OH MY EVER-LOVING WORD! This book had been on my radar for awhile: especially because I love established romances and how couples find their way out of situations. But I confess, I was thinking about *when* the right time would be to read it. That's a delicate balance for a reader. I often know that the book has its optimum effect when it intercepts me at the right moment. The right book at the wrong time can be a disaster. And in the middle of a pandemic and deadline when tension is high? Well, I had been choosing different methods of escapism. But my copy arrived and I opened it just to taste a few sentences before getting back to work and I fell in! Immediately. That is the wonder of a powerful voice: at once elegant, intimate and avoiding, it coils around you rather like the snake in the cartoon Jungle Book and by the time you look up, you've had more than an aperetif!
There's SO much about this book: from the astonishing research, to the resplendent use of colour and hope to seep through even the most bitter and profoundly tragic pages, the humanity.
But let's start with the voice because that is, of course, what lured me so deeply. It is told in third person for Bill and first for Izzy: Izzy's portions are more languorous and thoughtful: painting everything around her and, at least before her world is sliced with grey, doused in romance. She is physically attracted to Bill, yes, but to the world. It is also important to know that Izzy --for many chapters-- speaks little English at all. Brookes is a genius in that she somehow pulls off these conversations between two characters who do not understand each other, Izzy obviously recalling from memory, the attraction between the two filling in the lines between. Bill's voice is in urgent, immediate third: reflective of the frantic worry he has for Izzy for always being on guard and looking around trying to perceive the next hurdle or threat, aware that he might have to offer his life for her at the slight disruption to their fragile world.
But oh, 3 am book hangover brain, you are not summarizing this! Stop doing this out of order, Rachel. You goose.
So Izzy is a Czech farm girl whose father and brother joined the resistance against Hitler. Bill is a British POW who has seen more than his fair share and is sent as a labourer to work on Izzy's farm where she lives alone with her mother. Bill and Izzy fall in love --it's instalove, sure--but it works because they do have time together as Bill teaches her English, as the cherry trees blossom, as they steal touches, as they recognize that love is accelerated in the midst of an urgent war when time and convention cease to exist. They marry and run away in hopes of Izzy catching up with the resistance, Izzy wearing her brother's clothes, head shorn, both aware that the encroaching Red Army is known of its disastrous treatment of women. Instead, they are captured and both send to Lamsdorf where Izzy's identity is so close to the front of a firing squad you can smell the prospective smoke.
And yet, it works, because the other prisoners when told of the secret, do the unimaginable and swear to protect her identity. Many have mothers and sisters whose faces they paint on the small, Czech woman pretending to be mute, using a pseudonym. Others know that by protecting her is an act of silent defiance against the enemy they hate.
This book is RIVETING... so spell binding. We all know there are eight billion WWII era books out there and this once excels not only at shining a spotlight on a staggeringly unique (and true story), but being wielded by an author-poet who doesn't just type sentences but casts them out so they spiral and deftly fall. The setting, the imagery, the often uncomfortable visceral images and brutality that shroud the lives of Izzy and Bill at a quarry labour mine and then on the Long March that found thousands and thousands of POWs straggling to find their way aimlessly, terrorized by Nazi guards moving on a heightening fear, the allies close at heels of holey boots and makeshift footwear, gangrene and starvation, a death sentence, the war having long taken a turn, a last act of wavering defense.
Fortunately, for all of the moments of horror, we are held in the cradle of humanity exemplified at times by unlikely allies and small kindnesses, but also in the characters surrounding Izzy like a shield. I loved Ralph, for example, who steps into his role and guides, who is a natural leader, whose sisters at home paint a path of grace for every action he takes in protecting Izzy. I love Max, bookish, philosophical Max, whose heart has been broken and to whom Izzy's sacrifice for love is a balm. I love Scotty, conflicted and brawny, a Scotsman atoning for the past, and treating Izzy like something precious, sacrificing for love at the cost of his own path to redemption.
And I love Bill. How I love Bill. Bill who is wired to be optimistic. Bill who thinks on his feet. Bill who marries a girl because they fit each other but is smart enough to recognize how little they know of each other as she steps into the horror of their new world together. I love how conditioned he is to find music, that he knits. I love that he is good natured and a loyal friend. I love that he sees time and again --from an early morning hoisting cherries--through a death march how strong Izzy is... but also how he recognizes the utmost sacrifice she makes for him. That she has opportunities to leave but that she is with him in this as in all things.
And Izzy, forced to be silent so that her voice is resplendently strong. Unable to speak so that when she does, the words in her new-formed English when whispered are a bell clang. She is fiery and volatile and selfish and strong. Impulsive and filled with a temper, always looking for moments of home even when she so bravely grafted her life with another.
And I love THEM: both Bill and Izzy whose romance cuts true because it is forged in horror: first in the deceptive yawn of calm as the war clangors on, as the threat of the Russians is spoken through the wire fences of the labour camps. Then as they realize that they are entering a universe where the slightest brush of a hand or a flicker of a look across a barracks of men is all that will sustain them. I don't know much about their true counterparts and I know the author is still searching far and wide but I cannot fathom a truer love story. She withstands hell to be with him, he would die for the slightest blemish on her identity. They wake up time and again with the knowledge that the day might demand the utmost sacrifice at the protection of the other so that their relationship becomes stronger than newlyweds, stronger than marriage: but an orb of life-giving force that absolutely confounds and heartens and strengthens the men around them.
I would like to say that I tire of titles that strip the woman of her identity other than being a possessive. Izzy is not just "The Prisoner's Wife." Though the story equally belongs to Izzy and Bill, the title does her an injustice. I remind readers that titles are often the decision of an entire publishing committee and often not the working title suggested by the author. I also remind readers that though this is my personal preference and though I do believe it does Izzy a disservice in this case, I am not the marketing and sales geniuses who look at trends and how previous books with "wife" in the title have sold. They know the readership they will get and luckily those readers will come away with a book that far outpaces and excels many of the others with "so and so's wife"
I finished this book at 3 am. I haven't done one of those late night book binges in an age. And then, of course, I couldn't sleep after. Too much was running through my head and processing and re-engaging like it sparked a wheel or two to spinning. The characters were still chattering to each other and the landscape was still that frost-cold of early spring with a tease now and then of sunlight. I literally could not stop devouring it.
The sheer defiance of human resiliency is as potent now as ever. And so this book intersected my life at the right time. I am flabberghasted by its attention to detail, its painstaking research but also how it sits in the loving care of an author whose hands were gifted with the story and who recognizes the potency of that treasure and so delicately seeps it out to us, shares it with deft and brutal language, redresses the books that move wives to the shadows, paints the utmost portrait of a woman in a man's world.
An absolutely astounding piece of fiction.