A gripping, never-before-translated novella by the cult writer of Siblings
Kathrin – five years into a disenchanting marriage – struggles to work the farm with her sister-in-law while her husband Heinrich is away fighting for the Third Reich. To help them with the harvest, Heinrich arranges for Alexei, a Russian prisoner of war, to labour in the fields. Though initially suspicious of this watchful stranger, Kathrin is soon drawn to Alexei, with ruinous consequences.
First published in 1956, Woman in the Pillory is a formative novella by one of East Germany’s most significant writers, showcasing Brigitte Reimann’s vivid ideological engagement with the legacy of Nazi Germany and the Communist drive to create ‘a new kind of person’ following the devastation of the war.
Brigitte Reimann (1933 - 1973) was a German writer who is best known for her posthumously published novel, Franziska Linkerhand.
Brigitte Reimann wrote her first amateur play at the age of fifteen. In 1950 she was awarded the first prize in an amateur drama comeptition by the Berlin theater Volksbühne. After graduating, Reimann worked as teacher, bookseller and reporter. After a miscarriage in 1954, she attempted suicide. In 1960, she started to work at the brown coal mine Schwarze Pumpe, where she and her second husband Siegfried Pitschmann headed a circle of writing workers. There, she writes the narrative Ankunft im Alltag, which is regarded as a masterpiece of socialist realism.
When troops of the Warsaw Pact states invaded the ČSSR on August 20, 1968 as a reaction to liberalisations during the Prague Spring, Reimann refused to sign the declaration by the East German Writers' Association approving of the measure.
On February 22, 1973, Reimann died of cancer at the age of 39.
During the last ten years of her life Reimann worked at the novel Franziska Linkerhand. At the time of her death, the last chapter had just been started. In the following year the novel was published in an heavily censored edition. Not until 1998 was the uncensored version published.
People are devouring each other, like packs of wolves.
I seem to be an outlier in my opinion of this book as I found it unsatisfyingly simplistic and straightforward with lots of clichés in the writing like the one quoted above. The whole thing read more like a fable than a modern novel to me with people doing and saying things that are both predictable in terms of storytelling and yet inconsistent with any kind of psychological realism and subjective interiority.
For example, the German wife and Russian (he's actually from Ukraine but describes himself as Russian) POW fall into insta-love and having exchanged barely a word are suddenly passionately bound together ('he knew that she needed him, especially now, and that he had to go to her and protect her'). At the point at which he is evoking a better world, referencing Russian communism, the short speech is couched in romantically idealised terms with no reference to ideology: 'We'll change the world. Wars don't have to come and go like summer and winter. One day, there'll be no more poverty, no enemies or hatred. People will live in peace, and everyone will have enough to eat and be happy' - it reads to me like a child's wishlist.
Some developments are just weird and unexplained: 'suddenly, she grabbed her chest and fell without a sound'. And I always have a problem in books when a perfectly ordinary person withstands interrogation by a professional group, here the Nazi SS: 'she didn't speak. This pale, slight woman was as tough as a willow switch and didn't break. The men might as well have tried to force a confession from the blank wall.' Hmm, really? The SS were notorious for their torture, the running of the concentration and death camps and were indicted for genocide and crimes against humanity yet are unable to break a 25-year old village woman? The message that her love kept her will intact is another romantic trope that I suspect doesn't bear much relation to reality.
The saving character for me was, surprisingly, Heinrich, the German husband who is in the army. He is the only character who undergoes some kind of development and has a psychological 'journey', however short.
Overall, I found the writing a bit flat and the plot too romanticised and slight to really engage me - whether this is a translation issue or not, I can't tell.
I am a sucker for rediscovered 'little gems' and this is an excellent one. Published in 1956, it is set in Germany in the middle of World War II.
Kathrin and Heinrich have been married for five years but there is not much love between them.
When Heinrich is off to the front, it falls to Kathrin and Heinrich's sister Frieda take care of the farm.
The work is too much for the two women and they 'get' a Russian POW to give them a hand. And then Kathrin falls in love with the Russian...and it can only end badly...
I loved it. Reimann chooses the perspective of those staying behind; the war is happening elsewhere, and yet it permeates whatever is left of ordinary life. What is allowed and what isn't? Enormous tension and suspense builds up around the forbidden love and the fear of being discovered.
All that in just 120 pages. A great find by Penguin.
Thank you to NetGalley and Penguin Press UK for providing this book for review consideration. All opinions are my own.
This simple tale broke my heart.
Set in a small rural community in 1940s Germany, this is the story of forbidden love and the desire for peace and freedom. It mocks the hypocrisy of women being pilloried for doing what men do freely, as well as eugenics dictating who we should love. Impressive, for a book written so long ago.
So much is packed into this novella. The writing is pristine - beautiful, but clear. No words are wasted in conveying its messages. I would absolutely recommend this to anyone wanting to read a short, translated, little-known classic.
“They're people like you or me and they love each other like we do, and you can't condemn them for that. The man's Russian but, my God, he can't help that. You can't help being German. Being born in a different country doesn't make him worse than us.” . I think I have started and restarted this review countless times. Nothing I write down seems adequate to really describe how I feel about this book. A book that I carelessly requested to read on netgalley, that emporium where somehow an amateur like myself can get free books. A small book with the depth of a 1,000 page book. . You see, at the core is a romantic trope of forbidden love. A simple love between two people. However, it is more than that - much more. Love and kindness in the face of a murderous totalitarian regime. All this takes place not in the crunching industry of cities, but on gentle rolling German farmlands. . You feel the tension in this. It seeps through the pages. Alongside the tension are the moments of kindness, empathy and love. There’s occasional moments of dark humor. But we ultimately know how the story ends. Gossip really is deadly. . This is up there for one of the best books I’ve read this year. A book that illustrates so well the power of writing to open worlds, to trigger depths of emotions that I find no other medium ever really quite achieves. .
As ever, thank you to penguin for publishing and to netgalley for giving me the opportunity to be so greatly moved.
This is the best written book from an East German writer I’ve come across, but it’s still shockingly direct with its Soviet propaganda. I enjoyed reading this much more than “Siblings” but I don’t think it was nearly as thought provoking. I don’t think the author intended for the soldier husband to be the most compelling character in the novel, and certainly the only character that showed development from the start to the finish. Soviet man = savior. Germans = either bad guys or people who haven’t “woken up” to the Soviet man’s ideas. It’s worth a read, but the average rating on here feels a bit too high. (For me the first half was a solid 2 and the second half brought it to a low 3.)
…Svakoga je dana bio sve uvjereniji da je ta žena dobra i da u njoj drijema snaga koja bi, kada se jednom probudi, tu ženu mogla naučiti da voli i mrzi.
Moćna, tužna, naizgled jednostavna priča koja je sve samo ne jednostavna.
Review - Woman in the Pillory by Brigitte Reimann, tr from German by Lucy Jones opens with a young woman named Kathrin reading a telegram from her husband, Heinrich Marten who’s at the war front fighting for the Third Reich. The telegram says he will be home on a 3 day leave. Instead of feeling happy, Kathrin cowers with fear. In five years of their marriage, though Heinrich hasn't been violent with her, he hasn't cared for her either. She was pawned off in marriage along with a few acres of farm land and the land mattered to the farmer in Heinrich. Heinrich bonded well with his unmarried elder sister Freida who adored him & bossed over everyone else including Kathrin. Kathrin’s well practiced subservience & emotional indifference gives rise to a tiny ember of hatred for her husband when she learns about his killings at the front and badges of honour earned for it. The ember fans into a full fledged fire that engulfs the Martens’ farm, house and lives when a Russian prisoner of war, Alexei, arrives as a helping hand.
A tender companionship rooted in similar ideals and love blossoms between Kathrin and Alexei. Their respect and fondness for each other grows organically and this is no scintillating story of their infidelity with tantalising chemistry between lovers. As they swing between hope and despair, thinking of a future together, we know this love story between a German soldier’s wife and an enemy, a Russian POW, a brazen transgression, will have horrific consequences, adequately hinted at by the title.
Not just a tragic story of forbidden love, Woman in the Pillory comes fortified with a strong message to the world - that wars be avoided at all costs, that no human race is superior, that there be a world that knows only kindness & peace without a trace of hatred. The climax felt over dramatic. But the smooth flowing prose rich in actions and emotions, a sparkling translation, well fleshed out characters (the most impressive arc is of Heinrich) make this an engaging read.
Thank you Netgalley and Penguin UK books for the ARC.
✒️ From its opening pages, the narrative unfolds with remarkable ease. Reimann’s prose is restrained and assured, never hurried, never indulgent. Each scene serves a clear purpose, contributing to a story that feels both deliberate and finely crafted.
🏺 Set during the final period of World War II and extending into its aftermath, the novel is deeply rooted in its historical context. Reimann shows how war — and the transition out of it — reshapes morality, fractures communities, and alters individual lives. The story captures the tension of both wartime and post-war society: judgment, fear, and a quiet, collective cruelty that can exist among ordinary people.
🤍 At its core, the novel is also a love story, intertwined with a broader meditation on survival and human connection. Reimann resists melodrama, allowing emotion to accumulate gradually and with restraint. The characters emerge as flawed, vulnerable, and profoundly human, drawing the reader into their moral dilemmas and personal reckonings.
🕊️ Ultimately, 𝘞𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘺 offers much of what one seeks in a World War II–era narrative: stylistic precision, historical gravity, moral complexity, and a lasting emotional resonance. I found it a deeply affecting read — a thoughtful and intimate exploration of human nature under the most unforgiving circumstances.
Thank you to @penguinukbooks for the review copy via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.
The story follows a young woman in 1943, living in a small German village. Kathrin is married—neither unhappily nor happily—to a farmer who has gone to the front, leaving her in the care of his older, matronly sister. To help run the farm, a Soviet prisoner of war is sent to work as forced labor, tending to the animals and the fields. The captive is young, kind, and idealistic. Soon, trouble brews, and the novella confronts us with the cost of love in wartime Germany, the petty cruelties of those who exploit an oppressive system, and the fragile power of hope.
The novella is incredibly powerful, and it’s astonishing that it has only now been translated into English. More than a depiction of Nazi horrors or how they warped ordinary minds, it is a study of the moral decay that festers among small people—those willing to go to great lengths to secure even the smallest advantage. It also captures the terrifying consequences of collective inaction: the many who “follow orders” or turn a blind eye to injustice, whether out of fear or convenience. In its own quiet way, this reads like a fictional counterpart to Hannah Arendt.
I highly recommend it to anyone interested in how totalitarian thinking corrodes the lives of ordinary people—a theme perhaps more relevant now than at any time since the end of the Second World War.
My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing an advance copy in exchange for an honest review.
’you have it be careful. In this country, among these people, even friendship is dangerous.’
I have been intrigued by this ever since reading Siblings and it did not disappoint. Personally I think the narrative is much more consistent and tightly structured than Siblings was. I saw another review that summarised the difference by saying that Siblings was more nuanced but Women in the Pillory was more enjoyable which I thing is fair.
This is a powerful novella. It's short but contains so much--love and fear, hope and despair, cruelty and kindness, idealism and reality, denial and self discovery. The story is told primarily from the point of view of Katrin, although occasionally readers get a glimpse into the minds of other characters. Katrin is a young woman who has been married for 5 year to Heinrich, who is away from his farm fighting against Russians in the German army. Theirs is not a happy marriage and Katrin is not unhappy that he's gone. Heinrich's sister, Frieda, also lives at the farm and she and Katrin try to do everything, which proves to be too much. Home for a few days on leave, Heinrich says he'll have a prisoner of war sent to work on the farm. Before long, Alexei arrives. He's from Ukraine where his village has been wiped out and his family disappeared. He has high hopes for the kind of society that Russia will create after the war is over, but largely keeps his thoughts to himself and does what he's told. Frieda treats him like a sub-human creature. Katrin sees through the common stereotypes about 'the enemy' and she and Alexei gradually become closer and closer. Village tongues start to wag and eventually, serious repercussions result.
This is an excellent book. The writing is beautiful and not a word is wasted. Reimann's descriptions of the farm at night or the thoughts of the characters grabbed me from the start. The book was originally published in 1956 and Reimann lived in East Germany, although she died quite young. So it was a decade after the war ended--enough time to see that the dreams Alexei described, which I'm sure were those of many real people, did not come to fruition. And although the book is short, Katrin's evolution and growth of self awareness were aspects of the book that I quite liked. This is a book that can be read and re-read with new insights appearing each time. I highly recommend it.
Thanks to NetGalley, and the publisher for a digital review copy.
’It’s never too late to change. We have so much to make up for.’
Thank you NetGalley and Penguin Modern Classics for the opportunity to read the ARC of this novella!
I am highly impressed by how condensed this story is; from the political ideology affecting the common folk, the warfare and its damages (both physical and mental), to the complex feelings and personalities of all characters. The omniscient narrative perspective also aids the reader in understanding all characters, all circumstances, and that during those times, there is no black and white, but only shades of grey.
The plot is relatively predictable to anyone who knows history but, at the same time, it’s also what keeps you on edge, as it offers a sort of dreading thrill — the haunting question of what will happen, in the end, to Kathrin and Alexei?
There are four main characters. Firstly, Kathrin, a young woman who got married only because her father and family wanted to get rid of her. Her married life isn’t rosy in any way whatsoever, but her husband never mistreated her, so that kept her going. She was listless and hopeless, and lacking of any desire to live until she met Alexei, whose mere presence had been a very good influence of Kathrin. Her character development throughout the novella has been absolutely great and I have enjoyed having this journey with her.
Alexei, a prisoner of war, finds himself forced to labour on a farm. He is a tormented creature, haunted by the war, and truly believes in Russia and its purpose, his comrades and the beauty of peace of the future. Through his character, the Soviet side is heavily romanticised, which honestly is to be expected as this was first published in 1956 in East Germany. However, it left me a slight bitter feeling, this complete erasure of the atrocities of the Soviet Army.
Frieda, sister in law to Kathrin, acting like the typical villainous spinster; she has her own dramatic fate, however, instead of growing out of it, she indulges in it and ultimately triggers the collapse of everyone’s relatively peaceful lives. I will say though, without spoiling, that it was very satisfying to see that every action of hers had its consequences.
I oddly found Heinrich the most complex character. Kathrin’s husband, gone to war; he was much more profound than I expected, and while he is a man full of contradictions (making the reader both dislike his faults and appreciate his qualities at the same time), his portrayal as a Nazi soldier is well done. Just when you expect him to be the stereotypical horrible husband, his psyche unravels such raw and humane sentiments which take the reader by surprise.
The translation is well done, and reflected the beauty of the original prose, flawlessly transmitting the bittersweetness of the love story and other elements.
"Mein Gott, wie können Menschen nur so grausam sein? [...] Man kann doch einen Menschen nicht zum Tode verurteilt, weil er einen anderen lieb hat." Die Bäuerin Kathrin verliebt sich während des zweiten Weltkriegs in den Kriegsgefangenen Alexej, der auf dem Hof helfen soll, während ihr Mann im Krieg ist und ohne Gnade tötet. Menschlichkeit und Fassungslosigkeit gegenüber Hass und Gewalt bestimmten ihr Denken und Handeln. "[W]ie können Menschen nur so grausam sein?" - mit dieser Frage bleibt man auch als Leser zurück und fragt sich, auch mit Blick auf das aktuelle Weltgeschehen, warum die Menschen einfach nicht klüger werden. Ein sehr aktuelles Buch mit klarer Haltung.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.