Mather: You’re Michael Berg. I was expecting you. Please.
Michael: Thank you.
Mather: So you must tell me exactly what brings you to the United States?
Michael: I was already here. I was at a conference in Boston.
Mather: You’re a lawyer?
Michael: Yes.
Mather: I was intrigued by your letter But I can’t say I wholly understood it. You attended the trial?
Michael: Yes. Almost twenty years ago. I was a law student. I remember you, I remember your mother very clearly.
Mather: My mother died in Israel a good many years ago.
Michael: I'm sorry.
Mather: Go On, please!
Michael: Perhaps you heard. Hanna Schmitz recently died. She killed herself.
Mather: She was a friend of yours?
Michael: A kind of friend. It’s as simple as this. Hanna was illiterate for the greater part of her life.
Mather: Is that an explanation of her behavior?
Michael: No.
Mather: Or an excuse?
Michael: No. No. She taught herself to read when she was in prison. I sent her tapes. She’d always liked being read to.
Mather: Why don’t you start by being honest with me? What was the nature of your friendship?
Michael: When I was young I had an affair with Hanna.
Mather: I’m not sure I can help you, Mr. Berg. Or rather, even if I could I’m not willing to.
Michael: I was almost sixteen when I took up with her. The affair only lasted a summer, but...
Mather: But what? I see. And did Hanna Schmitz acknowledge the effect she’d had on your life?
Michael: She’d done much worse to other people. I’ve never told anyone.
Mather: People ask all the time what I learned in the camps. But the camps weren’t therapy. What do you think these places were? Universities? We didn’t go there to learn. One becomes very clear about these things. What are you asking for? Forgiveness for her? Or do you just want to feel better yourself? My advice, go to the theatre, if you want catharsis, please. Go to literature. Don't go to the camps. Nothing comes out of the camps. Nothing.
