I owe my life to Hitler, thanks to the Second World War, and my Canadian soldier father meeting my British War Bride mother.
I imagine it is too crass to say I have a soft spot for Hitler. I’ve studied his personal history, and know something of the man who was (admittedly) only a small part of the monster.
If he had been able to sell more of his paintings . . . who knows what might have happened?
And, I even managed to track down a connection between Hitler and Franz Kafka. This possible meeting goaded me to write a stand-alone short story about Kafka, in addition to my novel about his missing diaries. In the short story Kafka is implored to join the Austrian army in WW I so he can kill ” . . . the man who will kill your sisters.”)
In reality, before Hitler came to power, he lived in Munich. In the apartment building where Hitler lived, a cousin of Kafka’s was also a resident. Nothing is known as to whether the monster met the cousin. Or if Franz visited his cousin. Or if Franz Kafka met Adolf Hitler.
But it would be interesting, a challenge – and even fun – to have these two men (virtual teetotallers and vegetarians both) meet in a coffee house. Or an Art Gallery.
Kafka saw monsters everywhere he looked. Why not give him a real one?