Edward Serotta was headed home after a lovely evening with friends in Vienna. Then a little girl named Halla grabbed his hand — and brought him face-to-face with Europe’s spreading refugee crisis.
My grandmother used to satirically refer to “Die Grossen Ungarischen Jüdischen Übermenschen,” or “The Great Hungarian Jewish Superhumans,” because this subset of Jews were always so relentless in praising their own. But though we rolled our eyes at the bias espoused by some Hungarians, Kati Marton has offered some dazzling proof that at least some of it is deserved.
The first time I visited Bulgaria was in the winter of 1985. As the overnight train from Istanbul lumbered through the country, the only thing I saw in abundance were statues to “Our Soviet Liberators.”