Savage Continent: Europe in the Aftermath of World War II

I think in part motivated by my aborted attempt at American Ulysses last month, I have been determined to work my way through Keith Lowe's Savage Continent. Similar to American Ulysses, the topic is interesting, and unlike my chief complete with the former, that White simply included far too many details for the average reader to wade through, Lowe's writing is on point. 

A few years ago, in fact, looking back, I see it was even this same time of year, I began a review as follows: "I blame Shogun. Luncheon of the Boating Party isn't bad, it just pales in comparison to Shogun, which leaves Susan Vreeland's work seeming a bit washed out." Today's context is completely different, but all I can say is: I blame covid. And Trump. Try as I might, I'm simply not in the mood to read about the ravages and savages that followed on the heels of World War II. 

From the opening sentences, Lowe is clear about what the reader will encounter: "Imagine a world without institutions. It is a world where borders between countries seem to have dissolved, leaving a single, endless landscape over which people travel in search of communities that no longer exist. ... There are no banks...Nothing is made here. ... There is no food. Law and order are virtually non-existent, because there is no police force and no judiciary. ... There is no morality. There is only survival." (p. xiii) 

I should have stopped then, right? I mean, it sounds like Lowe is writing to prepare me for the coming electoral apocalypse, rather than merely recounting the experience of a bombed out continent after a half-decade of war. I soldiered on though, no pun intended, through the typhus in the DP camps, through the bones poking through the rubble, through the carnage of 12 chapters. And then I decided enough. It's not that the story shouldn't be told. God knows, we need every reminder we can conjure as to how such periods have ended before. But for me, personally, Savage Continent does not serve the purpose of thou-shalt-not. It merely brought me a lower. 

Perhaps in a few years, I'll revisit this book. It is, as I said, well-written, and despite myself, I am interested in the topic. Just not this year.

Dancing Bears: True Stories of People Nostalgic for Life Under Tyranny

In Dancing Bears, author Witold Szablowski travels the length and breadth of the former Soviet states (and satellite states), conversing with those whose lives have changed, not always for the better.

The dancing bears of the titles are those bears who were kept by the Roma of Bulgaria, rescued by a German NGO upon Bulgaria's entry into the EU, and now live a pampered and free life at a park in Belitsa. Much to the chagrin of the park managers, when sad, lonely, or stressed, the bears revert to the behavior that ensured their keep for years: dancing. Neither have their former keepers adapted well to the changing times. Szablowski frequently encounters Gypsy families that have splintered, fractured by depression and death, in the aftermath of the bears' departure.

Beyond Bulgaria, Szablowski introduces his reader to the Stalin-loving guides at the Stalin Museum in Gori, Georgia, where the great man's memory looms large, and to the questions of nationality and identity confronting Russian Estonians...or is it Estonian Russians? He also explores the quietly simmering tensions of life in Kosovo and, in the western hemisphere, Szablowski journeys to Cuba, where more than one leery Cuban expresses uncertainly about the fate of the country should Fidel Castro die (Dancing Bears was published in 2014). On the brighter side, there's good money to be made running goods from the Polish EU to the decidedly-not-the-EU Ukraine.

This is a unique book that provides western readers with perspectives that aren't otherwise easily encountered. Szablowski's work on the dancing bears is especially provocative, yet balanced; he presents a clear-eyed view of the obvious downsides of training bears (removing their teeth, inserting rings through their noses, creating alcohol dependency), but also a sympathetic view of the keepers - Szablowski is at pains (in a good way) to remind readers to the extent to which training bears was a genuine part of the cultural fabric.

Dancing Bears reminded me of Secondhand Time, another work that seeks to provide understanding of how and why the transition from Communism has been so daunting for so many. Whereas I found the latter became repetitive, and ultimately too long, I would have happily read another 100 pages of this one.

Five stars.

My Mother's Secret: A Novel Based on a True Holocaust Story

J.L. Witterick's My Mother's Secret is an absolute gem of a book. Based on a true story, it tells how the illiterate and poor Franciszka, along with her daughter Helena, saved the lives of two entire Jewish families and a defecting German soldier by hiding them in the most unlikely places in their tiny home and pigsty. None knows of the others' presence. Then, for her pièce de résistance, Franciszka befriends the German commander, throwing (modest) dinner parties for him literally right on top of the hidden Jews. 

Among the results, is much needed food supplies and a greater distance from their fellow villagers. As daughter Helena describes, with the appearance of the German commander, any they would have wished to befriend no longer wanted to associate, while any of those who might have wished to be friends were not the type mother and daughter sought. 

Witterick tells this story in four parts, using four different perspectives, beginning with Helena. At fewer than 200 pages, it's an incredibly quick read, the more so for being so engrossing. In all, this is one inspiring piece of work - and how might history have been different if there were more Franciszkas and Helenas?

Five stars.