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Babi Yar
An internationally acclaimed documentary novel that describes the fateful collision of Russia, Ukraine, and Nazi Germany, and one of the largest mass executions of the Holocaust
“I wonder if we will ever understand that the most precious thing in this world is a man’s life and his freedom? Or is there still more barbarism ahead? With these questions I think I shall bring this book to an end. I wish you peace. And freedom.”
At the age of 12, Anatoly Kuznetsov experienced the Nazi invasion of Ukraine, and soon began keeping a diary of the brutal occupation of Kiev that followed. Years later, he combined those notebooks with other survivors’ memories to create a classic work of documentary witness in the form of a novel. When Babi Yar was first published in a Soviet magazine in 1966, it became a literary sensation, not least for its powerful and unprecedented narratives of the Nazi massacre of the city’s Jews, and later Roma, prisoners of war, and other victims, at the Babi Yar ravine—one of the largest mass killings of the Holocaust. After Kuznetsov defected to Great Britain in 1969, he republished the book in a new edition that included extensive passages censored by Soviets, and later reflections.
In its fully realized form, Babi Yar is a classic of Holocaust and World War II testimony. With sustained immediacy, it relates a scrappy but principled boy’s day to day fight to survive, and provide for his family. He dodges bullets and transport to Germany, befriends black market horse dealers and prerevolutionary aristocrats, wonders at the pomp of the Nazi’s opera performances, overhears his mother and grandparents debate the merits of German and Soviet rule, collects grenades, digs hiding places, and confronts the moral dilemmas of assisting neighbors or looting stores—all the while hearing the constant hum of bullets at the Babi Yar ravine nearby. In a bravura feat of reporting, he tells the story of what happened at Babi Yar—from the deceptive roundup of the city’s Jews and execution of the national soccer team to the memoires of the site’s few survivors, and the story of a daring escape. The book’s once-censored passages explore the Soviet effort to hide the realities of the massacre, and other facts about wartime the regime did not want discussed. In the manner of Elie Wiesel’s Night or The Diary of Anne Frank, here is a book that tells some of the most uncomfortable truths of the past century—and the most essential.
“I wonder if we will ever understand that the most precious thing in this world is a man’s life and his freedom? Or is there still more barbarism ahead? With these questions I think I shall bring this book to an end. I wish you peace. And freedom.”
At the age of 12, Anatoly Kuznetsov experienced the Nazi invasion of Ukraine, and soon began keeping a diary of the brutal occupation of Kiev that followed. Years later, he combined those notebooks with other survivors’ memories to create a classic work of documentary witness in the form of a novel. When Babi Yar was first published in a Soviet magazine in 1966, it became a literary sensation, not least for its powerful and unprecedented narratives of the Nazi massacre of the city’s Jews, and later Roma, prisoners of war, and other victims, at the Babi Yar ravine—one of the largest mass killings of the Holocaust. After Kuznetsov defected to Great Britain in 1969, he republished the book in a new edition that included extensive passages censored by Soviets, and later reflections.
In its fully realized form, Babi Yar is a classic of Holocaust and World War II testimony. With sustained immediacy, it relates a scrappy but principled boy’s day to day fight to survive, and provide for his family. He dodges bullets and transport to Germany, befriends black market horse dealers and prerevolutionary aristocrats, wonders at the pomp of the Nazi’s opera performances, overhears his mother and grandparents debate the merits of German and Soviet rule, collects grenades, digs hiding places, and confronts the moral dilemmas of assisting neighbors or looting stores—all the while hearing the constant hum of bullets at the Babi Yar ravine nearby. In a bravura feat of reporting, he tells the story of what happened at Babi Yar—from the deceptive roundup of the city’s Jews and execution of the national soccer team to the memoires of the site’s few survivors, and the story of a daring escape. The book’s once-censored passages explore the Soviet effort to hide the realities of the massacre, and other facts about wartime the regime did not want discussed. In the manner of Elie Wiesel’s Night or The Diary of Anne Frank, here is a book that tells some of the most uncomfortable truths of the past century—and the most essential.
479 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1966
346 people are currently reading
6506 people want to read
About the author
Anatoly Kuznetsov
20 books21 followersNote: Anatoli Kuznetsov is known variously as Anatoli Petrovich Kuznetsov and as Anatoly Vasilievich Kuznetsov. Russian name: Анатолий Кузнецов
A Ukrainian mother bore Anatoly Vasilyevich Kuznetsov to a Russian father, and his passport stated that he was Russian. He grew up in the Kiev district of Kurenivka, in his own words "a stone's throw from a vast ravine, whose name, Babi Yar, was once known only to locals." At the age fourteen, Kuznetsov began recording in a notebook everything he saw and heard about the Babi Yar massacre. Once his mother discovered it and read his notes. She cried and advised him to save them for a book he might write someday.
Before becoming a writer, Kuznetsov "studied ballet and acting, tried painting and music, worked as a carpenter, road builder, concrete worker, helped build the Kakhovka hydroelectric power plant on the Dnipro, and worked on the Irkutsk and Bratsk hydroelectric power plants in Siberia." In 1955, he joined the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Eventually, he began "studying to become a writer" and enrolled at the Moscow Gorky Literary Institute.
The novel Babi Yar, published in Yunost in 1966, cemented Anatoly Kuznetsov's fame. The novel included the previously unknown materials about the execution of 33,771 Jews in the course of two days, September 29-30, 1941, in the Kiev ravine Babi Yar. The uncensored work included materials highly critical of the Soviet regime. Working on it was not easy. Kuznetsov recalled: "For a whole month in Kiev I had nightmares, which wore me out so much that I had to leave without finishing my work and temporarily switch to other tasks in order to regain my senses."
Soon after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, Kuznetsov defected from the USSR to the United Kingdom. His pretext for traveling abroad was to do research for his new book on Lenin's stay in Britain. He managed to smuggle 35-mm photographic film containing the uncensored manuscript.
He arrived in London on a two-week visa, accompanied by Georgy Andjaparidze, a suspected KGB "mamka", a secret police agent. Kuznetsov managed to trick Andjapazidze by saying he wanted to find a prostitute and instead ran for the nearest British government office. There he was connected over the phone with David Floyd, a Russian-speaking journalist and the Daily Telegraph's Soviet expert. Risking being caught, Kuznetsov returned to the hotel to pick up his manuscripts, his favorite typewriter and Cuban cigars.
Home Secretary James Callaghan and Prime Minister Harold Wilson decided to grant Kuznetsov an unlimited residence visa in the UK. Shortly after the public announcement of the British decision, Soviet Ambassador Mikhail Smirnovsky demanded the author's return, but Callaghan refused. Two days later, Smirnovsky called on Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart and asked that Soviet diplomats be allowed to see Kuznetsov, but Kuznetsov refused to meet with his countrymen. Instead, he wrote a declaration of his reasons for leaving and three letters: one to the Soviet government, another to the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and a third to the USSR Union of Writers.
Sunday Telegraph published David Floyd’s interview with Kuznetsov, who spoke about his ties with the KGB, how he was recruited, and how he had formally agreed to cooperate in order to be allowed to leave abroad.
Some sources say that Kuznetzov was murdered in London in 1979 by a shot to the neck with a poisoned ice pellet. It is thought that the KGB was involved in the slaying. According to other sources, he died of a heart attack.
A Ukrainian mother bore Anatoly Vasilyevich Kuznetsov to a Russian father, and his passport stated that he was Russian. He grew up in the Kiev district of Kurenivka, in his own words "a stone's throw from a vast ravine, whose name, Babi Yar, was once known only to locals." At the age fourteen, Kuznetsov began recording in a notebook everything he saw and heard about the Babi Yar massacre. Once his mother discovered it and read his notes. She cried and advised him to save them for a book he might write someday.
Before becoming a writer, Kuznetsov "studied ballet and acting, tried painting and music, worked as a carpenter, road builder, concrete worker, helped build the Kakhovka hydroelectric power plant on the Dnipro, and worked on the Irkutsk and Bratsk hydroelectric power plants in Siberia." In 1955, he joined the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Eventually, he began "studying to become a writer" and enrolled at the Moscow Gorky Literary Institute.
The novel Babi Yar, published in Yunost in 1966, cemented Anatoly Kuznetsov's fame. The novel included the previously unknown materials about the execution of 33,771 Jews in the course of two days, September 29-30, 1941, in the Kiev ravine Babi Yar. The uncensored work included materials highly critical of the Soviet regime. Working on it was not easy. Kuznetsov recalled: "For a whole month in Kiev I had nightmares, which wore me out so much that I had to leave without finishing my work and temporarily switch to other tasks in order to regain my senses."
Soon after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, Kuznetsov defected from the USSR to the United Kingdom. His pretext for traveling abroad was to do research for his new book on Lenin's stay in Britain. He managed to smuggle 35-mm photographic film containing the uncensored manuscript.
He arrived in London on a two-week visa, accompanied by Georgy Andjaparidze, a suspected KGB "mamka", a secret police agent. Kuznetsov managed to trick Andjapazidze by saying he wanted to find a prostitute and instead ran for the nearest British government office. There he was connected over the phone with David Floyd, a Russian-speaking journalist and the Daily Telegraph's Soviet expert. Risking being caught, Kuznetsov returned to the hotel to pick up his manuscripts, his favorite typewriter and Cuban cigars.
Home Secretary James Callaghan and Prime Minister Harold Wilson decided to grant Kuznetsov an unlimited residence visa in the UK. Shortly after the public announcement of the British decision, Soviet Ambassador Mikhail Smirnovsky demanded the author's return, but Callaghan refused. Two days later, Smirnovsky called on Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart and asked that Soviet diplomats be allowed to see Kuznetsov, but Kuznetsov refused to meet with his countrymen. Instead, he wrote a declaration of his reasons for leaving and three letters: one to the Soviet government, another to the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and a third to the USSR Union of Writers.
Sunday Telegraph published David Floyd’s interview with Kuznetsov, who spoke about his ties with the KGB, how he was recruited, and how he had formally agreed to cooperate in order to be allowed to leave abroad.
Some sources say that Kuznetzov was murdered in London in 1979 by a shot to the neck with a poisoned ice pellet. It is thought that the KGB was involved in the slaying. According to other sources, he died of a heart attack.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 313 reviews
May 31, 2010
If I could change one thing about this book, I would wish it to be fiction.
I read D. M. Thomas's The White Hotel in college, in which an execution is described based on the true tale of Babi Yar. When I saw a tattered paperback of Babi Yar at a secondhand shop, I picked it up and it sat on my shelf for years.
It tells the story of the Nazi occupation of Kiev from the point of view of the author, who does his best to recapture his 12-year-old innocence (hiding with his cat in the bomb shelter, the joy he takes in joining in the looting, or collecting spent artillery shells with his friends) and how that innocence is lost over the following 778 days. It is a very human story of an inhuman struggle.
The horrors of Babi Yar I do not wish to even attempt to describe; Kuznetsov's description should be sufficient for a lifetime. This would be a good companion to John Hersey's Hiroshima both as historical documents of how WWII affected civilians and reminders of the atrocities that humans inflict upon one another.
I read D. M. Thomas's The White Hotel in college, in which an execution is described based on the true tale of Babi Yar. When I saw a tattered paperback of Babi Yar at a secondhand shop, I picked it up and it sat on my shelf for years.
It tells the story of the Nazi occupation of Kiev from the point of view of the author, who does his best to recapture his 12-year-old innocence (hiding with his cat in the bomb shelter, the joy he takes in joining in the looting, or collecting spent artillery shells with his friends) and how that innocence is lost over the following 778 days. It is a very human story of an inhuman struggle.
The horrors of Babi Yar I do not wish to even attempt to describe; Kuznetsov's description should be sufficient for a lifetime. This would be a good companion to John Hersey's Hiroshima both as historical documents of how WWII affected civilians and reminders of the atrocities that humans inflict upon one another.
November 2, 2023
Babi Yar: A Document in the Form of a Novel; New, Complete, Uncensored Version by Anatoly Kuznetsov is a documentary novel about the Nazi occupation of Kyiv in Ukraine and the massacres at Babi Yar. The two-day murder of 33,771 Jewish civilians on 29–30 September 1941, in the Kyiv ravine was one of the largest single mass killings of the Holocaust. After the initial massacre of Jewish people, Babi Yar remained in use as an execution site for Soviet prisoners of war and the Roma people. Soviet accounts after the war estimate in the region of 100,000 men women and children were murdered here.
This is the new uncensored form, as a censored version was first published in a soviet magazine in 1966. In this this new version we get Anatoly’s story in full and as it was meant to be read. Words, sentences, paragraphs and whole pages that were erased by Soviet censorship from the first edition are now highlighted for the reader in the version of the book. This was such an interesting aspect of the book, to see how the censors cut away large chunks of the story and how this would would have affected reading the book at the time it was published.
This is not by any means an easy read, its a heartbreaking and quite a daunting book, but for me an important documentary novel that will stay with me forever. It’s not a book I can recommend easily to bookish friends as it’s a slow burn, harrowing and did take me a few weeks to get through. Having said that I have learned so much about Ukraine and Babi Yar and was such an enlightening read and important read for me.
I think its worth quoting Anatoly Kuznetsov’s last few lines in the novel and remembering they were written pre 1966.
I wonder if we shall ever understand that the most precious thing in this world is a man’s life and his freedom? or is there still more barbarism ahead?
With these questions I think I shall bring this book to an end. I wish you peace. [And freedom].
I think there is a lengthy bookclub discussion in these few lines alone.
This is the new uncensored form, as a censored version was first published in a soviet magazine in 1966. In this this new version we get Anatoly’s story in full and as it was meant to be read. Words, sentences, paragraphs and whole pages that were erased by Soviet censorship from the first edition are now highlighted for the reader in the version of the book. This was such an interesting aspect of the book, to see how the censors cut away large chunks of the story and how this would would have affected reading the book at the time it was published.
This is not by any means an easy read, its a heartbreaking and quite a daunting book, but for me an important documentary novel that will stay with me forever. It’s not a book I can recommend easily to bookish friends as it’s a slow burn, harrowing and did take me a few weeks to get through. Having said that I have learned so much about Ukraine and Babi Yar and was such an enlightening read and important read for me.
I think its worth quoting Anatoly Kuznetsov’s last few lines in the novel and remembering they were written pre 1966.
I wonder if we shall ever understand that the most precious thing in this world is a man’s life and his freedom? or is there still more barbarism ahead?
With these questions I think I shall bring this book to an end. I wish you peace. [And freedom].
I think there is a lengthy bookclub discussion in these few lines alone.
April 23, 2021
A riveting account of Nazi-occupied Kiev during WW2 and the Jewish massacre that occurred there. Although Ukraine is my ancestral country, I never knew about this horrific event until I read this book. Most books I have read about the Holocaust focus on the concentration/death camps west of Ukraine. Highly recommend this book!
October 5, 2020
Doloroso, agghiacciante e straziante come tutte le memorie degli orrori nazisti, ma necessario per sperare che fatti simili non si ripetano. È il lato peggiore dell’animo umano, una violenza che supera l’immaginazione e che sconvolge. Ma di luoghi come Babij Jar ce ne sono tanti, impregnati di sofferenza indicibile e di brutali genocidi. E non sono tutti ricordo di un passato che vorremmo poter cambiare.
October 21, 2025
The Babi Yar ravine near Kyiv is the somber site where over 33,000 Jews were brutally massacred over the course of two harrowing days in September 1941. Anatoly Kuznetsov, then a teenager residing near Babi Yar, began meticulously documenting his experiences and the horrors he witnessed. His memoir encapsulates the multifaceted aspects of life in Kyiv from the moment the Red Army retreated, through the ensuing Nazi oppression, the atrocities inflicted upon the Jewish populace by both neighbors and conquerors, and the heroic episodes of survival and human grandeur by those who valiantly opposed the virulent anti-Semitism. Interspersed with historical documentation, Kuznetsov provides a vivid and unflinching portrayal of the era's brutality.
The depiction of life under Nazi rule is raw and unfiltered. Kuznetsov's account includes detailed descriptions of the mass executions, the suffering endured by the Jewish community, and the pervasive fear that gripped Kyiv. The book also highlights the resilience and courage of those who survived.
The literary merit of Kuznetsov's work is inimitable, and its structure further enhances its significance. Regular print details the originally published censored form in the Soviet Union, bold print restores the communist-censored and self-censored sections, and sections in parentheses include later post-war additions as Kuznetsov was exposed to new information.
A photographed film manuscript of "Babi Yar" was sewn into Kuznetsov's coat lining when he defected to the West. Kuznetsov buried the original manuscript and convinced the Soviets that he needed to visit London to authentically write about Lenin's time there, never to return.
This full version includes the suppressed material, providing a harrowing look at the manipulation of history for political reasons. This authentic account of the events stands as one of the most powerful descriptions of the atrocities of the Shoah and the Ukraine under Nazi rule - it should be at the top of the reading list for anyone seeking to understand this dark chapter of history, which should include all humans.
"...They made the naked people form up into short lines and led them through the gap which had been hurriedly dug in the steep wall of sand. What was beyond it could not be seen, but there was the sound of shooting, and the only people who returned from the other side were Germans and policemen, to fetch more people. The mothers in particular kept fussing over their children, with the result that from time to time some German or policeman would lose his temper, snatch a child away from its mother, go across to the sandstone wall, swing back and fling the child over the wall like a piece of wood..."
"...One day a German soldier approached the old yard-cleaner at our school, Ratuyev, and made the old man take a spade and follow him. They went to the local recreation park, where another soldier was standing guard over a Jewish girl from whose appearance the old man gathered that the soldiers had been raping her. They ordered the old fellow to dig a hole. When it was ready they pushed the girl down into it, but she started screaming and struggling. Then the soldiers proceeded to hit her over the head with the spade and shovel earth on her. But she got up into a sitting position and they struck her over the head again. Finally, they covered her up and stamped the earth down. The old man thought the same thing was going to happen to him, but they let him go..."
The depiction of life under Nazi rule is raw and unfiltered. Kuznetsov's account includes detailed descriptions of the mass executions, the suffering endured by the Jewish community, and the pervasive fear that gripped Kyiv. The book also highlights the resilience and courage of those who survived.
The literary merit of Kuznetsov's work is inimitable, and its structure further enhances its significance. Regular print details the originally published censored form in the Soviet Union, bold print restores the communist-censored and self-censored sections, and sections in parentheses include later post-war additions as Kuznetsov was exposed to new information.
A photographed film manuscript of "Babi Yar" was sewn into Kuznetsov's coat lining when he defected to the West. Kuznetsov buried the original manuscript and convinced the Soviets that he needed to visit London to authentically write about Lenin's time there, never to return.
This full version includes the suppressed material, providing a harrowing look at the manipulation of history for political reasons. This authentic account of the events stands as one of the most powerful descriptions of the atrocities of the Shoah and the Ukraine under Nazi rule - it should be at the top of the reading list for anyone seeking to understand this dark chapter of history, which should include all humans.
"...They made the naked people form up into short lines and led them through the gap which had been hurriedly dug in the steep wall of sand. What was beyond it could not be seen, but there was the sound of shooting, and the only people who returned from the other side were Germans and policemen, to fetch more people. The mothers in particular kept fussing over their children, with the result that from time to time some German or policeman would lose his temper, snatch a child away from its mother, go across to the sandstone wall, swing back and fling the child over the wall like a piece of wood..."
"...One day a German soldier approached the old yard-cleaner at our school, Ratuyev, and made the old man take a spade and follow him. They went to the local recreation park, where another soldier was standing guard over a Jewish girl from whose appearance the old man gathered that the soldiers had been raping her. They ordered the old fellow to dig a hole. When it was ready they pushed the girl down into it, but she started screaming and struggling. Then the soldiers proceeded to hit her over the head with the spade and shovel earth on her. But she got up into a sitting position and they struck her over the head again. Finally, they covered her up and stamped the earth down. The old man thought the same thing was going to happen to him, but they let him go..."
February 25, 2025
Op voorhand: citaten uit het boek staan in cursief.
Dit boek heeft me regelmatig kippenvel bezorgd door de ooggetuigenverslagen die erin zijn opgenomen. Het boek is heel heftig en het is niet in woorden uit te drukken hoe barbaars, onmenselijk, wreed, afgrijselijk en andere woorden van soortgelijke strekking, het moet zijn geweest. De details zijn te gruwelijk om hier te behandelen.
Wat me is opgevallen is dat de wereld niets heeft geleerd. We zijn nu bijna 60 jaar na het uitgeven van het boek en we hebben ook niks geleerd. Kijk naar Rusland & Oekraïne, Israël & Gaza, de VS & ?
Daarnaast is er een hoofdstuk over boeken, de geschiedenis herhaalt zich op dit moment in Florida in de Verenigde Staten:
"Tolja, herinner je het eerste teken: als boeken verboden worden, gaat het fout."
Ik legde hiermee de parallel dat boeken over allerlei onderwerpen, waaronder de holocaust(!) daar verboden zijn.
Ik smeek u mensen, word wakker.
Gaan we ooit begrijpen dat er op aarde niets kostbaarder is dan het leven van de mens en zijn vrijheid?
Dit boek heeft me regelmatig kippenvel bezorgd door de ooggetuigenverslagen die erin zijn opgenomen. Het boek is heel heftig en het is niet in woorden uit te drukken hoe barbaars, onmenselijk, wreed, afgrijselijk en andere woorden van soortgelijke strekking, het moet zijn geweest. De details zijn te gruwelijk om hier te behandelen.
Wat me is opgevallen is dat de wereld niets heeft geleerd. We zijn nu bijna 60 jaar na het uitgeven van het boek en we hebben ook niks geleerd. Kijk naar Rusland & Oekraïne, Israël & Gaza, de VS & ?
Daarnaast is er een hoofdstuk over boeken, de geschiedenis herhaalt zich op dit moment in Florida in de Verenigde Staten:
"Tolja, herinner je het eerste teken: als boeken verboden worden, gaat het fout."
Ik legde hiermee de parallel dat boeken over allerlei onderwerpen, waaronder de holocaust(!) daar verboden zijn.
Ik smeek u mensen, word wakker.
Gaan we ooit begrijpen dat er op aarde niets kostbaarder is dan het leven van de mens en zijn vrijheid?
August 12, 2025
Must read. Skaitydama galvojau, kad tai "Idi i smotri" literatūrine forma, nežinau, ar pajėgčiau dar kartą perskaityti, bet reikėjo. Gėda sakyti, bet nežinojau nė dešimtadalio Babyn Jaro istorijos.
Labiausiai vis dėlto sukrėtė ir faktas, kad ar sovietai, ar naciai - iš esmės jokio skirtumo (kaip rašo Kuznecovas, vokiečiai tiesiog žudė tuos, ką laikė svetimais, o sovietai - savus), ir tai, kiek buvo išdavysčių ir įdavinėjimų. Dabar mums labai norisi prisiminti malinas, Binkienę ir kitus teisuolius, ir kažkaip nugrimzta tokios istorijos, kaip pasakojama Kuznecovo, kai keturiolikmetis berniukas pabėga iš keliasdešimties tūkstančių lavonų duobės, grįžta namo ir pasakoja, kas dedasi Babyn Jare, o kaimynė jo gaili ir jam nematant pakviečia vokiečius jo pasiimti, ir dar pasaugo, kad nepabėgtų. Dar - kaip buvo atsisveikinama su išvaromais kaimynais žydais (nuoširdžiai) ir žadama susirašinėti, kai juos perkels į kažkokią ten tariamą vietą. Dar - vaizdai iš tos gyvos didžiulės eilės ir palaipsnio supratimo, kad ne į traukinį ar autobusą ta eilė, o prie griovos, tačiau kas joje - turbūt niekas nepajėgė įsivaizduoti, net suvokti. Dar - kad vokiečių koncentracijos stovyklas išgyvenusius žmones sovietai surinko ir... išvežė į Gulagą. Dar - kaip ukrainiečius vokiečiai pardavinėjo į vergovę Vokietijoje. Dar - kaip toje aplinkoje augdamas vaikas, pats Kuznecovas, taip pat nebeturi net menkiausios galimybės galvoti apie kažkokias vertybes ar jautrumą, bando tiesiog išlikti neįmanomomis sąlygomis ir taip išsaugo gyvybę, bet lieka sulaužytas kaip žmogus. Ir žudymas - žudymas greitai, lėtai, marinimas badu, žudymas ant linksmumo, žudymas, nes taip patogiau, žudymas ekonominiais sumetimais.
Kartu su Kuznecovu, visa tai užrašinėjusiu per karą, po karo, gyvenimo pabaigoje, cituojančiu Tilį Ulenšpygelį, dabar supratau, ką reiškia jo žodžiai - "Pelenai man beldžiasi į širdį".
O čia - sruogiškas švelnumas, kiek jo įmanoma, pramaišiui su nesuvokiamybe:
Gal visgi klydau - kaip ir Dievų mišką, taip ir "Idi i smotri", ir "The Kindly Ones", ir "Babyn Jarą" kas kažkiek laiko privalu pakartoti, kad nepamirštume, nes labai lengva, labai norisi.
Labiausiai vis dėlto sukrėtė ir faktas, kad ar sovietai, ar naciai - iš esmės jokio skirtumo (kaip rašo Kuznecovas, vokiečiai tiesiog žudė tuos, ką laikė svetimais, o sovietai - savus), ir tai, kiek buvo išdavysčių ir įdavinėjimų. Dabar mums labai norisi prisiminti malinas, Binkienę ir kitus teisuolius, ir kažkaip nugrimzta tokios istorijos, kaip pasakojama Kuznecovo, kai keturiolikmetis berniukas pabėga iš keliasdešimties tūkstančių lavonų duobės, grįžta namo ir pasakoja, kas dedasi Babyn Jare, o kaimynė jo gaili ir jam nematant pakviečia vokiečius jo pasiimti, ir dar pasaugo, kad nepabėgtų. Dar - kaip buvo atsisveikinama su išvaromais kaimynais žydais (nuoširdžiai) ir žadama susirašinėti, kai juos perkels į kažkokią ten tariamą vietą. Dar - vaizdai iš tos gyvos didžiulės eilės ir palaipsnio supratimo, kad ne į traukinį ar autobusą ta eilė, o prie griovos, tačiau kas joje - turbūt niekas nepajėgė įsivaizduoti, net suvokti. Dar - kad vokiečių koncentracijos stovyklas išgyvenusius žmones sovietai surinko ir... išvežė į Gulagą. Dar - kaip ukrainiečius vokiečiai pardavinėjo į vergovę Vokietijoje. Dar - kaip toje aplinkoje augdamas vaikas, pats Kuznecovas, taip pat nebeturi net menkiausios galimybės galvoti apie kažkokias vertybes ar jautrumą, bando tiesiog išlikti neįmanomomis sąlygomis ir taip išsaugo gyvybę, bet lieka sulaužytas kaip žmogus. Ir žudymas - žudymas greitai, lėtai, marinimas badu, žudymas ant linksmumo, žudymas, nes taip patogiau, žudymas ekonominiais sumetimais.
Kartu su Kuznecovu, visa tai užrašinėjusiu per karą, po karo, gyvenimo pabaigoje, cituojančiu Tilį Ulenšpygelį, dabar supratau, ką reiškia jo žodžiai - "Pelenai man beldžiasi į širdį".
O čia - sruogiškas švelnumas, kiek jo įmanoma, pramaišiui su nesuvokiamybe:
Kartais aš kalbėdavausi su katinu Titu, bandydavau jam paaiškinti, kas vyksta aplink. Jo atsakymai būdavo migloti. Mes kalbėdavomės šitaip:
- Katine Titai, eik dirbti.
- Galvą skauda.
- Katine Titai, eik ėsti.
- O kur mano didysis dubenėlis?
- Nesąmoningas tu esi elementas. Kas tavo galvoje?
- Smegenys.
- O kas smegenyse?
- Mintys.
- O kas mintyse?
- Pelės.
(p. 280-281)
- [...] Šiame reikale svarbiausia, kad nežinotum, ką valgai. Dešra tam itin tinkamas dalykas, į ją gali sukimšti viską, ką tik nori, tik gerai sumalk. Su šita kiaulių ferma tai jie šauniai sugalvojo, man netgi patiko. Jei kiaules maitini mėsa, jos auga kaip ant mielių. Priprask, sakau tau: dar ne to prisižiūrėsi. Arklių jau turbūt negaila žudyti?
- Gaila.
- Ak, kvaileli, ir ko gi jų gailėti? Matai, koks gyvenimas, ne tik arkliai - žmonės į dešras eina.
(p. 312)
Topaide po daugelio eksperimentų sukūrė lavono ištraukimo sistemą, kad tas neplyštų į gabalus. Reikėjo įbesti kablį po smakru ir traukti už apatinio žandikaulio, tada lavonas išsitraukdavo visas ir buvo galima nutempti jį į vietą. Kartais lavonai būdavo taip stipriai sulipę, kad ant kablio užguldavo du ar trys kūnai.
Neretai tekdavo atkirsti kirviais, o apatinius sluoksnius keletą kartų netgi sprogdino.
(p. 335)
Gal visgi klydau - kaip ir Dievų mišką, taip ir "Idi i smotri", ir "The Kindly Ones", ir "Babyn Jarą" kas kažkiek laiko privalu pakartoti, kad nepamirštume, nes labai lengva, labai norisi.
January 17, 2026
This has easily been one of the most gripping and powerful books that I have ever read in my life.
Still completely overwhelmed by it at the moment.
Review to follow.
Still completely overwhelmed by it at the moment.
Review to follow.
August 24, 2020
Un libro che narra le atrocità commesse dai nazisti a Babij Jar, in Ucraina durante la seconda guerra mondiale.
Colpisce come le dittature di fatto si somiglino tutte e adottino ovunque gli stessi metodi. Prima dell'arrivo dei tedeschi in URSS c'erano i bolscevichi e molti, primo fra tutti il nonno dell'autore, salutarono l'arrivo dei tedeschi come l'occasione per uscire dalle imposizioni comuniste. Ben presto, però, dovettero ricredersi perché non fecero altro che passare da una dittatura all'altra.
Devo ammettere che durante la lettura ho avuto parecchi momenti di stanca, ma nonostante questo riconosco il valore della testimonianza di chi, da bambino, ha vissuto in prima persona questi drammatici anni di fame, terrore e violenza inimmaginabile.
Eppure credo che nessun crimine collettivo possa restare segreto. Si troverà sempre qualche Masa che ha visto, o si salveranno quindici persone che testimonieranno, o forse due, o magari una sola. Si può bruciare, disperdere al vento, ricoprire di terra, calpestare, ma la memoria umana sopravvive. Non di può ingannare la storia, ed è impossibile nasconderle qualcosa per sempre.
Capiremo mai che la cosa più preziosa al mondo è la vita dell'uomo e la sua libertà? O ci attende ancora la barbarie?
Credo proprio che su queste domande interromperò il mio libro.
Vi auguro pace. E libertà.
Colpisce come le dittature di fatto si somiglino tutte e adottino ovunque gli stessi metodi. Prima dell'arrivo dei tedeschi in URSS c'erano i bolscevichi e molti, primo fra tutti il nonno dell'autore, salutarono l'arrivo dei tedeschi come l'occasione per uscire dalle imposizioni comuniste. Ben presto, però, dovettero ricredersi perché non fecero altro che passare da una dittatura all'altra.
Devo ammettere che durante la lettura ho avuto parecchi momenti di stanca, ma nonostante questo riconosco il valore della testimonianza di chi, da bambino, ha vissuto in prima persona questi drammatici anni di fame, terrore e violenza inimmaginabile.
Eppure credo che nessun crimine collettivo possa restare segreto. Si troverà sempre qualche Masa che ha visto, o si salveranno quindici persone che testimonieranno, o forse due, o magari una sola. Si può bruciare, disperdere al vento, ricoprire di terra, calpestare, ma la memoria umana sopravvive. Non di può ingannare la storia, ed è impossibile nasconderle qualcosa per sempre.
Capiremo mai che la cosa più preziosa al mondo è la vita dell'uomo e la sua libertà? O ci attende ancora la barbarie?
Credo proprio che su queste domande interromperò il mio libro.
Vi auguro pace. E libertà.
September 17, 2015
One of the greatest crimes in History made into an eternal document through masterful technique, blending personal experience, reportage, survivor testimonies, and so on. May such books never have to be written.
*
Holodomor (a poem)
1.
The paleness of the starved
reached incandescence.
In a cauldron, a ten year old hand.
In Moscow the wife kills herself
and the sky is painted in bands of red.
He does think, he does,
whether an idea can be pyrhhic.
'What does this country need, comrades?
'Comrades this country needs sacrifice.'
2.
Images in search results:
pale starvation, incandescence.
Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron
with a ten year old hand inside.
We know the wife had killed herself.
We can picture the sky painted in bands of red.
We don't know if he ever ceased to do,
ever paused, ever thought about it all.
Today Žižek likes talking about his style,
his habit of taking both sides of a catechism:
'What does this country need, comrades?
'Comrades this country needs ______'
Also his pleasure in forcing
credulity in the incredible,
like the story of the dozen partridges
who wouldn't move till the dictator
could return after picking his forgotten bullets.
3.
Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron with a ten year old hand. It could have been a twelve year old hand. When Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron with a ten year old hand, he was paraphrasing his Bolshevik father's experience as an enforcer and witness. Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron with a ten year old hand in his book 'Babi Yar.' Babi Yar is a ravine near the city of Kiev. Babi Yar is a ravine near the city of Kiev where thirty three thousand seven hundred and seventy one people were shot dead in two days by the Nazis. The cauldron with the ten year old hand, the Holodomor, came before before Babi Yar. More than five million perished in Holodomor. There is something in the names of catastrophes.
*
Holodomor (a poem)
1.
The paleness of the starved
reached incandescence.
In a cauldron, a ten year old hand.
In Moscow the wife kills herself
and the sky is painted in bands of red.
He does think, he does,
whether an idea can be pyrhhic.
'What does this country need, comrades?
'Comrades this country needs sacrifice.'
2.
Images in search results:
pale starvation, incandescence.
Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron
with a ten year old hand inside.
We know the wife had killed herself.
We can picture the sky painted in bands of red.
We don't know if he ever ceased to do,
ever paused, ever thought about it all.
Today Žižek likes talking about his style,
his habit of taking both sides of a catechism:
'What does this country need, comrades?
'Comrades this country needs ______'
Also his pleasure in forcing
credulity in the incredible,
like the story of the dozen partridges
who wouldn't move till the dictator
could return after picking his forgotten bullets.
3.
Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron with a ten year old hand. It could have been a twelve year old hand. When Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron with a ten year old hand, he was paraphrasing his Bolshevik father's experience as an enforcer and witness. Kuznetsov talked of a cauldron with a ten year old hand in his book 'Babi Yar.' Babi Yar is a ravine near the city of Kiev. Babi Yar is a ravine near the city of Kiev where thirty three thousand seven hundred and seventy one people were shot dead in two days by the Nazis. The cauldron with the ten year old hand, the Holodomor, came before before Babi Yar. More than five million perished in Holodomor. There is something in the names of catastrophes.
February 17, 2010
This book is brilliant -- by far a top-tier Holocaust book and World War II book in general. The author was a boy of twelve when the Nazi occupation of Kiev began, and began recording his experiences then; these jottings were part of the basis for this book, which is both a memoir and a documentary nonfiction.
Although the story centers around the September 1941 mass murder of some 33,000 Jews at Babi Yar, a ravine outside Kiev, that's not all this story is. Kuznetsov's writing encompasses far more than that, and you really get a feel of what life must be like in a war-ravaged city. His description of the destruction of the Kreshchatik (the oldest and most beautiful section of Kiev) made me think of how New York City must have been like after 9-11 -- except the Kreshchatik bombings were a lot worse. In his list of "the number of times I should have been shot," Kuznetsov shows that all the inhabitants of Kiev (not just the Jews or soldiers or political activists or partisans, but EVERYONE) had to risk their lives every day, and how many lost their lives simply by being there. He includes printings of actual primary source documents such as memos, reports, handbills etc., from this time period as well as his own writings.
Most intriguingly: Babi Yar was initially published in Russia during the 1960s. I'm surprised it was published at all, as it was very critical of the Soviet regime. In any case the Soviet censors redacted large parts of it. When Kuznetsov defected to England, he took the original manuscript with him on microfilm, and added parts to it before publishing it in full in the West. The original Soviet text is in regular type, the parts the Soviet censors cut out are in boldface, and the parts Kuznetsov added after his arrival in England are in brackets. It's interesting to see what was taken out and what was allowed -- they made some surprising choices.
I really cannot recommend this book highly enough, for Holocaust scholars and World War II scholars alike.
Although the story centers around the September 1941 mass murder of some 33,000 Jews at Babi Yar, a ravine outside Kiev, that's not all this story is. Kuznetsov's writing encompasses far more than that, and you really get a feel of what life must be like in a war-ravaged city. His description of the destruction of the Kreshchatik (the oldest and most beautiful section of Kiev) made me think of how New York City must have been like after 9-11 -- except the Kreshchatik bombings were a lot worse. In his list of "the number of times I should have been shot," Kuznetsov shows that all the inhabitants of Kiev (not just the Jews or soldiers or political activists or partisans, but EVERYONE) had to risk their lives every day, and how many lost their lives simply by being there. He includes printings of actual primary source documents such as memos, reports, handbills etc., from this time period as well as his own writings.
Most intriguingly: Babi Yar was initially published in Russia during the 1960s. I'm surprised it was published at all, as it was very critical of the Soviet regime. In any case the Soviet censors redacted large parts of it. When Kuznetsov defected to England, he took the original manuscript with him on microfilm, and added parts to it before publishing it in full in the West. The original Soviet text is in regular type, the parts the Soviet censors cut out are in boldface, and the parts Kuznetsov added after his arrival in England are in brackets. It's interesting to see what was taken out and what was allowed -- they made some surprising choices.
I really cannot recommend this book highly enough, for Holocaust scholars and World War II scholars alike.
September 4, 2019
Неймовірно сильна книжка. Історичні події очима 12-13-ти річного київського хлопчака, який жив поблизу Бабиного Яру, і як зазвичай роблять хлопчаки такого віку — лазив де треба і не треба. І бачив більше, ніж варто бачити хлопчакам такого віку. Дуже людська, справжня історія про окупований Київ і його людей. І котів, бо разом із родиною героя окупацію пережив кіт Тит. «Все в цій книжці — правда», і це наче хороший художній документальний репортаж, а не пафосна передраматизована художня вигадка.
Цікаво було читати повну версію, де курсивом виділені розділи, абзаци та слова, видалені радянською цензурою. І це не соцреалізм, це художній реалізм.
Шкода, що ця книжка пройшла повз мене під час шкільних та студентських років — для школярів таке рано читати, для студентів він не вписався у нашу програму, хоча треба було б, мабуть, такий курс антирадянської літератури радянського часу.
Для найповнішої картини світу. І кажуть, це найвідоміший у світі роман про Київ. Прочитала запоєм.
Цікаво було читати повну версію, де курсивом виділені розділи, абзаци та слова, видалені радянською цензурою. І це не соцреалізм, це художній реалізм.
Шкода, що ця книжка пройшла повз мене під час шкільних та студентських років — для школярів таке рано читати, для студентів він не вписався у нашу програму, хоча треба було б, мабуть, такий курс антирадянської літератури радянського часу.
Для найповнішої картини світу. І кажуть, це найвідоміший у світі роман про Київ. Прочитала запоєм.
May 25, 2025
Indrukwekkend boek met gruwelijke details rond de Tweede Wereldoorlog met de nazi's en daarvoor het communistische regime van de Russen in Oekraine, gebaseerd op de herinneringen en aantekeningen van een jonge tiener. Tegelijkertijd ook een boek waar humor inzit en levendige personages. Een monument om nooit te vergeten wat er is gebeurd (bij gebrek aan een echt monument) en een waarschuwing hoe de menselijkheid steeds meer verdwijnt in tijden van oorlog.
Extra interessant: de stukken die onder Russische censuur moesten verdwijnen (en de stukken die de auteur pas later kon toevoegen) zijn in een ander lettertype toegevoegd.
Quotes:
p.67/68:
'Jullie zeggen: schei toch uit. Jullie zeggen: rot op met je oorlogen en zelf aangerichte wereldchaos waar jullie mee zitten.
Goed gezegd. Ik snap jullie.
... Wat goed om lak te hebben aan elk soort politiek, te dansen, lief te hebben, bier te drinken, te slapen en te ademen om te leven. God geve het jullie.
Alleen [Ik kijk uit mijn luisterpost en zie dat terwijl zij liefhebben en slapen, anderen met noeste ijver handboeien voor ze fabriceren]
... WEE VANDAAG DEGENE DIE DE POLITIEK VERGEET.
Ik zeg niet dat ik de politiek liefheb. Ik haat en veracht haar. Ik roep je net op de politiek lief te hebben of te respecteren. Ik zeg alleen: VERGEET HAAR NIET."
p.148: (terwijl ze uit angst boeken staan te verbranden in de kachel in de huiskamer)
'Ik zei: 'Geeft niks, op een dag krijgen we nieuwe.'
'Nee nooit,' zei ze 'Die krijgen we nooit, ik geloof er niet meer in. Er bestaat geen goedheid, geen vrede, geen gezond verstand. De wereld is in handen van kwaadaardige idioten. De boeken blijven branden. De bibliotheek van Alexandrië is verbrand, de brandstapels van de Inquisitie hebben gebrand, Radisjtsjevs boek is verbrand, onder Stalin zijn boeken verbrand, Hitler heeft in het openbaar boeken laten verbranden, en zo zal het blijven: er zijn meer brandstichters dan schrijvers. Jij bent nog jong, Tolja, herinner je her eerst teken: als er boeken verboden worden, gaat het fout.'
p.248 'Ik had al begrepen dat je alleen oud werd, als je veel geluk had, maar dat geluk kreeg je alleen als je je elke dag opnieuw wist te redden.'
p.309 'Daarvoor had ik al geleerd in kranten alleen tussen de regels te lezen, maar nu bekeek ik alles met argwaan: wat steekt erachter? Vooral als ik geacht werd iets te bewonderen.
... 'Mijn bijna ziekelijke haat jegens dictators, achter wie op de achtergrond altijd rijen en rijen slachtoffers voorbij trekken, verhinderde me te lezen en te leren, verhinderde me, paradoxaal genoeg, zelfs de grootheid te waarderen van Shakespeare of Tolstoj. Bij het lezen van Hamlet probeerde ik uit te rekenen hoeveel lakeien er voor hem werkten, zodat hij zich ongehinderd met levensvragen kon kwellen. Toen ik over Anna Karenina las vroeg ik me af dankzij wiens zweet die troel kon eten, drinken en mooie jurken aantrekken.'
p.335 'Nu snap ik, geloof ik, waarom ik leef, waarom ik op de markt rondhang, paardenbotten afkluif: ik groei op om jullie te haten en met jullie te vechten. Dat wordt mijn taak in het leven: met jullie vechten, rotzakken die de wereld veranderen in een gevangenis en in een steenvergruizer. Hebben jullie me gehoord, schoften?'
Extra interessant: de stukken die onder Russische censuur moesten verdwijnen (en de stukken die de auteur pas later kon toevoegen) zijn in een ander lettertype toegevoegd.
Quotes:
p.67/68:
'Jullie zeggen: schei toch uit. Jullie zeggen: rot op met je oorlogen en zelf aangerichte wereldchaos waar jullie mee zitten.
Goed gezegd. Ik snap jullie.
... Wat goed om lak te hebben aan elk soort politiek, te dansen, lief te hebben, bier te drinken, te slapen en te ademen om te leven. God geve het jullie.
Alleen [Ik kijk uit mijn luisterpost en zie dat terwijl zij liefhebben en slapen, anderen met noeste ijver handboeien voor ze fabriceren]
... WEE VANDAAG DEGENE DIE DE POLITIEK VERGEET.
Ik zeg niet dat ik de politiek liefheb. Ik haat en veracht haar. Ik roep je net op de politiek lief te hebben of te respecteren. Ik zeg alleen: VERGEET HAAR NIET."
p.148: (terwijl ze uit angst boeken staan te verbranden in de kachel in de huiskamer)
'Ik zei: 'Geeft niks, op een dag krijgen we nieuwe.'
'Nee nooit,' zei ze 'Die krijgen we nooit, ik geloof er niet meer in. Er bestaat geen goedheid, geen vrede, geen gezond verstand. De wereld is in handen van kwaadaardige idioten. De boeken blijven branden. De bibliotheek van Alexandrië is verbrand, de brandstapels van de Inquisitie hebben gebrand, Radisjtsjevs boek is verbrand, onder Stalin zijn boeken verbrand, Hitler heeft in het openbaar boeken laten verbranden, en zo zal het blijven: er zijn meer brandstichters dan schrijvers. Jij bent nog jong, Tolja, herinner je her eerst teken: als er boeken verboden worden, gaat het fout.'
p.248 'Ik had al begrepen dat je alleen oud werd, als je veel geluk had, maar dat geluk kreeg je alleen als je je elke dag opnieuw wist te redden.'
p.309 'Daarvoor had ik al geleerd in kranten alleen tussen de regels te lezen, maar nu bekeek ik alles met argwaan: wat steekt erachter? Vooral als ik geacht werd iets te bewonderen.
... 'Mijn bijna ziekelijke haat jegens dictators, achter wie op de achtergrond altijd rijen en rijen slachtoffers voorbij trekken, verhinderde me te lezen en te leren, verhinderde me, paradoxaal genoeg, zelfs de grootheid te waarderen van Shakespeare of Tolstoj. Bij het lezen van Hamlet probeerde ik uit te rekenen hoeveel lakeien er voor hem werkten, zodat hij zich ongehinderd met levensvragen kon kwellen. Toen ik over Anna Karenina las vroeg ik me af dankzij wiens zweet die troel kon eten, drinken en mooie jurken aantrekken.'
p.335 'Nu snap ik, geloof ik, waarom ik leef, waarom ik op de markt rondhang, paardenbotten afkluif: ik groei op om jullie te haten en met jullie te vechten. Dat wordt mijn taak in het leven: met jullie vechten, rotzakken die de wereld veranderen in een gevangenis en in een steenvergruizer. Hebben jullie me gehoord, schoften?'
July 24, 2020
Memorie sepolte di un Olocausto che non ha fine
questi i fatti:
Babij Jar è un fossato nei pressi della città ucraina di Kiev, noto per essere stato durante la Seconda guerra mondiale un sito di massacri ad opera dei nazisti e collaborazionisti ucraini ai danni della popolazione locale. Particolarmente documentato e noto fu quello compiuto il 29 e 30 settembre 1941, in cui trovarono la morte 33.771 ebrei di Kiev, secondo il dettagliato rapporto fatto da personalità e militari tedeschi. La decisione fu presa dal governatore militare e generale Kurt Eberhard, dal comandante della polizia del Gruppo d'armate Sud, dal SS-Obergruppenführer Friedrich Jeckeln, e dal comandante delle Einsatzgruppe C, Otto Rasch con l'aiuto dell'SD e di battaglioni delle SS, con l'appoggio della polizia locale ucraina. Fu uno dei tre più grandi massacri della storia dell'Olocausto, superato solo dal massacro della Operazione Erntefest in Polonia, nel 1943, con più di 42,000 vittime e dal Massacro d'Odessa con più di 50.000 ebrei nel 1941. La Shoah denomina l'eccidio come «massacro della gola di Babi Yar»
questo il libro:
il romanzo vede la luce a più riprese e in diverse forme, abbondantemente censurato come ancora oggi si usa in Russia, le parti tra parentesi sono quelle pubblicate solo nel resto del mondo, un lavoro frutto della volontà di raccontare da parte di un ragazzino, ormai cresciuto, che ha vissuto il periodo della sua infanzia in quelle zone e da cui sembra non essere mai riuscito a evadere, se non pagando lo scotto di un doloroso ricordo, dell'impegno a diffonderne la memoria e del candido desiderio che preservare dall'oblio tali atrocità serva in futuro a non vederne di nuove
la scrittura è lieve, come molte volte ho riscontrato nella prosa russa, non si sa se per alleggerirne il peso o per sfuggire alla censura, forse per entrambi i motivi...
ps. a chi interessasse si trova un'originale versione dei fatti nelle pagine finali di L'albergo bianco (The White Hotel, 1981) di Donald M. Thomas.
questi i fatti:
Babij Jar è un fossato nei pressi della città ucraina di Kiev, noto per essere stato durante la Seconda guerra mondiale un sito di massacri ad opera dei nazisti e collaborazionisti ucraini ai danni della popolazione locale. Particolarmente documentato e noto fu quello compiuto il 29 e 30 settembre 1941, in cui trovarono la morte 33.771 ebrei di Kiev, secondo il dettagliato rapporto fatto da personalità e militari tedeschi. La decisione fu presa dal governatore militare e generale Kurt Eberhard, dal comandante della polizia del Gruppo d'armate Sud, dal SS-Obergruppenführer Friedrich Jeckeln, e dal comandante delle Einsatzgruppe C, Otto Rasch con l'aiuto dell'SD e di battaglioni delle SS, con l'appoggio della polizia locale ucraina. Fu uno dei tre più grandi massacri della storia dell'Olocausto, superato solo dal massacro della Operazione Erntefest in Polonia, nel 1943, con più di 42,000 vittime e dal Massacro d'Odessa con più di 50.000 ebrei nel 1941. La Shoah denomina l'eccidio come «massacro della gola di Babi Yar»
questo il libro:
il romanzo vede la luce a più riprese e in diverse forme, abbondantemente censurato come ancora oggi si usa in Russia, le parti tra parentesi sono quelle pubblicate solo nel resto del mondo, un lavoro frutto della volontà di raccontare da parte di un ragazzino, ormai cresciuto, che ha vissuto il periodo della sua infanzia in quelle zone e da cui sembra non essere mai riuscito a evadere, se non pagando lo scotto di un doloroso ricordo, dell'impegno a diffonderne la memoria e del candido desiderio che preservare dall'oblio tali atrocità serva in futuro a non vederne di nuove
la scrittura è lieve, come molte volte ho riscontrato nella prosa russa, non si sa se per alleggerirne il peso o per sfuggire alla censura, forse per entrambi i motivi...
ps. a chi interessasse si trova un'originale versione dei fatti nelle pagine finali di L'albergo bianco (The White Hotel, 1981) di Donald M. Thomas.
November 8, 2021
Babij Jar è un enorme burrone nei pressi della città ucraina di Kiev. Qui, fra il 29 e il 30 settembre del 1941, i nazisti, con l’aiuto della polizia collaborazionista ucraina, massacrarono più di 33.000 ebrei. Nei due anni seguenti nello stesso luogo furono massacrati oltre 90.000 ucraini, zingari , soldati dell’Armata Rossa, persino alcuni calciatori della Dinamo Kiev.
Anatolij Kuznecov fu testimone di quell’orrore e di quel che vide e udì lasciò alcuni appunti confluiti poi in un diario.
Era ancora un ragazzino quando decise di scendere nel Babij Jar per sincerarsi di ciò che per settimane aveva udito e immaginato: “Il suo fondo era, prima, ricoperto da una bella ghiaia, ma ora appariva stranamente disseminato di pietruzze bianche. Mi chinai a raccoglierne una per esaminarla. Era un pezzettino di osso bruciato, piccolo come un’unghia, da un lato bianco e dall’altro nero. Il ruscello, nel trascinare queste ossa, le aveva levigare. Da ciò concludemmo che gli ebrei, i russi, gli ucraini e la gente di altre nazionalità eran stati fucilati più in alto, a monte“.
Quando i tedeschi lasciarono l’Ucraina “dal Babij Jar si levò un fumo grasso e pesante. Durò due o tre settimane“.
Fecero di tutto, i nazisti, per cancellare le tracce dello sterminio: riempirono di terra il burrone e diedero fuoco ad ogni cosa. Ma la memoria di un ragazzino si rivelò più forte. Approdato all’università, a Mosca, Kuznecov conobbe Evgenij Evtušenko e lo condusse a Kiev, affinché anch’egli conservasse il ricordo di quell'orrore e ne testimoniasse.
Babij Jar
Non c’è un monumento
A Babij Jar
Il burrone ripido
È come una lapide
Ho paura
Oggi mi sento vecchio come
Il popolo ebreo
Ora mi sento ebreo
Qui vago nell’antico Egitto
Eccomi, sono in croce e muoio
E porto ancora il segno dei chiodi.
Ora sono Dreyfus
La canaglia borghese mi denuncia
e mi giudica
Sono dietro le sbarre
Mi circondano, mi perseguitano,
mi calunniano, mi schiaffeggiano
E le donne eleganti
Strillano e mi colpiscono
con i loro ombrellini.
Sono un ragazzo a Bielostok.
Il sangue è ovunque sul pavimento
I capobanda nella caverna
Diventano sempre più brutali.
Puzzano di vodka e di cipolle
Con un calcio mi buttano a terra
Non posso far nulla
E invano imploro i persecutori
Sghignazzano “Morte ai Giudei”
“Viva la Russia”
Un mercante di grano
picchia mia madre.
O mio popolo russo
So che in fondo al cuore
Tu sei internazionalista
Ma ci sono stati uomini che con le loro
mani sporche
Hanno abusato del tuo buon nome.
So che il mio paese è buono
Che infamia sentire gli antisemiti che
senza la minima vergogna
Si proclamano.
Sono Anna Frank
Delicata come un germoglio ad Aprile
Sono innamorato e
Non ho bisogno di parole
Ma soltanto che ci guardiamo negli occhi
Abbiamo così poco da sentire
e da vedere
Ci hanno tolto le foglie e il cielo
Ma possiamo fare ancora molto
Possiamo abbracciarci teneramente
Nella stanza buia.
“Arriva qualcuno”
“Non avere paura
Questi sono i suoni della primavera
La primavera sta arrivando
Vieni
Dammi le tue labbra, presto”
“Buttano giù la porta”
“No è il ghiaccio che si rompe”
A Babij Jar il fruscio dell’erba selvaggia
Gli alberi sembrano minacciosi
Come a voler giudicare
Qui tutto in silenzio urla
e scoprendomi la testa
Sento che i miei capelli ingrigiti
sono lentamente
E divento un lungo grido silenzioso qui
Sopra migliaia e migliaia di sepolti
Io sono ogni vecchio
Ucciso qui
Io sono ogni bambino
Ucciso qui
Nulla di me potrà mai dimenticarlo
Che l’ “Internazionale” tuoni
Quando l’ultimo antisemita sulla terra
Sarà alla fine sepolto.
Non c’è sangue ebreo
Nel mio sangue
Ma sento l’odio disgustoso
Di tutti gli antisemiti
come se fossi stato un ebreo
Ed ecco perché sono un vero russo.
Evgenij Evtušenko
Qui un significativo approfondimento su ciò che accadde alla squadra di calcio della Dinamo Kiev.
https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Futbol%...
Anatolij Kuznecov fu testimone di quell’orrore e di quel che vide e udì lasciò alcuni appunti confluiti poi in un diario.
Era ancora un ragazzino quando decise di scendere nel Babij Jar per sincerarsi di ciò che per settimane aveva udito e immaginato: “Il suo fondo era, prima, ricoperto da una bella ghiaia, ma ora appariva stranamente disseminato di pietruzze bianche. Mi chinai a raccoglierne una per esaminarla. Era un pezzettino di osso bruciato, piccolo come un’unghia, da un lato bianco e dall’altro nero. Il ruscello, nel trascinare queste ossa, le aveva levigare. Da ciò concludemmo che gli ebrei, i russi, gli ucraini e la gente di altre nazionalità eran stati fucilati più in alto, a monte“.
Quando i tedeschi lasciarono l’Ucraina “dal Babij Jar si levò un fumo grasso e pesante. Durò due o tre settimane“.
Fecero di tutto, i nazisti, per cancellare le tracce dello sterminio: riempirono di terra il burrone e diedero fuoco ad ogni cosa. Ma la memoria di un ragazzino si rivelò più forte. Approdato all’università, a Mosca, Kuznecov conobbe Evgenij Evtušenko e lo condusse a Kiev, affinché anch’egli conservasse il ricordo di quell'orrore e ne testimoniasse.
Babij Jar
Non c’è un monumento
A Babij Jar
Il burrone ripido
È come una lapide
Ho paura
Oggi mi sento vecchio come
Il popolo ebreo
Ora mi sento ebreo
Qui vago nell’antico Egitto
Eccomi, sono in croce e muoio
E porto ancora il segno dei chiodi.
Ora sono Dreyfus
La canaglia borghese mi denuncia
e mi giudica
Sono dietro le sbarre
Mi circondano, mi perseguitano,
mi calunniano, mi schiaffeggiano
E le donne eleganti
Strillano e mi colpiscono
con i loro ombrellini.
Sono un ragazzo a Bielostok.
Il sangue è ovunque sul pavimento
I capobanda nella caverna
Diventano sempre più brutali.
Puzzano di vodka e di cipolle
Con un calcio mi buttano a terra
Non posso far nulla
E invano imploro i persecutori
Sghignazzano “Morte ai Giudei”
“Viva la Russia”
Un mercante di grano
picchia mia madre.
O mio popolo russo
So che in fondo al cuore
Tu sei internazionalista
Ma ci sono stati uomini che con le loro
mani sporche
Hanno abusato del tuo buon nome.
So che il mio paese è buono
Che infamia sentire gli antisemiti che
senza la minima vergogna
Si proclamano.
Sono Anna Frank
Delicata come un germoglio ad Aprile
Sono innamorato e
Non ho bisogno di parole
Ma soltanto che ci guardiamo negli occhi
Abbiamo così poco da sentire
e da vedere
Ci hanno tolto le foglie e il cielo
Ma possiamo fare ancora molto
Possiamo abbracciarci teneramente
Nella stanza buia.
“Arriva qualcuno”
“Non avere paura
Questi sono i suoni della primavera
La primavera sta arrivando
Vieni
Dammi le tue labbra, presto”
“Buttano giù la porta”
“No è il ghiaccio che si rompe”
A Babij Jar il fruscio dell’erba selvaggia
Gli alberi sembrano minacciosi
Come a voler giudicare
Qui tutto in silenzio urla
e scoprendomi la testa
Sento che i miei capelli ingrigiti
sono lentamente
E divento un lungo grido silenzioso qui
Sopra migliaia e migliaia di sepolti
Io sono ogni vecchio
Ucciso qui
Io sono ogni bambino
Ucciso qui
Nulla di me potrà mai dimenticarlo
Che l’ “Internazionale” tuoni
Quando l’ultimo antisemita sulla terra
Sarà alla fine sepolto.
Non c’è sangue ebreo
Nel mio sangue
Ma sento l’odio disgustoso
Di tutti gli antisemiti
come se fossi stato un ebreo
Ed ecco perché sono un vero russo.
Evgenij Evtušenko
Qui un significativo approfondimento su ciò che accadde alla squadra di calcio della Dinamo Kiev.
https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Futbol%...
September 8, 2012
Found this while snooping around in my dad's closet when I was about thirteen. Could have come upon something worse, I guess. Something less appropriate for a girl of my age. I read it and returned it and my dad was none the wiser. I, on the other hand, was a changed person.
August 7, 2020
Sconvolgente, e grandiosamente scritto.
December 27, 2025
Wat een prachtig boek. Koeznetsov beschrijft de gruwelen van de Tweede Wereldoorlog in Oekraïne, deels door de ogen van een jonge jongen. De rechtstreekse beschrijvingen van het geweld gaan door merg en been. Het boek werden de Sovjet-Unie zwaar gecensureerd en deze uitgave toont de weggelaten passages, en daardoor kun je meekijken hoe bizar de censor meestuurde.
Een must-read zou ik zeggen.
Een must-read zou ik zeggen.
July 17, 2023
É difícil falar deste livro duríssimo, deste relato arrepiante, capaz de perturbar o sono mais profundo com imagens e pesadelos que nos levam para lá da compreensão humana. Infelizmente, também o horrendo e o dantesco cabem na imaginação e na acção humana e, por exemplo, Primo Levi esforçou-se por tentar compreender esses fenómenos em todas as suas dimensões, sem no entanto perdoar ou esquecer.
Anatóli Kuznetsov produz neste livro um documento com algumas semelhanças, mas recusando-se a entender o que não parece ter entendimento possível. Nesse sentido é mais "mortal" que Primo Levi, transmite-nos todo o seu ódio, ressabiamento e amargura pelo que lhe fizeram a si e aos seus. Acho que sentiria o mesmo no seu lugar, embora nem o consiga imaginar...
O único reparo que posso fazer ao livro prende-se com a verosimilhança de alguns detalhes na forma como são narrados (não colocando em causa a veracidade da sua substância principal). É certo que o autor fala, por vezes, através de outras testemunhas, mas em variadíssimas situações surge quase como um espectador participante na primeira fila, em todos os acontecimentos decisivos, escapando à morte milagrosamente incontáveis vezes, como acaba por assumir num capítulo dedicado a essa sorte. É caso para dizer que "a realidade, como sempre, suplanta a ficção".
Um dos méritos marcantes deste livro é, na minha opinião, e especialmente nos tempos que correm, a sua capacidade para demonstrar como o povo é sempre carne para canhão, no meio da propaganda, das palavras de ordem e das promessas idílicas das elites corrompidas e agarradas ao poder.
Anatóli Kuznetsov produz neste livro um documento com algumas semelhanças, mas recusando-se a entender o que não parece ter entendimento possível. Nesse sentido é mais "mortal" que Primo Levi, transmite-nos todo o seu ódio, ressabiamento e amargura pelo que lhe fizeram a si e aos seus. Acho que sentiria o mesmo no seu lugar, embora nem o consiga imaginar...
O único reparo que posso fazer ao livro prende-se com a verosimilhança de alguns detalhes na forma como são narrados (não colocando em causa a veracidade da sua substância principal). É certo que o autor fala, por vezes, através de outras testemunhas, mas em variadíssimas situações surge quase como um espectador participante na primeira fila, em todos os acontecimentos decisivos, escapando à morte milagrosamente incontáveis vezes, como acaba por assumir num capítulo dedicado a essa sorte. É caso para dizer que "a realidade, como sempre, suplanta a ficção".
Um dos méritos marcantes deste livro é, na minha opinião, e especialmente nos tempos que correm, a sua capacidade para demonstrar como o povo é sempre carne para canhão, no meio da propaganda, das palavras de ordem e das promessas idílicas das elites corrompidas e agarradas ao poder.
November 4, 2020
«Non c'é nessun monumento a Babij Jar»
"Non ci sono scuole né giornali. Non ci sono trasporti, né possibilità di comunicare. Non ci sono banche, ma tanto il denaro non ha più alcun valore. Non ci sono negozi, perché nessuno ha alcunché da vendere. Non c’è cibo. Non sembra essere nemmeno chiaro ciò che è giusto e ciò che è sbagliato. La gente ruba tutto quel che vuole. Uomini in armi vagano per le strade minacciando chiunque intralci il cammino. Non c’è vergogna. Non c’è moralità. C’è solo sopravvivenza."
Sembra un riassunto del romanzo di Cormac McCarthy, invece è la descrizione dell'Europa alla fine della Seconda guerra mondiale, il cui tracollo materiale e morale è ben descritto nel libro Il continente selvaggio. L'Europa alla fine della seconda guerra mondiale
E Anatoly Kuznetsov nè è stato il testimone tredicenne, conscio della necessità di annotare e ricordare ciò che avvenne sul fronte orientale, in una Ucraina schiacciata tra le mire espansionistiche della Germania Nazista e la fame sotto la dominazione bolscevica, che aveva ridotto i contadini a una nuova terribile shiavitù, tanto da non risultare infrequenti gli episodi di cannibalismo.
Ma la testimonianza del giovane Anatoly si fa orrore nel descrivere il massacro di migliaia non solo di ebrei, ma anche rom, russi e ucraini, spogliati, derubati e gettati a volte ancora vivi per essere ricoperti di altri cadaveri e poi di terra, nel fosso di Babij Iar. Uno degli eccidi più terribili della Storia dell'Olocausto. E anche il tentativo, prima dei Tedeschi in ritirata, poi del Partito Comunista Sovietico, di far dimenticare nascondendo e distruggendo ogni prova.
"...Si può cercare di disperdere al vento, ricoprire di terra, calpestare, bruciare ogni cosa, ma la memoria umana sopravvive. Non si può ingannrae la Storia, ed è impossibile nasconderle qualcosa per sempre"
Scritto con la freschezza del racconto di un tredicenne, e costellato di personaggi che, nella quotidianità della vita, danno al lettore la capacità di affrontare un tema che si spinge nell'orrore di quei giorni dimenticati.
La Letteratura aiuta la memora. Qualche volta la salva.
"Non ci sono scuole né giornali. Non ci sono trasporti, né possibilità di comunicare. Non ci sono banche, ma tanto il denaro non ha più alcun valore. Non ci sono negozi, perché nessuno ha alcunché da vendere. Non c’è cibo. Non sembra essere nemmeno chiaro ciò che è giusto e ciò che è sbagliato. La gente ruba tutto quel che vuole. Uomini in armi vagano per le strade minacciando chiunque intralci il cammino. Non c’è vergogna. Non c’è moralità. C’è solo sopravvivenza."
Sembra un riassunto del romanzo di Cormac McCarthy, invece è la descrizione dell'Europa alla fine della Seconda guerra mondiale, il cui tracollo materiale e morale è ben descritto nel libro Il continente selvaggio. L'Europa alla fine della seconda guerra mondiale
E Anatoly Kuznetsov nè è stato il testimone tredicenne, conscio della necessità di annotare e ricordare ciò che avvenne sul fronte orientale, in una Ucraina schiacciata tra le mire espansionistiche della Germania Nazista e la fame sotto la dominazione bolscevica, che aveva ridotto i contadini a una nuova terribile shiavitù, tanto da non risultare infrequenti gli episodi di cannibalismo.
Ma la testimonianza del giovane Anatoly si fa orrore nel descrivere il massacro di migliaia non solo di ebrei, ma anche rom, russi e ucraini, spogliati, derubati e gettati a volte ancora vivi per essere ricoperti di altri cadaveri e poi di terra, nel fosso di Babij Iar. Uno degli eccidi più terribili della Storia dell'Olocausto. E anche il tentativo, prima dei Tedeschi in ritirata, poi del Partito Comunista Sovietico, di far dimenticare nascondendo e distruggendo ogni prova.
"...Si può cercare di disperdere al vento, ricoprire di terra, calpestare, bruciare ogni cosa, ma la memoria umana sopravvive. Non si può ingannrae la Storia, ed è impossibile nasconderle qualcosa per sempre"
Scritto con la freschezza del racconto di un tredicenne, e costellato di personaggi che, nella quotidianità della vita, danno al lettore la capacità di affrontare un tema che si spinge nell'orrore di quei giorni dimenticati.
La Letteratura aiuta la memora. Qualche volta la salva.
July 7, 2022
Libro che tutti dovrebbero leggere, senza 'se' e senza 'ma'.
Qui non è una questione di gusto, ma di necessità.
E poi è scritto benissimo (per gli interessati).
Qui non è una questione di gusto, ma di necessità.
E poi è scritto benissimo (per gli interessati).
October 19, 2024
M’n beste boek van 2024?
March 11, 2023
Que testemunho incrível, profundo, sensível, doloroso e arrasador de um período negro da História da Europa e da Humanidade.
A mortandade que ocorreu na ravina de Babi Iar, em Kiev, durante a II Guerra Mundial, dá o mote para Anatoly Kuznetsov desfiar suas memórias do final da sua infância e inicio da adolescência durante aquele tempo de privações e barbárie.
É a estupidez vista pelos olhos de uma criança aquilo que lemos nestas quase quinhentas páginas, e é também (ou sobretudo) um manifesto contra a violência, a autodestruição, pela paz e pela liberdade.
Factual, este livro não segue a tradição da literatura russa mas sim um estilo muito próprio, do jeito "documentário dramático".
Fácil de ler, difícil de digerir, este livro poderia bem figurar num qualquer plano de leitura, sugerido como um alerta para as consequências do avanço belicista de alguns loucos, mas também como constatação de que, com as devidas diferenças, a História se repete, e que alguns sinais de alerta podem ser identificados a tempo, de modo a impedir a guerra, e o total desrespeito pela vida.
A mortandade que ocorreu na ravina de Babi Iar, em Kiev, durante a II Guerra Mundial, dá o mote para Anatoly Kuznetsov desfiar suas memórias do final da sua infância e inicio da adolescência durante aquele tempo de privações e barbárie.
É a estupidez vista pelos olhos de uma criança aquilo que lemos nestas quase quinhentas páginas, e é também (ou sobretudo) um manifesto contra a violência, a autodestruição, pela paz e pela liberdade.
Factual, este livro não segue a tradição da literatura russa mas sim um estilo muito próprio, do jeito "documentário dramático".
Fácil de ler, difícil de digerir, este livro poderia bem figurar num qualquer plano de leitura, sugerido como um alerta para as consequências do avanço belicista de alguns loucos, mas também como constatação de que, com as devidas diferenças, a História se repete, e que alguns sinais de alerta podem ser identificados a tempo, de modo a impedir a guerra, e o total desrespeito pela vida.
May 10, 2019
якщо це так важко читати - ніби роздираєш сторінки, що злиплись кров'ю, - як же було жити тоді? пережити і жити далі?
але я почала читати цю книжку для того, щоб зрозуміти, як звичайні люди - не психічно хворі психопати - могли брати участь у розстрілах у Бабином Яру. там було значно більше наших виконавців, ніж німців. як вони змогли заривати живцем немовлят? як??
все банально: за гроші і за власну шкуру. є такий відсоток людей, завжди був - цікаво, що вони роблять зараз?..
я не можу написати повноцінну рецензію на цю книжку, дуже важко.
лишу кілька, можна сказати, нейтральних цитат:
Все-таки как это хорошо: плевать на всю и всяческую политику, танцевать, любить, пить вино, спать, дышать. Жить. О, дай вам Бог!
Только [из своего слухового окошка смотрю я и вижу, как, пока одни любят и спят, другие деятельно штампуют для них наручники. Зачем? А вот это вопрос. В мире такая пропасть благодетелей. И все хотят непременно облагодетельствовать целый мир. Никак не меньше. Для этого нужно немного: мир должен уложиться в схему, которая Бог весть как формируется в их малосильных, измученных комплексами мозгах.
Они не плюют на политику, они ее делают. Строгают свою дубину. Потом опускают дубину на чужие головы, проводя таким образом свою политику в жизнь.
Осторожно, люди!]
На основании своего, чужого, всеобщего опыта, на основании многих мыслей, поисков, тревог и расчетов говорю вам: ГОРЕ СЕГОДНЯ ТОМУ, КТО ЗАБЫВАЕТ О ПОЛИТИКЕ.
Я не сказал, что люблю ее. Я ее ненавижу. Презираю. Не призываю вас любить ее или уважать. Только говорю вам:
НЕ ЗАБУДЬТЕ.
+++
А представьте себе, что, родись вы на одно историческое мгновение раньше, – и это уже была бы ваша жизнь, а не книжное чтиво. Судьба играет нами, как хочет, – малыми микробами, ползающими по земному шару. Вы могли быть мною, родиться в Киеве, на Куреневке, а я вот в этот момент мог быть вами и читать эту страницу.
+++
Села не было: одни пепелища с яркими белыми печами, трубы которых, как указательные пальцы, торчали в небо. [Значит, тут был бой одних благодетелей человечества с другими – за лучшее, значит, счастье в мире.]
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Мир ничему не научился. Мир стал угрюмее. Он переполняется обманутыми марионетками, этакими запрограммированными болванчиками, которые с вдох��овенными глазами готовы стрелять в любую цель, которую им укажут вожди, топтать любую землю, на которую их пошлют, а об оружии, которое сегодня в их руках – страшно подумать.
Если им в глаза кричать: вы обмануты, вы всего лишь пушечное мясо и орудие в руках мерзавцев, – они не слышат.
Говорят: «Злобный вой». Если им приводить факты, – они попросту не верят. Говорят: «Не было такого».
Верят кому угодно – Ленину, Сталину, Гитлеру, Хрущеву, Мао Цзэ-дуну, Брежневу и прочим Фиделям Кастро рангом поменьше. Оправдывают злодеяния великими целями, отрицают факты, доверяют голым добрым намерениям.
але я почала читати цю книжку для того, щоб зрозуміти, як звичайні люди - не психічно хворі психопати - могли брати участь у розстрілах у Бабином Яру. там було значно більше наших виконавців, ніж німців. як вони змогли заривати живцем немовлят? як??
все банально: за гроші і за власну шкуру. є такий відсоток людей, завжди був - цікаво, що вони роблять зараз?..
я не можу написати повноцінну рецензію на цю книжку, дуже важко.
лишу кілька, можна сказати, нейтральних цитат:
Все-таки как это хорошо: плевать на всю и всяческую политику, танцевать, любить, пить вино, спать, дышать. Жить. О, дай вам Бог!
Только [из своего слухового окошка смотрю я и вижу, как, пока одни любят и спят, другие деятельно штампуют для них наручники. Зачем? А вот это вопрос. В мире такая пропасть благодетелей. И все хотят непременно облагодетельствовать целый мир. Никак не меньше. Для этого нужно немного: мир должен уложиться в схему, которая Бог весть как формируется в их малосильных, измученных комплексами мозгах.
Они не плюют на политику, они ее делают. Строгают свою дубину. Потом опускают дубину на чужие головы, проводя таким образом свою политику в жизнь.
Осторожно, люди!]
На основании своего, чужого, всеобщего опыта, на основании многих мыслей, поисков, тревог и расчетов говорю вам: ГОРЕ СЕГОДНЯ ТОМУ, КТО ЗАБЫВАЕТ О ПОЛИТИКЕ.
Я не сказал, что люблю ее. Я ее ненавижу. Презираю. Не призываю вас любить ее или уважать. Только говорю вам:
НЕ ЗАБУДЬТЕ.
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А представьте себе, что, родись вы на одно историческое мгновение раньше, – и это уже была бы ваша жизнь, а не книжное чтиво. Судьба играет нами, как хочет, – малыми микробами, ползающими по земному шару. Вы могли быть мною, родиться в Киеве, на Куреневке, а я вот в этот момент мог быть вами и читать эту страницу.
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Села не было: одни пепелища с яркими белыми печами, трубы которых, как указательные пальцы, торчали в небо. [Значит, тут был бой одних благодетелей человечества с другими – за лучшее, значит, счастье в мире.]
+++
Мир ничему не научился. Мир стал угрюмее. Он переполняется обманутыми марионетками, этакими запрограммированными болванчиками, которые с вдох��овенными глазами готовы стрелять в любую цель, которую им укажут вожди, топтать любую землю, на которую их пошлют, а об оружии, которое сегодня в их руках – страшно подумать.
Если им в глаза кричать: вы обмануты, вы всего лишь пушечное мясо и орудие в руках мерзавцев, – они не слышат.
Говорят: «Злобный вой». Если им приводить факты, – они попросту не верят. Говорят: «Не было такого».
Верят кому угодно – Ленину, Сталину, Гитлеру, Хрущеву, Мао Цзэ-дуну, Брежневу и прочим Фиделям Кастро рангом поменьше. Оправдывают злодеяния великими целями, отрицают факты, доверяют голым добрым намерениям.
October 26, 2020
Pensavo di aver letto tutto sulla follia nazista ma mi sbagliavo. Babij Jar apre un'altra finestra su questi eventi terribili che hanno segnato l'Europa. Questo romanzo andrebbe letto anche solo per le difficoltà che l'autore ha avuto nel pubblicarlo. Ogni libro che abbia dovuto passare dalle maglie della censura dovrebbe avere una via preferenziale nelle nostre scelte letterarie. Figuriamoci poi un libro che rappresenta un inno alla vita, alla pace e alla libertà. Tutto è dolore in Babij Jar. Le "avventure" del giovane Tolik, che in un altro contesto avrebbero potuto strappare un sorriso, in Babji Jar moltiplicano l'assurdità della situazione, l'orrore della guerra e la follia di quegli uomini che manovrano eserciti e vite umane come se fossero oggetti.
Babij Jar è doloroso come una ferita aperta che sanguina in continuazione, dalla prima all'ultima pagina.
Babij Jar è doloroso come una ferita aperta che sanguina in continuazione, dalla prima all'ultima pagina.
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July 8, 2024"Linkiu jums taikos. [Ir laisvės.]"
Sukrečianti. Tikra. Reikalinga.
Sukrečianti. Tikra. Reikalinga.
January 19, 2025
Nežinau, kas gali pateisinti nesibaigiantį žmonių žiaurumą ir abejingumą. Nežinau, ir kas tokius dalykus gali sustabdyti. Širdis tiesiog trūkčioja, pagalvojus ir apie tai, kad pasaulyje miršta nekalti žmonės dė; kažkokių mistinių priežasčių, didelių pinigų ir milžiniškų ego. Ir jog tas užburtas ratas nesustoja suktis jau metų metus.
Babyn Jaras – vieta, griova, Kyjive, kur tiek sovietai, tiek naciai šaudė, naikino, užkasinėjo, gyvus laidojo ar bet kokiais kitais būdais atsikratinėjo žmonių karo metu. Kuznecovas – vos keturiolikos ėmėsi užrašinėti savo patyrimus, vėliau bandė juos išleisti kaip knygą, tačiau sovietai negailestingai ją cenzūravo. Cenzūros vietos knygoje paryškintos, tad galime aiškiai matyti, kas sovietams netiko ir nepatiko. Dabar, kai gyvename laisvais laikais, galime pamatyti visus atsikartojimus. Man mintyse kyla Buča, Mariupolis ir panašios vietos. Už ką, už ką, už ką Ukrainos žmonėms ir vėl tenka kęsti visa tai, kame jie yra dabar? Ar nepakankamai mirčių ir tragedijų pasaulyje būta per anuos du karus? Ar nieko nepasimokyta? Keliu sau hipotetinius ir retorinius klausimus, nes atsakymus vargu ar kada nors galėčiau rasti.
Babyn Jaras – tai vieta, kurią, slepiant įkalčius sulygino su žeme. Lygiai taip pat elgtasi ir su šios istorijos faktais, vingiais ir posūkiais. Retas žmogus apskritai bus girdėjęs ką nors apie šią vietą ir jos baisumus; būtent taip gerai pasistengė sovietai trinant viską iš žmonių atminties. Šaltiniai skirtingi, tačiau skaičiuojama, kad Babyn Jare buvo nužudyti maždaug 77 000 žmonių per trejus metus. Vis tik skirtinguose šaltiniuose nurodomi skaičiai gerokai didesni, ir tiesiog… gąsdinantys. Manoma, kad jie perkopia ir 100 000 gyvybių. Būtent apie tai ši knyga – apie žmones, kurie, įbauginti sovietų laukia išgelbėtojų vokiečių, tada po vokiečių vėl laukia išgelbėtojų sovietų. Gyvena užburtame baimės rate, stebi masines žudynes, bando išgyventi ir išsaugoti sveiką protą. Kuznecovas čia viską įvelka į romano rūbą, kartais pabarsto ir nepagaili humoro, kartais ir jautresnę eilutę galima rasti.
Labiausiai gąsdino mane knygoje randamos pranašystės, atsikartojimai, pastebėjimai su aliuzija į praeities įvykius, ir tai, kaip jie kloja pamatus ateičiai. Ir štai, turim ką turim.
Norėčiau sakyti, kad knyga buvo nepaprastai sunki skaityti, bet nebuvo. Realybė rodosi daug baisesnė už praeitį. Vaizdai, kuriuos dabar rastume medioje iš šių dienų karo, mane veikia kur kas stipriau. Tačiau vis tik norėčiau, kad apie Babyn Jarą sužinotų kuo daugiau žmonių. Kad tokios istorijos dėmės nebūtų taip lengvai išlupamos, ar, tiksliau tariant, užkasamos ir sulyginamos su žeme. Vien iš pagarbos visiems tiems dešimtims tūkstančių nekaltų žmonių.
Vertinga, svarbi, įspūdinga knyga. Norėčiau, kad viskas, kas joje rašoma, būtų fikcija. Labai norėčiau. Deja, realybė yra kitokia. Ir apie ją reikia kalbėti be cenzūros.
„Linkiu jums taikos. [Ir laisvės.]“
Leidyklos dovana.
Susitikime instagrame:
https://www.instagram.com/gretosknygo...
Babyn Jaras – vieta, griova, Kyjive, kur tiek sovietai, tiek naciai šaudė, naikino, užkasinėjo, gyvus laidojo ar bet kokiais kitais būdais atsikratinėjo žmonių karo metu. Kuznecovas – vos keturiolikos ėmėsi užrašinėti savo patyrimus, vėliau bandė juos išleisti kaip knygą, tačiau sovietai negailestingai ją cenzūravo. Cenzūros vietos knygoje paryškintos, tad galime aiškiai matyti, kas sovietams netiko ir nepatiko. Dabar, kai gyvename laisvais laikais, galime pamatyti visus atsikartojimus. Man mintyse kyla Buča, Mariupolis ir panašios vietos. Už ką, už ką, už ką Ukrainos žmonėms ir vėl tenka kęsti visa tai, kame jie yra dabar? Ar nepakankamai mirčių ir tragedijų pasaulyje būta per anuos du karus? Ar nieko nepasimokyta? Keliu sau hipotetinius ir retorinius klausimus, nes atsakymus vargu ar kada nors galėčiau rasti.
Babyn Jaras – tai vieta, kurią, slepiant įkalčius sulygino su žeme. Lygiai taip pat elgtasi ir su šios istorijos faktais, vingiais ir posūkiais. Retas žmogus apskritai bus girdėjęs ką nors apie šią vietą ir jos baisumus; būtent taip gerai pasistengė sovietai trinant viską iš žmonių atminties. Šaltiniai skirtingi, tačiau skaičiuojama, kad Babyn Jare buvo nužudyti maždaug 77 000 žmonių per trejus metus. Vis tik skirtinguose šaltiniuose nurodomi skaičiai gerokai didesni, ir tiesiog… gąsdinantys. Manoma, kad jie perkopia ir 100 000 gyvybių. Būtent apie tai ši knyga – apie žmones, kurie, įbauginti sovietų laukia išgelbėtojų vokiečių, tada po vokiečių vėl laukia išgelbėtojų sovietų. Gyvena užburtame baimės rate, stebi masines žudynes, bando išgyventi ir išsaugoti sveiką protą. Kuznecovas čia viską įvelka į romano rūbą, kartais pabarsto ir nepagaili humoro, kartais ir jautresnę eilutę galima rasti.
Labiausiai gąsdino mane knygoje randamos pranašystės, atsikartojimai, pastebėjimai su aliuzija į praeities įvykius, ir tai, kaip jie kloja pamatus ateičiai. Ir štai, turim ką turim.
Norėčiau sakyti, kad knyga buvo nepaprastai sunki skaityti, bet nebuvo. Realybė rodosi daug baisesnė už praeitį. Vaizdai, kuriuos dabar rastume medioje iš šių dienų karo, mane veikia kur kas stipriau. Tačiau vis tik norėčiau, kad apie Babyn Jarą sužinotų kuo daugiau žmonių. Kad tokios istorijos dėmės nebūtų taip lengvai išlupamos, ar, tiksliau tariant, užkasamos ir sulyginamos su žeme. Vien iš pagarbos visiems tiems dešimtims tūkstančių nekaltų žmonių.
Vertinga, svarbi, įspūdinga knyga. Norėčiau, kad viskas, kas joje rašoma, būtų fikcija. Labai norėčiau. Deja, realybė yra kitokia. Ir apie ją reikia kalbėti be cenzūros.
„Linkiu jums taikos. [Ir laisvės.]“
Leidyklos dovana.
Susitikime instagrame:
https://www.instagram.com/gretosknygo...
February 7, 2016
"Babi Yar" is a monumental book. For those who have never heard the name before, it refers to a natural landmark ravine in the Ukraine, which in World War Two was the location of a brutal execution site. In the most notorious of its purges, during just two days in 1941, over 33,000 Jews were killed by the occupying Nazi forces and local police collaborators. For nearby towns, the sound of gunfire became a daily soundtrack.
The author of this documentary work was a boy at the time of the executions, one of the impoverished villagers living close by. He escaped death many times - sometimes, as he points out, through sheer luck.
One of the most incredible things about "Babi Yar" that makes it so significant in the genre of historical writing is that Kuznetsov, escaping the Soviet Union in the 60s, indicates which sections of his formerly published text had been previously redacted. The supposedly critical anti-Stalinist, anti-Russian elements that were censored at the time give a disturbing (and at times incredibly surreal) insight into a political system that denied so much of the agony and trauma that had occurred. The site where hundreds of thousands of people were murdered was later paved over - literally.
There are many remarkable moments in the book, but one in particularly which struck me was one point where Kuznetsov breaks the barrier and speaks to the reader:
"A reminder. Well, so you are reading these stories. In some cases, perhaps you have just skimmed through unmoved... I must keep on reminding you... IT ALL HAPPENED." And it made me go back, and do justice to the places where my attention had waned, where atrocity after atrocity had begun to grow familiar.
The author of this documentary work was a boy at the time of the executions, one of the impoverished villagers living close by. He escaped death many times - sometimes, as he points out, through sheer luck.
One of the most incredible things about "Babi Yar" that makes it so significant in the genre of historical writing is that Kuznetsov, escaping the Soviet Union in the 60s, indicates which sections of his formerly published text had been previously redacted. The supposedly critical anti-Stalinist, anti-Russian elements that were censored at the time give a disturbing (and at times incredibly surreal) insight into a political system that denied so much of the agony and trauma that had occurred. The site where hundreds of thousands of people were murdered was later paved over - literally.
There are many remarkable moments in the book, but one in particularly which struck me was one point where Kuznetsov breaks the barrier and speaks to the reader:
"A reminder. Well, so you are reading these stories. In some cases, perhaps you have just skimmed through unmoved... I must keep on reminding you... IT ALL HAPPENED." And it made me go back, and do justice to the places where my attention had waned, where atrocity after atrocity had begun to grow familiar.
November 28, 2019
Історія хлопчика ув окупованому німцями Києві манить можливістю зазирнути в той час і подивитися своїми очима на період між 19 вересня 1941 та 7 листопада 1943 року. Люди, події, відчуття, тилові щурі та солдати на передовій, плани з переселення, розстріли у Бабиному Яру, міфічний марш смерті, голод у Києві та за межами, зміна ставлення до новоприбулої влади. І все це сховано за кількома шарами радянської цензури. Тому найбільшу цінність даний роман має при відчитанні у останньому варіанті автора. Однак і тут слід пам'ятати, що це - відчуття людей, які описують те, що вони бачили і думали, у той час як реальність у більшому масштабі могла виглядати трошки інше. До прикладу як епізод з розстрілом футбольної команди.
Але читати варто. Щоб пропустити через себе історію. Щоб подивитися на той світ тогочасними очима. Щоб переглянути свої цінності і співставити їх з цінностями інших. Тих, хто вижив.
Але читати варто. Щоб пропустити через себе історію. Щоб подивитися на той світ тогочасними очима. Щоб переглянути свої цінності і співставити їх з цінностями інших. Тих, хто вижив.
April 14, 2024
Deze zondag kunnen gebruiken om eindelijk Babi Jar van Koeznetsov uit te kunnen lezen.
'Alles wat je leest is waar.'
Zelden zo'n indrukwekkend boek gelezen over de Holocaust en de acties van de nazi's in Oekraïne. De verschrikkingen die zich daar in het ravijn hebben afgespeeld zijn nauwelijks te bevatten en bijna niet te beschrijven. Het is treurig om te lezen dat het decennia heeft geduurd voordat de misdaden daar fatsoenlijk herdacht konden worden en de Sovjets zelfs meerdere kunnen hebben geprobeerd de plek volledig weg te werken.
Daarnaast geeft het ook een goed beeld over het leven van een kind onder de Duitse bezetting, het surrealisme van de Sovjet-Unie, psychopathische en vriendelijke Duitse soldaten, zijn minderjarige vrienden die het leger in moeten, de censuur, de Oekraïense geschiedenis, het plotselinge besef van identiteit en het alledaagse moeten overleven. Echt een aanrader, juist in deze tijd.
'Alles wat je leest is waar.'
Zelden zo'n indrukwekkend boek gelezen over de Holocaust en de acties van de nazi's in Oekraïne. De verschrikkingen die zich daar in het ravijn hebben afgespeeld zijn nauwelijks te bevatten en bijna niet te beschrijven. Het is treurig om te lezen dat het decennia heeft geduurd voordat de misdaden daar fatsoenlijk herdacht konden worden en de Sovjets zelfs meerdere kunnen hebben geprobeerd de plek volledig weg te werken.
Daarnaast geeft het ook een goed beeld over het leven van een kind onder de Duitse bezetting, het surrealisme van de Sovjet-Unie, psychopathische en vriendelijke Duitse soldaten, zijn minderjarige vrienden die het leger in moeten, de censuur, de Oekraïense geschiedenis, het plotselinge besef van identiteit en het alledaagse moeten overleven. Echt een aanrader, juist in deze tijd.
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