Thomas Harding’s Hanns and Rudolf tells the story of Hanns Alexander, a German-Jewish refugee who became one of the first Nazi hunters after the war. Alexander’s biggest scalp, Rudolf Höss, Kommandant of Auschwitz, was tried, found guilty and hanged in Poland in 1947.

Alexander’s father, Alfred, a recipient of the Iron Cross (first class), was adamant that the camaraderie of German veterans, Jew and Gentile, would surpass the Nazis. He was wrong and his family very nearly ran out of time to get out of Germany. On relocation to England, Alexander and his brother enlisted to fight for Britain out of a mixture of gratitude and duty and despite flagging British sentiment towards the influx of Jewish refugees.

Rudolf Höss was a soldier in the German Army in World War I: at only 14 years old he found safety in exactingly obeying orders and putting to one side his reservations, fears and feelings in general. These formative years were devoted to pledges of loyalty and, of most significance, ignoring his human sentiments in the face of what ordinary people would consider inhuman brutality. The Auschwitz Kommandant, whoever he was going to be, had to have the psychological prejudices and qualities of someone just like Höss.

Harding is fairly forgiving when it comes to reading Höss’s memoirs, which to my mind disclose very little in the way of repentance or reflection. Likewise, he makes no comment on Alexander’s questionable interrogation tactics in tracking down Höss. But the material is there for readers to assess for themselves. For me, Hanns and Rudolf was an alarming reminder that personal histories and motivations play an enormous role in often devastating historical outcomes

Andrew Carter