Naomi’s father, who survived Auschwitz, became a Reform Rabbi, a philosopher and spoke eleven languages. In one of her books, Naomi recorded her father’s thoughts on the Shoah, and how he would want it to be presented to his descendants. He said,

‘I would like you to try and convey to those who'll come after you this very specific thing, that you come from a world that was a beautiful world, that was caring, that was God-fearing, that had a very high set of values. It was honest, it was hardworking, it prized learning, the gifts of the spirit and of the intellect. It was in fact civilized, and whatever you do, make sure that something of what makes for genuine civilization gets carried into the rising generations. That will be the finest way in which you will honour the memory of those who went before you.’

Despite, or perhaps because of, the swathe that the Holocaust cut through her own family, Naomi has an increasingly ambivalent relationship with Israel. ‘For many years, I was a great supporter of Israel, but unless they can find a way to live with their Palestinian neighbours in a more decent, humane way, I (will) feel a big detachment from Israel, not the people I know and love there, but politically, I have a great sense of shame.’

The backdrop of Brexit has also forced Naomi to confront questions around her British identity. ‘I love many things about this quirky country but without a shadow of a doubt (Brexit has) made me realise that I consider myself a European and a Londoner.’