Hunger

by Elise Blackwell

A spare and haunting story of love, memory, and appetite from one of modern Europe s darkest times.Traveling to the world s remote places, a daring scientist has spent his life collecting rare plants for the Soviet Union's premier botanical institute. From the Saharan desert to the mountain passes of Afghanistan, from the rivers of South America to the Abyssinian interior, he has feared no danger to recover specimens that trace back to the ancient civilizations of Babylon and Assyria. Even at home with the wife he reveres, his memory brims with the beautiful women and luscious foods he has known in exotic climes.But when German troops surround Leningrad in the fall of 1941, he too becomes a captive of the city. With food supplies dwindling, residents strip bark from trees, barter priceless antiques for bread, and trade sex for sugar. In the bleakest hours of the hunger winter, the institute's scientists make a no matter how desperate conditions become, they will protect the precious cache of seeds that is their gift to their country's future.Based on true events from the second World War, Hunger is the powerful story of a man s confrontation with the riddle of his own morality. What is the meaning of cowardice or bravery, honor or betrayal, when life hangs on the smallest of decisions? Is survival the ultimate victory or the ultimate loss?A stunning debut by a remarkable new writer, Hunger is a beautifully crafted exploration of the choices people make in extraordinary circumstances."

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Russia, World War II, War, Food, Novels

Hardcover

First published May 15, 2003

About the author

Elise Blackwell is the author of three novels: Hunger, The Unnatural History of Cypress Parish, and Grub. Originally from southern Louisiana, she has lived all over the country and currently teaches at the University of South Carolina.

Reviews

[Annia Ciezadlo · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading the reviews of this book makes me really sad. A lot of people seem to be doling out stars on the basis of whether or not they liked the narrator's personality. People, this is a book, not a popularity contest. Authors often use unreliable or even unlikable narrators to make points about love, empathy (or the lack thereof), honesty, and our fundamentally irrational ways of being in the world. You are supposed to read it with skepticism, tolerance, and imagination.

I think a lot of the people who didn't like this book wanted a nice, uplifting tale of nobility and suffering during wartime. Yes, many of the scientists at the Vavrilov Institute starved to death within feet of the very seeds that could have saved their lives. And Blackwell's book makes that very, very clear. But one of her points--and she makes it beautifully, subtly, and unforgettably--is that none of us know what we will do to survive.

To the haters: If you want some nicey-nice, go have a long chat with your BFF. Or better yet, read Eat, Pray, Love. But don't look for sugar-coated redemption in a novel about the Siege of Leningrad.

[Booksy]

I would have given this book a minus 1 star if we had this rating option. And there are the reasons for my harsh judgment.

First of all, for the topics that book attempted to cover (or, touch upon rather) - persecution of scientists in the 1940s and beyond, the 900 days' blockade of Leningrad during the WWII - the form of a novella is an inappropriate form in my option. I agree with Kathy who made a comment that it was a "slice of life" book, however this is not the "slice" to be taken by the author in the form of a novella. The events were too significant to very person who lived through this history and to many generations of Russians, too sensitive and too grand to approach them by a short vignette of a book.

I completely agree with my fellow forum readers the the voice of the author did not ring true. There were so many errors and inaccuracies in the book that I felt the author not only never set foot to Russian land, but also never even tried to engage in conversation with a Russian person to get to know a little more about the country, its history, its people. (Unlike an amazing book that I've just finished reading by an Australian writer Anna Funder who wrote a stunning collection of personal histories about the Berlin Wall and the operations of Stasi surveillance). I had a look at the list of references at the end of the book and it was not a very extensive list by any stretch of imagination. Even if you don't read in Russian, there are so many amazing books and records written on this topic in English.

I completely agree with people who commented on the fact that if you don’t know a bit of background to the events that took place leading to the prosecution of the scientists during the 40s and into the 50s, you will feel lost. I was fortunately to have read a few wonderful books that appreared as soon as Russia “opened up” to democracy in early 90s and so many great books flooded the bookstores of Moscow. One such book was a book by Vladimir Dudintsev “White Clothes” (http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33...). It is a ficitonalised account of the Soviet geneticists and their difficult task of not only working on new ideas in science of botany and seeds’ management, but also find the ways to educate people without getting prosecuted by the Stalinist state. Unfortunately, I didn’t find the translation of this book into English to recommend to you to read, maybe somebody can undertake translating it to make it available to wider audiences.

There is also a book by a collective of authors “Leningrad under Siege: First-hand Accounts of the Ordeal”
by Ales Adamovich, Daniil Granin, Clare Burstall (Translator), Vladimir Kisselnikov (Translator) that presents an amazing account of people who lived through that horrific and tremendous event. A very disturbibg and yet a very worthwhile reading!

And finally, the book written by a Russian emigrant writer Paulina Simmons “The Bronze Horseman” (even though some of you may not like the romance writing of this author, the way she portrayed the Siege of Leningrad through the eyes of her character Tatiana is truly heartbreaking and very very believable).

There is also a non-fiction book written by a journalist Peter Pringle (I haven’t read it, I only read the interview with the author) called “The Murder of Nikolay Vavilov” (an account of life and persecutions of this great Soviet era scientist).

A few more comments about Elise Blackwell’s book.

The narrative itself is sketchy, jumpy and disjoint. The parallels with the Babylon state that is presented throughout the book does not feel right or even meaningful (it felt pompous and fake to me).

I can’t agree more with those of you who commented on the unpleasant character of the narrator – promiscuous, womanizing, cowardly and self-indulgent man whose contribution to science remains completely unknown.
I also found it quite annoying that the author allowed him to “help himself” to the grains from the collection of grains (of what I assume was the selection fund of the National Institute of the Plants Samples) whereas the actual events show that 28 scientists who worked for the institutes at that time and remained in the besieged Leningrad – every single one of them – died of starvation during the siege but touched not a single grain from the precious fund. This truly heroic dead helped restoring the Soviet agriculture in the difficult post-war years. So, why did the author feel the need of falsifying the events, even if only for the sake of her fictional story???

Rarely do I feel so strongly about the book, I usually put my first thoughts and impressions to the paper, and then tone them down, and then tone them down even further and then try to find merits of every book I read, however this book left me full of indignation because of such insensitive, artless and incompetent way the author dealt with the topics and because of the way she made these topics incredibly obscure and confusing to the non-Russian readers.

[Natalie Bakopoulos]

such a lovely retrospective narrator. oh, god, the ending---I read it once, then read it out loud, amazed such restraint could evoke such powerful emotion. wonderfully moving.

[Deb (Readerbuzz) Nance · Rating 3 out of 5]

Leningrad is surrounded by German troops. There is no way to get food in. The people of the city are starving, and in their desperation, they find themselves eating insects, dirt, bark, anything that will provide any sort of food to themselves and their hungry children.

A scientist works at a research facility in the city, where seeds and plants from all over the world have been kept for study. How will he and others face this challenge?

This is a novel set amid the horrors of the Siege of Leningrad.

[Garrett Lischke · Rating 5 out of 5]

A short read and one that you hold close to your heart in a tender cradle as you turn the last page. I adore this book. A story of the imperfections of man. A raw peak into the very real challenge of survival in a war torn community. Blackwell provides the reader with a sense of exploration and worldly experience while the characters reminisce on the freedom to travel from their imprisonment during wartime. Highly recommend

[Maria Ella · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Novella To Appreciate Peace

It was tough to express sympathy to those victims of the Siege of Leningrad without doing additional research.

I've recently learned that:
a. Leningrad is the previous name of St. Petersburg, it may not be the Capital of Russian Federation, but it is their naval base.
b. The geography of St. Petersburg is landlocked by other capitols, and their only opening is the Neva River on the Baltic Sea - where the Baltic Fleet is on defense.
c. The seige took more than 800 days, with the only aim is annihilation.

With these snippet of facts, before reading the book, the siege would give you curiosity, and yes, additional information to appreciate. While reading along, the book gives soul, since the story of the siege is told in a first-perspective view of the botanist. After closing the book, I was a bit disappointed that tears did not come to me, but I heaved a deep sigh and appreciated that I was not part of that world. I was born after the revolution here in Manila - a nonviolent one - and that is why I am grateful that I live in a peaceful place.

[Ricardo Lourenço · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Aqueles que se afogam nunca mudam os factos, mas aqueles que sobrevivem ao mar nos pulmões devem enviar as suas histórias em palavras, palavras como pequenos barcos de casco furado, através da distância, do frio, e das correntes de água.”
Sobrevivente do cerco alemão a Leninegrado durante a Segunda Guerra, atrocidade que veio a ceifar mais de um milhão de vidas, um botânico cuja identidade não é revelada recorda a agonia vivida nesse período. Tal como a sua mulher, trabalhou no Instituto de Pesquisa da Indústria de Plantas, que comporta uma das maiores colecções de sementes a nível mundial, em grande parte devido aos esforços do seu director, Nikolai Vavilov. Apesar das privações, a preservação desses milhares de espécies tornou-se na missão dos cientistas do instituto, que assumem o compromisso de colocar a protecção das plantas e sementes acima da sua própria saúde.

“Mas não podia suportar a dor que existia entre mim e a morte. Era essa fome cinzenta, e não a própria morte, que temia, que evitava a custo e a toda a hora. Como os políticos mais inteligentes sabem e repetem, os ideais nada são para o homem que se senta de mesa vazia.”
A fome, resultante da continuidade do cerco nazi, instala-se na cidade e apresenta-se como um importante factor de clivagem moral, visível entre aqueles que se sacrificam, como os cientistas do instituto, e os que cedem aos instintos de sobrevivência pondo de parte quaisquer considerações éticas, como é o caso do narrador. É este narrador atípico, dilacerado pelas suas paixões, que nos proporciona uma perspectiva da decadência humana que não seria possível observar através do heroísmo dos seus companheiros.

“Como sempre, o meu arrependimento foi instantâneo. Não me refiro à culpa do roubo e sobrevivência, que era constante, mas o simples arrependimento por ter despertado a terrível fome que conseguira finalmente entorpecer.
Disse a mim próprio que a dor era o preço da vida; a sua ausência era o passo para a morte.”
A rápida deterioração das condições de sobrevivência é magistralmente intercalada com situações contrastantes, desde expedições ao estrangeiro para recolher sementes raras ao paralelo efectuado com os jardins suspensos da Babilónia, desde o desespero à evocação do prazer de comer. A analogia estabelecida com a Babilónia serve também para relembrar a vulnerabilidade da obra do homem, por mais valiosa ou complexa que seja, e, especialmente, em como é o próprio homem a causa da ruína daquilo que ele próprio construiu.
“Desvario laborioso e empobrecedor é o de compor vastos livros; o de espraiar por quinhentas páginas uma ideia cuja perfeita exposição oral cabe em poucos minutos.”

Jorge Luis Borges

Em Fome, Elise Blackwell consegue, de modo elegante e conciso, apresentar as consequências da ausência de disciplina moral. Através da perfeita justaposição de opostos, sem divagações desnecessárias ou desperdício de palavras, somos confrontados com a forma como o móbil último da natureza humana - a auto-preservação – se impõe na nossa conduta.

“Como sempre, o meu arrependimento foi instantâneo. Não me refiro à culpa do roubo e sobrevivência, que era constante, mas o simples arrependimento por ter despertado a terrível fome que conseguira finalmente entorpecer.
Disse a mim próprio que a dor era o preço da vida; a sua ausência era o passo para a morte.”

[Allison · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have a weakness for small, beautiful, matte-paper hardback books. While I'm reading them I can't stop smoothing my fingers over the cover paper. Sometimes my husband asks if the book and I would like to be alone.
The prose is spare and somehow cold in this book. Reading it feels somehow akin to walking through the frigid, snow-dusted squares of a Russian city. It makes you feel cold and sad and hungry.
The unnamed narrator is a scientist who collects plants and seeds to be stored safely and kept for posterity at the Research Institute of Plant Industry in Leningrad. His wife and mistress both work at the Institute as well. The novel concerns the siege of Leningrad by German troops in 1941, when food becomes so scarce that people are reduced to unthinkable measures in order to stay alive.
The narrator does not present himself as a man beyond reproach, which makes the story chillingly realistic. He details ways in which he acted both with bravery and cowardice throughout the 'hunger winter' and admits without melodrama that he raided the stores of grains and rice which he was entrusted with protecting in order not to starve to death. The image of him chewing on hard rice kernels with his malnutrition-loosened teeth is viscerally distrubing. He also describes notice boards where people offer to trade work, heirlooms, bodies and souls for foods -- "The bravery to survive is a ruthless one. Martyrdom leads, by its very definition, only to the cold ground".
The story is full of potent images, such as the trees in the city stripped of bark for a dubious food source, so that they are naked and skeletal. There are heartening stories of "tremendous sacrifice and honour" but also many which demonstrate, as the narrator believes, that "deprivation debases more often than it ennobles".
This is a story that provokes thought on the essential issues of what makes us human, and how little hardship is needed to strip away the veneer of civilization and reduce us to our basest instincts. Reading it in a place where food is readily available and easily wasted was an uncomfortable but rewarding experience.

[Gwen · Rating 4 out of 5]

For all of Blackwell's descriptions of rare fronds and botanical advances, I'm glad to say Hunger is every bit as organic as it ought to be. (I hesitate to call it a novella -- though it racks in at 129 pages of prose, the text is large and the margins are wide.) The reader is privy to snatches of place and time via the wide ruminations of an aging, unnamed botanist who survived the blockade of Leningrad. There isn't much time for character development (but rather character devolution) during this particular tragedy.

To be honest, it reminds me of a hillside of aspen. Each tree is connected to thousands of others, which is why they change color as a unit. I've watched this singular transformation both close-up and from a distance (i.e. my back door in Santa Fe) for the past seven years, and have always been awestruck. Now, living several hundred miles away, I'm drawn to recall the later days of October when the aspen turn brown and lose their leaves. It's generally just before the first snowfall, though for at least a few days, one is left staring at a barren forest.

Blackwell's story moves like this: Leningrad --> Babylon --> Nicaragua --> New York --> starvation --> sex --> feasts --> war --> desire --> fruit --> theft --> sex --> starvation --> Ethiopia --> Asia Minor --> Leningrad.

(Here's one orange aspen, but then, looking again, here's a brown hillside.)

In other words, each element is connected to each other element, leaving only the whole bloody, blooming mass of human and agricultural history. It's a lot of pomp for such a little volume, but it flows like a poem, and mood fortifies where characters do not. Actually, there were more than a few times I read and reread a certain passage in hope of gleaning Blackwell's writerly secret. I'm not sure I succeeded, but I certainly shelved Hunger with more than my fair share of pilfered seed money.

[Cee · Rating 2 out of 5]

I didn't start 2019 on a good note by reading "Hunger." I thought/hoped my degree in history and my interest in WWII would help my understanding and enjoyment of this book, but it actually hindered it; for better or for worse, the lack of decipherable history would be the least of my concerns about this dreadfully dull book. (That said, the book almost feels like a betrayal of the men and women of the Institute, the men and women that historically died because they wanted to save their scientific works. I don't want to spoil, but there are some things the narrator and potentially another character do that were less than honorable.) The narrator is unpalatable, to say the least - I know that not every book needs to have a narrator that the reader enjoys or a narrator that is redeemed at the end, but this one was especially bad for me. Misogynistic and licentious, I never felt he had any sort of redemption, though I do think Blackwell was aiming for that with the final paragraphs of the book. There were a handful of sentences and phrases that I enjoyed and found quite beautiful; Blackwell isn't necessarily a bad writer, and she did generally portray the narrator's clinical and existential way of existing rather well.

I'm glad this was a short read, because the whole time I was waiting for the end.

[Maren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Elise Blackwell offers a fictional account of the scientists who saved seeds, grains, and potatoes at the Vavilov Institute while they were starving during the Siege of Leningrad. It is a trim little book of short, evocative passages as the unnamed and morally questionable scientist narrator veers between the slow starvation of the siege to his various appetites, as he remembers both meals and women from his past. It was well-worth reading and will likely spur readers to find out more about the Siege of Leningrad or pick up a botany book. Reading it while hungry is not recommended.

[Christy · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked the book, but the beginning felt as if a big reveal would come. It was not as earth shattering as I was expecting it to be, so it felt disappointing. The topic is fascinating and makes you want to learn more about the seige of Leningrad.

[Ana Lúcia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fome de Elise Blackwell é um livro pequenino, que satisfaz muitos apetites…
Esta leitura conseguiu encher-me tanto…
As texturas, os sabores, os cheiros, a sensualidade do prazer de comer.
A fome de alimentos tão desesperada, que transforma irremediavelmente tudo e todos.
A fome de amor, de traição e de tantas outras coisas.
Um livro maravilhoso!
“Sacudindo estas sementes que significam a minha vida, vejo que são belas”.

[Pete Young · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Soviet Union’s premier botanical institute is the setting for this rather peculiar novel about Leningrad under blockade from German forces in 1941, though the focus is more on the experience and memories of an unnamed protagonist as he, his wife and his colleagues struggle to deal with the ideological extremes of Stalin’s totalitarianism and Trofim Lysenko’s disastrous collectivisation of Soviet agriculture as their nation starves. In spite of the hardships in the worst times of the ‘hunger winter’, the scientists have made a pact: no matter how bad conditions become they will protect their precious cache of seeds that will be their gift to the country’s future. The unnamed narrator is a scientist who has already made various travels to remote places around the world, and the book’s triangular balance is between these memories, his experience of the Seige of Leningrad and assorted sexual reminiscences. He comes across as a particularly unlikeable person with both a bottomless pit of personal vanity and a considerable amount of emotional detachment from the suffering, prefering to recall his appetite for sexual infidelity or at least try to make sense of it in the context of the hunger he witnesses around him.

Despite this being her first novel Elise Blackwell has something of a literary pedigree, but quite why she chose this setting to make some existential points about hunger, appetite and remorse in this particular way was, while reading, largely beyond me, though when seen instead as a long parable about temptation and forbidden fruit it tends to make much more sense. Hunger may have been selected by the L.A. Times as a Notable Book of 2003, but this wasn’t quite the notable book I was expecting: disturbing and curious, I would have preferred a novel lighter on the existentialism and heavier on the real-world subject matter itself.

[Sweetp-1 · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a short novella, a one-sitting read. The prose is delicious, like poetry in places, in the form of short vignettes. It's very sparse and pared down and bleak which is fitting for the subject matter (the siege of Leningrad during WWII). The story unfolds slowly, alternating between heart breaking and stomach griping glimpses of what the siege was like, with richer and decadent descriptions of the narrator's sexual conquests, his relationship with his wife and his international travels as a scientist at an agricultural Institute (who during the siege famously protect their stores of seeds from the invading Germans, the famine and themselves). Simply brilliant.

[Daisy · Rating 5 out of 5]

The only reason it took me longer than an hour or so to read short novel is that I had to stop so often to copy its affecting and beautiful sentences into my notebook. I wrote nine different quotes down. I'm kind of speechless. This was amazing.

[Sara · Rating 3 out of 5]

A very short, rather sad novel about a man who did not die of starvation during the siege of Leningrad though others around him did.

He finds ways to eat and he survives but not without a cost. His memories meander from happy times spent traveling the world to bittersweet remembrances of his wife.

This truly seems like a horrible thing to have endured and those that made it through are scarred.

[Erika Said]

Un botánico ruso se propone reunir la colección más grande de semillas del mundo mientras un pseudocientífico, seguidor de las ideas de Stalin, declara “enemigo de clase” al instituto que resguarda estos granos. Poco después estalla la guerra con Alemania, las tropas nazis sitian la ciudad, provocan más muertes por inanición que por bombardeos. El libro Hunger, traducido al español como Hambre, es una novela corta publicada en 2003 por la escritora norteamericana Elise Blackwell quien, en 139 páginas lleva al lector a la Rusia de los años 1940, a través de la que es considerada la hambruna más terrible que se ha vivido en la historia moderna.

Se trata de una pieza fragmentaria, con capítulos cortos o viñetas que no siguen una temporalidad cronológica sino una “intersección de diferentes escalas de tiempo en el momento presente,” (Dünnen) estrategia de la narratología contemporánea que replica el concepto geológico de “tiempo profundo,” con el fin de visibilizar cómo los seres humanos están acabando con el planeta en esta que a recientes fechas ha dado por llamarse la era del Antropoceno. Hambre también evoca conceptos de las llamadas “escrituras geológicas,” como el de la “agencia” de seres no humanos, por ejemplo, las semillas; o el de “larga duración,” por ejemplo, el pasado ancestral y el caminar histórico hacia el presente.

La voz del narrador-protagonista irrumpe en la página 5, desde el presente en “su apartamento en Nueva York,” durante algún momento “cercano a la muerte.” Alguien está por compartir una serie de acontecimientos que (sobre)vivió en el pasado. Pero antes de que de estas memorias comiencen a correr, una nota en la página que abre la novela, advierte de la existencia real, histórica, de Nikolai Vavilov, reconociendo que la narración presentada es “un recuento ficticio de tal tiempo (1941) y lugar (Leningrado)” y que los personajes “son invenciones … de ninguna manera basados en las valientes personas que trabajaron en lo que hoy es el Instituto Vavilov.” (4)

Una novela sobre la Segunda Guerra Mundial contiene en sí un hecho de innegable componente político, que ha sido revisitado antes que Blackwell por historiadores y escritores, pero la autora se enfrenta al reto de alterar la perspectiva, creando una ficción donde las relaciones de poder no se enuncian de manera contundente sino como ecos detrás de otros relatos cuyos actores son agencias humanas y no humanas que se enfrentan a la guerra, sus causas y sus consecuencias. Más específicamente, trata de los hombres y mujeres de ciencia que trabajaron en el Instituto, así como del sufrimiento general de la población de Leningrado a causa de la hambruna. De esta manera, el duelo individual que vive Vavilov, refleja a la vez el proceso de duelo colectivo de todo un pueblo. También las semillas son personajes afectados por la catástrofe, los granos, esos gérmenes precursores a las plantas de donde nace todo lo comestible/vegetal. En Leningrado, tanto personas, como animales, como plantas, debieron dejar atrás la vida como se conocía antes del sitio que duró de 1941 a 1944.

Un sitio, como se sabe, es una estrategia de guerra en la que las tropas enemigas intentan apoderarse del control político de un lugar, por medio de bloquear el flujo humano y el intercambio comercial. Los ciudadanos se van atrapados en un territorio que, tarde o temprano, agota sus reservas de energía y alimentos para ir muriendo de inanición. La pieza realista que Blackwell presenta, discurre sobre la manera como fue escaseando lo necesario para vivir, la sensación de decadencia intensificada a la par con la falta de alimento y la llegada del invierno. La miseria se apodera de las calles, de los edificios, evacuados o abandonados por las muertes, por la huida. Se percibe la ropa sucia de quienes siguen vivos, la desnutrición, los huesos marcados donde antes hubo carne. Los animales —incluso los rastreros— se extinguen, el agua sucia del río Neva es todo lo que tienen para hidratarse. Dicho proceso de esplendor a decadencia, como muestra la novela misma al comparar Leningrado con Babilonia, ha sucedido repetidas veces en las grandes civilizaciones de la historia. Una caída que en veces toma siglos, en veces es repentina. Es así como, a través de una sedimentación en las capas temporales de la historia, la autora contrapone ambientes, colores, temperaturas: para enunciar los tiempos de hambre se ha de enunciar también la saciedad, para enunciar la desolación, se enuncian las pasiones, la opulencia para intensificar la idea de carencia.

Hay al menos cinco temporalidades identificables en la pieza. Una, el presente en Nueva York, desde donde Vavilov narra en primera persona tras haber sobrevivido. Otra, los días/años/meses anteriores al sitio. Otra más, los días de la hambruna. Una cuarta es el pasado remoto del protagonista, cuando la guerra no se veía venir. Finalmente, una quinta en la que desde la individual historia de la mítica Babilonia, se representa la generalidad de las primeras civilizaciones agricultoras, las primeras tensiones políticas que llevarían a la caída de un gran imperio. Esta capa narrativa es a su vez una capa geológica la cual “excava”, a la manera de Samuel Becket, el pasado más remoto de la humanidad, “desplegando figuras de ruinación” donde “vastos sistemas de vida se acatan, escondidos a la vista, complicando aún más la relación con lo inorgánico.” (Byron)

De las mencionadas temporalidades, ninguna parece tener mayor importancia que otra dentro de la novela, salvo por las decisiones narrativas de la autora, al presentar alguna antes, alguna después. Se podría hablar, por tanto, de un despliegue democrático de todas ellas. Primero, el presente desde donde el narrador rememora su pasado.

Luego se le presenta al lector con la temporalidad de los días/años/meses anteriores al sitio, momentos de una intensidad intermedia en cuanto a que los personajes todavía todavía viven una vida normal. Vavilov disfruta de la buena comida, sale al teatro, lleva una relación cordial con su esposa. Asimismo se relatan las fricciones entre el gobierno de Stalin, se menciona a Lysenko —considerado por la ciencia moderna, hoy, como “pseudocientífico”— y se suceden las primeras represiones políticas, pinceladas apenas, de lo que viene después: “En 1927 todavía nos reíamos de la descripción que Fedorovich hizo de Lysenko en Pravda, quemé el recorte un año y medio después, aunque lo hice a cambio de calor y no por resentimiento, ni siquiera por diversión.” (24) El mismo articulo periodístico del que habla el personaje, Blackwell lo incluye a manera de cita. Se trata de una publicación proveniente de archivos históricos reales. Un “reciclaje” que funciona como práctica (des)apropiativa, pues incluye materiales ajenos a su propia escritura, cuestionando con ello la idea de una sola autora que escribe en solitario y brindando al texto, más allá de la evidente apariencia de realismo, un sentido de comunalidad o pluralidad en el proceso creativo. (Rivera Garza)

La temporalidad de los años remotos, anteriores al sitio, se narra desde el recuerdo nostálgico de Vavilov. Aquí, cuenta su labor recolectando semillas, los viajes por el mundo en compañía de biólogas celulares, genetistas, patólogos, especialistas en distintas áreas de la botánica, incluyendo al Gran Director, su colega, jefe y amigo. Su propia esposa, Alena, botánica también, forma parte de estos episodios. Aquí se crea una atmósfera cálida, que contrasta con el frío, el hambre y la decadencia de los días venideros. Está la inocencia de las primeras veces, la cotidianidad con Alena y, paralamente, la compañía sensual de los romances extra-matrimoniales. Están también los sabores de la comida que llegó a probar, mangos dulcísimos, melones gigantes, manjares ofrecidos por jeques árabes. Sin caer en el exoticismo, el protagonista relata sus aventuras por el norte de la India, Nicaragua, México, Etiopía, Malta, Moscú en el verano, lugares tropicales que él visitó en calidad de turista, siempre con el ojo clínico de quien busca nuevos granos y semillas para su colección.

La siguiente temporalidad corresponde a la de los días del sitio, en ella narra la manera en la que él y el resto de los sobrevivientes lograron no morir. Las semillas y granos, que tienen un papel preponderante a lo largo de la obra, se convierten en joyas preciosas que hay que proteger en un lugar donde escasea el alimento. Esa colección de granos, que en otro tiempo estuvo destinada a la preservación de las especies vegetales para su futura investigación, a manera de arca de Noé, es ahora una tentación para un hombre hambriento que debe pasar horas resguardándola de otras personas tan hambrientas como él. Situaciones críticas que se plantean como cruciales en la decisión que tomará más adelante el personaje, de dedicar el resto de su vida a buscar métodos para combatir el hambre en el mundo. Sin que él se considere un héreo, sino, por el contrario, la heroicidad de Vavilov se enuncia en varios momentos de la novela, proveyendo al lector de los elementos para que éste saque sus propias conclusiones. Blackwell narra que en un primer momento de la hambruna los “botánicos se movieron hacia la defensa de la ciudad. Analizaron el camuflaje del suelo … Cultivaron injertos de hongos, desarrollaron métodos de recolección y procesamiento para extraer antisépticos del esfagno. Se dieron a la caza de nuevas fuentes de vitaminas y medicina. A través de su trabajo, expandieron la misma definición de lo comestible.” (15)

Las semillas son, por otra parte, también heroínas en Hambre. Esto se logra, no a través de una humanización, sino a través de contar su historia como especie compañera del botánico, quien siempre se expresa con fascinación sobre ellas, hablando de su longevidad y capacidad para sobrevivir a ambientes hostiles. Un ejemplo es el cactus de su esposa Alena, el cual sobrevive a la falta de sol y agua, con tan sólo la saliva de su cuidadora como fuente de hidratación. Las plantas, demuestra Vavilov a través del recuento histórico de los días de la grande Babilonia —quinta y última temporalidad—, han acompañado a los humanos desde temprano en la Historia. Tal como los antiguos utilizaban la cebada como moneda de intercambio (30) en épocas anteriores a la civilización industrial, durante el sitio algunos botánicos lograron salvar ciertos granos preciados, por medio de disfrazarse de mendigos soviéticos que vendían semillas a los soldados de Hitler. (16) La similitud del valor de las semillas en ambos tiempos históricos resulta en una capa que la autora desedimenta. Otro ejemplo de desedimentación del tiempo que hay en el libro, sucede en la página 88, cuando se muestran tres capas temporales superpuestas la Plaza Sennaya. Vavilov recuerda que dicho lugar estuvo sumergido en agua durante la inundación de 1924. En 1914, hubo alimento sobre ella, “cuando la nueva policía de economía se adjudicó la propiedad de los sembradíos de col, verduras y raíces que había ahí”. Mientras que “ahora,” —explica el narrador desde su realidad en los 1940—, hay en ella ataúdes sumergidos.

La relación entre la remota Babilonia de 1595 a.C. y la época de los años 40 en que vivió Vavilov, más allá del parecido entre las palabras Vavilov-Babylon, más allá de equipar el aporte a la humanidad que representaron los Jardines Colgantes con el proyecto de colectar semillas que inició Vavilov, resulta un espejeo entre la continuidad que han tenido desde entonces los conflictos bélicos, luchas de poder y conquista: “Los asirios —notorios por su brutalidad y redistribución de la población— trajeran más sufrimiento a Babilonia. Sus largas y sangrientas batallas con los egipcios conllevaron al sitio de la ciudad, que duró casi precisamente lo mismo que duraría el sitio a Leningrado muchos años después.” (109)

Lo que hace la autora es “apropiarse” del pasado profundo y utilizar el presente geológico, con el fin de cuestionar los momentos históricos fundacionales de ciertas dinámicas de poder, en otras palabras: aporta más técnicas de desedimentación literaria, al extraer capa por capa varios niveles del pasado geológico sobre los que se erigen las actuales civilizaciones. Estrategias narratológicas (desapropiación, excavación) utilizadas por el ecocriticismo y la teoría descolonial, así que no sorprende que la novela haya sido evaluada como una “ecocrítica poscolonial,” (Manggong) por priorizar las semillas y no la vida humana.

Finalmente, se nos presenta una pieza tan alejada del romanticismo como los escritores naturalistas hubiesen exigido, pero también alejada del determinismo y el objetivismo científico propio de esa tradición. El protagonista es dual, de ética profesional íntegra pero se enfrenta a diatribas morales propias de su condición humana. Un ejemplo es cuando siente el mismo nivel de culpa cuando sucumbe a los arrebatos sensuales que lo llevan a serle infiel a su mujer, que cuando mastica unos cuantos granos de arroz con el miedo de estar extinguiendo algo único en su especie.

Los capítulos no favorecen ningún tiempo histórico sobre otro, la autora muestra abiertamente que se está apropiando de una historia, por ello utiliza materiales bibliográficos que le comparte al lector al final, en la sección de “Reconocimientos”, aceptando que “esta novela no fue escrita sin ayuda.” Al trascender formas antes vistas de narrar, al presentar cierto (nuevo) materialismo, Elise Blackwell se posiciona dentro de una tradición que para el momento en que escribió la novela aún era muy nueva, a la fecha, el neomaterialismo aún sigue en construcción y en discusión sobre los sistemas disfuncionales antropocénicos.

Se trata de una tendencia narratológica que procura hacerle justicia al medio ambiente, a la vez que honrar a quienes anteriormente han buscado la misma justicia para el planeta o la humanidad, por lo que reflexionan cómo puede nuestra raza implementar nuevos sistemas sociales que no amenacen la continuidad de la vida animada y no animada de nuestro mundo.

[Cassi · Rating 5 out of 5]

An intimate look at perseverance and remorse during ww2. Beautifully written.

[Diane · Rating 4 out of 5]

This slim book reads more like a short story. I was hooked from the first sentence, "It is not so uncommon for those near the end of their lives to run their mind's hand over the contours of those lives." The unnamed narrator is living in a New York apartment in his old age as he contemplates the years of the Siege Of Leningrad. During that time of "the hunger winter" residents strip bark from trees and barter sex and valuables for crusts of bread. The narrator worked for a botanical institute where he and the other scientists agree to protect the institute's collection of rare seeds. The narrator sustains himself by nibbling a few seeds at a time even while those around him are dying. Then he says he is never sated. "I have awakened that horrible hunger." In a similar vein, the narrator is selfish and adulterous. He cheats on his saintly wife and yet his infidelity also leaves him hungry and unsatisfied. The book is about remorse, memory, conscience and the passage of time. It is well-written and based on true historical events.

"A man is ruled by appetite and remorse, and I swallowed what I could."

[Christina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting story. Gives you "food for thought" :-)

[BellaGBear · Rating 4 out of 5]

fascinating story about a plant gathering place during a hunger winter

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

A brief glimpse into some of the horrors of Leningrad, encouraged to read “The 900 Days: The Siege Of Leningrad” for a full account of this atrocity.

[Kim · Rating 3 out of 5]

This will be the first book for Popsugar prompts 47 and 48
This story tells parallel stories - one is Leningrad starving to death from autumn of 1941. The other is the collection of rare seeds from around the world by the Institute of Plant Industry.
The comparison between the life in Leningrad during those terrible 900s days with no food and none coming, and the rich luxurious life travelling the world, collecting seeds to protect fruit and vegetable species.

This little book is tight and sparse. The very words used create the sense of the cold desperation of Leningrad at the time, with these little pockets of warm, lushness, like a slightly too warm room after being out in the snow. Probably exactly what the rooms the seeds were being stored in my have felt like; with the addition of the the potential food held in those seeds, that simply cannot be realised in the circumstances.

I liked this book and felt a bit scraped out after reading it

[Rick · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fictionalized account of a fascinating event in history, the German siege of Leningrad, with a particular focus on the seed bank that was being maintained there although with ever dwindling support from the Soviet government. Spare and lyrically beautiful, this novella at times left me feeling as though I was reading poetry rather than prose. It is partly an exploration of human strengths and weaknesses in time of great depravation and partly one man's reminiscences of his personal journey and his experience with survivor's guilt. It was a good thing this was a quick read because I found it almost impossible to put down.

[Susan · Rating 1 out of 5]

??? What does Babylon have to do with the siege of Leningrad in WWII? What does a philandering scientist’s rambling memories of illicit affairs and the gathering of specimens have to do with siege of Leningrad in WWII?

Quite by coincidence, just a few weeks ago I read The Siege by Helen Dunsmore and was carried away to that time and place and catastrophe. A far superior reflection, in my opinion, into the devastation wrought by the German attempt at the total annihilation of Leningrad. This novel, Hunger, simply doesn’t compare.

[Patty · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Sometimes in life, as in literature, people get their just desserts. The greedy man loses everything because he cannot resist seeking more riches.”

I don’t remember when I read this novel first. I just know that it has lived in my head for a long time.

I have always found the siege of Leningrad fascinating. I read an abridgement (Readers Digest Condensed Books) of Salisbury’s The 900 Days sometime in college. Since then, when a book crosses my path about the subject, I at least add it to my TBR.

Whenever I read Blackwell’s story, it made a big impact. Whenever someone mentioned a seed library, my brain would remind me of this tale. The idea of seed libraries was new to me when I read this and then the dilemma – save seeds or save myself was one I didn’t want to have to decide. All in all, Blackwell wrote a good book because she gave me so much to think about.

Except, my memory did not coincide with the actual book. My memory was flat out wrong. I didn’t remember the character correctly or the ending of the story. So bizarre.

This book is good. The story still makes me think about the ethical dilemmas that it contains. However, it is not the novel that I had been thinking about for more than a decade.

Now I have other things to think about. Why did my brain do this? What will I remember from this reading?

[Fernando Pestana da Costa · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Portuguese translation of Hunger, this short novel takes place in Leningrad during the siege by Hitler's army in the second world war. The narrator and his colleagues are biologists at a research institute where they try to save its huge seed collection from the starved population and from themselves.

[Romanna · Rating 4 out of 5]

None of us knows whether we would be brave in dire circumstances. We can’t know what we would do. This beautifully written debut novel is the story of how one person responded to the dire circumstances of hunger during Hitler’s long winter siege of Leningrad.

[Victor Ramirez Urueta · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting topic however this books seems kind of disconnected, it comes and goes with no apparent congruence, some parts did not even make sense to me. It touches very lightly the siege and wanders across an unfaithful marriage. I would say pass if you're thinking on reading this...