This is an unusual, disturbing and powerful book. It is part autobiography of an English schoolboy who grew up in Nazi Germany, and part biography of the mother who left him there. Widowed early, Norah Briscoe sought with great determination to build a career in journalism in the face of much prejudice. Adversity did not improve her. She was the mother from hell, unfeeling, selfish and cold. She never once kissed or embraced her son Paul. The logical culmination of Norah’s personal development was that she became a Nazi. As the authors point out, ‘Nazism did not count a lack of sympathy for other people’s feelings as a weakness; rather, it was seen as a strength.’ Norah travelled to Germany to write articles, and in spring 1936 dumped Paul, not yet six, on the family of a boyfriend in Lower Franconia. Back in England, she interested herself in Fascist politics and her bizarre antics culminated in 1941 in an attempt to supply information about suitable bombing targets to the Nazis. In fact, her contacts were MI5 agents provocateurs and she was sentenced to five years in prison, which at least finally made her more compassionate.
Apart from the short chapter on her treason, the material on Norah Briscoe is of limited interest, as she was only small fry. The authors have little detail on what she actually did and fill out the story with general material on British Fascism. The narrative chapters hop from mother to son and back in a way which breaks the flow of the book. This unevenness is a pity, because the material on the son is very interesting. Paul Briscoe’s experience as an English boy in Hitler’s Reich was exceptional, possibly unique, and he tells his story with startling frankness.
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