There is a short story by (I think) Isaac Bashevis Singer; I don't remember
the name of the story, and have been trying to find it for you for a week
The story is told >from the point of view of a seven-year-old boy who hides
in his Cheder while the melamed is murdered in a pogrom. He then cannot
understand why, when his mother and father survived, there is so much
sadness and anger between his parents. He cannot understand why his father
is so angry at having to pack up and leave their village, why they move to
America, why his mother cannot take joy in her pregnancy, etc. . . .
Sometimes, fiction tells the story better than non-fiction. I'm sorry I
don't remember the name of the story.