'The Last Days of Budapest' explores Holocaust survival and resistance
Adam LeBor’s "The Last Days of Budapest" reveals untold stories of Jewish survival, heroism, and betrayal during Hungary’s darkest period.
 |
| Hungarian banknotes (pengős) are scattered on the banks of the Danube near the destroyed Chain Bridge in Budapest in January 1946, during Hungary's inflationary crisis between August 1945 and July 1946. Photo by Louis Foucherand/AFP |
By Anna Fadiah and Hayu Andini
During a quiet morning walk along the Danube, a simple yet haunting Holocaust memorial in Budapest emerges without fanfare. Sixty pairs of iron shoes, cast permanently into the riverbank, mark the spot where Arrow Cross militiamen executed Jewish civilians between 1944 and 1945. Victims were ordered to stand at the river’s edge, shot so their bodies would fall into the water—an act of brutality designed to spare the effort of burial. Some removed their shoes in a final act of hope, believing they might survive the plunge and swim to safety.
This understated memorial, alongside a more controversial statue honoring “victims of the German occupation,” captures Budapest’s ongoing struggle with its complex Holocaust legacy. While one seeks remembrance, the other, some argue, attempts to absolve Hungary’s role in the atrocity. Protesters responded by creating a countermemorial filled with photographs and documents, directly confronting selective historical memory.
Adam LeBor’s The Last Days of Budapest confronts this complexity head-on. Rather than offering a simple narrative of good versus evil, LeBor delves into the shifting alliances, gruesome violence, and moments of unexpected heroism that shaped Hungary’s experience of World War II. His work, The Last Days of Budapest, complements military histories like Krisztián Ungváry’s The Battle for Budapest, yet stands apart in its focus on civilians caught in a slow descent into terror.
A portrait of a city on the brink
LeBor brings to life the figure of Admiral Miklós Horthy, Hungary’s wartime leader, whose decisions steered the nation closer to Hitler’s orbit. Horthy’s brand of antisemitism was, as LeBor notes, distinct from Hitler’s but no less damaging. Long before the Nazi occupation, Horthy championed a Christian-nationalist vision aimed at diminishing Jewish influence in Hungary’s cultural and political life. The infamous 1920 Numerus Clausus law, restricting Jewish university enrollment, set a dangerous precedent that would snowball over the following decades.
Despite rising antisemitism, Budapest’s Jewish community, the largest urban Jewish population in Europe by 1944, maintained a semblance of normalcy even as provincial Jews were deported en masse. LeBor captures this uneasy period with vivid detail, describing a city that, like cinematic Casablanca, continued to buzz with life—cafés, nightclubs, espionage, and clandestine plotting unfurling side-by-side with looming disaster.
False hopes and devastating realities
The Jews of Budapest believed their relative assimilation might protect them. For a time, it seemed possible. But by the summer of 1944, their hopes were shattered. Almost all Jewish residents were confined to ghettos or “Yellow Star houses.” Some 20,000 survived by obtaining forged papers or hiding with sympathetic Christian neighbors. Across Hungary, however, the statistics remained grim: approximately 825,000 Jews came under Nazi control, and about 550,000 were killed before the war’s end.
LeBor's meticulous research paints a chilling portrait of betrayal and resilience. From desperate last-minute negotiations with Nazi officers to risky acts of defiance, every story underlines the precariousness of survival in a city tearing itself apart.
Unsung heroes of resistance
While the story of Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg’s rescue missions is familiar, The Last Days of Budapest highlights lesser-known figures whose bravery illuminated Hungary’s darkest days. Actress Katalin Karády emerges as one of these unlikely heroes. Jailed and tortured for her anti-Nazi views, she later bartered her personal jewelry to save Jewish children from execution.
Princess Caja Odescalchi, another standout, transformed Budapest’s Andrássy Palace into a resistance hub. Her salons disguised secret meetings among anti-fascist intellectuals and Polish underground members. Working tirelessly behind the scenes, she helped thousands—including many Jews—flee from Nazi persecution.
LeBor’s kaleidoscopic narrative brings to the fore not only the famous names but also everyday Hungarians who risked everything. Through his vivid storytelling, The Last Days of Budapest becomes more than a historical account—it becomes a mosaic of human courage and frailty.
Moral ambiguities and desperate bargains
In addition to stories of resistance, LeBor does not shy away from morally ambiguous episodes. He recounts how Rezső Kasztner, a Hungarian Jewish leader, negotiated directly with Adolf Eichmann, seeking to save Jewish lives by offering money and influence. Was Kasztner’s deal an act of betrayal or a desperate bid for survival? LeBor wisely allows readers to wrestle with these uncomfortable questions themselves, resisting the urge to pass easy judgment.
The book’s crowded cast of characters may initially feel overwhelming, but this complexity is deliberate. It mirrors the chaos and confusion that reigned in wartime Budapest, where shifting loyalties and constant danger blurred the lines between heroism and self-preservation.
A living memory along the Danube
Through letters, diaries, interviews, and archival records, The Last Days of Budapest reconstructs a vital, human-scale view of a Holocaust chapter often overshadowed by larger narratives. LeBor succeeds in offering readers not only a record of suffering but a testament to resilience, ambition, and sometimes heartbreaking compromise.
The iron shoes on the Danube’s bank, the impromptu memorials scattered through Budapest’s streets, and the living testimonies captured in LeBor’s book all serve as reminders. Reminders of those who perished, of those who fought to save them, and of the countless others whose silence enabled unimaginable horror.
The Last Days of Budapest does more than retell history; it compels reflection on the human capacity for both evil and extraordinary kindness. As Budapest continues to grapple with its past, LeBor’s book stands as a crucial contribution to understanding how fragile civilization can be—and how vital it is to remember.
Explore more in Book Review
- Martha Sandweiss uncovers the forgotten life of Sophie Mousseau, a mixed-race girl caught between cultures during the 1868 Peace Commission.
- Mark Synnott’s Arctic expedition in "Into the Ice" merges high-seas adventure, personal reflection, and the enduring mystery of the Franklin expedition.
- Posthumous release of Joan Didion’s "Notes to John" reveals private therapy sessions and deepens her legacy of public mourning.
