Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me

by Andra Putnis

When she breaks an unspoken family code not to dig too deep into the past, Andra is plunged into the bleak world of the Soviet and Nazi occupations of Latvia in World War II, and secret lives of her grandmothers.

As children, we'd sneak into Grandma's bedroom on secret missions. Her cupboard was filled with old fur coats, strange woven folk costumes and small mountains of glowing amber. We were half-scared, made breathless by our discoveries, but knew we hadn't seen it all, hadn't understood what was really hidden there. When she breaks an unspoken family code not to dig too deep into the past, Andra is plunged into the bleak world of the Soviet and Nazi occupations of Latvia in World War II, and secret lives of her grandmothers.

Teenage Aline is separated from her parents and sent to serve in Germany's war-time labour force. With the much-feared Soviet army on the doorstep, pregnant Milda embarks on a desperate winter escape with her young son. They face heart-wrenching decisions and endure years of hardship before finally voyaging to Australia. Among the tight-knit Latvian migrant community, Aline and Milda forge new lives. But even there, reminders of wartime scandal and grief threaten to drag them under.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Biography Memoir, Historical, Biography, World War II, Memoir

304 pages, Paperback

Published July 2, 2024

About the author

Andra is an Australian writer working to tell powerful stories to help us better understand our world and each other.

Her debut book reveals the incredible stories of how her two Latvian grandmothers lived through the terror of the Second World War and survived to immigrate to Australia.

Against the backdrop of our increasingly uncertain world, the book delves into why we need the stories of our grandmothers to better understand where we come from and who we want to be.

Andra lives in Canberra on Ngunnawal and Ngambri country with her partner and two children. She's loves spending time curled up reading or outside in the sun.

Reviews

[Veronica ⭐️ · Rating 5 out of 5]

I often wonder with biographies if we are really getting the full story or just the watered down version of the person's life. The nice bits.

I can honestly say that Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me comes across as a 'warts and all' telling. The grandmothers reveal long held secrets and even air, what might be considered to them to be, their dirty washing.

I loved Andra Putnis' grandmothers for their honesty. Nothing is held back in this sincere biography.

Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me is a heartfelt story on a grand scale. I have read much about the lives of ordinary people displaced by World War II and the measures they went to to escape persecution; however I have never come across anything on the war in Latvia and the people who were forced to flee their homeland.
Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me is a book that champions the courage and resilience of these remarkable women. It opened my eyes and my heart to these women.

Andra retells conversations with her grandmothers, Milda and Aline, and also other members of the family and people from the Latvian Community in Australia. The story goes beyond the war and escaping Russian rule to venture into life in Australia and trying to adapt to a new country whilst also trying to hold onto their own heritage.

Thank you Andra Putris for sharing your family's story with me and also your treasured family photos which were truly an honour to pore over.

Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me is an emotional story, filled to the brim with love.
Do yourself a favour and read this remarkable book!

[Elina Dlohi · Rating 5 out of 5]

sirdi plosoša grāmata, kura jāizlasa ikvienam

Ir grāmatas, kuras izlasot tu jūties satricināts. Un tieši tā man bija ar Andras Putnis biogrāfisko romānu "Ko manas vecmāmiņas man nestāstīja". Šo atsauksmi nav pavisam viegli uzrakstīt. Neesmu droša, ka man izdosies jums nodot tās emocijas un sajūtas, kuras man bija lasot šo grāmatu, tāpēc varu tikai ieteikt izlasīt šo grāmatu jums pašiem.
Grāmatas atvēršanas pasākumā, kurā man bija iespēja satikt autori, mani aizķēra doma par klusēšanas kultūru mūsu ģimenēs. Par to, cik daudz netiek pateikts. Cik daudz ir norīts. Manā prātā uzreiz bija manas vecmāmiņas - cik gan maz es īstenībā par viņām zinu. Šī grāmata man lika aizdomāties: ko mēs visi esam palaiduši garām, jo neesam jautājuši? Vai arī tāpēc, ka atbildes nekad nav dotas?
Autore grāmatā dod balsi savai dzimtai — vecmāmiņai Mildai un omītei Alīnei, kuras atklāj sen glabātus noslēpumus un izstāsta savus stāstus.Grāmata aizved mūs no Latvijas kara un pēckara gadiem līdz pat dzīvei Austrālijā — mēģinājumiem iejusties, nezaudējot sevi. Tas ir stāsts par bēgļu pieredzi, par sieviešu izdzīvošanas spēju, par dzimtas klusuma slāņiem un atklāšanas dziedinošo spēku, arī par kaunu. Kā autore raksta “omīte man iemācīja, ko nozīmē būt cilvēkam, kā izpelnīties žēlastību un viedumu, kas rodas pārdzīvojot tumsu un svinot gaismu”.
Šī nav "uzfrišināta" biogrāfija, kurā stāstīti tikai skaistie un ērti pārstāstāmi dzīves notikumi. Šeit ir arī netīrā veļa — patiesības, kuras sabiedrība mēdz ignorēt vai nosodīt. Un tieši tas padara šo grāmatu tik spēcīgu. Ir vietas, kurās ar pavisam maz teksta ir pateikts kas vairāk. Ceru arī Tu lasot to pamanīsi. Mēs tieši vakar ar Vija Kilbloka Zvaigznes sarunu vakarā tās pārrunājām.
"Ko manas vecmāmiņas man nestāstīja" ir emocionāls un dziļi personīgs stāsts, kas atgādina, cik svarīgi ir klausīties — kamēr vēl varam.

Paldies, Andra, ka dalījies ar šo stāstu🇱🇻❤️.

Stories My Grandmothers Didn't Tell Me is an emotional and deeply personal journey that reminds us how important it is to listen — while we still can.
Thank you, Andra, for sharing this story🇱🇻❤️

"Vecākās paaudzes, kas piedzīvojušas šausmīgus laikus, bieži par tiem nerunā. Taču dažreiz viņu balsis pirms dzīves beigām ir saklausāmas dedzīgas un trauksmainas, skaļas un skaidras. Citreiz tās ir dzirdamas tikai atmiņās, mājienos un čukstos - mājienos par to, kas palicis pagātnē”.

[Ieva Strazdiņa [mrs.lasitaja] · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pabeidzu ar asarām acīs. 💔

[Janete Spure · Rating 5 out of 5]

6 💔 no 5 💔
1. Valoda un rakstības stils.
Līdz kaulam trāpīgi pat tikai fakti, nerunājot jau par pašu stāstījumu, kas pilns atklātu sarunu un patiesu atklāsmju. 🙏🏻💔
2. Sižets un tēmas aktualitāte.
Kāds varbūt teiks, ka šī ir grāmata par Otro pasaules karu, bet vairāk tas ir stāsts par cilvēkiem, kuri šo karu pārdzīvoja. Par cilvēkiem ar stipru garu, kuru neizdevās salauzt un par cilvēkiem, kuri salūza un nekad vairs nebija tādi kā agrāk. Daudz skarbas realitātes, kas liek uzdot jautājumus par mīlestību,nāvi, ciešanām un Dievu. Daudz tiek pacelta arī baznīcas tēma, kas mani tikai pārliecināja, ka Dievs ne vienmēr jāmeklē baznīcā. Bieži pat tieši pretēji...No vienas puses komunisms ar savām represijām, no otras baznīca ar savām. Grūti atrast vidusceļu.
Latvija pilnīgi citā skatījumā, kā valsts, kura tika atņemta tās iedzīvotājiem un atkal jāsaka, ka mēs neaptveram kā mums paveicies, ka varam dzīvot tādā Latvijā kāda tā ir šodien. Vai spējat iedomāties dzīvi bēgļu nometnē tā vietā, lai atrastos savās mājās ar savu ģimeni? Kur ēdienu varēja dabūt iemainot kādas no personīgajām mantām. Un tā vēl bija liela veiksme, jo tas nozīmēja, ka jūs neaizsūtīja uz Sibīriju. Vai vērot kā nodeg baznīca, kura bija jūsu mājas un, ja mēģināt to glābt tiekat nošauti. Nē, mēs to visu nevaram pat aptvert, bet šis stāsts ir viens no tiem, kas uzrunā dziļi personīgi. Šī pagātne skar mūs visus, jo tās ir mūsu saknes, paldies autorei, kura parādīja, ka, tomēr gaisma uzvarēja tumsu. 🙏🏻💔
3. Tēlu atveidojums.
Dzīvi, īsti un patiesi cilvēki ar savām domām, ego un pasaules uztveri. Kas var būt interesantāk?
4. Emocionālais pārdzīvojums.
Kad sāku lasīt man bija kosmētika, kad izlasīju vairs nebija. 😪 Bet daudzas no šīm asarām bija arī aizkustinājuma asaras.🙏🏻
5. Atziņas/Citāti
Citāts, kas izsaka ļoti daudz:"Pats galvenais ir Staļins nevis Dievs."

[Zane B. · Rating 5 out of 5]

​Romāns parāda, kā vēstures traumas ietekmē paaudžu likteņus, pat ja par tām atklāti nerunā. Spēcīgs, skaists un vajadzīgs stāsts par mīlestību, klusēšanu un latvisko mantojumu.

[Sintija Levica · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brīnišķīga grāmata! Paldies par šādu, dziļi personisku vēstures atspoguļojumu.

[Katie Puttock · Rating 5 out of 5]

I so enjoyed this intimate story, told from such a unique yet relatable point of view. It is a remarkable story of female strength, determination and desire to do best for our family, and children. It is written in such a way that draw the reader both into the family, will simultaneously reflect on one’s own family and story of being. Highly recommend.

[Karen · Rating 5 out of 5]

A powerful book as a granddaughter seeks to understand her Latvian born Grandmothers who arrived in Australia as Displaced Persons after WWII.

"Older generations who have been through terrible times don't speak very often about them. But sometimes their voices come before the end, in a roaring rush, loud and clear. Other times they are heard only through memories, hints and whispers, clues they've left behind."

As someone who has researched and written on the DPs who came to Australia for well over a decade now this was a fascinating read. Based on memories, letters, interviews/oral testimonies and archival research Putnis bought to life the story of her DP grandmothers and others. A very personal story, and yet poignant to so many who have lived with the legacy of this period of history. Essential reading for those who do not know of it.

"Trauma often passes down the generations. The children of DPs grew up with a terrible knowing and not knowing of the terrors that had come before them. In order to survive, they often used a combination of techniques: embracing the narrative of the distant homeland as their own; seeking to run as far away from it as possible; and, above all, wanting to do well enough in their own lives to somehow remove their parent's pain."

Highly recommended.

[Inga Kalna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Vajadzēja veselu nakti, lai saprastu, ko vēlos par šo teikt. Pirmkārt, šis nav romāns, šis ir ļoti personisks autobiogrāfisks ģimenes dzīvesstāsts - tieši realitātes apziņa šo darbu padara īstu. Pēc Šepetis stāsta par Sibīriju - par tiem, kas nepaspēja aizbraukt un tika deportēti, šis stāsts par tiem, kam izdevās aizbraukt, pavēra aizkara otru pusi. Manā bērnībā - 90.tajos, tie, kam bija radi Amerikā vai citur ārzemēs, šķita veiksmīgāki, laimīgāki - viņiem bija "paveicies". Šajā stāstā bija iespēja ielūkoties realitātē, kādu to piedzīvoja un pieredzēja "laimīgie" aizbraucēji. Atzīšos, ka es mazliet vīpsnāju par ārzemju latviešiem, kas lepni sevi apkarina ar prievītēm un auseklīšiem - man, padomju laikā dzimušam bērnam, tas šķita mazliet pompozi un smieklīgi. Sak', ko jūs vispār saprotat, baigie latvieši, dzīvo savā iedomu utopiskajā Latvijā. Taču tagad nokaunos par šo. Tā BIJA VIŅU Latvija, kādu tie, savos pašos skaistākajos jaunības gados būdami, bija spiesti atstāt un doties svešumā. Jo īpaši pēdējās nodaļās aprakstītās sajūtas, kad pēc 50 gadu prombūtnes viņi atkal sper kāju uz brīvas, savas Latvijas zemes... Es spēju sagaršot to vilšanos.
Paldies autorei par šo dzimtas stāstu!

[Ilze · Rating 5 out of 5]

Candid and heartbreaking journeys of Latvian women deeply affected by horrors of WW2, and then building a life in Australia.

[Jennifer (JC-S) · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘So, you want to know about Latvia and the war?’

In this book, Ms Putnis addresses the journeys made by her Latvian-born grandmothers, Milda (1913-1997) and Aline (1924-2021), from war-torn Europe to a new life in Australia. In her late twenties, Ms Putnis decided to write about the hidden stories of her grandmothers, about how they survived World War II in Latvia and then journeyed to Australia. By then, Ms Putnis’s maternal grandmother Milda was dead, but she had lived with her daughter’s family for some years beforehand and Ms Putnis had had many conversations with her. Her paternal grandmother, Aline, was willing (after asking some tough questions) to share her story.

In 1942, as a teenager, Aline was separated from her parents and served in Germany’s war-time labour force. In 1944, with the war coming to an end and the Soviet Army poised to replace the Germans, Milda left Latvia with her parents and her eighteen-month-old son Juris. Milda was seven months pregnant. She thought her husband Rudis was dead. Both women ended up in Displaced Persons camps in Germany before arriving in Australia. In the early 1950s, both Milda and Aline settled in Newcastle, where they met through the Latvian migrant community.

There is much more to both stories than this. Stories of heartbreak and trauma, of the need to make difficult decisions and of resilience. Reading this book, I could both understand why the past was not often revisited, and why revisiting the past is so important.

‘Most refugee stories become largely about the next generation born in the new land.’

Understandably, people want to move on from painful memories while also maintaining important cultural and social links and ties. The generation born in the new land will have a different perspective. By providing historical context and speaking with her parents as well as her grandmothers, Ms Putnis succeeds in demonstrating the struggles faced by the Baltic countries of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. These three countries were invaded by Russia, then by Nazi Germany and then by Russia again. Communication with those left behind was difficult.

I finished this book full of admiration for Milda and Aline, and for the way in which Ms Putnis tells their stories.

I would recommend this book to anyone seeking to read an account of how ordinary people navigated extraordinary events during and after World War II.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

[Dvīņu Mamma · Rating 5 out of 5]

Silti iesaku visiem izlasīt šo grāmatu. Es burtiski negulēju naktis, jo rakstītais šķita tik ļoti interesants! Man skolā vēsturē vispār nemācīja par Latvijas-Austrālijas bēgļiem, tāpēc viss lasītais bija absolūts jaunums. Man nebija ne jausmas par ilgo "marinēšanos" Vācijā pirms došanās tālāk. Tāpat nebija ne jausmas, ka Austrālijai bija īpaša bēgļu programma. Mēs daudz esam dzirdējuši par Sibīrijas šausmām, tomēr arī Austrālijā dzīve nebija salda. Skumji bija par bēgļu paaudzes bērniem, kam bija jāmācās atrast savas saknes, jo teorētiski ir grūti būt latvietim, ja esi dzimis ārpus Latvijas, bet neesi arī austrālietis, jo tēvs un māte nāk no Latvijas... Un vēl tās krasās dabas izmaņas, ja salīdzina abas valstis... - īstenībā nekad nebiju domājusi, cik ļoti daba un klimats var veidot latviešu identitāti (Austrālijā ir grūti iekopt savu dārziņu, ko dara praktiski katrs tā laika Latvijā).

Pati stāstījumsa forma arī ir interesanta - kā divu atšķirīgu Latvijas sieviešu dzīves savijās Austrālijā. Grāmatas autore ir šo sieviešu mazmeita, kuras zinātkāri un cieņu pret vecmāmiņu dzīvēm var tikai apbrīnot!

[Vija · Rating 5 out of 5]

Grāmata nu ir iznākusi arī Latvijā latviešu valodā, vērts izlasīt katram!

[Deborah · Rating 5 out of 5]

In a fictional-like narrative style, debut author Putnis tells of the journey of discovering the fascinating past of her Latvian-born grandmothers.

The story traces the lives of Grandma Milda and Nanna Aline, their childhood in native Latvia, experiences in WW2, relationships, emigration to Australia and their later years.

Putnis uses a mixture of family interviews, research and lived experience to weave together the twin stories of her grandmothers. The result is an engaging narration where the reader joins Putnis on her journey of discovery. It is exciting to find an author who is in command of their craft. The story flows with the aid of maps, a family tree, chapter titles and short chapters.

Putnis’s grandmothers lived their lives and shared their remarkable stories. It is clear in the book that Putnis considers her life has been enriched by knowing where she came from. How many other stories of this calibre remain untold?

This story has given me a taste of the history and culture of Latvia and I want to know more. I am also prompted to examine my own family history.

An enriching read.

I was granted access to an advanced copy in return for a review.

[Reader · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a great book. I cried 3 times.

Following the stories of Grandma Milda and Nanna Aline was suspenseful and captivating. Their struggles, triumphs, loves and friendships kept me glued til the very end.

From the perspective of a granddaughter I began to question all the stories my grandmother never told me and the life she led migrating from Europe. So many stories untold.

2 narratives that could easily be paralleled in a movie.

[Sisī · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lasīju ar lielu interesi un līdzjušanu kā Mildai, tā Alīnei. Cik gan neprognozējams varbūt cilvēka liktenis laikos, kad viss jūk un brūk... Latviešu spēks, sīkstums un dzimtenes mīlestības saglabāšana par spīti visam.
Aizdomājos pa to, ko nezinu un nepaguvu pajautāt savām vecmāmiņām.

[Christina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Australian Andra Putnis was a young graduate living in Darwin when she broke her family’s unwritten code of not asking her grandmothers, Milda and Aline, about their Latvian pasts.
The resulting book is an incredible legacy for Latvia, for Latvian-Australians, for Putnis’s family, and for all families.
Milda was a beautiful young newlywed in 1940 when the Soviet Union invaded Latvia. Aline was only a teenager, part of a devout Catholic family, attending a traditional singing festival with her father before soon afterwards a Russian officer and his wife moved into her family’s house.
The Russian occupation, and its Year of Terror, saw the first wave of Latvian deportations to Siberian gulags. Things were so bad that many people welcomed the 1941 invasion by Nazi Germany, with street celebrations and flowers, before the horrors of the Holocaust began emerging.
Milda’s husband was conscripted to the German Army when it became clear the Germans were losing the war and the Red Army would soon return to Latvia.
A pregnant Milda, her toddler son Juris and Milda’s parents were forced to flee Latvia without Rudis, who was later assumed dead. They made it to Germany, where baby Janis was born, and miraculously survived. They made it across Germany, at one point hiding from soldiers under the floorboards in a church, where “with my back on the frozen dirt, I felt as if I was already in a grave”.
Milda and her two small boys lived in different Displaced Persons camps for four years in Germany before voyaging to Australia on an American warship and arriving in New South Wales in 1950, where Milda met and married Edgars, a “man of gold”.
Meanwhile, teenage Aline’s dreams of becoming a nurse (what her mother described “with such love” as her life’s work) ended when she was sent to Germany to work for the war effort, without family or friends. She never saw her parents again. Young, beautiful, vulnerable and naïve, she became pregnant and married an older priest, Eddy, who left the priesthood and subsequently blamed her. Also spending years in German Displaced Persons camps, she landed in Western Australia in 1949.
They both eventually resettled in Newcastle and met when Milda was hosting one of her many gatherings for Latvians.
Putnis has put this book together beautifully. It will be a wonderful source for historians and history students, but it is also a page-turner. Thousands of hours of conversations and research have been turned into a coherent, chronological story of the lives of two brilliant, loving, loyal, brave women who were also incredible survivors.
As Putnis told her nanna Aline, the book is also about life, about how “events and people circle back around as if there’s some great pattern to it all. Your personal stories, the arc of your life – it has held the universe inside it”.

[Sintija Meijere · Rating 4 out of 5]

Akk, man tik ļoti gribējās, lai šai grāmatai es ieliktu 5 un vairāk zvaigznes, bet gribu būt godīga - man kaut kas pietrūka.
Es lieliski saprotu, ka autore ir bēgļu mazmeita un dzīvo otrā pasaules malā, bet man tomēr traucēja tas, cik distancēta viņa ir no Latvijas, no izpratnes par padomju savienību, krieviju un okupāciju kā tādu.. Jā, saprotu, ka stāsts parāda to, ka lielākās traumas dzīvē daudzi izvēlas noklusēt pat no tuvākajiem, man tomēr pietrūka vairāk emociju, klātesamības, atklātības. Arī emocionālas sasaistes ar varoņiem.
Varbūt pie vainas tas, ka esmu lasījusi tiešām dziļus un sirdi plosošus darbus par šiem pašiem laikiem un tāpēc man šis stāsts, lai arī atklāja daudz, tomēr likās nedaudz virspusējs un neuzplēsa dvēseli.
Gribējās kādu asariņu nobirdināt, bet nesanāca..
Tomēr - šī ir ļoti laba grāmata, ko noteikti vērts izlasīt. Lai arī mani nepameta sajūta, ka vairāk tā patiks tiem, kas gan ģeogrāfiski, gan ģeopolitiski atrodas tālāk no mūsu platuma grādiem vai nav daudz lasījuši par karu, okupāciju, dīpīšu nometnēm, trimdu un viņiem šis liksies kaut kas jauns un satricinošs.
4,5⭐

[Stefe · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book really resonated with me. From forced labour in Germany, escaping the Russian occupation, to the DP Camps to Chocolate City at Greta migrant camp and making a new life in Australia- this is also my family’s story. Unlike the author I wish I’d asked more questions when I had the opportunity.

[Caroline Edwards · Rating 5 out of 5]

Page turning narrative non-fiction.

I was lucky enough to be an early reader of this work. It’s great and will be released in July. Watch out for it

Many years in the making, Putnis’ book follows her two grandmothers growing up in Latvia, through the terrors of the Second World War, and then finding new homes in Australia.

It’s beautifully written and thoughtful with lots to say about Latvia, about Australia and about grandmothers.

[Alan Andersen]

I really loved this book. I was captivated not only by the experiences of the two grandmothers, but by the beautiful way their stories were put together by Andra. I was so moved by it. It is compelling reading.

[Toyah Smith]

An interesting read. Not a perspective I have ever thought about. Beautifully written with a great amount of respect.

[Linards Jansons · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was deeply impressed and moved by this book. One reason is how transparently the author, Andra, sets out her grandmothers’ stories. Although the book draws on memories, impromptu conversations, and deliberate interviews with family members, Grandma Milda and Grandma Aline speak candidly and for themselves. They tell of their early lives and dreams, their flight from war torn Latvia, and their eventual resettlement in Australia. The final result often takes the form of an unburdening, a confession, and a bringing to the surface things previously too painful to put into words. While skillfully and simply written, I feel that the real art lies in the author’s ability to listen, and the love that enabled her grandmother Aline (who was directly interviewed) to share some very private memories.

But what really grabbed me was how closely the accounts mirrored the history of my own family. Both of my parents fled Latvia as children with their immediate families, my mother from Riga and my father from Liepaja. It was my mother (now aged 83) who first read the book and found it to be an almost visceral experience, her heart literally racing as a personal history so much like her own was recounted.

My grandparents have long since passed, but when I read the book, I immediately recalled many of the stories my paternal grandmother told me about those times: her family’s suffering at the hands of Russians (including the murder of her father, brother and nephew on a single day), their natural affinity with the German ‘liberators’ mingled with the dawning horror of what was happening to their Jewish neighbours, their terrifying flight to Germany, and their eventual good fortune of ending up in the US Zone when the war ended. After years in Displaced Persons camps in Germany, there followed the passage to Australia (and yet more camps) with its utterly alien landscape and culture (or lack of, according to many Latvians). All this is related by Grandma Aline and Grandma Milda, but it could have been my own family history, and in the broader sense it was. There is one scene, in fact, in which it is entirely plausible that my father’s family could have bumped shoulders with Grandma Milda’s family.

Even though I haven’t been culturally connected since my childhood, the author’s experience of her Latvian extended family is quite relatable. The cultural events, the food, the language, the striving to maintain Latvian culture, all this rings true. My vecmamma’s insistence on stuffing us with true Latvian food, the hours she spent in preparing it, and the obligation to partake (“you must eat!”) are ordeals I well remember. I also asked my grandmother for stories about her past. She often did, but usually reluctantly, for back then I did not fully understand how each story was a recalling of trauma. While the author uses words and concepts like ‘trauma’ sparingly, that is clearly what it was. The bundle of letters Grandma Aline produced, written decades ago by her long deceased mother, was for her an entirely present tense reality. The past was ‘now’.

It is perhaps overblown to describe these grandmothers as tragic-heroes. And yet, their lives are the epitome of ordinary tragedy and heroism. Their tragedy was to be ordinary and flawed persons in unbearable times. Their heroism was merely to have survived, and more than that, to adapt and then grow when transplanted on the other side of the world. At times their stories betray a naked self-preservation and self-justification, a reminder that our high ideals are often a luxury not available in times of turmoil.

Milda and Aline also provide a study in contrast, something I’ve kept thinking about. Milda was ostensibly skilled and determined, a natural and pragmatic leader, and yet at the same time brittle and insecure. Perhaps her micromanaging and interfering attitude was how these qualities came together. As a girl and young woman Aline was naïve and terribly vulnerable, and throughout her life was plagued with shame and self-doubt. While Milda was cultured and capable, Aline believed herself to be hopeless, a view encouraged by her husband. And yet in time Aline becomes a person of remarkable empathy and perspective. Both grandmothers exhibit how pride and humility can equally be sources of strength or weakness.

These, of course, are my own reflections and interpretations as a reader. The author herself just lets her grandmothers speak and tell their stories. However, Andra does provide an interpretive comment, right at the end, when she says to Grandma Aline: “Your personal stories, the arc of your life – it has held the universe inside it”. A similar thought had occurred to me – marked as they are by the intensities of suffering and love, there is a universal, even archetypal, quality about their lives.

Poignancy is added by accounts of return visits to Latvia and the bitter-sweet juxtaposition of memory and present reality. The final pages bring us to the invasion of Ukraine, sadly reminding us that for many, this chapter of history is not at all over.

My thanks to the author for embarking on this project.

[Vineta Medne · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ja šeit varētu, es liktu nevis 5*, bet 100+++*! Izrāvu vienā elpas vilcienā, pat nezinu kā citādāk šo noraksturot. Ģimenes dzimtas izpēte un piedzīvotais ir tik skaudrs, tomēr līdz mielēm patiess. Atzīt sāpes par patiesām un atmiņas, kuras nevar izdzēst - jābūt ļoti spēcīgai personībai. Esmu patiesi pateicīga Andrai par šo apkopojumu un vēstures izstāstīšanu. Manai omei tūlīt būs 90 gadi. Zinu daudz, tomēr lasot šo grāmatu - šķiet ļoti, ļoti maz... Paldies par iedvesmu to visu uzzināt!

[Cundurs · Rating 4 out of 5]

Šie atmiņu stāsti, personīgās pieredzes no kara laika un sekas tam, ir ārkārtīgi vērtīgi.

[Amanda · Rating 5 out of 5]

A special book if you want to discover the resilience of Estonia and how two women reinvented their lives

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

Exceptional book! I think every Latvian should read this book to appreciate what we have.

It’s a heartbreaking story. I wish all Latvians abroad would keep their traditions alive like Alīna and Milda did.

I cried reading this book. Paldies, Andra!

[Noraa Sii · Rating 5 out of 5]

"They were both remarkable storytellers in their different ways, fluent in Latvian and English in their later years, well-educated women who often chose to share their opinions about life and all those around them. Characters with hidden pasts, still very much present in our lives."

"Being more than 4000 kilometres away from my family gave me space to forge my own way and then turn around and look back at where I'd come from. Darwin is a place that strips people bare. All that sweat and unrelenting humidity makes pretence difficult and helps people see parts of themselves that may have been previously hidden. In the heat, I slowed down and started to wonder about my family's past."

"I don't remember everything. But I have my own point of view. Some old Latvian women go on about how wonderful things were before the war. How they used to help their mothers collect mushrooms in the woods and weave by the fire. How the boys were strong, helping their fathers chop the wood. You heard these stories? Well, it was not always like that. No all the boys were good and I was not as kind to my māte as I should have been. If you want that story, you are talking to the wrong grandma."

"You see, Milda always thought she knew best. She was much older than me. She thought she was the proper Latvian. A Lutheran. That was the main religion in Latvia, My family were Catholics. That was a big thing. We were in the minority. Catholics were looked down on."

"Bread you make by hand tastes better than bread from the shop!"

"But I was loved. Never again in my life did I have love like the love from my parents and my aunty Adela."

"Choirs are everything in Latvia. Voices are treated like instruments. Everyone wants to be a good singer. You must go and see a song festival one time in your life. They still happen. Can you imagine the sound a choir of 14,000 people makes? Music soft like rain and then like thunder. Only Latvians have choirs that big."

"You see, Latvia was a young country, only formed after First World War. Lots of people, including your grandma Milda, thought Latvia was God's most favoured county on Earth."

"Latvia finally won its independence in 1920, freeing itself from the Russian Empire. Hey eyes would glow as she spoke of how Riga had flourished with new industries, buildings, music, art and culture. Riga became the Paris of the North. Yes, it did! It was such a wonderful time, our town transformed with our big central markets and grand government buildings. Our five lati coin was the most beautiful silver coin in Europe. We even started making our own cars and aeroplanes! People wanted to be able to enjoy their lives, not stay labouring down in the dirt. Our art and music -everything came alive."

"I believed Laima, the Latvian goddess of luck, was looking over me. But we only had eight months before the Russians came and occupied our country. Their filthy tanks rolled into Ria on 17 June 1940. The Russians took all the wonderful things we had built between the wars and ground them into the earth."

"After our test, he didn't leave. He stood around and then sat down on a chair at the front. 'I will tell you something,' he said. 'It's Stalin, not God, who is number one. I will prove it.' We all just stared at him."

"Thank God the Germans came when they did. You know the Russian soldiers set our precious St Peter's church on fire before they left. In the middle of Riga, it made a huge bonfire. I could see the sky from my flat, a huge stain of awful black smoke. It looked like the world was ending. Latvians brought buckets of water, but the Russians shot them. They didn't want anyone to get close enough to put the fire out. All we could do was watch as the church burned down to the ground."

"Given their recent experiences of deportations, a large part of the Latvian population welcomed the Germans and hoped the country might find its way back to independence. For a brief moment, it must have seemed as if the light had returned. But it soon became clear that Germany considered Latvia a part of German- occupied territory and that Nazi ideology and policies would be enforced."

"That is Boleslavs, my uncle. He was taken to Siberia by the Russians. That one is Stani, another uncle. He was a youth teacher in Bauska. He was accused of being a Bolshevik and was arrested in Salaspils by the Germans. Lots of Latvian families could share similar stories. One person taken by the Russians; another person taken by the Germans. But at first, the majority of Latvians were happy to see the Germans. Anyone that tells you differently is not telling the truth."

"Once, when I asked her directly whether back then the Germans were in fact worse that the Russians, she angrily spat out her answer, 'Imagine two houses burning, one completely in flames and the other with only one room burning. Which one would you live in? The Russians had a list of people they were taking away. Under the Germans there was a different list: Jews, Gypsies and Communists. We were not on it!"

"We studied German language and culture, but also Latvian history. The Germans did not ban all Latvian things. It was more like they wanted us to think Latvians and Germans had always been close and that we belonged together."

"People who talk on TV shows always think they would see through the propaganda if it happened to them, that they would never be so stupid. But propaganda is powerful. Never forget that."

"This is how it can be. Sometimes one small moment changes the course of your life, just one decision."

"It was then it hit me - nothing I'd heard was in the past! Nanna carried around all that had happened with her every day. She walked with these millstones of grief around her neck, still managing of grief around her neck, still managing to clap and laugh. I looked at her through new eyes, as if I could now see all the layers upon layers of past events with her."

"Little Lācis was left behind in the mud. All my life, I have not wanted to think back to this time. But when I have, one question has come to me: 'What could have gone so wrong in the world that a man would shoot a little boy's teddy bear?'"

"Brightly, brightly, the fire burns. In the small dark corner there Laima is writing a life story for this little child. (Latvian folk song) Laima is the Latvian goddess who sets people's destiny at birth."

"At the Yalta Conference of the three Second War allies -the United States, Britain and the Soviet Union- held in February 1945, the Soviet government requested the repatriation of people from the Baltic states, as they now considered them citizens of the USSR. Of course, most Latvians, Estonians and Lithuanians refused to go because they knew prison, deportation or execution would likely greet them if they returned home.''

"It doesn't matter how your life is, you just have to go through it. You have to live every single day. Doesn't matter how you feel. Maybe you spend all day crying? The next day could be better, you might not cry again. Then something bad comes and you cry again. That is how it was for me."

"For a long time, she wanted more than anything to reclaim what she had lost rather than discover new way forward."

"Can you imagine how we felt to be in those camps? Of course, we were grateful for the food and somewhere to sleep, but those Americans knew very little about what we had been through. They had no idea what to do with us. Some of them even thought we were Russian! They couldn't understand why we would not just return home. One time I was standing next to a Latvian man trying to tell an American officer how terrible Stalin was. That officer got angry and said we should remember Stalin had been part of the Allied forces!"

"Between 1947 and 1952, about 20,000 Latvians immigrated to Australia from displaced persons camps in Germany. The Minister for Immigration at the time, saw the potential of these migrants in helping to rebuild Australia's farming and industrial sectors after the war, but also understood the pre-existing Australian population was wary of his plan. He used young and healthy-looking people coming from Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania -his 'blue-eyed Balts'- to promote his scheme to the broader population on the grounds they looked similar to the British and thus might appear more familiar -a plan that had links to the broader, nefarious White Australia policy of the time."

"My work was not hard. I enjoyed it. Sometimes, all you need is to know what you are doing each day. It gave me the certainty I needed."

"When I look back now, those years in Collie were some of the best we had in Australia. Eddy was happy most of the time because he was saving money and thinking abut the future. That's the key. You can try new things and survive quite well if you are making plans."

"Once, when we stopped for fuel, the train conductor told us to stay on board away from the Aboriginal people. He said there was a group who always surrounded the train when it stopped. Maybe they were angry we were on their land, I don't know. I remember seeing one women sitting off to the side with her two small children. She seemed to be staring at me. I thought maybe she was hungry so I tried to throw my orange to her out the window, but it just rolled into the dirt and sat there a few metres from her. All these years later I still wonder what that woman thought. Maybe she thought I was throwing food at her to be cruel. Maybe that's why she didn't get up. I feel ashamed at that memory now."

"But why did it happen in the first place? That's something I will ask God in the end. I was in labour a long time and maybe Irene didn't get enough oxygen, but I wonder whether it was because I didn't deserve a healthy girl after everything that had happened in Germany."

"My mum liked festive events to have a sense of ceremony about them. When we were little, we all had to stand next to the Christmas tree and recite a poem before we could open our presents; that's a Latvian tradition."

"I don't think she really knew that much. But so what? Lots of people aspire to be more than they are."

"She was stubborn, but she had to be to make a life in Australia. She never talked much about the war and wanted to move on from those times. Good on her! I think she had the right idea. All those nights the old Latvians spent drinking too much and singing patriotic songs didn't change anything. Your grandma Milda was careful, she didn't want to get sucked back down unto all that stuff. She was very selective about how she remembered Latvia un upheld its culture."

"'We are full from lunch, Vecmāte,' you complained. Only those who had never known hunger would say such a thing! I wanted you to enjoy yourselves but there you sat as if you wanted to be anywhere else in the world."

"That Christmas I wanted to show you I could still arrange a lovely celebration. I wanted you to understand there are important rituals no one pays attention to anymore. It is a wonderful thing to greet people properly, accept flowers and food from your guests, perhaps organise for someone to five a little speech, and set a table for all to enjoy."

"When I met her in Newcastle, Lina and I shared a few angry words and tears, but we became friends again. That's just how life had to be. Lina had tried her best for me when we were in Germany; it would have been silly for me to hold a grudge."

"So, that is how it was. We became two old women who could confine in one another. There was no time left for pride or that type of silliness anymore. We got along much better once we stopped judging one another and started to talk and laugh about everyone else!"

"When I was younger, I thought Russia had swallowed Latvia and it would stay that way forever. That's how one of my school textbooks described it. Swallowed up. At the end of the Second World War, the Iron Curtain slammed down. I didn't believe it would ever open. Only few brave Latvian Australians sought to visit Latvia when it was part of the USSR. A deep fear of the Russian state flowed in the blood of most Latvians back then; it still does for many."

"For each person who visits there will be pain on one side and joy on the other. For each person, it will be different. Milda, I know how much you loved everything when we were young. Perhaps leave your memories in peace. - I folded the papers quickly and put them under a magazine on my table. The letter confirmed what I already knew -the Latvia of my youth no longer existed. It was not possible to go back in time."

"What is land if you don't have your language? What is language if you don't have your land? What is freedom if you don't have land And land if you don't have freedom?"

"Many of the Latvian Australians of my generation who went back were disappointed. The country was run-down. There were hundreds of ugly concrete Soviet buildings and many places were nothing like people remembered. Fifty years later, too much had changed!"

"The biggest problem was that Latvian Australians still hated Communists. However, the Latvians back home had had to live somehow through that time, when you couldn't get into university or get a good job without being a member of the Communist Party. For the Latvians living in Australia, it was hard to trust people who had done what they needed to do to get on in life."

"I am a good reader, you know. You have seen all the books I have on my shelves. I like reading about how other people see the world. You know, I read that book by Sally Morgan, My Place, a couple of years ago and I liked it."

"Look at how things have turned out. Our families all have good live. You must have done something right!"

"Nanna, from you I learnt about how life can be, that events and people circle back around as if there's some great pattern to it all. Your personal stories, the arch of your life -it has held the universe inside it."

"But perhaps she would also tell me to stay alert, as the world is teetering and the Russian bear remains hungry. Perhaps she would remind me that Russia will always want to extend its territory to the Baltic Sea. I hope she is not aware of Russia's invasion of Ukraine, but maybe she is."

"There wasn't a lot of money but we were definitely the best-dressed children in our area. Each morning she proudly watched us from the front porch. In our well-pressed shirts and uniforms."

"'I am so old it's embarrassing, almost shameful... What am I doing, still meddling about in this sinful world?' Then she had a little laugh. She knew she had to bide her time and the release she sought would come soon enough."

"I spoke about how she'd always looked for meaning in the episodes of her life, was hard on herself about many events but still able to laugh and celebrate the beautiful things in the world."

"Nanna taught me nothing less than what it means to be human, to earn the grace and wisdom that come from surviving darkness and celebrating light."

[Strivetoengage · Rating 4 out of 5]

Putnis wrote this interesting memoir over a period of many years, as she learnt more and more about the lives of her grandmothers, Milda and Aline. Both women were born in Latvia and left during WWII, never to live there again.

Putnis uses a narrative approach to take us through her discussions with her grandmothers and the ways she discovered information. The book flicks between Putnis remembering this, and the stories she learnt about the childhood, young adulthood and older lives of Milda and Aline.

Putnis weaves enough historical perspective into the story to allow the reader to understand the significance of events in the lives of, and decisions made by, both Milda and Aline. The book flows nicely and does not get bogged down in historical or political details.

I really enjoyed this memoir, both for Putnis’ clear, engaging and frank writing style, and lack of pretension, but also for the insights into lives of ordinary women who survived extraordinary ordeals.

I recieved a copy of this book from the author via a friend.

I posted a full review on my blog: https://strivetoengage.wordpress.com/...

[Taylor Ritenberg · Rating 5 out of 5]

A friend recommended this book to me after hearing me talk regularly about my fierce and beautiful Latvian Nanna.

My Nanna spoke rarely about her upbringing and escape from Latvia. Small snippets would come out occasionally, however for the most part she kept that door firmly closed.

Thank you Andra for shedding some light on the stories of the Latvian refugees who came to Australia. So many of your recollections of your own Nanna's could have been my own memories.

I was profoundly moved and haven't felt so close to my Nanna in many years. My whole family have now bought a copy, and I'll be keeping a copy on our bookshelf for when my four month old daughter, named after her Latvian great Nanna, is old enough to read it.