Пепел и диамант

by Jerzy Andrzejewski, Йежи Анджейевски, Димитър Икономов (Translator)

Ashes and Diamonds takes us to a provincial town in the spring of 1945. The nation is in the throes of transformation to People's Poland. Communists, socialists, and nationalists; thieves and black marketeers; servants and fading aristocrats; veteran terrorists and bands of murderous children bewitched by the lure of crime and adventure--all these converge on the town's chief hotel, a microcosm of an uprooted world.

Genres: Fiction, Polish Literature, Poland, Classics, Historical Fiction, Politics, War

312 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1948

About the author

Jerzy Andrzejewski was a Polish novelist, short-story writer, and political dissident noted for his attention to moral issues important in 20th-century Poland and for his realistic fiction.

Andrzejewski was born into a middle-class family, and the young writer studied Polish language and literature at the University of Warsaw. The stories published in his first book, Drogi nieuniknione (1936; “Unavoidable Ways”), originally appeared in a right-wing periodical, with whom he soon severed relations. That volume was followed by the novel Ład serca (1938; “Heart’s Harmony”), in which Andrzejewski tried to find in Roman Catholic teachings solutions to the problems of contemporary life. During the German occupation of World War II, he participated in the Polish underground.
After World War II, Andrzejewski wrote Noc (1945; “Night”), a collection of wartime stories, and, together with Jerzy Zagórski, a satirical drama, Swięto Winkelrida (1946; “Winkelried’s Feast”). Contemporary political problems are projected in Popiół i diament (1948; Ashes and Diamonds), translated into 27 languages and generally considered his finest novel. It presents a dramatic conflict between young Polish patriots and the communist regime during the last days of World War II. In 1958 Andrzej Wajda, the leading director of the Polish cinema, directed a movie based on the book and bearing the same title.

In 1949 Andrzejewski joined the Communist Party, and for the next seven years he supported its ideology in his essays, but in 1956 he gave up membership and established himself as one of the principal critics of the party’s policies, both in his creative writings and in his activities. In 1976 he became one of the cofounders of the Workers’ Defense Committee (KOR), from which eventually grew the anticommunist trade union Solidarity, outlawed in 1981. Andrzejewski also coedited Zapis (1977–81), a literary magazine publishing dissident writers. Andrzejewski’s novels Ciemności kryją ziemię (1957; The Inquisitors) and Bramy raju (1960; The Gates of Paradise) present modern problems disguised as historical novels, while Apelacja (1968; The Appeal) and Miazga (1981; “The Pulp”) directly address the issues of contemporary society.

Andrzejewski’s life and work seem to be emblematic for many Polish intellectuals of his generation—from his ardent Catholicism before the war to his heroic involvement with the Resistance during the Nazi occupation, through his subsequent skepticism, to his total acceptance of the Marxist ideology after the war, and, finally, to his disillusionment with and open dissent against communism. His short stories and novels, Ashes and Diamonds in particular, can be read as a moving testimony to his development.

Reviews

[Antonomasia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’m not surprised Ashes & Diamonds is most famous as a film. It’s a very visual, action-based novel, which, if it had been published more recently than 1948, I’d have cynically assumed was created with more than half an eye on movie options.

It’s also more accessibly written than its English-language publishing history would suggest – first it was part of the fabled Penguin Writers from the Other Europe series, edited by Philip Roth in the 1970s and 80s, and, in the USA, it has more recently been included in Northwestern University Press’ European Classics. A readable, ‘quality middlebrow’ novel (of the sort that Persephone Books might reprint if it were by a British woman), it tells its story chronologically, giving a snapshot of lives in a generic Polish town over a few days in early May 1945, just after the Germans have been beaten back, and people are trying to return to normal life – but finding that there isn’t any ‘new normal’ yet, and that now the common enemy is vanquished,not everyone is on the same side. Almost every character turns out to be connected to another, soap-opera style.

There must be tens of thousands of mid-market, book-group friendly novels in English about the Second World War and its aftermath, more than a few of them about Poland. Ashes & Diamonds could be enjoyed by this sort of mainstream audience, but instead it's a minor, little-read cult classic by virtue of the Writers from the Other Europe, if it's read at all. (1001 Books tried to do its bit, to be fair, as it was included in some of their lists.) It was written soon after the events in question, by someone who was there - unlike so many new novels by writers much too young to remember, whose grandparents weren’t even there, which only trot out clichés, and don’t get into the less-often heard, and therefore more interesting, details which Andrzejewski includes. It’s a novel that has more to give to those interested in the history and society, than to readers who read predominantly for wordplay and style. I found it a straightforward, relaxing book to turn to when my head felt overfull of ideas and detail from other novels – although it would have been better read more quickly, at a pace similar to the action, rather than by leaving days or a week between chapters.

A few of the themes are familiar from British post-war stories. There’s the wife who’s had a hard few years making ends meet at home on her own, and is now having difficulties communicating with her recently-released POW husband: neither fully understands what the other has been through, and each resents that the other apparently doesn’t recognise how difficult things have been for them. The middle and upper classes, and business owners have to accept that the more egalitarian wartime environment won't vanish the minute peace is declared, and staff won't be as deferential as they were in the 1930s. Exiled, dead or busy parents mean that some youths have grown up lawless, although on the surface, they may still seem like nice boys. In the UK, the grind and greyness of continued rationing sometimes gave people the feeling of a hollow victory – but in Poland, ravaged by the Nazis and Soviets, and with so many dead, the sense of Pyrrhic victory and the possibility of a false dawn (something illustrated by weather in this book) was far greater.

Some things apply to any European countries that were occupied. The formerly successful middle-class family moves back into their former home, which had been taken over by German officers, and it is still full of tacky, alien Nazi furniture they can’t afford to replace. Others in smaller accommodation have barely room to move, because they are crowded with distant relatives and their effects – internally displaced persons escaping the cities, whom they had little choice but to take in. Lesser-known Continental customs like sunbathing by a river may seem strange to urban Brits (maybe less so to Americans?) but make sense far inland in a differently-shaped country.

And some details are especially Polish. Small things like mushrooms as bar snacks, or vodka and soda as a standard drink. There are levels of familial affection that would never be seen in portrayals of 1940s Britain, and which reminded me that in Israel and some predominantly Jewish circles, the 'Jewish mother' stereotype is apparently called the 'Polish mother'. If you know even a little of the language, you can imagine that Mrs. Kossecki's sentences in some scenes would, in the original, be full of clucky, gushy diminutives. Geopolitically, this Ostrowiec (a common name shared by several towns in Poland, perhaps chosen by the author for that reason) is evidently more in the orbit of Warsaw than Kraków, and the overwhelming impact – and national importance - of the Warsaw Uprising and following massacres really hit home: characters repeatedly refer to having been there, or to people they knew who died there. (Having relatives from the south of the country, I grew up hearing lots about the war - to the point of boredom and numbness - but had never previously picked up this sense of the Warsaw Uprising hanging over everything.)

May 1945, Andrzejewski shows, was a moment when the cards were starting to reshuffle. As in the period after the fall of communism (more so then in Russia than in Poland) there was a partial power vacuum, with factions jockeying, sometimes violently, over who was going to be in charge. Several characters in Ashes & Diamonds are connected, one way or another, to assassination plots. Heinrich’s Böll’s introduction explains that the Soviets were not exactly liberators, and not seen that way by many post-war Poles: they had initially invaded in 1939 when still allied with Hitler, later they had failed to rush to the aid of Warsaw, despite being in a position to do so, and by 1948, when the book was published, it was clear they were retaining a substantial tranche of territory from the east of pre-war Poland.

Characters, like many of the general population, have ended up scattered across the country, some of them almost randomly ending up in Ostrowiec for a few days. There are communists and their opponents, and people on the make who’ll join whatever side looks like a good career prospect (but who might be scuppered if someone already thinks they’re a bad lot), lads barely out of school who fancy themselves as armed rebels, Hooray Henry aristos talking as if they’ll get their old life back, poor people scrabbling to meet basic needs - and a few refreshingly unexpected and unstereotypical characters, like the barmaid from a minor noble family who’s devoid of the snobbery of her cousins without making an especial point of it. (Female characters are more assertive than I would have automatically expected of a 1940s novel by a male author, although they do not have leading roles, and in some cases are still taken in by men.) Perhaps the most sympathetic political position for many contemporary readers will be that of a minor character who knows he’s against the tide of history - and that Russian imperialism ultimately stays the same, Tsarist or Communist: the wise, ageing social democrat Kalicki, a man of integrity with an epic life story, could have been an interesting protagonist for a novel himself – though that would not have been a smart book to write in newly Communist late 40s Poland.

Soviet socialist realism was by all accounts a bore to read, but I thought it would have been useful here if I’d known a bit more about it and read one or two examples, to compare with the political attitudes in Ashes & Diamonds. The poorest are presented as sympathetic and somewhat downtrodden: an ageing lavatory attendant vastly grateful for good tips; a lone parent who can’t afford treatment for her son’s illness, probably TB. Aristocrats seem more okay if they are willing to abandon the nobility and the idea of it, and take average jobs. Many of the middle class men and boys are wily schemers behind a veneer of respectability, and phrases about the moral ‘bankruptcy of the petty bourgeoisie’ appear more than once. The portrayal of a hotel proprietor, never mentioned to be Jewish, seems potentially anti-Semitic in a subtle dog-whistle way (the innkeeper in Polish national epic Pan Tadeusz is Jewish, but a sympathetic character), and at any rate I’m pretty sure this character in A&D is meant to be a critique of private enterprise. Communists are already in tentative authority, and it is the least pompous of them who eventually pronounces judgement on a middle-class collaborator whose successful pre-war career exemplifies the bootstraps doctrine of Anglo-American mainstream conservative parties. (He left the parental home as soon as he was old enough, worked in a shop for extremely low pay, gained professional qualifications whilst studying on his one day off, in surroundings that would have made work impossible for many, and took advantage of colleagues’ lesser stamina and health to get ahead.) This man's conduct in the concentration camp is implied to have come from the same individualist will to get ahead as his career success under a capitalist system. Polish independence is asserted by generic names for places in town, such as May 3rd Boulevard, Tadeusz Kościuszko Park and the Monopole (one Poland?) Hotel, whilst Red Army Square, by contrast, is mentioned much less.

Andrzejewski’s political history was complex; he would eventually become a Solidarity supporter in the 80s, but was for a time in the post-war period involved in pro-Stalist propaganda, and Ashes & Diamonds was a state-approved novel in 1950s Poland. (Andrzejewski is one of the authors critiqued in Czesław Miłosz’s The Captive Mind – a book I’ve been wondering whether it would be better to read before or after works by the writers discussed in it.)

Ashes & Diamonds is positively systematic and educational in the way that it sets out the moral arguments concerning collaborators and those who were just following orders, obviously a topic of huge current significance in 1948. There’s a lot to think about here. It is interesting to read from a contemporary western liberal perspective in which understandings of psychological backgrounds to crimes, and of maladaptive behaviour learned and used to survive in oppressive conditions, are important. From that viewpoint the arguments for someone acting differently in wartime and peacetime seem more persuasive. Yet this can be set against the idea that de-Nazification was not as complete as it might have been (in Germany), and that Soviet WWII war criminals were not subject to the same sentencing as Nazi collaborators, and the consequences for society that stemmed on the Soviet side in particular from not cracking down on war criminals.

This 1960s translation rather frustratingly anglicises some character names (though not all), and sometimes strangely. e.g. Maciej has become Michael. If you’re going to make a change to that extent, why not make middle class boy Juliusz into Julian, not Julius - it would give an extra edge to his being the leader of a gang, but very much not the wholesome paragon of virtue that was Julian of the Famous Five. There is the odd strange vocabulary choice that clearly sounds translated, not natural English, and one scene in a cafe wasn’t as clear as it could be, possibly because of the intricacies of Polish demonstrative pronouns. However, the translation has its good points too. As I found with the old Glenny translation of The Master & Margarita, many of its stylistic and vocab choices mean it feels more closely connected to the time of its setting and original publication than a modern version might, without being old enough that it’s laborious to read.

William T. Vollmann, one of the Anglophone writers who was influenced by the Writers from the Other Europe series, talked of ”the spirit of doomed tenderness which shines like a magnesium flare in Jerzy Andrzejewski’s Ashes & Diamonds”. (From the afterword to Dalkey Archive edition of A Tomb for Boris Davidovich, quoted by Velichka Ivanova in Philip Roth: Transatlantic Perspectives and the Fall 2011 Philip Roth society newsletter, both of which feature the same few paragraphs about the series.) This made me look more intently at the emotional trajectory of the book, although at the same time the quote reminded me of the profound effect of books read in one’s teens, or under conditions of limited choice (back when the only sources were local bookshops and public libraries): books which may not have seemed quite so outstandingly special if read later in life, or at a time like the present when there is a quite ridiculous abundance.

This is an odd one to wrap up on, as the book’s being out of print in the UK, and in the US published by a university press, means that it’s not readily available to a lot of the readers who might find it most interesting – an authentic book about Poland after the Second World War that’s as approachable as lots of recently published historical fiction seen in bookshop displays. Although it’s not stylistically striking, enthusiasts who seek it out for heritage or history reasons may find it enjoyable as a surprisingly fast and easy read, and somewhat lighter than the highbrow or extremely harrowing books that were more commonly translated from Eastern Europe at the time.

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I wouldn't recommend watching the film soon after reading the book. Film-before-book may not be to many Goodreaders' taste, but Ashes & Diamonds may be an exception to the rule. The film and the book are fundamentally different works, and each deserves to be considered on its own merits.

The film is more of a 'based on' than an adaptation, with several main characters and plotlines omitted and some scenes in a different order: no Mr & Mrs Kossecki; the lads in the woods are actual Home Army, not school-leavers playing at gangsters; the dance at the hotel is at the end, not near the middle.

The political orientation of the Ashes & Diamonds film is very different from the book in this old Penguin edition, and surprisingly daring. (As mentioned below in the comments, Andrzejewski had to edit the book several times, and I think this 1960s English translation was based on a fairly Party-friendly version.)

I've since noticed that the dance at the end of the film echoes the dance at the end of the hugely influential 1901 play The Wedding by Stanisław Wyspiański (which I read after Ashes & Diamonds). That may make the film even more subversive, as a common, although not universal, interpretation of that dance is that it represents Poles' stasis in tackling oppressive powers.

It's a film to watch for cinematography, among other things, (though - a minority opinion - I found Czybulski's iconic 50s badboy look jarring in the 40s setting) and because it's so strong as a film in itself, where it's concerned, the book is neither here nor there.

[Jan-Maat]

Sad little story of those trying to reestablish everyday life in Poland after the war and those who can't adjust and are trying to continue fighting.

In the way that these things go a good chunk of my memory of this book consists in fact of a memory of the long scene of the new year's celebration from the Andrzej Wajda film version.

[William2]

Note: See Czeslaw Milosz’s book The Captive Mind, chapter 4, “Alpha, the Moralist,” for the poet’s assessment of Polish novelist and friend Jerzy Andrzejewski’s career, especially this major post-war book, his esthetic concerns, stylistic strengths, and accommodation of the USSR’s communist takeover of Poland.

[Evan · Rating 5 out of 5]

[2016 Addendum: Film buffs may know of the great movie adaptation of this novel; but this novel is in its own class. It's a phenomenal and sweeping story; also one of the most under-read and underrated novels of all time, in my opinion. I'm re-posting my very detailed review in hopes of generating some more interest in it. -e/kr]

The great set piece that spans two sprawling masterly chapters of Jerzy Andrzejewski's 1948 novel Ashes and Diamonds is an all-night party at the Hotel Monopole in the Polish provincial capital of Ostrowiec, where many of the book's characters have gathered to celebrate the promotion of the town's mayor, Swiecki, to a plum ministerial post in the postwar government in Warsaw.

Swiecki is the kind of faceless, amorally ambitious man who will be needed to run the communist bureaucracy of Poland for the next 40 years. Not surprisingly, many in the room--desperately seeking security in their lives in a land subjected to six years of merciless brutality--will be jockeying for position to curry his favor, some of whom will succeed and some of whom will not. But the intrigues in this room are only part of the story of Ashes and Diamonds--which, in barely under 240 pages, touches on the lives of more than 50 characters, most of whom are related to the partiers and who, in their homes and hideouts, are living out lives and confronting issues in microcosm that face individuals and families all over Poland in the wake of the war.

The novel's story takes place in May 1945. Poland has been liberated by the Red Army which--in the eyes of many Poles, whose land has historically been much-partitioned--represents not a liberation but another repressive occupation. World War II may be over for them, but it still rages on to the west, grinding on to its last days, as loudspeakers in the Ostrowiec town square announce the latest Allied victories. These announcements leave the citizens both elated and wary, as the reality sinks in about their uncertain futures. It is clear that the communist occupiers have won Poland, yet a new round of civil war between communists and anti-communist nationalist factions (both of whom exhibit methods and ideological justifications for slaughter which vary little from those of their previous Nazi oppressors) has already begun and threatens the fragile peace.

The book begins with a botched assassination that reveals the confusions and chaos of this political uncertainty and the varying motives and ambiguities of the players involved. Two nationalist warriors, Andrew Kossecki and his junior partner, Michael Chemlicki, have accidentally snuffed out two local cement workers (Smolarski and Gawlik) instead of the intended two local communist functionaries, Stefan Szczuka and his aid, Frank Podgorski. Unknown to him, Szczuka co-exists in alarming proximity--in the next hotel room--to his would-be assassin, Chemlicki.

Szczuka and his friend Kalicki are two old soldiers of Marxism, the former being more solidly ensconced in the party and Kalicki being the more ideologically pure and principled socialist. Both are needed for their expediency in building the new order but are seen by the new generation of pragmatic communists as expendable. The deaths of the cement workers become a cause-celebre for the communists in their propaganda war to solidify their position as the new rulers.

Yet, in a land where so much innocent blood has been spilled, the deaths of the workers seems hardly a footnote, and indeed most of the residents take it in their weary stride. These are people who have survived starvation, warfare and imprisonment and the loss of loved ones in concentration camps, on battlefields and in the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. Two more deaths not only seem trivial, but de rigueur.

Some of the primary tensions in the novel are generated by a psychological rivalry between Szczuka and Antony Kossecki, both concentration camp survivors who hold secrets about their imprisonment. Kossecki, outwardly a respectable, bland, well-liked town lawyer who worked his way from humble roots, was a camp monster, which Szczuka well remembers. This storyline points up a primary preoccupation of the novel, the idea of mutable morality according to circumstance and the justifications that humans make to account for their actions to survive in wartime, and, by extension, in the workaday competition of peacetime.

Another plot involves Chemlicki's desire to stop the killing, to retire from his life as an assassin after he finds the love of his life in the Monopole barmaid, Christina, a girl jaded by the temporal nature of pleasure in war, who seems to no longer believe in the naive ideal of love. Andrew Kossecki, a coldly efficient soldier in the ideological war, looks at Chemlicki's quest for personal peace with his own jaded POV, that of a mafioso who will not let his protege duck out of this duties. After all, their target, Szczuka, is still alive.

Stefan Kossecki's other son, Alek, has become involved with a group of youths who are ostensibly working for the nationalists, but who seem like nothing more than an anarchist tribal street gang, led by the increasingly ruthless Julius Szretter, whose personal philosophy of power seems to reflect an interest in the Nietzschean superman. He seems to relish power for its own sake rather than a belief in any true high political ideal. In the end and in the grand scheme of things his motive for perpetrating violence seems little different from those sporting more noble political ends. His brutality and desperation for money to buy arms for the little band of outlaws results in the death of a friend, which splits the gang and threatens to create yet another point of division in a deeply divided country.

The plot of Ashes and Diamonds and the interrelations between the massive cast of characters are intricate and presented in a sensible progression by Andrzejewski. This book was the basis for a 1958 Polish movie by the feted director Andrzej Wajda, long considered his masterpiece and a landmark of world cinema. The movie is great, but I have to say that I enjoyed this book even more, with its even finer weavings and inclusion of vastly more characters. The book is ambitious and succeeds in its aims and it should be far better known than it is. Its unjustly neglected status and my fortuitous discovery of it make me further lament our tendency to rely too much on literary canon formation and the resultant lists that make us too dependent on such tastemaking to dictate what we choose to read. Instead of keeping up with the Joneses, looking to such lists or buying into the latest literary hype of the week, we might well deviate and look for hidden gems like this.

[Bob Wake · Rating 4 out of 5]

The 1948 Polish novel Ashes and Diamonds by Jerzy Andrzejewski (1909-1983) is probably less appreciated today as a literary work in its own right than as the basis for Andrzej Wajda’s 1958 film adaptation. The wildly entertaining movie, designated an “Essential Art House” choice in Criterion’s DVD catalog, owes more to Orson Welles’s baroque cinematic influence than Andrzejewski’s blend of socialist realism and tragic irony. Both novel and film are compact (239 pgs./103 mins.), while at the same time reflecting a panoramic near-epic cross-section of Poland’s clashing societal and political factions at the close of the Second World War. Neither the novel nor the film have escaped criticism over the years, although for different reasons.

Poet Czeslaw Milosz (1911-2004), who defected from Communist Poland in 1951, wrote a scathing smackdown of his former friend Jerzy Andrzejewski in The Captive Mind (1953), the Nobel Prize-winning poet’s classic study of writers and intellectuals “adapting” themselves to totalitarian regimes. Milosz—who refers to Andrzejewski pseudonymously as “Alpha, the Moralist”—is especially tough on what he sees as pulled-punches in Ashes and Diamonds (discussed at length in The Captive Mind without mentioning the novel’s title). According to Milosz, the novelist was nicknamed “the respectable prostitute” by fellow-writers who saw Andrzejewski as a Stalinist suck-up.

Film director Andrzej Wajda, in a fascinating interview included on the Ashes and Diamonds Criterion DVD, talks candidly of having initially refused to read the novel because of its state-sanctioned popularity in the 1950s. In the notes to a 2007 translation of Andrzejewski’s earlier novel, Holy Week, commentator Oscar Swan writes: “The year 1954 found Andrzejewski politically sanitizing a new edition of Ashes and Diamonds, which had become required reading in the schools.”

German writer Heinrich Böll (1917-1985), like Milosz a recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature, is altogether kinder to Ashes and Diamonds in his introduction written for the 1980 Penguin “Writers from the Other Europe” paperback edition of the novel, and reprinted in the 1997 Northwestern University Press edition. Almost as an aside, Böll notes that “the reader feels” that Andrzejewski “has a sense of kinship” with the novel’s “young Socialist and Communist functionaries.”

While both the Penguin and NUP editions of Ashes and Diamonds use D. J. Walsh’s 1962 British translation (with its battle-hardened Polish adults and nihilistic teenagers alike saying “cheerio” and “bloke” and “rotter” to one another), only the NUP edition includes five pages of previously deleted text. No explanation is given as to whether this was perhaps material removed by censors or, more likely, added in later to placate censors (possibly for the 1954 “sanitized” edition). A long speech by Stefan Szczuka, the sympathetically portrayed Communist Party official marked for assassination by the Polish underground, goes on and on for a mind-numbing two full pages of Soviet-era boilerplate:

For only those truly die who believe in isolation or who serve false truths which are illusory and incompatible with the one great truth of our time. Future generations will only despise them and will blame them or condemn them to oblivion. Those people, however, who have understood the forces of history and who have been in solidarity with their comrades, will discover in the future the praise of soldiers fighting for humanity, for one’s own fatherland and for mankind, for the world order.

Wajda sharpened the book’s edges by infusing the film with the Catholic iconography of Polish nationalism and by emphasizing the charged performance of Zbigniew Cybulski as the Home Army resistance fighter tasked with assassinating Szczuka. The combined effect was a cleverly coded rebuke to the postwar Soviet control of the country. Although the movie’s striking visual metaphors have sometimes been criticized as heavy-handed, the stylistic strategy clearly succeeded in Wajda’s intended aim of circumventing Communist Party censorship.

[John Gaynard · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jerzy Andrzejewski is one of the four writers featured by Czesław Miłosz in his 1953 book The Captive Mind. Miłosz describes Andrzejewki's writing before WWII, describes his experiences during the war, and gives a blow by blow account of the 1948 novels Ashes and Diamonds, which was an apology for the Soviet takeover of Poland.

In the novel, the communists who are taking over Poland, through what they hope will be only indirect Soviet intervention, with the collaboration of the "new" Polish Army and Government brought in from WWII exile in the Soviet Union, are the good guys. The remnants of the Polish Home Army, leading a rearguard combat against the communists, and the Polish aristocracy are the bad guys. In addition to these two groups, there is a third group: the arrivistes, who have no beliefs one way or the other, but who will do anything to ingratiate themselves with the new power structure.

Well worth reading as a period piece and to get the full import of Miłosz's message about how writers became captive of Soviet social realism. In the beginning, decent people made what they thought were necessary compromises. Then came the tipping point.

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting, compelling, vividly written novel set in a small Polish town, about three characters over a few days in May 1945, at the end of World War II. Szcuka is a district Communist Party secretary, Maciek Chelmicki is a reluctant Resistance hitman who falls in love and Kossecki, a magistrate before the war, who spent four years in a concentration camp and became a Nazi collaborator. Kossecki’s elder son, Andrew, has joined the Resistance, which is now fighting Polish Communists. The young brother, Alek, aged seventeen, has joined an anarchist group.

A very interesting novel about the issues facing Poland at the end of World War II. The war has ruptured and brutalized the Polish. The mayor’s banquet highlights the power plays occurring with the socialists and those seeking to gain political and financial advantage.

This book was first published in Poland in 1948.

[Dwight]

My review

From you, as burning chips of resin,

Fiery fragments circle far and near:

Ablaze, you don’t know if you are to be free,

Or if all is yours will disappear.



Will only ashes and confusion remain,

Leading into the abyss?—or will there be

In the depths of the ash a star-like diamond,

The dawning of eternal victory!



—Epigraph to Ashes and Diamonds, from Cyprian Norwid, “Prolog,” Tragedia fantastyczna

Reading Ashes and Diamonds and The Faithful River at the same time proved to be quite a coincidence because a similar question lies at the heart of both novels: “What was the fighting for?” Żeromski has a clear picture of the Polish soul, though not without some shades of grey. Andrzejewski’s outlook, on the other hand, contains more ambiguity. One thing to keep in mind with Andrzejewski is the censorship he had to deal with—how much is to be read between the lines? The question becomes more complicated when looking at the screenplay he wrote over a decade later since he was able to explore some themes in more detail. At the same time, though, he had to pare content (I’ll look at the movie in a separate post). Andrzejewski also came in for criticism from both sides for factual integrity. Worth mentioning in this context are the letters/essays Czeslaw Miłosz wrote to Andrzejewski compiled in Legends of Modernity. For a more detailed (and linear) plotline of the novel, see the Wikipedia entry.



Ashes and Diamonds explores two general subjects. The first topic presents the chaos in Poland at the end of World War II (May 1945 for the European theater). Andrzejewski shows this in several ways: relocation of families, martial law in effect, return (or not) of family members from concentration camps, and new political realities. The last point includes the expectation of the Soviets taking control of Poland once the peace is signed, although they already exert significant power in the void left after the Germans retreated. Not everyone is happy about the situation and the former Home Army Resistance takes active measures against Soviet leaders. (Heinrich Böll's introduction raises several additional considerations to remember in looking at the Polish resistance to Soviet influence.) Michael Chelmicki, active in the underground army, has volunteered to assassinate the province secretary of the Communist Party (Szczuka).



This violence raises questions, both on the morality and the effectiveness of such an act. Colonel Staniewicz of the Home Army answers a question from his lieutenant on why Szczuka must be killed:

“In today’s set-up we Poles are divided into two categories: those who have betrayed the freedom of Poland and those who do not wish to do so. The first want to submit to Russia, we do not. They want Communism, we do not. They want to destroy us, we must destroy them. … And what were you fighting for? Wasn’t it for the freedom of Poland? But did you imagine a Poland ruled by blind agents carrying out orders from the Kremlin and established by Russian bayonets? What about your colleagues, your contemporaries? How many of them died? What for? … [W]hen it’s a question of ideas which bring us enslavement and death, then our reply can only be death. The usual laws of battle. History will be the final judge as to who was right.”

(pages 49-50)

This provides some of the troubling nature of the novel, both in content and intent, since the colonel for the Home Army is being presented as another ideologue like Szczuka (and include the Communist secretary of the district, Podgorski, in that camp), willing to justify any act as long as it is for their higher cause. That lieutenant, Andrew Kossecki, muses on the futility of both the assassination and the war in general. Not convinced by the colonel’s argument, he looks at history’s judgment of the just-finished war and the principles on which it was reportedly based.

Nothing was left of the enthusiasm of the past. Nothing left of that zeal, or of the desires and hopes either. The world of the victorious had again been divided into victors and vanquished. What had the dead died for, anyway? The war was dying, and no hope was dawning to justify the countless sacrifices, sufferings, injustices, violence, and the ruins which were left today. He remembered what the colonel had said an hour earlier about solidarity but he felt that it wasn’t this but something quite different which concerned him. Thousands of people had been summoned to the battle in the name of the loftiest values and with great phrases: some had died for them, others had managed to save themselves, and one again life was mocking the tremendous words, humanity and justice, freedom and brotherhood. Only a huge muck-heap was left of the great and noble aims.

(pages 94-5)

The gap between the ideal language based on principles with the reality of the war and its consequences becomes concrete with the Polish youth raised in this atmosphere, probably the most disturbing part of this topic. These youth speak of freedom and justice but they steal and kill for its own sake (prefiguring the old ultra-violence), few showing little or no remorse for their actions. Chelmicki, the young soldier who volunteered to assassinate Szczuka, provides a forceful contrast to these youths, especially since he strongly resembles them at the start of the novel. Like Andrew Kossecki he questions the need for the assassination, his doubt made more intense because his initial attempt resulted in the death of two innocent Poles. His blossoming love for a local girl compounds his hesitance—he plans to leave the resistance so he can live a normal life, but only after he obeys his superiors on this last act. This submission to higher authorities without taking into account the morality or hopelessness of the act falls into one of the many grey areas of combat, compounded by the fact that the war on this front was officially over.



Which leads to the second topic, just as complex as the first one: how should a man be judged for his actions during crisis situations such as war or confinement? This topic applies to several characters, the central one being Antony Kossecki, a local judge just returned from a German concentration camp. In the camp Kossecki rose to the level of orderly, assisting in the torment and torture of other prisoners. The following conversation presents part of the rationalization Kossecki uses to defend himself (although the irony here is that Podgorski at this point does not know of Kossecki’s collaboration with the Nazis):

Antony Kossecki: “In the camps everything happened, almost every kind of daily situation, every feeling, every passion, and all unbelievably intensified and concentrated…whatever happened there took place only one step away from death. The only thing which gripped and vitalized people was a primitive longing to survive. Anyone who lost the will to live, died. Other people died too, but it was primarily these.”



Podgorski sat down on the edge of the desk. “I see what you’re getting at. The will to live at any price even at the expense of other people?”



“Yes, in any primitive struggle. The terror inherent in the camp system depended on this. To break people down, trample on them, deprive them of dignity, of human feelings, and to bring out the worst instincts in them.”



“But they didn’t all vie way to these instincts.”



“I know. But there were enough who did sooner or later, to make us think. It’s a difficult problem. There’s a limit to human endurance which is not the same for everyone. But here too there’s a lower boundary-line, as you said. Below it, a man will do anything in order to live. I’ve seen people whose desire to save themselves became more violent the deeper they sank into degradation: the two things went together. Should we condemn them out of hand for that? Can we really condemn men because they could not resist the pressures of cruelty and degradation? As there’s a limit to a man’s physical endurance, so there’s a limit to his moral endurance.”

(pages 82-3, ellipsis in original)

To what extent, during peacetime, should actions taken during the war be judged? Are there different levels of what's acceptable? Do standards differ for enlisted men and officers? Given the USSR's clear imperial aims when looking at Poland, does that change how the resistance should be judged? All these questions (and more) fall under this second topic.



There is a scene that ties together both themes nicely. At the local hotel a performer sings a song sympathetic to “the partisans” that moves the crowd, made up of collaborators and rebels (and those that thought they remained neutral):

The song, carried on the little childish voice, had pushed back time, had opened up the past now tragically lost in fear and platitudes, in lies and stupidity, in the fumes of alcohol, in easy love and easy money, in cloudy illusions and vain, blind griefs, in all this confused life which was leading to what? Remembrance seized them all. The shadows of the voices of the dead, of houses that no longer existed. The shadows of landscapes, or of their own fates. But no joy had emerged from those years. Life was continuing. But what did it carry with it? Loss or hope?
(page 153)

Or as the title implies, what will they find in the remains of the fire—ashes or diamonds?

[Monty Milne · Rating 2 out of 5]

As the Third Reich crumbles, in Poland – already liberated by the Red Army – the heroic and saintly communists are resisted by snobbish old aristocrats and young Fascist terrorists whose only ideology is violence and nihilism. What rot.

Yes, there are some good action scenes, and at its best this reads like a film score – and I understand it was made into an exciting and powerful film. But there is a problem here with a simplistic lack of characterisation and with a narrative that, for all its vividness at creating a filmic scene, is fundamentally deceitful. But hey, what do I know, I wasn’t there. I do know, however, that Andrzejewski was an apologist for communist totalitarianism and a Stalinist toady and lickspittle whose prose colluded in the subjugation and enslavement of his nation. His ability to create some vivid action scenes does not, for me, balance out his propagandistic mendacity.

[c_branwell]

W końcu się wzięłam za tego Andrzejewskiego. Czy była to proza wybitna? No nie. Ale czy dostarczyła mi rozrywki i przyjemności czytelniczej? No trochę tak.

Bałam się sięgnąć po tę książkę, nie tylko przez to, że już niejako obrosła legendą Wajdy, ale też dlatego, że obawiałam się, że nie zrozumiem tych wszystkich polityczno-społecznych nawiązań. Ale okazało się, że nie ma się czego bać – fabuła, mimo wielu wątków i bohaterów, jest zrozumiała i przejrzysta. Nie wiem czy to dobrze czy źle. Po prostu tak jest.

Popiół i diament jawi mi się jednak przede wszystkim jako już trochę zakurzony dokument epoki i świdectwo socrealizmu. Można przeczytać dla ciekawości, ale że tak powiem "bez szału".

[Hadrian · Rating 3 out of 5]

7,5/10
Jak zapewne wielu ludzi, "Popiół i diament" kojarzyłem przez długi czas przede wszystkim z ekranizacją Wajdy, uznawaną za największe dokonanie tego reżysera. Film jednak jak mało który zatarł się w mojej pamięci niedługi czas po jego obejrzeniu, a gdy dowiedziałem się, że powieść została napisana przez postać znaną i dość kontrowersyjną w polskiej literaturze, postanowiłem i po nią sięgnąć.

Zaczynając od pozytywów, to na pewno dla Andrzejewskiego pewnym sukcesem jest to, jak w stosunkowo małej powieści udało mu się wprowadzić taką pokaźną ilość postaci i poplątać je ze sobą nicią fabularnych powiązań. Postacie sędziego Kosseckiego, działacza partyjnego Szczuki i młodego Maćka Chełmickiego, choć nasuwają się jako główni bohaterowie "Popiołu i diamentu", wcale nie dominują nad innymi. Autor bardzo swobodnie przeskakuje pomiędzy perspektywami, przeplata ze sobą sceny, prowadzi akcję niemal "w czasie rzeczywistym" przez zaledwie kilka majowych dni 1945 roku. Wraz z mało miasteczkową scenerią, niepełnymi rodzinami i samotnymi młodzieńcami, odniesieniami do powstania warszawskiego, przedwojennych rządów Sanacji, istnienia obozów koncentracyjnych i działalności podziemia - to wszystko sprawia, że powieść Andrzejewskiego rzeczywiście nieźle zdaje się działać jako świadectwo konkretnego czasu i miejsca, czyli Polski w ostatnich dniach II Wojny Światowej.

Ale tylko się zdaje. Problemem jest przede wszystkim jawna stronniczość Andrzejewskiego i wynikające z tego kontrowersje. Oczywiście wiadomym jest, że w czasach stalinizmu pisarz nie miał swobody w przedstawianiu powojennej rzeczywistości w sposób uczciwy. Powieść jest też krótka i na jej łamach ciężko byłoby oddać wszystkie odcienie szarości moralnej ówczesnych obywateli Polski. Niemniej jednak, znając polityczną działalność Andrzejewskiego, nie sposób nie uznać czarno-białości "Popiołu i diamentu" jako przejaw sympatii politycznych autora. Komuniści w jego powieści są przedstawieni jako niosący potrzebny w tym czasie ład i porządek, szczerze oddanych szczytnej idei, nonkonformistów zdolnych do poświęceń dla społeczeństwa. AKowcy zaś występują jako samotni i zagubieni w nowej rzeczywistości młodzieńcy, często zmanipulowani i przymuszani do wykonywania bandyckich rozkazów. Oni są popiołem historii, zaś działacze w postaci Szczuki diamentem społeczeństwa.Nie jest to kłamstwo, zapewne po części rzeczywiście tak było, ale Andrzejewski posługuje się półprawdami.

Kolejną słabością jest zmarnowany potencjał wymowy filozoficznej powieści. Pisarz w "Popiele i diamencie" zapuszcza się na tereny psychologiczno-moralne oraz społeczno-polityczne, ale wszystkie te tematy porusza niezwykle lakonicznie, czasem ledwo je sygnalizując i pozostawiając dotkliwe uczucie niedosytu. Powieść rozpaczliwie prosi się o pogłębienie swojej tematyki. Postacie wychodzą jak płaskie archetypy, pomimo złożoności wątków i naturalnie brzmiących dialogów. Jest to ostatecznie dobra powieść, ale tylko poprawna od strony językowej, z zakusami na coś więcej, ale ledwo sięgającymi ku celu. Andrzejewski stara się wywołać u czytelnika zadumę nad ludzką moralnością i narodową historią i może w kimś wywoła, ale niestety nie we mnie.

[Parn Abr]

"در نهایت هر رنجی مهم است و باید به آن توجه داشت. حتی باید آن را درک کرد. اما تمامی رنج آدمی، در برابر آخرین لحظات زندگی کسانی که امید خود را از دست داده‌اند و تنها چیزی که برایشان مانده است، تلخی، ناتوانی جسم، ظلم و تحقیراست، چه اهمیتی دارد.
اغلب وقتی خوابش نمی‌برد، با خودش حرف میزد: ماریا من زنده مانده‌ام و برای بسا کسانی که به من نیاز داشته‌ باشند میتوانم کاری انجام دهم. فقط برای تو که بیش از همه کس به من نیاز داشتی نتوانستم کاری انجام دهم. می‌توانستم راحت‌تر به تو بیندیشم اگر می‌دانستم در آن لحظات، لحظاتی که زندگی را بدرود میگفتی، دست کم کسی درکنار تو بوده که در قلبش احساس ترحمی وجود داشته و تو هم این را می‌دانسته‌ای..."

در مقدمه‌ی کتاب نوشته آندره‌یوفسکی در آثارش به توصیف انسان گناه‌کار در مبارزه با خویشتن میپردازه. این کتاب هم داستان آدم‌هایی در زمان آخر جنگ‌جهانی دوم در لهستان رو بازگو میکنه. آدم هایی که از اردوگاه های کار اجباری برگشتن، جنگ رو تجربه کردن، زیر بار اون شکستن و الان پس از پایان جنگ درتلاشند با اون کسی که جنگ ازشون ساخته بود کنار بیان. مثل کوسکی که در اردوگاه‌ها آنچنان شخصیتش رو شکستن که نتوست طاقت بیاره و به بهانه‌ی نجات خودش حاضر شد زندان‌بان بشه و بقیه‌ی اسرا رو کتک بزنه. کتاب این مسئله رو مطرح میکنه که این انسان گناه‌کار تا چه حد مقصره؟ آیا اصلا میشه محکومش کرد؟ همچین کسی اگر در شرایط عادی بود مثل یک شهروند عادی زندگی میکرد. آدم در برابر رنج چقدر طاقت میاره؟ رنج آدم هارو باهم مقایسه میکنه، آیا اصلا میشه مقایسه کرد؟ رنج کوسکی در اردوگاه‌ها آنچنان زیاد بوده که آیا اصلا رنج همسرش در زندگی روزمره زیر بار جنگ اهمیتی داره؟ یا همان " اما تمامی رنج آدمی، در برابر آخرین لحظات زندگی کسانی که امید خود را از دست داده‌اند و تنها چیزی که برایشان مانده است، تلخی، ناتوانی جسم، ظلم و تحقیراست، چه اهمیتی دارد." که شخصیت شچوشکا که اون هم از جنگ برگشته و از کوسکی دل خوشی نداره نقل میکنه. اما خود شچوشکا هم وقتی در موضع قدرت قرار میگیره از زیرکشیدن افرادی که ازشون دل خوشی نداره (کوسکی) دریغ نمیکنه، و تو این مسئله چه فرقی با خود کوسکی داره؟
از مقدمه:" یکی از شخصیت های جوانتر داستان، چلمیکی است که در سرنوشت اون تراژدی انسان هایی منعکس میشود که در مبارزه ی بی امان با اشغالگران فاشیست پیروز شده‌اند اما سرگشته ‌اند و راه به بیراهه دارند." شخصیت چلمیکی کسی‌است با دستور مافوق‌هاش آدم میکشه (در شرایط سیاسی ناپایدار پس از جنگ که هر گروهی در پی به دست آوردن قدرت است) و در راهش مصمم به نظر میرسه ولی وقتی عاشق کریستینا میشه، تو مسیرش شک میکنه و اون هم درواقع مجبور میشه با گناهانش روبرو شه.
در نهایت به‌نظر میرسه در این کتاب هیچ‌کس در انتها به رستگاری نخواهد رسید و همه در مسیرشون محکوم به رنج و فنا هستند.

[Andy Weston · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ashes and Diamonds by Jerzy Andrzejewski (translated by EJ Welsh) was originally published in 1948, and takes place in the spring of 1945, as the nation is in the throes of its transformation to the People's Republic Of Poland. Communists, socialists, and patriots; thieves and black-marketeers; servants and wilting aristocrats; veteran terrorists and savage groups of children bewitched by the scent of crime and adventure, all converged on a provincial town's main hotel, in a microcosm of an transplanted society.
Andrzejewski's presents the ‘ashes’ very well, from the gang of young boys, about whom it would be hard to conjure up anything good to say, to the older party leaders who seemed lost and driven only by personal success rather than by a desire for a free and happy people. But there are few references to any ‘diamonds’, unless I missed them.
As important a work as it clearly is, I didn’t find it an easy book to read. There must be 50 key characters, hard to keep track of without a notepad and pencil, and it is light on character development, we get to know very few of them well.
The takeaway for me is as Andrzejewski delves into the nature of mankind. He does not present a people who hold on to morality and goodness through the toughest of times, rather he presents those people who, under pressure we can barely imagine, reveal the predominately dark side human psyche, committed to wrong-doing in order to survive and get ahead.

[Jamie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Had to have a classmate from Polish ship this to me during his Euro-travels this summer. I'm not sure why this book, in Polish, has been so hard for me to acquire.

The film adaption by Andrzej Wajda I highly recommend. One of my favorites.


Took me long enough, but I finally finished my first book in Polish!!!

[Faeze · Rating 4 out of 5]

و هر بار چون مشعلی فروزان
از درون خویش شعله می کشی
و آن دم که می سوزی، می پرسی
آیا به آزادی بزرگتری دست خواهی یافت؟
یا آنچه را که از آن توست
به ننگ خواهی آلود؟
آیا فقط خاکستر و غباری برجای می ماند
که با وزش بادی محو می شود؟
یا در قعر خاکستر
الماسی درخشان
خبر از صبح پیروزی ابدی خواهد داد؟

[Liam Ostermann]

Found this novel on ebay at a price I couldn't resist - I've another of his novels to finish first - I want a little perspective because I am so annoyed with the platitudinus condemnations of so many goodreads reviewers who don't seem to realise what a complex and challenging position any person in Poland was when it came to deciding what to do when faced with the reality of the Soviet Union dominating the country.

[Kobe Bryant · Rating 2 out of 5]

He really needed to spice this book up

[Radek Gabinek · Rating 4 out of 5]

Osinskipoludzku.blogspot.com

Trochę przypadku i wyzwanie czytelnicze że strony portalu czytelniczego lubimyczytac zaprowadziły mnie do klasyki polskiego kina i literackiego pierwowzoru słynnego filmu Andrzeja Wajdy. Gdyby nie to pewnie nie sięgnął bym po tę książkę, a tak książka już za mną i film czeka w kolejce.



"Popiół i diament" opowiada o trudnych czasach. Akcja toczy się tuż po zakończonej wojnie, a bohaterowie rzuceni zostają w wir politycznej zawieruchy, która to nawiedziła Polskę kiedy tylko umilknął front. Zarówno ci którzy zostali bezpośrednio pokiereszowani przez machinę wojenną i wracają z pola boju, czy też obozów, jak i młodzież która w normalnych okolicznościach bawiła by się bądź zwyczajnie zakochiwała i uprawiała miłość, wszyscy oni stają się częścią politycznej dysputy o przyszłości kraju. Atmosfera jest napięta, wyroki śmierci wydawane są bez pozorowania nawet rozpraw. Trup ściele się gęsto, często przypadkowo, a wokół udziela się nieufność i niemal każdy opowiada się po jednej ze stron barykady. Andrzejewski w takiej właśnie atmosferze osadził historię, którą trudno nazwać piękną, ale jak najbardziej zasługuje ona na miano ważnej i pouczającej. Główni bohaterowie powieści niemal na każdym kroku przeżywają dylematy moralne, a podstawowe pytanie stawiane przez autora brzmi "Czy w imię idei można poświęcić ludzkie życie?"



Andrzejewski w swej książce nie daje jasnych odpowiedzi i nie dokonuje sądów nad postawami prezentowanymi przez stworzonych na potrzeby tej historii bohaterów. Wbrew niektórym opiniom o tej książce, nie znalazłem tu propagandy czy innych niecnych przesłanek. Wręcz przeciwnie znaleźć można tu pytania bez odpowiedzi, a ludzie nie są stawiani w kategoriach czarno - białych. W zależności od perspektywy, ich wybory są niejednoznaczne i tak naprawdę jesteśmy jako czytelnicy zapraszani do gry "Jakbyś się zachował?". Myślę, że łatwo jest zrobić sobie tatuaż Polski Walczącej , albo demonstrować patriotyzm na marszach w czasach kiedy wojna jest już melodią przeszłości. Znacznie jednak trudniej jest wystawić na próbę swój kodeks wartości w obliczu zagrożenia śmiercią. Nie zazdroszczę tym samym wyborów tym, którzy żyli w czasach wojny bo nawet na papierze te wybory do prostych nie należą. Zalecam ku rozwadze lekturę powieści "Popiół i diament" wszystkim tym, którym z perspektywy czasu łatwo przychodzą sądy nad historią i ludźmi ją piszącymi.



Będę kończył już swoją opinię, bo im dłużej piszę o powieści Jerzego Andrzejewskiego tym większe ryzyko spojlerów. Warto sięgnąć po tę książkę, ale pod warunkiem że pozbędziemy się już na samym początku uprzedzeń i sympatie polityczne odłożymy na bok choćby na czas lektury. Tylko w takim przypadku warto oddać się lekturze i wczuć się w losy bohaterów. Ja jestem bardzo na tak i cieszę się, że dzięki wyzwaniu czytelniczemu udało mi się oddać strzał w dziesiątkę. Rewelacyjna książka!

[Justka · Rating 4 out of 5]

Skończyłam ,,Popiół i diament'' i zastanawiam się, co mogę powiedzieć na temat tej powieści. Zdecydowanie najbardziej urzekł mnie styl autora – lekki, pozbawiony zbędnych szczegółów, a jednocześnie poetycki, ale w prozatorski sposób. Fragmenty ,,Dziennika'' Andrzejewskiego są wartościowym dodatkiem do książki – pokazują, że życie pisarza wcale nie jest usłane różami, że człowiek czasem cały dzień spędza wpatrując się w pustą kartkę... Nie ukrywam, że odrobinkę się z tym utożsamiam, choć o byciu autorką mogę póki co tylko pomarzyć. Kolejną zaletą powieści są bardzo dobrze wykreowani bohaterowie. Każdy z nich jest inny, każdy jest wielowymiarowy... Kurczę! Muszę tu kilku z nich wymienić, bo uważam, że totalnie na to zasługują:

Szczuka — kulawy mężczyzna, który jest komunistą i próbuje dowidzieć się, jak umarła jego ukochana żona;

Alicja Kossecka – która jest troszkę naiwna, ale ma ogromne serce i nieustannie martwi się o swoich synów oraz męża;

Jerzy Szretter – którego bezemocjonalność po prostu mnie mroziła;

Maciej Chełmicki – który jest szarmancki i zagubiony i który przeszedł najbardziej wyboistą drogę;

Antoni Kossecki – który uważa, że... OKEJ, nie powiem, co uważa, bo to byłby spojler, ale jego opinia dotyczy wojny i pokoju i jest dobrym tematem do dyskusji.

Jejku, nie wiem dlaczego ta książka nie jest szkolną lekturą. Nadaje się do tego idealnie, bo: nie jest trudna, pokazuje realia II wojny światowej (a konkretnie ostatnich dni wojny) i skłania do refleksji.

Świetna powieść!

[Breaking_Bad · Rating 2 out of 5]

Gdyby "Popiół i diament"zaliczyć do fantastyki, a konkretnie kategorii historii alternatywnej, to jest to całkiem solidna powieść, ciekawie skonstruowana i z interesującymi bohaterami. Niestety, w zamierzeniu autora była to powieść realistyczna, pokazująca sytuację w Polsce w przeddzień zakończenia II wojny światowej, a dylematy wykreowanych przez niego bohaterów to odzwierciedlenie ówczesnych postaw w społeczeństwie.
Ilość fałszywych nut jakie dźwięczą podczas lektury jest tak wiele, że trudno je zliczyć. Wymienię kilka. Mamy więc pozytywny wizerunek komunistów, którzy instalowali swoją władzę. Faktem jest, że nie jest to jakaś socrealistyczna laurka, przez co partyjni recenzenci ponoć kręcili nosem na dzieło Andrzejewskiego. Wśród przedstawicieli nowej władzy są karierowicze i intryganci, a całe towarzystwo nie wylewa za kołnierz. Jednak towarzysz Szczuka, przedwojenny komunista, który siedział za to w więzieniu, to bohater ze spiżu. Stracił żonę w Ravensbrück. Sam spędził kilka lat w obozie koncentracyjnym, ale nie załamał się. W przeciwieństwie do takiego Kosseckiego - przedwojennego sędziego, który w tym samym obozie dał się złamać i współpracował z Niemcami w prześladowaniu współwięźniów. Nic dziwnego, że z jego synów nie wyrosło nic dobrego i udzielają się w jakiś dziwnych konspiracjach wykonując zamachy na takich uczciwych obywateli jak towarzysz Szczuka.
W powieści pojawiają się radzieccy żołnierze, ale jako dalekie tło i np. w scenie gdzie rzewnie śpiewają tęskną pieśń... Żadnego NKWD systematycznie aresztującego, torturującego i mordującego wszystkich patriotycznie nastawionych Polaków. Wypada się tylko zgodzić z Marią Dąbrowską, która "Popiół i diament" nazwała paszkwilem na Polskę i polską młodzież i sparafrazowała tytuł na "Gówno i zamęt".

[Michal Zemaník · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kosecký poslouchal s napjatou pozorností.
"Myslím ovšem lidi s průměrným, vyváženým mravním smyslem. Jistých hanebných činů se mohl každý snadno vyvarovat prostě už proti, že sám běh každodenního života nepřipouštěl krajní nutnost takového: buď - anebo. Člověk měl nejen subjektivná, ale i objektivní právo si o sobě myslit, že je člověkem slušným, neschopným překročit jisté meze. Za tuto mez se dostávali už jen zločinci. Ale teď? Věřte mi, že jsem se setkal s příliš mnoha lidmi, kteří se zhroutili a zkoušku nevydrželi, abych mohl přičítat větší význam tomu, co si člověk sám o sobě myslí. Viděl jsem lidi, kteří se pokládali za odvážné. Stali se z nich hanební zbabělci. Viděl jsem jiné, kteří si myslili, že jsou schopni nejvyšších obětí. A byli to tvrdí sebci. A naopak - zbabělci se zmohli na činy, nikoli na ojedinelý čin, ale na přečetné činy vyžadujícií tvrdost a výjimečnou odvahu... O tom všem by se dalo mnoho vyprávět. A co nakonec zůstane? To, co člověk udělá, nic více. Ostatní může být třeba pravda, ale může to být také obyčejná lož, iluze. Dokud si člověk nemusí ověřit sám sebe při činu, může se bezmezně klamat. A to také dělá."

[Özgür Sevgi Göral]

Benim çok sevdiğim tarzda bir klasik roman. İkinci Dünya Savaşı henüz bitmiş, Polonya'da bir şehirde, hepsi birbirine görünmez bağlarla bağlı bir grup insanın hikayesini anlatarak savaş sonrasının tekinsiz ve kırılgan toplumsal ruh halini alatıyor. İçinde inanca, direnişe, arkadaşlığa, yoldaşlığa, yorulan ve diri kalan bağlılıklara dair pek çok meseleyle birlikte. Okurken çok sinematografik bir roman olduğunu düşündüm, meğer arka kapağında Wajda'nın filme çektiği yazıyormuş zaten :) Özellikle bir oteldeki geceyi anlatırken doruk noktasına çeken metin aslında geliyor olduğunu gördüğümüz, kaçmak istediğimiz ama kaçamadığımız trajik sonla kapanıyor. Öte yandan öyle büyük sonuçlarla filan da bitmiyor roman, savaş sonrasının yorgun, bıkmış, apatiyle sarılı hissiyatını çok iyi veriyor bence. Yeni kuşak okurların ne kadar ilgisini çeker bilemiyorum ama benim için çok iyi bir romandı, çok büyük bir zevk alarak okudum.

[Christian · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Passer-by
I was what you are
You shall be what I am,
Let us pray for one another.”

—-

A wonderful book. I was taken by the number of interesting developments that the book explored throughout its 238 pages.

The core of Ashes and Diamonds in itself deserves praise. I find the idea of a crossroads for Poland between the end of grueling war / occupation to the uncertainty of post-war to be a perfect premise for a novel. It is as though Andrzejewski was taking the time to craft a story with the idea of an ultimate convergence occurring in Poland.

I have seen the film directed by Andrzej Wajda before, so it was nice to compare and contrast the two as I read. Michael (Maciek) Chelmicki is definitely the standout for me. I appreciated everything about the character especially his desire to escape the confines of his contracted life to live with his love Christina. Chelmicki’s death was probably the most powerful way to end this novel.

The Communist Szczuka is the character that we are meant to sympathize with in the end. Despite this, I don’t think this detracted from my overall enjoyment of the story. Even though it may be that the novel is supporting the early Communist party or sympathizes with their goals.

This book is everything I hoped it would when I chose it as the first to start my exploration of Polish literature. It is as good as the film in my mind. I highly recommend this book as a window into the different factions of people inhabiting a post-war Poland.

[Luccas Hallman · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Amidst the dying fall of cannon,the days now free of fear and nights no longer torn apart by bombs nor lit by fires, he had believed that springtime was fulfilling the hopes of the dead and the living alike. But mankind was deathly sick and weary unto death. There was no corner of earth in Europe not drenched in blood and many millions had been murdered. Their monstrous deaths now seemed simple in comparison with the fate of those whose lives had been spared, but whose hearts and spirits had died. The defeated guilty lived on in their victims. So what did the triumph of victory signify?”

[Maarja Lünekund · Rating 5 out of 5]

Väga hea, arvestades, et ei olnud selle teose suhtes mingit eeltööd teinud. Pole varem ka Poola kirjandusega tutvunud, seega oli hea tutvust alustada vaieldamatust tippteosest. Katkine riik ja katkised inimesed. Nüüd võib ka palju kiidetud filmi ära vaadata.

[Dada · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5

[Evelyn Livermore · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a great novel!

[przemek piwek · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was first published 74 years ago. Coincidentally, that’s also how long it felt to read.

[Filip Deptula · Rating 4 out of 5]

An Excellent read. The only complaint was the number of characters in the middle. I got a little lost deciphering them all. Otherwise I would definitely recommend.

[Karina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Czyta się to bardzo sympatycznie, z uwagą i czystą przyjemnością, aż do momentu kiedy Alek Kossecki nagle okazuje się być posiadaczem więcej niż jednej komórki mózgowej oraz gdy przez noc pojawia się u niego w magiczny sposób własne zdanie, potem wszystko zaczyna się coraz bardziej sypać, a zakończenia wątków są zrobione jakby na siłę i sklejone na taśmę klejącą.
Ale myślę że jednak warto dać tej książce szansę, chociażby dla Pani Alicji Kosseckiej i jej filiżanki herbaty, nad którą nieomal pękło mi serce.