Nothing egregious about it—the Holocaust was *but one* part of a vastly larger enterprise: World Conquest. The Holocaust was a “set-it-&-forget-it” proposition—Hitler’s writ was like that of the Pharaohs “So let it be written, so let it be done.” There would have been *no* need of extended discussions on the topic, with Himmler or anyone else, beyond periodic updates. We *do* know that Hitler told Himmler at one point, “Faster, the whole business has to be done faster.” [Hitler>Himmler>Eichmann>Dieter Wisliceny from whom we have the quote]

Indeed, *what* would there have been to discuss—the extermination *machine* had been created and set-to-running with a certain degree of efficiency—updates *en passant* would have been the extent of it.

The only rationale for extended discussion would have been *if* things were not on schedule, if Hitler didn’t trust Himmler to get the job done. The record is abundant with evidence to the contrary.

Finally, this reviewer is the one who’s deluded—on a number of points, only a few of which can be addressed here:

“Linge seems not to be intent upon letting the reader into the inner sanctums of Hitler’s life…”
The man was a *valet*, for God’s sake—not his therapist or confessor ! Hitler’s “inner sanctum” was not his remit, and he would have been sent packing had he acted otherwise.

In Linge’s own words:
“…Screened in his immediate circle against all negative ideas which might be circulating elsewhere, I was blind to the reality… Unlikely as it may sound, I saw how Hitler held the levers of powers in his hands, and I was often there as he occupied himself with them, but where he was steering us was something I could not see.”
Better than that cannot be asked of a valet—in military uniform, too: a proper valet *knows* that when close personal discussions are held he is to place himself out of earshot, but close enough to answer the call if summoned.
Your reviewer is plainly a stranger to men *in service* and what their specific duties are, and their role in the household they serve. Tsk tsk.

“Linge seems suspended in a dream world of denial…”
Denial of *what*—things he had no way of knowing ? It would have been truly mendacious for Linge to retroject post-war viewpoints onto events happening in his own *small* valet’s world, *small* the operative word here. What does your reviewer expect of a *valet*, anyway? Even Hitler’s valet had this in common with all others of his profession: He’s there to *ease the way* for his chief. He’s not there to speculate on his inner psychic condition or matters of policy.
The reviewer descends to a level of ad-hominem personalization more befitting an *undergraduate* “humanities” major:
“This type of delusion is unconscionable…”
“I mean what the hell?…”
Watch your mouth, kid.

“It would be considered a sick joke if not for the absolute horror of it all…”
“The absolute horror of it all” ? How dainty and ladylike !

“Linge, like the rest of Germany, had driven himself mad by in essence looking the other way…”
Linge The Mad Valet…Okay-y-y-y…Moving right along:

Germany drove itself mad, did it ? No, they got up every day like people everywhere, and did the same things they’d do in peacetime under *any* form of government. Life goes on. Life *really does* go on.
Most Germans, like most *people everywhere*, are *apolitical*—most of them view politics as “A plague on both your houses” proposition. Trust me, I *know*—THREE of my grandparents were German. The vast majority of Germans were just trying to get by and be “left over”. In the final year of the war the standard farewell was “Be left over.” The facts of German wartime life for the ordinary citizen are as prosaic and bourgeois—and *boring* as life in any other contemporary combatant nation.

“Lust for one’s desires and needs turns black to white and white to black blending seamlessly into shades of grey in a deluded mind…”
Linge The *Lusting Valet* !! Linge The *Mad Lusting Valet* !!!

We hear more, much more, about the reviewer and his undisciplined mental process, than we do about the book in question—and this *is* supposed to be a book review, yes? This is more of a rant against yesterday’s enemies—a comforting enterprise, offering the reassurance and security of an risk-free unearned sanctimonious judgment.
Finally, this reviewer lays his cards on the table:
“…is a textbook case for showing how people…”
In this observably *post-literate* age, the notion, the *delusion* that books have an ipso facto pedagogic function has become a literary form of Tourette’s Syndrome, afflicting book reviewers like a loathsome skin disease.
Linge’s book is *not* a textbook, has *no* teaching function. It’s the *memoirs of a valet*, whose boss happened to be a figure of some note historically. It is *not* an exegesis on Hitler and his psyche and delivers *no* grandiose totalizing pronouncements on the War, Hitler, The Holocaust, The German People/Nation. That Linge’s views don’t match your reviewer’s and that he’s *angry* about it, reveals a whole lot more about him than any rational adult needs to know.
Says a *lot* about this publication for running it, too.