4.5 / 5. Maybe higher. This needs to become standard holocaust reading. Up there with Levi, Frank, Frankl, and Wiesel. Maybe more of a stepping stone after those authors though, as the structure and experimental nature of the writing makes it harder to read. Plus one requires a good grasp of the history and situation, as Delbo doesn't really give you much of that.
I found so many things to like about this sad, sad, sad book. Her attempts at communicating the horror, her struggle with memory, and her struggle along with her comrades of reintegrating with society.
How funny, so few talk about the reintegration part. You would think, once you're out, life would be great again. I remember reading Hiroshima and Nagasaki survivor accounts and how later in life society would ostracize them because of the victims' scars and the desire for society to forget the whole thing... How strange. And how terrible.
That theme, the idea that society just wants to forget, and how that whole idea of forgetting is so horrendous to anyone who experienced it... is so intense.
In the end, I absolutely loved this book, even if it left me terribly sad most days I read it. But, you know, how could it not? And for those who wish not to read it, because they don't want to be saddened... well, that's sad too: you're denying the victims their need to bear witness to these events, and hopefully keep us all in mind of a) how good we have it; and b) never let these things happen again... ( )

Working for the French Resistance, Delbo was arrested by the Nazis in 1942, imprisoned, and later sent to Auschwitz and Ravensbruck. A talented writer, she sought to preserve a record of the atrocities perpetrated by the Nazis. This volume contains a trilogy: "None of Us Will Return" (written in 1946 but not published until 1965), "Useless Knowledge," and "The Measure of Our Days," originally published in 1970. Her writing is haunting, gracefully combining vignettes of poetry and poetic prose and enveloping the reader in an emotional whirlwind. There is a deceptive simplicity inherent in her understated but exceedingly powerful imagery. Lamont's translation is sensitive and fluid, while Lawrence Langer's introductory essay provides both background material and a deserved tribute to the author.

Incredibly powerful writing from a French political prisoner, interned in Auschwitz. It is refreshing to read an account of the female experience of the camps, especially in such a beautiful combination of poetry and prose. The attention devoted to life after liberation and Delbo's return to France makes this something of a landmark; this work should be hailed alongside that of Wiesel and Levi as the epitome of Holocaust testimony. ( )