The Living and the Lost by Ellen Feldman
Another winner in the immersive tales of war sequelae that Feldman does so well.
‘The Living and the Lost’ shows us immediate post-war Berlin through the eyes of Meike, a young Jewish woman working for the Allie denazification program while searching for her remaining kin and stumbling—sometimes literally—across her own half-buried past.
Meike (now called Millie) and her brother David were separated from their parents and younger sister when the family was fleeing to America before the war.
Fostered by an American family friend of their father’s, they became well-educated, well fed naturalized American adults. Now back in Berlin, Meike is working for the Americans and David is serving with them as an interrogator, both trying to sort the ‘good Germans’ from the ‘bad Nazis’ while not quite believing in the existence of the former. Many of their co-workers are German Jews, the lucky few who escaped Europe and are now back with their hopes, their losses, their terrors. The surroundings—half familiar streets and parks, the other half unrecognizable ruins—mirror their internal landscapes.
The imagery is unsparing but never wallows: gaunt survivors both from the camps and in the bombed and crumbling cities; women raped so many times sex has lost all meaning, willing to trade it to anyone for a bite of food or a chance to sleep warm that night; Allied soldiers well fed and hard-hearted against a population that conspired to actively aid or passively look away from atrocities committed in their name; ‘the licentiousness of those who’d gone so numb to pain and death that only a moment of pleasure, or at least gratification, could light a spark of life.”
The strength of the character Meike is that she is at once a recognizable, fortunate Americanized woman with whom modern readers can readily identify and an internally shattered escapee from the Holocaust that rended families, communities, and countries on a scale never previously documented. She walks in several worlds---her post-war current life, her Berlin childhood, her American adolescence, her life as a Jew in each of those countries, her simultaneous and emotionally fractured existence as a guilt-ridden survivor/refugee, a vengeful victor, and a damaged victim of unimaginable losses—and takes the reader with her every step of the way.
It's a fascinating journey both internally and externally. Post-war Berlin is crowded with angry or sullen or defeated Germans, with many thousands of Displaced Persons both civilian and liberated from concentration camps. Housing is in short supply, food scarce, and every commodity imaginable has a price on the flourishing black markets. Surviving Jews burn with understandable rage against the Germans who went along as much as against those who fomented and committed the atrocities. Arrogance and preconceptions from Allied soldiers and civilian advisors often fuel further misunderstanding and resentment from the conquered, the liberated, the shell-shocked, and all the other human flotsam of the war.
The thread of pregnancy and child-rearing is woven into the fabric. Following a time of catastrophic losses of lives each new one feels like it should be celebrated, yet so many are the result of Soviet mass rape, or the unwelcome price of the struggle for food and shelter, relics of wartime affairs that are soon forgotten by soldiers on their way back to the lives they left behind. Babies die, Meike learns, almost as easily in the peace as they did in the war. And in the post-war baby boom is laced with both hope for a new start and terror at making more hostages to a Fate so recently proved not only fickle but utterly merciless.
As in other Feldman novels, the many social and political and personal complexities are captured neatly in vignettes that offer glimpses into the turbulent times and the people wracked and drifting through them, all while supporting the main narrative of Meike’s physical and psychological search. There are both losses and wins along the way, people found and reunited only to face new struggles from which they, or their relationships, may not emerge victorious, or at all. It's a human-scale look at a turbulent time and place—unsparing yet sympathetic—through the eyes of a traumatized but ultimately hopeful survivor.
Highly recommended.