This book is the first sustained inquiry into the ways in which postmodern thinkers have grappled with the historical bases, implications, and methodological problems of the Holocaust. The book examines the thinking of Arendt, Levinas, Foucault, Lyotard, and Derrida, all of whom have recognized the centrality of the Nazi genocide to the epoch in which we live. The essays written for this volume constitute a wide-ranging study of the efforts of postmodernism to articulate the Holocaust.

Deborah Lipstadt claimed that David Irving was a Hitler partisan wearing blinkers bending and manipulating evidence: the most dangerous spokesperson for Holocaust denial. Irving sued her and her publishers in a high profile case and lost.

Robert Eaglestone argues that postmodernism is a response to the Holocaust. He offers a range of new perspectives, including new ways of looking at testimony and at and recent Holocaust fiction; explores controversies in Holocaust history; looks at the importance of the Holocaust for recent philosophy; and asks what the Holocaust means for reason, ethics, and for being human

The first sustained study of the relationship between Anglo-American postmodernist fiction and the Second World War, Crosthwaite demonstrates that postmodernism has not abandoned history but has rather reformulated it in terms of trauma that is traceable, time and again, to the catastrophes of the 1940s.

How to Write About the Holocaust is a contribution to ongoing debates in historiography and Holocaust studies. More specifically, it combines the theoretical framework that has developed in historiography in the last half a century with the demands of Holocaust representation. The first part of the book analyzes the newest trends in theory of history, focusing especially on postmodernism, starting from the works of the American historian and theorist Hayden White and tracing the genealogy of the postmodern influence in history both from an epistemological and from a political perspective. The second part continues by incorporating these theoretical developments into specific written examples on the Holocaust. By analyzing major works about it, including Saul Friedländer's and Dan Stone's histories of the Holocaust, the book attempts to answer questions like: what is the most appropriate way to write about the Holocaust and what can theory teach us about the practice of history? To conclude, the volume explores the connection between history and literature and asks if the distinction between fact and fiction has become outdated.

Drawing on a wide range of texts, Michael Rothberg puts forth an overarching framework for understanding representations of the Holocaust. Through close readings of such writers and thinkers as Theodor Adorno, Maurice Blanchot, Ruth Klüger, Charlotte Delbo, Art Spiegelman, and Philip Roth and an examination of films by Steven Spielberg and Claude Lanzmann, Rothberg demonstrates how the Holocaust as a traumatic event makes three fundamental demands on representation: a demand for documentation, a demand for reflection on the limits of representation, and a demand for engagement with the public.

The Holocaust is often said to be unrepresentable. Yet since the 1990s, a new generation of Jewish American writers have been returning to this history again and again, insisting on engaging with it in highly playful, comic, and “impious” ways. Focusing on the fiction of Michael Chabon, Jonathan Safran Foer, Nicole Krauss, and Nathan Englander, this book suggests that this literature cannot simply be dismissed as insensitive or improper. It argues that these Jewish American authors engage with the Holocaust in ways that renew and ensure its significance for contemporary generations. These ways, moreover, are intricately connected to efforts of finding new means of expressing Jewish American identity, and of moving beyond the increasingly apparent problems of postmodernism.