A convincing historical tale about love across enemy lines that’s hampered by uneven prose.
A Soviet sniper falls for a German soldier in a novel set during World War II.
Midwood’s (Of Knights and Dogfights, 2019, etc.) latest work of historical fiction opens in 1955 as doctoral candidate Andrea travels to Leningrad to interview a famous wartime sniper named Kira Miloslavskaya. What follows is Kira’s story, starting in 1939, when she goes to Lvov to work as an interpreter for Soviet troops. The temporary alliance between Germany and the U.S.S.R. paves the way for Kira to fall in love with Werner Suss, a Wehrmacht lieutenant. Successive chapters alternate between these two characters’ points of view. The first-person accounts successfully convey the bitter realities of war-torn Europe, although the use of the present tense feels odd. The lovers become engaged and talk of marrying within a year, but the 1941 German invasion of Leningrad changes everything. Kira joins a sniper division, earning the nickname “the Red Death” for her ruthlessness. Meanwhile, Werner and his company travel from Poland into the Soviet Union. He and Kira reunite several times and make love, although they resent each other for their countries’ crimes. Midwood does an admirable job of capturing the harshness of the Russian winter (“the dying afternoon of a hazy, despondent December day”) and battlefield carnage (“I killed with grisly pleasure and slept at night like a child,” Kira reports). However, her prose sometimes succumbs to adjective-heavy overwriting (“the charcoal sky pouring crystals of opalescent powder on the ravaged earth”), and, at times, there’s oddly redundant phrasing (“history faculty worker”; “decisively resolute”) and anachronistic-sounding slang (“Are you crap-heads completely off your rockers?!”). Still, the novel is atmospheric and well-plotted, if overly reliant on coincidences. There’s a pleasing Romeo and Juliet quality to the romance, as it’s unclear if these people, let alone their relationship, will survive the end of the fighting.
A convincing historical tale about love across enemy lines that’s hampered by uneven prose.Pub Date: March 7, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-986277-24-2
Page Count: 414
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Feb. 8, 2019
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.
Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.
In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014
BOOK TO SCREEN
SEEN & HEARD
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
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