The second part of Ales Adamovich’s duology, co-authored by the Russian writer Daniil Granin, himself a participant in the WWII as a soldier, is a very different experience compared to “Out of the Fire.” It is more polished, more refined, and it lacks the raw emotion of the preceding book. Despite this, the contextualisation that “A Book of the Blockade” provides — the supplementation of the stories of Belarusian villagers with the scrupulous step-by-step tracing and petrifying recreation of Leningrad’s hunger — reveals an important quality of a people fighting in a war — its unity, its readiness to act together in the face of evil, for the sake of the common good and common future of its descendants.
Adaovich’s unmistakable creative approach, which is familiar to anyone who’s read “Out of the Fire,” is here in black and white, and it succeeds in putting across the multitude of voices of the blockaded city — but they have a slightly different story to tell. People from Leningrad are unlike Belarusians in that their upbringing and the burden of the centuries-long rich history of the place where they live do not allow emotion to completely overwhelm them. In need, in famine, in the most desperate of situations, these people do everything they can to maintain their composure — and it is harmful to the potential emotional power of the book. That said, people are diverse, and the Soviet nation in its act of courage against the Nazis was able to overcome the boundaries imposed by ethnicity and religion, class and cultural background, and the documented account of the act of courage, presented in “A Blockade Book,” is a perfect example of that.
Another major difference of “A Book of the Blockade” from “Out to the Fire” is that the authors adhere not only to the oral history but also to written word. The second volume of the book is especially rich in written documents, as it presents a collage comprising three sources from three drastically different people — the diaries of a historian and a school student, and notes prepared shortly after the war by a housewife. This selection zones in on the personal aspect of the tragedy and focuses in detail on the diversity of the people who performed the courageous act. The choice of the subjects is outstanding in that it manages to explore the aspect of commonness, the fundamental human core which is inherent in all of us, be it a man, a woman, a person with a profound scientific background or a kid who’s just beginning the conscious journey along his path in life. In the light (or darkness, to be more precise) of the horrors of war, people change, adapt, revisit their lives. Women sacrifice themselves to save their children, scientists put themselves at risk to protect the relics for the safety of which they are responsible, children grow up, become mature, compelled to make life-changing decisions. People, whether young or old, male or female, learn to comport themselves with great dignity, against all odds.
Many people are given voice on the pages of this book; professors, museum workers, musicians, as well as craftsmen, former students and school kids. The deed that the novel tells us about is their collective effort, the one which would not have been possible without the contribution from every city dweller. The fortunes of the Leningrad people had become inseparable from death — death hanging in the air, death following every footstep of theirs, death ready to claim its right at any given moment. It’s in people’s houses — dead bodies left unburied; in their hearts and minds — glassy eyes; in the streets of Leningrad, full of corpses. Death plagues people and animals alike — pets eaten, stray animals dying of hunger, dogs leaving their owners in search of a better place. Death is everywhere. Death is Leningrad itself during the period of its blockade.
Not only is it the portrait of the people who inhibited the city during the most traumatic, the most terrible days of its whole existence. It is the loving picture of the city itself — the city any person familiar with Russian literature knows well as the place in which the greatest stories of Pushkin, Gogol, Dostoyevsky, Blok and many other Russian writers were set; the place which had become synonymous with the whole of the history of Russia, the battlefield where the historic happenings were happening which would forever change the course of Russia’s history. Adamovich’s and Granin’s Leningrad is that of a different kind, different nature. It’s a devastated city, a city in ruins, but an heroic place nonetheless — a place which has no right to lose its dignity, which has to withstand its tribulations, to endure and overcome, to be reborn and rise above its devastation and misery.