrew.

For any student of Jewish history or a Hebrew speaker, these outrageous assertions are not just patently wrong — they’re utterly absurd.

Yet they are not random. They form part of a broader effort to delegitimize Zionism and deny the Jewish people’s historic ties to the Land of Israel. This piece examines some of those claims, and the facts that dismantle the myths.

Myth: Hebrew Was a Dead Language Until Eliezer Ben Yehuda Revived It

Hebrew was not a dead language before the late 19th century. But it was not yet the dynamic, everyday vernacular spoken today by millions in Israel and around the world.

To understand the roots of modern Hebrew, we first must go back to the second century C.E. Following the Roman suppression of the Bar Kokhba revolt, Hebrew gradually declined as a spoken language among Jews in the Land of Israel, as Aramaic and other languages took precedence.

But Hebrew did not disappear and did not cease to exist as a language. Rather, it transitioned from a daily spoken language into a primarily literary and liturgical one, preserved in prayer, scholarship, poetry, legal discourse, and correspondence.

The Jewish legal corpus, the Mishnah, was written a number of centuries later in Hebrew.

Rabbinic commentaries, correspondence between different Jewish communities, and scholarly texts (including a medical textbook) were all written in Hebrew throughout late Antiquity and the Medieval periods. The first Hebrew printing press in the Land of Israel was established in the 16th century.

The Enlightenment of the 18th and 19th centuries saw the emergence of Hebrew newspapers and a new Hebrew literature.

All of this occurred before Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s time.

What he sought to do was take the Hebrew language and turn it into a spoken tongue that would aid in the communication between Jews from different communities.

It is true that before Ben Yehuda arrived on the scene, there were Jews in the Land of Israel who spoke Hebrew. There were even attempts in the late 19th century to establish purely Hebrew schools in Ottoman Palestine. However, there were no speakers whose primary tongue was Hebrew or who were native Hebrew speakers. People could speak Hebrew on the street but would go home and speak in other languages to their family and friends.

Ben Yehuda’s Hebrew project saw the establishment of the first “Hebrew-language home,” with his son brought up in a strictly Hebrew-speaking environment.

The revival of Hebrew gained decisive momentum during the Second Aliyah (1904–1914), when waves of Jewish immigrants to the Land of Israel embraced it not merely as a literary language, but as a spoken vernacular, with Hebrew officially adopted as the language of the Zionist movement in 1904.

By the time the British Mandate of Palestine was established in 1922, Hebrew was designated as one of the Mandate’s three official languages.

By 1948, 93 percent of Israeli children under the age of 15 used Hebrew as their primary language.

While Ben Yehuda is largely credited with starting this linguistic revolution, it was essentially a collaborative effort with his family members and other Hebraists expanding Hebrew’s vocabulary to turn it into the modern and dynamic language that we know today.

Myth: Modern Hebrew Is a European Language

Truth: One of the ways in which those opposed to the return of the Jews to their indigenous homeland cast doubt upon the connection between modern Israel and ancient Israel is by claiming that the Hebrew spoken today is not the same as that spoken in the land 2,000 years ago — and that modern Hebrew is, in fact, a European language.

This claim points to the revitalization of Hebrew by a European Jew, Eliezer Ben Yehuda, and the adoption of words from European languages (such as English, German, Russian, and French) by the modern Hebrew dictionary.

However, this is a red herring.

All languages adopt terms from other languages. In ancient times, Hebrew manuscripts borrowed terms from neighboring languages such as Aramaic, Persian, Greek, and Latin.

So, too, today modern Hebrew is influenced by foreign languages. The same with Arabic, English, Russian, and Japanese. Nearly all languages make some use of “loanwords.” Hebrew’s use of “loanwords” does not turn the language suddenly into a European tongue.

As we will see in the next section, despite the modern Hebrew dictionary being developed by a European Jew, modern Hebrew is based on Biblical Hebrew and is, indeed, a Semitic language.

Myth: Modern Hebrew Is Not a Semitic Language

Truth: Similar to the myth that modern Hebrew is a European language, people also make the absurd claim that modern Hebrew is not a Semitic language.

One of the main pieces of “evidence” cited for this claim is that the pronunciation of some Hebrew letters is different from the pronunciation in other Semitic tongues, like Arabic. The two most prominent letters that are brought up in this argument are the guttural Ayin and Het.

Of course, there are several points that undermine this claim.

First, pronunciation is not an indication of whether a language is Semitic or not.

As pointed out by Hebrew language researcher Elon Gilad, Semitic tongues are defined by their three-consonant roots, a structure that existed in Biblical Hebrew and continues to exist in modern Hebrew.

Second, even other Semitic languages feature different pronunciations based on geographic region. There are certain pronunciation differences between the Arabic spoken in Egypt and the Arabic spoken in Jordan and the Arabic spoken in Iraq. However, they are still considered Semitic languages.

Third, even some ancient peoples who spoke Semitic languages, such as the Akkadians and Samaritans, lost the glottal stop in their pronunciation. Yet, no one considered de-classifying their pronunciation as “Semitic.”

Lastly, the more guttural pronunciation of Hebrew is still practiced by some Israelis whose families came from Arabic-speaking lands, particularly the Yemenites. This does not make their Hebrew Semitic while the Hebrew of another Israeli, speaking the same exact words just in a different accent, would be considered a non-Semitic tongue.

Myth: Modern Hebrew is Based on Arabic

The opposite of the “Hebrew is European” myth is the equally false myth that modern Hebrew is based on Arabic.

According to this myth, a large percentage of modern Hebrew (some claim up to 80%) is made up of Arabic words.

As mentioned above, modern Hebrew does use “loanwords” from Arabic (as well as other languages) but its vocabulary and grammar are not a large-scale coopting of Arabic.

This myth is meant to deny the ties between Biblical and modern Hebrew, thus also severing the historic ties between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel and depicting Israeli Jews as somehow fraudulent.

Myth: Modern Hebrew Speakers Cannot Understand Biblical Hebrew

It is true that modern Hebrew and Biblical Hebrew are not the same.

However, it is not true that a modern Hebrew speaker would not understand the Bible.

While there are structural differences between the two Hebrews and there isn’t a 100 percent overlap between the two vocabularies, an educated Israeli would be able to open the Bible and understand a good portion of the Hebrew text.

Analysts have noted that the relationship between Biblical Hebrew and modern Hebrew is much closer than the relationship between ancient Greek and modern Greek (which are considered linguistic relatives).

The relationship between Biblical Hebrew and modern Hebrew is likened to the relationship between Shakespearean English and modern English. While the modern English speaker may not be able to read an entire play without assistance, they will recognize the language used by the Bard as being similar to their own tongue.

However, there are some who claim that a student of Biblical Hebrew (with no grounding in modern Hebrew) would not be able to understand a contemporary Hebrew text due to the developments that have taken place in the language.

That observation is hardly surprising. Languages evolve over centuries – English today would be barely intelligible to a reader of Chaucer. Yet evolution does not mean rupture. Modern Hebrew rests on the same grammatical foundations and core vocabulary that have bound Jewish texts and communities together for millennia.

Its revival was not the creation of something new, but the renewal of something enduring.

The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.

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