Fatherhood Quote by Bruno Schulz

A line like this refuses the reader the comfort of grandeur. It lands with the bluntness of a police report, but the flat delivery is the point: in Nazi-occupied reality, murder could be triggered by something as petty as wounded pride, administered with bureaucratic ease, and narrated afterward as if the world’s moral grammar had been snapped in half.

The phrasing is chillingly casual: “the other Nazi” reduces ideology to interchangeable uniforms, a category rather than a person. “So much” carries a faint, almost grotesque echo of everyday irritation (“so much” as in a neighbor feud), except the consequence is an execution. The time stamp - “the next morning” - compresses the arc from offense to homicide into the rhythm of routine, as if genocide has been folded into a calendar appointment. Then the sentence’s final clause, “he shot my father,” arrives without adornment, no elegy, no metaphors, just a familial noun placed where a body drops.

Context matters: Schulz, a Jewish Polish writer, lived under a regime that weaponized arbitrary violence and personal whim. The subtext isn’t only that Nazis killed; it’s that they cultivated a world where power could be exercised like a mood swing, where one man’s vanity could become another family’s catastrophe. The intent, then, is anti-rhetorical. By stripping the event of narrative cushioning, the line forces the reader to confront how totalitarian violence colonizes the everyday - and how quickly “because” stops making sense.