Bread symbolizes the increasingly desperate conditions Yanek faces as he’s oppressed by the Nazi regime, as well as his unyielding will to survive and retain his humanity. Prior to the Nazi invasion of Kraków, food is something that Yanek takes for granted. Even after the Nazis invade, when Yanek’s uncle Abraham saves bread for his family, Yanek explains that even though he is hungry, he can still get a deep pleasure from the smell of warm, fresh-baked bread. Yanek is learning to appreciate what he has, and the bread also is deeply tied to the comfort of family. But after Yanek is taken to the concentration camps, food grows scarcer and scarcer as life gets more and more difficult. The bread he is given is described as “small,” “hard,” “tasteless” and “lice-ridden.” While half a loaf was once considered meager, Yanek now thinks of it as a “feast.” This mirrors how the conditions in Yanek’s own life have deteriorated, as his entire experience has become similarly destitute and devoid of pleasure.
After a death march, in which Yanek has been supporting a boy about his age, he notices that his bread fell out of his pants. The boy’s bread, however, is still there, and Yanek thinks about stealing it. He doesn’t want to steal it from a living boy, however, and so he fleetingly hopes that the boy might die so that he can have his bread. But then he realizes how horrific this thought is: he has been reduced to desperation. He does not take the bread—though he knows that it fuels his life and his will to live. Thus, bread ultimately represents Yanek’s refusal to surrender what makes him human—his morality, empathy, and higher reasoning—even in the face of unthinkably traumatic circumstances.
Bread Quotes in Prisoner B-3087
But no matter how he was standing, you always knew a Muselmann from his eyes. There wasn’t anything left there. Muselmanners had given up, and there was no life in their expression, no spark of a soul. They were zombies, worked and starved into a living death by our captors. If the man below me wasn’t dead when they came for us tomorrow, the morning roll call would kill him.
I shook with anger and frustration. He was supposed to die! I needed him to die, so I could have his bread.
I closed my eyes. What was I thinking? I wouldn’t steal bread from a living boy, but I would wish death on him so I could take it without guilt? What were the camps doing to me? What had the Nazis turned me into?
Farther inside Czechoslovakia, some of the villagers hung out of their windows to throw whatever they had to us—crusts of bread, half-eaten apples, raw potatoes. The Czechs couldn’t share much—there was a war on, after all, and food was hard to come by. But their kindness in the face of the Nazi soldiers and their guns warmed my heart. It was easy to think the worst of humanity when all I saw was brutality and selfishness, and these people showed me there was still good in the world, even if I rarely saw it.