Winston Churchill called the Hungarian Holocaust the worst crime in the history of humanity. That was 1944. It seems unlikely that many residents of Chicago's Ukrainian Village thought much about that event in 1977, when this story begins. Those who did think about it, would never have acknowledged it, or if forced to acknowledge it, would claim no clear memories of it. Klara, the protagonist of this novel, lived her life among such people, normal enough people. She was fairly happy, except for her dreams, dreams that churned up something terrible from her earliest years. Klara's aunt and uncle tried to comfort her after these dreams. They protected her, for she had no parents, but could not entirely love her. She could sense this. She never understood the reasons, but accepted her life for what it was. By 1977, at the age of thirty-eight, she had a comfortable job at the bakery. She had friends, few worries, and a flat of her own in the Village. Her uncle was the most...

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