A harrowing family story about forced adoption, a sinister chapter in East German history, and father-son relationships expressed through a shared love of nature and fishing.
1978, near Leipzig, East Germany. For Katrin and Hans, every parent’s worst nightmare comes true when they are told that their newborn baby Daniel has died. Amidst the shock and horror of the news, Katrin doubts what the doctors have told her, feeling that they are lying and that Daniel is still alive: doubts which Hans refuses to acknowledge, and which lead to the end of their marriage.
After the collapse of the GDR, happy in a new relationship, Hans receives an unexpected phone call which prompts him to investigate the past. His research, which takes him deep into recent history, is met with resistance and silence at every turn, until at last a fishing expedition enables the family to start healing from their trauma.
Mayfly Season is an extraordinary portrait of totalitarian state cruelty, the promise of a new beginning and the infinite healing capacity shared by humanity and nature.
‘Something doesn’t cease to exist just because it’s always out of sight.’
In 1978, East German couple Hans and Katrin are expecting a baby, but leave the hospital empty-handed and brokenhearted. While Hans grieves the death of his hours-old son, Katrin voices suspicions that he is still alive. Hans rejects these as the ramblings of a grief-stricken woman, but what if Katrin is right? A sinister undercurrent runs just below the surface of this harrowing yet beautifully spun tale about fatherhood, regret, and grief’s many faces.
Channeling a complex and understudied portion of East German history into one family’s dynamic, and into just 160 pages, is no small feat. Jügler deserves all the praise that I imagine will be coming his way once this English translation is published in May. Props to the translator Jo Heinrich, too, for maintaining a gorgeously poetic style throughout.
I was compelled to research everything I could about forced adoption in East Germany after reading this. An estimate of 1000 families were torn apart by GDR authorities, and even now, in a Germany reunified for 36 years, loved ones are still seeking closure, and each other.
The microcosmic use of Hans, Katrin and Daniel to portray a larger-scale tragedy reminded me a lot of The Safekeep. I think Jügler intertwines historical undertones with emotional punch in this short novel just as stunningly as does Yael Van Der Wouden.
Nature parallels itself with events in the book, from bream in the rivers to rain in the sky. I never thought I’d be as transfixed by the migration patterns of fish as I found myself while reading this book. Jügler’s descriptions fully immersed me in Hans’ own fascination with the natural world, which becomes a surrogate father figure to Hans after his own beloved father passes away.
I felt deeply for all the characters involved in this story, and loved how nuanced they were. There are no true villains except the regime itself, which tears a family apart the very instant it has begun.
This will definitely hit hard for readers who previously enjoyed Small Things Like These, and for anyone seeking to widen their worldview with a compelling emotional snapshot of a historical chapter that is still half buried.
Thank you to Matthias Jügler and The Indigo Press for the opportunity to read and review this ARC copy.
This novella covers an important issue that deserves more exposure; however, the story itself is a slim, badly-constructed melodrama padded out with too many fishing metaphors. That being said, Jügler does deserve some credit for bringing this dark chapter of the GDR’s history to a worldwide audience.
read this in waterstones cafe without buying it. feel like i’ve cheated fhe system. so so worth it. loved this. i feel warm and cosy despite the traumas that were experienced. loved the fishing metaphors to represent the dynamic/new found relationship between father and son.
Beautifully written about stolen children in the GDR. I was aware of this within the Pinochet regime but not in Germany. Sad and poignant but ends with a sliver of hope. It’s written with a sparseness and sadness but feels complete in its story telling, haunting.