Shortlisted for the Walter Scott Prize 2025
The knock on the door changed everything. Until then, we were happy; we knew who we were. ‘You’ve got the wrong person,’ I told him. ‘My wife is gentle and kind. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ In 1939, when she was just nineteen years old, Hermine Braunsteiner applied for a job in a new prison which had opened near her home. She had heard that the pay was better than working on the factory line. The prison was called Ravensbrück. A few months later, the Second World War would break like a wave across Europe. By the time it was over, she had become one of the most notoriously cruel and violent guards in the Nazi death camps. The prisoners nicknamed her the Mare – she was known for kicking her victims to death.
After the war, Hermine disappeared back into civilian life. A few years later she met a US war veteran who was holidaying in Europe. He had no idea who she was. He fell in love with her, married her and brought her back to America, where she lived for years as a well-liked suburban housewife, until one day a tip-off from a Holocaust survivor sent a New York Times journalist to their door, and the questions started.
Based on a true story, The Mare offers a gripping portrait of the descent of ordinary people into inhumanity. And it asks what happens after that nadir: considering the impossible task of defining justice in the face of a crime which involved everyone, weighing the moral necessity of reckoning with the truth against the overwhelming urge to look away. Absolutely unflinching and charged with urgent contemporary relevance, The Mare examines how we attempt to justify the unjustifiable – and forgive the unforgivable.
