Rights sold: Czech Republic - PASEKA, Estonia – TANAPAEV, France - CHRISTIAN BOURGOIS, Italy - VOLAND, Japan – HAKUSUISHA, The Netherlands – MOURIA, Poland - PWN, World English - Greenhill Books
On May 8, 1945, the soldiers of the Red Army broke into Hitler’s bunker. With them was Elena Rzhevskaya, a young military interpreter. She and other members of the Soviet military witnessed firsthand the charred remains of Hitler and Eva Braun. Important documents were uncovered in the search of the Berlin bunker: the notes of Martin Bormann, the head of the Nazi Party Chancellery and Hitler’s personal secretary and the diaries of propaganda minister Josef Goebbels, whose corpse lay nearby with those of his family.
Elena was entrusted with the irrefutable proof of the Hitler’s death. Tucked safely in her coat pocket, were the jawbones of Adolf Hitler, wrenched from his corpse just hours earlier. Much of the evidence uncovered from the bunker remained buried in the Soviet archives until 1994. Elena’s role as an interpreter allowed her to forge a link between the Soviet troops and the Germans. Confronted with the dramatic reality of war, she also witnessed the unfolding civilian tragedy in its messy aftermath of violence and rape perpetrated by the Soviets. Her diaries of those years became the source of her writings and this book is the capstone of a life dedicated to bearing witness to the truth.
The book includes the latest Russian edition of “Berlin, May 1945”, specially adapted for translation and circulation abroad. It incorporates such later written and published parts of the whole story, as conversation with Zhukov, letters of Shkaravsky and a novel-memoirs The Distant Rumble in which Rzhevskaya returns again to the events of the last months of the war.
The famous “Berlin, May 1945” forms the central piece of the book, but the name of the whole work is changed so that this publication is not mixed with much shorter version published about 40 years ago. The name “MEMOIRS OF A WARTIME INTERPRETER” is important for Rzhevskaya, as it was her position in war, which, together with her being a woman and a most personal and even lyrical author, never fit to about battles, but to see the suffering, the “human face” of history, makes her recollections and her books so unique. She gives the readers not only bare facts, now included in encyclopedias, but precious details, which only her memory retains, the atmosphere of these times, very precise personal characteristics.
Rzhevskaya writes about the greatest historical events and everyday life in frontlines in her own inimitable style, mixing creative prose and documents, interspersing her work with letters and diary entries (from “other side”, as well as her own), with archival material and responses from readers. The book grows before our eyes and history becomes a part of today. Rzhevskaya talks in depth of human suffering, of the bitter-sweet taste of victory, of the responsibility of an author, of strange laws of memory, which lives by associations, by heartache, compassion and unresolved feeling of guilt.
Before bringing us to Berlin, Rzevskaya leads us by the Roads and Days of the battle for Rzhev (1942-1943) and makes us listen to Distant Rumble, that reaches her from Poland, 60 plus years ago – Poland, whose liberation from the nazist hell immediately turned into new political games and more human suffering. Here she elaborates the theme of woman’s position in war, first touched in two German documentaries, where Rzhevskaya played a major part: “Lucy, Wanda, Yelena. It was not their War” (by Raimond Koplin and Renate Stegmuller, 1995) and “Befreier and Befreite” (1992), where she says the keywords about the rapes committed on German territory: “Violence is the genocide of love”.
This memoir is shocking in its relevancy, the author’s first-hand participation in the making of this history brings one very close to the events all generations should remain mindful of, including our own, polarized by the ongoing political and military conflicts around the world. There is a lesson to be learned from Rzhevskaya’s writing, and there are episodes from her personal encounters with the war from both sides of the conflict, given her role as the translator, that stick with you long after finishing the book.
Her story is a telling reminder of the jealousy and rivalries that split the Allies even in their hour of victory, and foreshadowed the Cold War. Tom Parfitt, Guardian, May 8, 2005
Excerpts of Rzhevskaya's book were translated into about twenty languages and published in the periodical press of many countries. The face of the author appeared on the covers of magazines in Germany and Italy.
Read more...Rights sold: Brazil - Editora34, Croatia - FRAKTURA, Czech Republic - PASEKA, Estonia – TANAPAEV, Finland - SILTALA, France – GALLIMARD, Germany – HANSER, Greece - KASTANIOTIS, Hungary – MAGVETO, Iran - Houpaa Books, Italy – BOMPIANI, Japan - Shinchosha, Lithuania - JOTEMA, The Netherlands – DE GEUS, Norway – CAPPELEN DAMM, Poland – BAUER-WELTBILD, Romania - Humanitas, Russia - EKSMO, AST, Serbia - ARHIPELAG, Slovakia – SLOVART, Sweden - Ersatz, Turkey - ITHAKI, World English rights - FSG
In the best traditions of Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, Ulitskaya raises the bar with each successive book, taking on increasingly more demanding artistic and intellectual challenges and becoming a writer for everybody, not only for her own home readership. She moves far beyond the framework of tired cliches about the enigmatic Russian soul, and in place of laboured and portentous questions proffers her own answers.
Her new novel can justly claim a place in the first rank of an international hierarchy of major works which form the ideas through which their age is understood.
‘Imago’ is a term from biological science and, trained as a biologist, Ulitskaya deciphers human personality in genetic and medical terms in all her books. The imago is the phase in the development of an insect which corresponds to its formal adulthood. The insect imago is capable of reproduction and gradually proceeds through life to death. For a human being, however, the civilised and intelligent homo sapiens, there is potentially more to this phase, a phase of maturity, adulthood, responsibility, mental development, self-sacrifice and struggle.
Imago begins with the death of Stalin and his monstrous funeral attended by many millions and fraught with death. At the funeral the crowd in the centre of Moscow trampled one and a half thousand people to death, a fact concealed by the Soviet censorship. The finale of the novel is the death of the great Russian poet, Joseph Brodsky.
The heroes of Imago are three friends who come together in solidarity during their school years and live their entire lives side by side. Three small boys develop in a Moscow school under the watchful eye of a gifted teacher. An embryonic talented musician, gifted photographer, and poet of genius are readied for complete self-realisation. They are surrounded by an intelligentsia which consists not only of outstanding and brilliant but also of broken, dependent and intimidated people. The system oppresses all of them, the tough-minded and those who are pathetically weak.
Many cave in at the first pressure from the KGB (the unfortunate photographer does so and becomes an informer), but many others resist the oppressive ideological force and rescue both their physical life and, even more importantly, their conscience. The artist, in the footsteps of Tolstoy, leaves the city, where he faces arrest, for the forests and villages and dissolves in the depths of Russia. Alongside the heroes are a great diversity of women, strong or crushed, bitchy or tender, and magnificently witty. Almost all of them are extraordinary people and their actions too are extraordinary. They love their men in their own individual way, frequently helping and saving them, sacrificing themselves in the process without regret.
The life of one KGB general, the father of the main heroine, is amazing. All his life he has loved a woman he himself sent to the Gulag, and who, when she is released from the camps, forgives him and their love continues. Equally amazing is the story of a former prisoner, an intellectual who fled Nazi Germany and was subsequently incarcerated in a Soviet concentration camp. Emerging from prison, he makes a career as a leading Soviet psychiatrist and is instrumental in consigning the post-war dissidents to the lunatic asylum because, in accordance with the clinical classification and his formal examination, they are ‘factually psychologically unstable’.
As always with Ulitskaya, Imago is a novel about love, about destinies, and about characters. It is authentic psychological prose, but her new work is also broader than these definitions.
Ultimately this is a novel about failure to grow to maturity, failure to emerge fully from the cocoon, about people of the late 20th century living on the dynamism of adolescence but often, stuck in the phase of the run-up, never actually managing to take wing. Only a very few do attain the heights of which a human being is capable and which is most often achieved as the result of a magical indomitability, or through the agency of a creative profession, or the power of love.
Imago has a resonance and a reach which extends beyond the bounds of Russian literature. It is about all people of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. It is about the fact that in contemporary civilisation full maturity is almost never attained, especially if an individual who aspires to spread their wings and fly has some hobble, ideological or government-imposed, leaden and emasculating, weighing them down. Infantilism (or adolescence) is increasingly found in the modern world as a permanent condition, when the main features of a human being are present but have not ripened, have not found full expression. What should follow childhood is accomplished in a deformed manner or not accomplished at all. Adolescent civilisations form, in which people have ceased to mature. In this book Ulitskaya offers an innovative genre, a kind of anti-Bildungsroman, which will undoubtedly provide many people with food for thought and debate.
As always with this author, however, apart from the philosophical and moral charge, there is also emotional depth and wonderful artistry, a unique gift which renders her books accessible in dozens of languages to millions of readers. Only in her writing do we find that armour-piercing irony which enables episodes to pass, often in a single paragraph, from high tragedy to almost Shvejkian comedy. Imago is a very serious and very funny book.
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