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Mi Ucrania
En 2014, Vika regresa a su Ucrania natal para investigar un misterio familiar: cómo murió su tío tatarabuelo Nikodim en la década de 1930 y por qué su historia sigue siendo tabú casi un siglo después. Desentrañar viejas incógnitas resulta complicado, pero nunca habría previsto que la resistencia más fuerte la encontraría en su abuela Valentina, que le prohíbe remover el pasado. No en vano Ucrania es «tierra de sangre», como sus vecinas Polonia, Bielorrusia, Rusia y los países bálticos: en el área de Poltava, donde residió la familia, el KGB desapareció hace ya mucho, pero su antiguo cuartel general todavía aterroriza a los lugareños. Mientras el país se sumerge en un nuevo conflicto con Rusia tras la anexión de Crimea, el lector acompaña a Vika entre los temidos archivos del KGB en busca de la verdad sobre el pasado del país y sobre Nikodim, incluso a riesgo de un enfrentamiento directo con su familia.
Entre el memoir y la novela detectivesca, esta obra conjuga su enorme carga emocional con un lúcido análisis de la historia. Al tiempo que Victoria Belim terminaba esta novela sobre una Ucrania que intentaba hacer las paces con su pasado y florecer, su tierra se enfrentaba de nuevo al dolor de otra cruel guerra.
Entre el memoir y la novela detectivesca, esta obra conjuga su enorme carga emocional con un lúcido análisis de la historia. Al tiempo que Victoria Belim terminaba esta novela sobre una Ucrania que intentaba hacer las paces con su pasado y florecer, su tierra se enfrentaba de nuevo al dolor de otra cruel guerra.
336 pages, Paperback
First published October 6, 2022
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5577 people want to read
About the author
Victoria Belim
4 books61 followersBorn in Ukraine, Victoria Belim grew up in Chicago and now lives in Brussels, Belgium. She is a writer, journalist, translator, and fragrance specialist. Since 2010, Belim has been writing for the Financial Times’s HTSI magazine. Her work has also appeared in the New York Times Magazine, Elle, and Marie Claire, as well as on her own website, boisdejasmin.com.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 224 reviews
September 4, 2023
This is a story about finding your roots and reconciling yourself with the past and with your family, understanding things buried under the years and fears and secrets and trying to have it all make some sort of sense.
In 2014 after Euromaidan and the start of the war in Donbas and after a falling out with her Putinist uncle Victoria Belim, who had left Kyiv for the US in her adolescence after living in independent Ukraine for just three years decides to come visit her Ukrainian family and possibly investigate a mystery of the disappearance of never-known-to-her great-great-uncle Nikodim (although his fate can be deduced from his disappearance in the 1930 after apparently supporting free Ukraine).
Her journey takes her through Kyiv to a village Krutyy Bereh in Eastern Ukraine and to the city of Poltava and its titular “Rooster House” - a former KGB office where the fates of many people found their sad ends. She reconnects with family, makes new friends and connections, turns a month-long visit into months and months of living in Ukraine part-time. She muses about the past of Ukrainian and ethnically Russian sides of her family, the legacy of Soviet oppression and fears - old and hidden. She comes to understand her roots and her own self just a bit better in the end, connecting her past and present through strands of memory.
Some parts of it really resonated with me. The details of the Soviet and early post-Soviet past that rang so familiar to me, the references that I think only have special connotations to those with shared heritage, the joy of recognition of certain things and understanding of the layers of meanings said and unsaid in the events on page and behind the scenes. I think it helps tremendously if you’re Ukrainian and if you’ve lived there (or at least visited) after the start of the 1990s. It helps when the painful and bloody history of this country (whose greatest misfortune undoubtedly is bordering Russia) is familiar and has visceral meaning.
(I don’t share that much with Belim, really. I also come from a blended Ukrainian and non-ethnically Ukrainian family, but I grew up in the most pro-Ukrainian part of the country and my grandparents, although they came to Ukraine accidentally as adults without knowing anything about it, had zero problems learning the language and raising bilingual children and grandchildren and respecting the place that they chose to make their home without ever reaching for the idea of any sort of Russian supremacy. And yet her family story *still* made perfect sense.)
I have no doubt this book would have had a very different tone had Belim visited Ukraine in 2022 rather than 2014. But 2014, despite the war in Donbas coyly referred to as “conflict” in the non-Ukrainian media, was a more innocent time where you, hailing from Ukraine, could still love your Putinist uncle. Things have changed, of course, and I had to remind myself of this a few times while reading it.
I connected a bit less with Belim’s search for identity — maybe because of my different upbringing and different timeline of emigration from Ukraine and very much active ties to the country since then. I am also clearly much less of a sensitive and contemplative person than she is, and my reaction to certain events and things is naturally different, but it hasn’t deterred me from feeling the things she intended for her readers to feel.
The flow of the book was a bit difficult for me, however. It progresses slowly, often meandering like Belim’s search for elusive answers about past and present. Long sections are devoted to gardening, connecting with her formidable grandmother, detours to embroidery factory, getting to know the locals, then reconnecting with the uncle again. It’s like a travelogue through memory, and at times it frustrated me and at other times mesmerized me, and although it was not quite my cup of tea most of the time it still left me glad I’ve read it.
3.5 stars.
——————
Also posted on my blog.
“That summer day in the middle of the Russia–Ukraine war, how could I convey to a former KGB archivist that I was looking for an uncle missing for over almost a century because I wanted to make sense of the present and to understand my roots?”
In 2014 after Euromaidan and the start of the war in Donbas and after a falling out with her Putinist uncle Victoria Belim, who had left Kyiv for the US in her adolescence after living in independent Ukraine for just three years decides to come visit her Ukrainian family and possibly investigate a mystery of the disappearance of never-known-to-her great-great-uncle Nikodim (although his fate can be deduced from his disappearance in the 1930 after apparently supporting free Ukraine).
Her journey takes her through Kyiv to a village Krutyy Bereh in Eastern Ukraine and to the city of Poltava and its titular “Rooster House” - a former KGB office where the fates of many people found their sad ends. She reconnects with family, makes new friends and connections, turns a month-long visit into months and months of living in Ukraine part-time. She muses about the past of Ukrainian and ethnically Russian sides of her family, the legacy of Soviet oppression and fears - old and hidden. She comes to understand her roots and her own self just a bit better in the end, connecting her past and present through strands of memory.
“Fekla’s poignant letter reminded me why I had started my quest for Nikodim in the first place. I wanted to pay tribute to a relative who had been reduced to a crossed-out name in the archives. I wanted to commemorate his life, fragile and full of pain. I wanted his tragedy to be acknowledged – and as I saw it now, it was a tragedy that befell the whole family when he disappeared.”
Some parts of it really resonated with me. The details of the Soviet and early post-Soviet past that rang so familiar to me, the references that I think only have special connotations to those with shared heritage, the joy of recognition of certain things and understanding of the layers of meanings said and unsaid in the events on page and behind the scenes. I think it helps tremendously if you’re Ukrainian and if you’ve lived there (or at least visited) after the start of the 1990s. It helps when the painful and bloody history of this country (whose greatest misfortune undoubtedly is bordering Russia) is familiar and has visceral meaning.
“I always thought that the most corrosive effect of the Soviet system was the hypocrisy. Everyone said one thing and thought something else. It was the most sensible way to behave if you wanted to survive. The hypocrisy was everywhere. It was in the cafeteria menu listing soup with meat that – as everyone knew – wasn’t there. It was in the newspapers announcing that no accident had occurred at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. It was in the slogans, signs and demonstrations. ‘We pretended to work and they pretended to pay us,’ ran a joke in the 1980s. Soviet life was permeated with such pretences, big and small.”
(I don’t share that much with Belim, really. I also come from a blended Ukrainian and non-ethnically Ukrainian family, but I grew up in the most pro-Ukrainian part of the country and my grandparents, although they came to Ukraine accidentally as adults without knowing anything about it, had zero problems learning the language and raising bilingual children and grandchildren and respecting the place that they chose to make their home without ever reaching for the idea of any sort of Russian supremacy. And yet her family story *still* made perfect sense.)
“I imagined telling him that Ukraine, with its key position between Russia and Western Europe, was always going to be a battleground for Russian imperial ambitions and that Russia would do anything to keep this strip of land under its control, but that Ukrainians had a right to choose who governed them and how they lived.”
I have no doubt this book would have had a very different tone had Belim visited Ukraine in 2022 rather than 2014. But 2014, despite the war in Donbas coyly referred to as “conflict” in the non-Ukrainian media, was a more innocent time where you, hailing from Ukraine, could still love your Putinist uncle. Things have changed, of course, and I had to remind myself of this a few times while reading it.
I connected a bit less with Belim’s search for identity — maybe because of my different upbringing and different timeline of emigration from Ukraine and very much active ties to the country since then. I am also clearly much less of a sensitive and contemplative person than she is, and my reaction to certain events and things is naturally different, but it hasn’t deterred me from feeling the things she intended for her readers to feel.
The flow of the book was a bit difficult for me, however. It progresses slowly, often meandering like Belim’s search for elusive answers about past and present. Long sections are devoted to gardening, connecting with her formidable grandmother, detours to embroidery factory, getting to know the locals, then reconnecting with the uncle again. It’s like a travelogue through memory, and at times it frustrated me and at other times mesmerized me, and although it was not quite my cup of tea most of the time it still left me glad I’ve read it.
“I sometimes wondered bitterly if we would be in this situation in 2022 had the world cared about my country more in 2014.”
____
So do I, Victoria. So do I.
3.5 stars.
——————
Also posted on my blog.
September 2, 2023
"That summer day in the middle of the Russia–Ukraine war, how could I convey to a former KGB archivist that I was looking for an uncle missing for over almost a century because I wanted to make sense of the present and to understand my roots?"
This is not a political or historical book as much as a deeply personal journey of self-discovery and understanding of her roots after the shock of the invasion by russia in 2014. It's not a mystery as the blurb would make you think it is. It's this one woman who left Ukraine at 15 (having lived in the ussr most of these years and never identifying anything other than soviet in those days), just a few years after the independence and lived her whole life in the US and, later, Brussels. Hence it is a bit romanticized story, full of dreaming of the past. Yet it was very earnest and heart-felt, this journey felt important to her and I felt it in the writing. As someone who grew up and lived in the independent Ukraine most of her life, my journey and views are very different, yet a lot of things were very familiar when she was talking about food, culture. Belim does strike me as a person who tries to avoid confrontations and I do have a lot of questions about some of her relationships with her relatives but to be fair, this book was written before 2022 and things has changed a lot since then. Yet this was a beautiful family story nonetheless.
P.S. (a few days later) I keep thinking about how she struggles with identity outside of her being a soviet citizen (and at first declines to claim any) since she has so many different cultures in her family tree (and I'm sure being a US citizen adds to it), and yet her uncle is a proud russian even though he lived almost (all?) of his life in the Soviet Ukraine and lived much much longer in the ussr as a whole before moving to Israel. I feel there's something there to explore, that was out of the scope of this book, but at least it was there unlike in Alexievich's Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets.
May 16, 2023
I learnt a lot about Ukrainia and it’s history in the book. The author’s family history was notable, and at times I was fully engaged. There were a lot of secrets, and I admire the authors grit and passion for uncovering what she didn’t know. Maybe it was due to the audiobook, but sometimes my mind drifted from long descriptions of places and events. But I know many will find this book interesting!
January 18, 2023
Rote Sirenen - Geschichte meiner ukrainischen Familie hat mich sehr beeindruckt. Victoria Belim erzählt darin die Geschichte ihrer Familie über ein ganzes Jahrhundert hinweg. Diese Geschichte ist zugleich die Geschichte ihres Heimatlandes, der Ukraine.
Victoria Belim wurde in der Ukraine geboren und verbrachte dort die ersten Jahre ihres Lebens, bevor sie nach dem Zusammenbruch der Sowjetunion mit ihrer Mutter in die USA zog. Im Sommer besuchte sie meistens ihre Großmutter Valentina im Süden des Landes. 2014 kehrt sie für einige Zeit dorthin zurück. Dem war ein Streit mit ihrem in Israel lebenden Onkel über Putin vorausgegangen, woraufhin der Kontakt abbrach. Viktoria möchte nun einerseits wieder in Kontakt mit ihm treten, andererseits etwas über das Schicksal des Bruders ihres Urgroßvaters herausfinden, dem vom KGB in das sogenannte Hahnenhaus gebracht und nie wieder gesehen wurde.
Seit fast einem Jahr ist die Ukraine in aller Munde und es wurde viel über sie berichtet. Egal wie viele Berichte ich über sie gelesen habe, noch nie habe ich soviel über dieses Land gelernt, wie durch dieses Buch. Es hat nämlich das, was vielen (Sach-)Büchern fehlt: die Perspektiven und Geschichten der Bewohner. Nur durch sie lässt sich ein Land aber erst verstehen und begreifen. Besonders interessant fand ich folgendes Zitat: „Seitdem hatte ich genug Zeit in der Ukraine verbracht, um zu wissen, dass selbst meine Großmutter, die sich als Patriotin verstand, bestimmte Aspekte der Sowjetunion vermisste. Ich hatte Menschen getroffen, die nach 1989 jegliche Stabilität und Sicherheit verloren hatten und für die der Kapitalismus eine grausame Farce war.“ Dieser Aspekt wird aus westlicher Perspektive häufig vergessen.
Rote Sirenen enthält noch soviel mehr, als dass ich es in so wenigen Worten zusammenfassen könnte. Es ist ein sehr lohnenswertes Buch, dass ich innerhalb weniger Tage durchgelesen habe und das ich sehr breit empfehlen kann, vor allem aber keinesfalls nur vor dem aktuellen Hintergrund.
Victoria Belim wurde in der Ukraine geboren und verbrachte dort die ersten Jahre ihres Lebens, bevor sie nach dem Zusammenbruch der Sowjetunion mit ihrer Mutter in die USA zog. Im Sommer besuchte sie meistens ihre Großmutter Valentina im Süden des Landes. 2014 kehrt sie für einige Zeit dorthin zurück. Dem war ein Streit mit ihrem in Israel lebenden Onkel über Putin vorausgegangen, woraufhin der Kontakt abbrach. Viktoria möchte nun einerseits wieder in Kontakt mit ihm treten, andererseits etwas über das Schicksal des Bruders ihres Urgroßvaters herausfinden, dem vom KGB in das sogenannte Hahnenhaus gebracht und nie wieder gesehen wurde.
Seit fast einem Jahr ist die Ukraine in aller Munde und es wurde viel über sie berichtet. Egal wie viele Berichte ich über sie gelesen habe, noch nie habe ich soviel über dieses Land gelernt, wie durch dieses Buch. Es hat nämlich das, was vielen (Sach-)Büchern fehlt: die Perspektiven und Geschichten der Bewohner. Nur durch sie lässt sich ein Land aber erst verstehen und begreifen. Besonders interessant fand ich folgendes Zitat: „Seitdem hatte ich genug Zeit in der Ukraine verbracht, um zu wissen, dass selbst meine Großmutter, die sich als Patriotin verstand, bestimmte Aspekte der Sowjetunion vermisste. Ich hatte Menschen getroffen, die nach 1989 jegliche Stabilität und Sicherheit verloren hatten und für die der Kapitalismus eine grausame Farce war.“ Dieser Aspekt wird aus westlicher Perspektive häufig vergessen.
Rote Sirenen enthält noch soviel mehr, als dass ich es in so wenigen Worten zusammenfassen könnte. Es ist ein sehr lohnenswertes Buch, dass ich innerhalb weniger Tage durchgelesen habe und das ich sehr breit empfehlen kann, vor allem aber keinesfalls nur vor dem aktuellen Hintergrund.
February 4, 2023
"Es ist schwieriger, einen Ort zu betrauern, als einen Menschen. Der Verlust einer geliebten Person ist tragisch, gehört aber zum Leben dazu. Krieg hingegen nicht. Wenn wir dabei zusehen müssen, wie unsere Heimat in Gewalt versinkt, sehnen wir uns nach der Vergangenheit zurück und hinterfragen unsere Gegenwart." - Victoria Belim, "Rote Sirenen"
Victoria Belim lebt mit ihrem Mann in Brüssel, als 2014 die Krim von Russland annektiert wird. Eine tiefe Unruhe und Sehnsucht nach ihrer Heimat, der Ukraine, erfasst sie - und sie weiß, dass sie zurückkehren muss in dieses Land, in dem sie die ersten 15 Jahre ihres Lebens verbrachte, bevor sie nach dem Zerfall der Sowjetunion in die USA emigrierte. Im Frühling 2014 packt sie deshalb ihren Koffer, reist zunächst nach Kiew und bald darauf nach Bereh, zu ihrer Großmutter Valentina. Dort begibt sie sich auf Spurensuche in die Vergangenheit.
In "Rote Sirenen: Geschichte meiner ukrainischen Familie" erzählt Viktoria Belim, in der Übersetzung von Ekaterina Pavlova, von ihren Reisen zwischen 2014 und 2019 in die Ukraine, vom Kirschbaumgarten ihrer Großmutter und ihren Recherchen zu ihrer Herkunft. Anfangs stößt sie auf viel Widerstand seitens Valentina, die nicht verstehen kann, was ihre Enkelin in der Vergangenheit sucht, warum sie sich nicht einfach an ihrer Gesellschaft und dem Gärtnern erfreuen kann. Die Nachforschungen der Autorin führen fast zum Bruch zwischen den beiden Frauen - bis beide erkennen, wie sie diesen Weg zu sich selbst und ihrer Herkunft gemeinsam gehen können.
Victoria Belim erklärt mit ihrer autobiographischen Familiengeschichte nicht nur den größeren Kontext, in dem die russische Invasion stattgefunden hat, vielmehr bringt sie den Lesenden auch die Ukrainer*innen, deren Kultur, Bräuche und Kunst näher. Sie nimmt uns mit auf eine Reise durch ihr Land und seine Natur, lässt uns an Begegnungen teilhaben und mit am Tisch sitzen, wenn traditionell ukrainisches Essen und Getränke genossen werden. Das Buch ist dadurch einerseits - gerade gegen Ende - sehr berührend und ergreifend, andererseits stimmt es auch hoffnungsvoll und setzt den Fokus auf das, was ein Land als Heimat ausmacht.
"Rote Sirenen" erzählt von starken Frauen, von familiärem Zusammenhalt, von ukrainischer Kunst und Kultur, von einer komplizierten Spurensuche in die Vergangenheit - und vom Krieg. Emotional und sehr aufwühlend!
Victoria Belim lebt mit ihrem Mann in Brüssel, als 2014 die Krim von Russland annektiert wird. Eine tiefe Unruhe und Sehnsucht nach ihrer Heimat, der Ukraine, erfasst sie - und sie weiß, dass sie zurückkehren muss in dieses Land, in dem sie die ersten 15 Jahre ihres Lebens verbrachte, bevor sie nach dem Zerfall der Sowjetunion in die USA emigrierte. Im Frühling 2014 packt sie deshalb ihren Koffer, reist zunächst nach Kiew und bald darauf nach Bereh, zu ihrer Großmutter Valentina. Dort begibt sie sich auf Spurensuche in die Vergangenheit.
In "Rote Sirenen: Geschichte meiner ukrainischen Familie" erzählt Viktoria Belim, in der Übersetzung von Ekaterina Pavlova, von ihren Reisen zwischen 2014 und 2019 in die Ukraine, vom Kirschbaumgarten ihrer Großmutter und ihren Recherchen zu ihrer Herkunft. Anfangs stößt sie auf viel Widerstand seitens Valentina, die nicht verstehen kann, was ihre Enkelin in der Vergangenheit sucht, warum sie sich nicht einfach an ihrer Gesellschaft und dem Gärtnern erfreuen kann. Die Nachforschungen der Autorin führen fast zum Bruch zwischen den beiden Frauen - bis beide erkennen, wie sie diesen Weg zu sich selbst und ihrer Herkunft gemeinsam gehen können.
Victoria Belim erklärt mit ihrer autobiographischen Familiengeschichte nicht nur den größeren Kontext, in dem die russische Invasion stattgefunden hat, vielmehr bringt sie den Lesenden auch die Ukrainer*innen, deren Kultur, Bräuche und Kunst näher. Sie nimmt uns mit auf eine Reise durch ihr Land und seine Natur, lässt uns an Begegnungen teilhaben und mit am Tisch sitzen, wenn traditionell ukrainisches Essen und Getränke genossen werden. Das Buch ist dadurch einerseits - gerade gegen Ende - sehr berührend und ergreifend, andererseits stimmt es auch hoffnungsvoll und setzt den Fokus auf das, was ein Land als Heimat ausmacht.
"Rote Sirenen" erzählt von starken Frauen, von familiärem Zusammenhalt, von ukrainischer Kunst und Kultur, von einer komplizierten Spurensuche in die Vergangenheit - und vom Krieg. Emotional und sehr aufwühlend!
June 22, 2023
I made the final revisions to The Rooster House in August 2022, writes Belim in the opening of the book, and when rereading the manuscript against the backdrop of recent news from Ukraine, I knew that I wouldn't have been able to write this book now. It captures a particular time and place and a certain innocence, because even in 2014 I would not have imagined the events of 2022. (loc. 31*)
Belim was born and raised in Ukraine, shifting easily between city and country, Russian and Ukrainian, as the situation dictated. As a teenager, she and her family moved to the US; as an adult, she made her home in Belgium. Ukraine slipped out of her grasp, a place she meant to return to but usually didn't. And then, with the start of the Donbas war in 2014, return suddenly became paramount: to understand Ukrainian history, her family history, her own history. A monthlong visit became a months-long visit became years of back and forth travel, building (and rebuilding) ties in Ukraine and dusting off her family history before it was lost to time.
They had no jewels passed down from illustrious forebears and no books of family trees. They knew of their distant ancestors only by virtue of their own existence. They left few traces. It was hard to accumulate belongings and uninterrupted history when one lived in a place referred to as 'the bloodlands', 'the borderland', or 'the frontier'. (loc. 347)
But here is history repeating itself: war was knocking on the door again. When Belim and her grandmother visited the small house where Belim's grandmother and great-grandmother lived while her great-grandfather was off at war, they found that the current residents had fled Crimea following Russian occupation. Belim's quest to understand her history came to be defined in part by a hunt for her great-uncle Nicodim, who had disappeared in 1937—gone not only in body but his name erased from family conversation.
There are a lot of names to keep track of in this book—names and places and events—but there's also just a lot of story, and I'm so glad Belim wrote this when she did; certainly she could have written a book later, but I can only begin to imagine how different things in much of Ukraine are now than they were in 2014 or 2019. War changes landscapes and family units and the lenses through which we read things. Belim's grandmother Valentina—with whom she spent much of her time on her trips to Ukraine over these years—is the standout heroine of the book, set in her ways yet with complexities that Belim was able to delve into over time.
Very much recommended to anyone who has been following Russia's invasion and the subsequent war in Ukraine, but it's also just a fascinating family history in its own right.
Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley. *Quotes may not be final.
Belim was born and raised in Ukraine, shifting easily between city and country, Russian and Ukrainian, as the situation dictated. As a teenager, she and her family moved to the US; as an adult, she made her home in Belgium. Ukraine slipped out of her grasp, a place she meant to return to but usually didn't. And then, with the start of the Donbas war in 2014, return suddenly became paramount: to understand Ukrainian history, her family history, her own history. A monthlong visit became a months-long visit became years of back and forth travel, building (and rebuilding) ties in Ukraine and dusting off her family history before it was lost to time.
They had no jewels passed down from illustrious forebears and no books of family trees. They knew of their distant ancestors only by virtue of their own existence. They left few traces. It was hard to accumulate belongings and uninterrupted history when one lived in a place referred to as 'the bloodlands', 'the borderland', or 'the frontier'. (loc. 347)
But here is history repeating itself: war was knocking on the door again. When Belim and her grandmother visited the small house where Belim's grandmother and great-grandmother lived while her great-grandfather was off at war, they found that the current residents had fled Crimea following Russian occupation. Belim's quest to understand her history came to be defined in part by a hunt for her great-uncle Nicodim, who had disappeared in 1937—gone not only in body but his name erased from family conversation.
There are a lot of names to keep track of in this book—names and places and events—but there's also just a lot of story, and I'm so glad Belim wrote this when she did; certainly she could have written a book later, but I can only begin to imagine how different things in much of Ukraine are now than they were in 2014 or 2019. War changes landscapes and family units and the lenses through which we read things. Belim's grandmother Valentina—with whom she spent much of her time on her trips to Ukraine over these years—is the standout heroine of the book, set in her ways yet with complexities that Belim was able to delve into over time.
Very much recommended to anyone who has been following Russia's invasion and the subsequent war in Ukraine, but it's also just a fascinating family history in its own right.
Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley. *Quotes may not be final.
June 25, 2023
4.5
This is a very emotional story of one family's experience in Ukraine dating back to the 1930s when an uncle of the author disappeared, along with hundreds of thousands of other during Stalin's reign of terror. The memoir is Victoria Belim's long and difficult search into exactly what happened and also to understand what caused her own father to take his life many years later.
This memoir gives you a truly terrifying insight into exactly how difficult it was to live during those times and, indeed, much more recent periods of Soviet rule in Ukraine. It certainly gives you a good look at the resilience and bravery of those still battling the Russians today.
When I think of how little it takes to upset our equilibrium here in the UK (a lack of petrol for a few days, no tomatoes for a week, the Internet crashed for 24 hours) you begin to realise just how very little we understand about Ukrainian mentality and it certainly made me aware of how tough these people truly are. If Zelensky says they will win then it'd be a brave person who would bet against them.
I found this a fascinating look at life in one small part of Ukraine and its people. I knocked off half a star because there were times that the narrator's Russian accent became quite difficult to understand.
I'd definitely recommend this to anyone interested in current or past Ukrainian history or even someone who is interested in any foreign political history.
Thankyou to Netgalley for the ARC audio version of this book.
This is a very emotional story of one family's experience in Ukraine dating back to the 1930s when an uncle of the author disappeared, along with hundreds of thousands of other during Stalin's reign of terror. The memoir is Victoria Belim's long and difficult search into exactly what happened and also to understand what caused her own father to take his life many years later.
This memoir gives you a truly terrifying insight into exactly how difficult it was to live during those times and, indeed, much more recent periods of Soviet rule in Ukraine. It certainly gives you a good look at the resilience and bravery of those still battling the Russians today.
When I think of how little it takes to upset our equilibrium here in the UK (a lack of petrol for a few days, no tomatoes for a week, the Internet crashed for 24 hours) you begin to realise just how very little we understand about Ukrainian mentality and it certainly made me aware of how tough these people truly are. If Zelensky says they will win then it'd be a brave person who would bet against them.
I found this a fascinating look at life in one small part of Ukraine and its people. I knocked off half a star because there were times that the narrator's Russian accent became quite difficult to understand.
I'd definitely recommend this to anyone interested in current or past Ukrainian history or even someone who is interested in any foreign political history.
Thankyou to Netgalley for the ARC audio version of this book.
June 18, 2023
Victoria Belim shares a deeply personal portrait of Ukraine in her memoir. From the great famine of the 1930s through the Crimea Invasion of 2014, the author shares stories of generations of her family who endured much hardship under the ever-present Russian-Ukraine struggles.
Belim was born in Ukraine and lived there 15 years before immigrating to the US and later Belgium. In 2014, she revisits Ukraine, spending time with her grandmother, experiencing everyday life, while also doing a deep dive into her great-grandparents history of the 1930s.
This heartfelt exploration, while a bit slow-moving and meandering in places, is intimate and introspective. Belim is a journalist, and she covers a lot of material to pull together all the threads of her family, Ukranian history, and Ukranian life. So it requires a bit of patience in the beginning until it becomes clearer how all the family members fit together, and for each of their stories to be told.
Overall it’s a powerful illustration of the enduring impact of the centuries-long efforts of Russians to dominate this country. While much of the history is sad and complex, the resilience of Ukranians is inspiring.
The audiobook was expertly narrated by Amrita Acharia, an actress of Nepalese-Ukranian origins. Acharia speaks Ukranian, Russian, English (and Norwegian), so her voices/accents for the characters were distinct, authentic, and added dimension. Her voice was soothing to listen to which I appreciated, but a few times I had to pull my attention back to the story when it would drift.
Thank you to Netgalley and Recorded Books for the arc audiobook in exchange for an honest review.
Belim was born in Ukraine and lived there 15 years before immigrating to the US and later Belgium. In 2014, she revisits Ukraine, spending time with her grandmother, experiencing everyday life, while also doing a deep dive into her great-grandparents history of the 1930s.
This heartfelt exploration, while a bit slow-moving and meandering in places, is intimate and introspective. Belim is a journalist, and she covers a lot of material to pull together all the threads of her family, Ukranian history, and Ukranian life. So it requires a bit of patience in the beginning until it becomes clearer how all the family members fit together, and for each of their stories to be told.
Overall it’s a powerful illustration of the enduring impact of the centuries-long efforts of Russians to dominate this country. While much of the history is sad and complex, the resilience of Ukranians is inspiring.
The audiobook was expertly narrated by Amrita Acharia, an actress of Nepalese-Ukranian origins. Acharia speaks Ukranian, Russian, English (and Norwegian), so her voices/accents for the characters were distinct, authentic, and added dimension. Her voice was soothing to listen to which I appreciated, but a few times I had to pull my attention back to the story when it would drift.
Thank you to Netgalley and Recorded Books for the arc audiobook in exchange for an honest review.
October 17, 2023
I picked up this book to get some perspective on the current crisis in the Ukraine. And I listened to the audio. I listened and was entranced. Sometimes the narrator bit off words and that was distracting. This is the author's personal story about her relatives and where she is from. It fills us (the readers) in on the ongoing troubles in Ukraine. It mostly discusses 2014. The Rooster House refers to a scary place where people were tortured by the KGB. It is now a place where historical records are archived. So the author had to enter this place where wicked violence had occurred to search for information on her family. I fell in love with Victoria's grandmother Valentina. I actually wept when (in Chapter 21, disc 7) I heard that Valentina fell ill with Covid and subsequently died. This broke my heart! Also, in that chapter she touches on the 2022 crisis by saying: "We all shared the pain and suffering of Ukraine as we sought ways to help." She could not help but question if the world had responded similarly in 2014, wouldn't we all be further ahead? (I am paraphrasing.) In Chapter, 22, disc 7 there are uplifting words:
"We carry on living and we tend to our garden one day at a time, one tree at a time.
The orchard still stands full of sunlight and birdsong, and its bounty is a refusal to submit to despair and fear. Every bud and every branch is a reminder of the irrepressible vivere memento that illuminates the darkest of days with hope."
"We carry on living and we tend to our garden one day at a time, one tree at a time.
The orchard still stands full of sunlight and birdsong, and its bounty is a refusal to submit to despair and fear. Every bud and every branch is a reminder of the irrepressible vivere memento that illuminates the darkest of days with hope."
October 31, 2023
This is a deeply biased review, as I know the author and translated the book into Estonian. I initially wrote the text below for my blog, www.lifeinacoldclimate.com
————————————————————————————————
On the night of 30 October, I was sitting alone in a small train cabin somewhere between Przemysl and Kyiv. It had been about a week since Russia had started to strategically target Ukrainian energy infrastructure, to cause maximum suffering as the winter was approaching. Every morning, there was worse news – 20% of infrastructure damaged. Then 30%. Then 40%. The bombs and drones caused damage faster than Ukrainians could repair it, despite performing miracles with scarce resources while being in constant, mortal danger. Some equipment was impossible to repair and often almost equally impossible to replace, unless you were lucky to find the right make of autotransformer languishing in an old Lithuanian warehouse. The necessary machinery would take months to produce and transport and could be destroyed the next day in a Russian attack. It felt like a hopeless, unusually vicious circle.
So there we were, on our way to discuss with the Ukrainian government how and what the EU should do in addition to the things we were already doing. We had initially been told not to use any digital tools on the train, but our security detail seemed rather relaxed about it, so I was balancing my laptop on my knees, reading and rereading the words on the screen. The text was not, as one might have expected, about the energy equipment or the meeting with the energy minister. It was, however, about Ukraine. And war. The first sentence went: “Uncle Vladimir and I fell out a month after his namesake annexed Crimea.” On the slow, slightly wobbly train to Kyiv, I was translating a trial chapter from Victoria Belim’s The Rooster House.
It’s been almost a year since that night and the Estonian translation will be available next week (publishing moves slower than war). The Rooster House is a good book regardless of the context, but Russia’s war on Ukraine makes it a must-read in my view. The West is getting tired of the war: it no longer feels distasteful for some allies to use Ukraine in its domestic power struggles, elsewhere the governments are finding it difficult to rally the support they need to keep assistance going. New atrocities in Palestine and Israel demand – quite rightly – their own share of people’s attention, resources and emotional energy. It is ironic how one can be tired of a war one is not fighting, but I realise that sarcasm and anger are not helpful reactions in this regard.
What I believe can be helpful is reminding ourselves what is at stake and why. The Rooster House is not exactly a book about war, it’s not really a history book either, but you will know war and history better once you have read it. For many people, learning about the fate of countries works best if seen through personal stories, through the joys and tragedies of ordinary families. And this is exactly what The Rooster House provides: a microcosm, the tides of history made tangible. Victoria’s quest to learn about her great grand uncle, about her family, her country and herself is something everyone can relate to, even if not every part of it is familiar.
I hate when people summarise the plot of a book and call it a review – it is lazy and spoilery and just extremely annoying. But I understand that it’s useful to have the basics: the book starts with Russia’s annexation of Crimea and the tensions that it creates in Victoria’s multicultural family. Inspired further by her great grandfather’s diaries that mention a brother who fought for free Ukraine and then disappeared, Victoria decides – after years of living abroad – to return to Ukraine, to reconnect to her grandmother and solve the puzzle of her great uncle’s disappearance. The titular Rooster House refers to the Soviet secret police building in Poltava, a key location in the story. If you go in without knowing much more, it reads almost like a thriller, albeit a literary one that is interspersed with lots of gardening, embroidery and Ukrainian village life.
There is a particular pleasure in reading this as an Estonian (the same goes, I assume, for many who are from the former USSR or the Soviet Block). We, too, have grandfathers taken by NKVD, family members who were sent to Siberia, someone we know who served in Afghanistan. We recognise the obsessive care for the garden, the stories that had many layers, the ubiquitous statues of Lenin and the buildings that were best not named. We have been marked not only by the war, but decades of living under a totalitarian regime. The book made me wonder, how much of what I took to be the unique character of my grandparents was, in fact, an expression of trauma (in the Soviet Union, trauma of course only referred to the physical; mentally speaking, you were either ‘normal’ or ‘insane’). I think of my determined, perfectionist maternal grandmother, who woke every day at 4am “so that she would have all the morning chores done by 6am” and my gentle grandfather, who rarely spoke about his 10 years in a Stalinist labour camp, could work harder than 5 average men combined and loved to drink Pepsi, a luxury in the eighties’ Estonia.
The Rooster House is sometimes a difficult read, but it is not bleak and the dry, somewhat absurdist humour will make you smile more often than you would expect. It is also nuanced and perhaps more gentle than would have been possible, if it had been written after 24 February 2022. And Victoria’s interest in Ukraine’s culture and crafts, her love for her family and the descriptions of ordinary people turn this into much more than a record of past and present horrors.
Finally, a disclaimer – I have been a fan of Victoria’s writing for many years and her friend (although not necessarily always a good one) for about a decade, since I moved to Brussels. I can, however, assure you, that I would not have spent every free moment over four months translating her book, if I had not believed that this book needs to be urgently read by as many people as possible. There are things I do for my friends simply because they are my friends, but translating a full book is not one of them. I hope you find time to read it, either in the English original or in whatever translation is accessible to you.
————————————————————————————————
On the night of 30 October, I was sitting alone in a small train cabin somewhere between Przemysl and Kyiv. It had been about a week since Russia had started to strategically target Ukrainian energy infrastructure, to cause maximum suffering as the winter was approaching. Every morning, there was worse news – 20% of infrastructure damaged. Then 30%. Then 40%. The bombs and drones caused damage faster than Ukrainians could repair it, despite performing miracles with scarce resources while being in constant, mortal danger. Some equipment was impossible to repair and often almost equally impossible to replace, unless you were lucky to find the right make of autotransformer languishing in an old Lithuanian warehouse. The necessary machinery would take months to produce and transport and could be destroyed the next day in a Russian attack. It felt like a hopeless, unusually vicious circle.
So there we were, on our way to discuss with the Ukrainian government how and what the EU should do in addition to the things we were already doing. We had initially been told not to use any digital tools on the train, but our security detail seemed rather relaxed about it, so I was balancing my laptop on my knees, reading and rereading the words on the screen. The text was not, as one might have expected, about the energy equipment or the meeting with the energy minister. It was, however, about Ukraine. And war. The first sentence went: “Uncle Vladimir and I fell out a month after his namesake annexed Crimea.” On the slow, slightly wobbly train to Kyiv, I was translating a trial chapter from Victoria Belim’s The Rooster House.
It’s been almost a year since that night and the Estonian translation will be available next week (publishing moves slower than war). The Rooster House is a good book regardless of the context, but Russia’s war on Ukraine makes it a must-read in my view. The West is getting tired of the war: it no longer feels distasteful for some allies to use Ukraine in its domestic power struggles, elsewhere the governments are finding it difficult to rally the support they need to keep assistance going. New atrocities in Palestine and Israel demand – quite rightly – their own share of people’s attention, resources and emotional energy. It is ironic how one can be tired of a war one is not fighting, but I realise that sarcasm and anger are not helpful reactions in this regard.
What I believe can be helpful is reminding ourselves what is at stake and why. The Rooster House is not exactly a book about war, it’s not really a history book either, but you will know war and history better once you have read it. For many people, learning about the fate of countries works best if seen through personal stories, through the joys and tragedies of ordinary families. And this is exactly what The Rooster House provides: a microcosm, the tides of history made tangible. Victoria’s quest to learn about her great grand uncle, about her family, her country and herself is something everyone can relate to, even if not every part of it is familiar.
I hate when people summarise the plot of a book and call it a review – it is lazy and spoilery and just extremely annoying. But I understand that it’s useful to have the basics: the book starts with Russia’s annexation of Crimea and the tensions that it creates in Victoria’s multicultural family. Inspired further by her great grandfather’s diaries that mention a brother who fought for free Ukraine and then disappeared, Victoria decides – after years of living abroad – to return to Ukraine, to reconnect to her grandmother and solve the puzzle of her great uncle’s disappearance. The titular Rooster House refers to the Soviet secret police building in Poltava, a key location in the story. If you go in without knowing much more, it reads almost like a thriller, albeit a literary one that is interspersed with lots of gardening, embroidery and Ukrainian village life.
There is a particular pleasure in reading this as an Estonian (the same goes, I assume, for many who are from the former USSR or the Soviet Block). We, too, have grandfathers taken by NKVD, family members who were sent to Siberia, someone we know who served in Afghanistan. We recognise the obsessive care for the garden, the stories that had many layers, the ubiquitous statues of Lenin and the buildings that were best not named. We have been marked not only by the war, but decades of living under a totalitarian regime. The book made me wonder, how much of what I took to be the unique character of my grandparents was, in fact, an expression of trauma (in the Soviet Union, trauma of course only referred to the physical; mentally speaking, you were either ‘normal’ or ‘insane’). I think of my determined, perfectionist maternal grandmother, who woke every day at 4am “so that she would have all the morning chores done by 6am” and my gentle grandfather, who rarely spoke about his 10 years in a Stalinist labour camp, could work harder than 5 average men combined and loved to drink Pepsi, a luxury in the eighties’ Estonia.
The Rooster House is sometimes a difficult read, but it is not bleak and the dry, somewhat absurdist humour will make you smile more often than you would expect. It is also nuanced and perhaps more gentle than would have been possible, if it had been written after 24 February 2022. And Victoria’s interest in Ukraine’s culture and crafts, her love for her family and the descriptions of ordinary people turn this into much more than a record of past and present horrors.
Finally, a disclaimer – I have been a fan of Victoria’s writing for many years and her friend (although not necessarily always a good one) for about a decade, since I moved to Brussels. I can, however, assure you, that I would not have spent every free moment over four months translating her book, if I had not believed that this book needs to be urgently read by as many people as possible. There are things I do for my friends simply because they are my friends, but translating a full book is not one of them. I hope you find time to read it, either in the English original or in whatever translation is accessible to you.
May 6, 2023
Ależ dobra historia pokazująca powrót do korzeni, a jednocześnie zmiany zachodzące w Ukrainie. Jestem totalnie na TAK!
abandoned
October 21, 2023Read through page 58, and could not convince myself I wanted to read more. It doesn’t help that I’ve read other, better memoirs about (re)discovering one’s Eastern European homeland and reconnecting with older relatives there—Among the Living and the Dead (Latvia) being the best example I have read, and Street without a Name (Bulgaria) worth checking out as well.
But the author’s career as a perfume blogger (?) makes sense, because her sensory descriptions are vivid but her storytelling skills lacking. And her writing style is so plain and dull that it’s quite ill-suited to lingering so long on the mundane details of her trip. I did want to learn more about her older relatives’ lives, which seem very worthy of a book, but I did not want to read any more about her and that seemed to be the primary focus. I will need to find something better about Ukraine.
But the author’s career as a perfume blogger (?) makes sense, because her sensory descriptions are vivid but her storytelling skills lacking. And her writing style is so plain and dull that it’s quite ill-suited to lingering so long on the mundane details of her trip. I did want to learn more about her older relatives’ lives, which seem very worthy of a book, but I did not want to read any more about her and that seemed to be the primary focus. I will need to find something better about Ukraine.
December 25, 2024
A beautiful, thought-provoking memoir. Victoria Belim emigrated from Ukraine to the US with her family in her mid-teens, and later moved to Brussels, but the first Russian attacks on eastern Ukraine in 2014 coincide with her increasing desire to learn more about her family history, including an uncle she never knew existed, who disappeared in the 1930s. So she returns to stay with her grandmother, Valentina, who determinedly tends her cherry orchard and plant her potatoes, seemingly reluctant to delve into family lore. As Victoria explores further she comes to better understand how the past continues to impact the present. I really enjoyed learning more about Ukraine history, and the author’s descriptions of place are so evocative. I’ve enjoyed following her Instagram page for some time, but now that I’ve read her book, I’m returning there eagerly to match images of places, people, and things with what I’ve read. 4.5.
“The Poltava countryside unfolded in a scroll of green orchards and black earth. Images flashed past the window: two white cats sitting on a haystack, still as Japanese dolls; a scarecrow wearing a chequered suit jacket and red tracksuit bottoms; a woman in a blue scarf herding a gaggle of ducklings so yellow they glowed in the grey morning light.”
“Nothing disappeared without a trace and everything needed time.”
“The Poltava countryside unfolded in a scroll of green orchards and black earth. Images flashed past the window: two white cats sitting on a haystack, still as Japanese dolls; a scarecrow wearing a chequered suit jacket and red tracksuit bottoms; a woman in a blue scarf herding a gaggle of ducklings so yellow they glowed in the grey morning light.”
“Nothing disappeared without a trace and everything needed time.”
June 14, 2024
võtsin hea tükk aega hoogu selle raamatu lugemiseks, sest kartsin, et on hirmus ja masendav. tegelikult üldse ei olnud!
tagakaas jah hirmutab meid kohe Kukemaja keldri süngete saladustega ja mul tekkisid seosed "Puhastuse" ja veel mõne õudsemat sorti NKVD-looga, mida olen elus lugema sattunud. aga Belimi lugu leiab aset põhiliselt... vanaema aias pirnipuude vahel, tundub nii tagantjärele. ei, eks siin satutakse ka Kiievisse ja Poltavasse ja loendamatutesse ukraina külakestesse, kust on lootust mingeid suguvõsa juuri leida. vaadatakse tikandeid ja kohtutakse senitundmata sugulastega ja süüakse palju maitsvat ukraina toitu.
taustal tiksub 2014. aasta Krimm ja kõik see. muidugi tekib jah mõte, et praegu enam sellist leebet pirniõielõhnalist raamatut sealt kokku ei kirjutaks. ja täitsa tahaks teada, kuidas on siis tänaseks suhted onu Vladimiriga, kellega raamatu alguses poliitika üle tülli minnakse ja raamatu lõpuks jälle üksteist leitakse.
igal juhul mulle väga meeldis see raamat ja ma saan nüüd jälle tüki maad paremini aru, kuidas see Ukraina elu ja ajalugu läinud on.
tagakaas jah hirmutab meid kohe Kukemaja keldri süngete saladustega ja mul tekkisid seosed "Puhastuse" ja veel mõne õudsemat sorti NKVD-looga, mida olen elus lugema sattunud. aga Belimi lugu leiab aset põhiliselt... vanaema aias pirnipuude vahel, tundub nii tagantjärele. ei, eks siin satutakse ka Kiievisse ja Poltavasse ja loendamatutesse ukraina külakestesse, kust on lootust mingeid suguvõsa juuri leida. vaadatakse tikandeid ja kohtutakse senitundmata sugulastega ja süüakse palju maitsvat ukraina toitu.
taustal tiksub 2014. aasta Krimm ja kõik see. muidugi tekib jah mõte, et praegu enam sellist leebet pirniõielõhnalist raamatut sealt kokku ei kirjutaks. ja täitsa tahaks teada, kuidas on siis tänaseks suhted onu Vladimiriga, kellega raamatu alguses poliitika üle tülli minnakse ja raamatu lõpuks jälle üksteist leitakse.
igal juhul mulle väga meeldis see raamat ja ma saan nüüd jälle tüki maad paremini aru, kuidas see Ukraina elu ja ajalugu läinud on.
November 21, 2023
Alustuseks: kui sa (mingil vaid sulle teadaoleval põhjusel) otsustad selles elus lugeda vaid ühe Ukraina-teemalise raamatu, siis ma usun, et see võiks küll olla see raamat.
Ma saan aru, et Ukrainat tuleb meile nüüd päris pikalt nii kirjanduses, filmilinal kui teatris. Ja see on ju alles algus, sedasorti looming jõuab meieni pika viitega. Küllastumine on kerge tekkima. Lisaks kipub neil puhkudel teravalt esile autori enda meelsus. Viimane saab tänapäeval olla vaid must ja valge, vahepealseid toone ju ei ole. Ka siinne raamat algab terava vastasseisuga: venemeelsus vs. USA ajupesu. Hullud ja päriselt eksisteerivad äärmused mõlemad. Aga ütlen ette ära, et see ei ole raamatus esil, eks taustal tiksub muidugi.
Selle raamatu suurimaks väärtuseks on lihtsa inimese lihtne elu. Põlvkondadevahelised suhtlusmustrid, argine olme - aed, köök, käsitöö. Paraku ka sovetliku asjaajamise ja korruptsiooniga vürtsitatud igapäev, mis on eriti visa muutuma. Kuna autor on emigreerunud 15aastaselt Chicagosse, siis ühest küljest on tal küll olemas taustsüsteem, teisalt on ta piisavalt kaua juba ära olnud, et esivanemate juuri otsima minnes vaadelda kohalikku elu värske pilguga. Seega kergelt nagu minusarjalik lugu, ent mahukam ja põhjalikum. Ja piltideta, mis mulle meeldib :)
Nii et julgen soovitada. Ja soovitangi, sest ma mõistan, et minusuguseid kahtlejaid (kas seda lugeda või mitte) on ilmselt veel. Selle ilmudes jäi kuidagi õhku, vähemalt minu jaoks, et mis asjaga täpselt ikka tegemist on. On see seltsimeeslapselik jutustus? On see pigem romaan? Või reisikiri? Liiga vähe selgitustööd :) Saan aru küll, et võõrkeelset autorit on keeruline siia telesse ja raadiosse saada, tubli, et esitlusele siiski õnnestus ta kohale tuua. Ja ka tõlkija Annikky Lamp (kiitus tõlkijale, vaheta ametit, palun!), kes võiks raamatu reklaamnäona järgmisena laual olla, on piisavalt hõivatud, aga ma ei tea - tehke midagi :)
Ma saan aru, et Ukrainat tuleb meile nüüd päris pikalt nii kirjanduses, filmilinal kui teatris. Ja see on ju alles algus, sedasorti looming jõuab meieni pika viitega. Küllastumine on kerge tekkima. Lisaks kipub neil puhkudel teravalt esile autori enda meelsus. Viimane saab tänapäeval olla vaid must ja valge, vahepealseid toone ju ei ole. Ka siinne raamat algab terava vastasseisuga: venemeelsus vs. USA ajupesu. Hullud ja päriselt eksisteerivad äärmused mõlemad. Aga ütlen ette ära, et see ei ole raamatus esil, eks taustal tiksub muidugi.
Selle raamatu suurimaks väärtuseks on lihtsa inimese lihtne elu. Põlvkondadevahelised suhtlusmustrid, argine olme - aed, köök, käsitöö. Paraku ka sovetliku asjaajamise ja korruptsiooniga vürtsitatud igapäev, mis on eriti visa muutuma. Kuna autor on emigreerunud 15aastaselt Chicagosse, siis ühest küljest on tal küll olemas taustsüsteem, teisalt on ta piisavalt kaua juba ära olnud, et esivanemate juuri otsima minnes vaadelda kohalikku elu värske pilguga. Seega kergelt nagu minusarjalik lugu, ent mahukam ja põhjalikum. Ja piltideta, mis mulle meeldib :)
Nii et julgen soovitada. Ja soovitangi, sest ma mõistan, et minusuguseid kahtlejaid (kas seda lugeda või mitte) on ilmselt veel. Selle ilmudes jäi kuidagi õhku, vähemalt minu jaoks, et mis asjaga täpselt ikka tegemist on. On see seltsimeeslapselik jutustus? On see pigem romaan? Või reisikiri? Liiga vähe selgitustööd :) Saan aru küll, et võõrkeelset autorit on keeruline siia telesse ja raadiosse saada, tubli, et esitlusele siiski õnnestus ta kohale tuua. Ja ka tõlkija Annikky Lamp (kiitus tõlkijale, vaheta ametit, palun!), kes võiks raamatu reklaamnäona järgmisena laual olla, on piisavalt hõivatud, aga ma ei tea - tehke midagi :)
July 16, 2023
"Pensei que em lugares onde os bomens são levados para combater nas guerras, as mulheres assumem o papel de guardiãs da memória." 💭
Escrito em 2014, é assustador o quão actual este livro continua a ser. A autora faz um contexto histórico excelente, através das conversas que tem com os familiares vai mencionando alguns factos da História ucraniana. Victoria Belim nasceu na Ucrânia, mas mudou-se para os Estados Unidos quando era criança.
A autora faz uma viagem à Ucrânia da sua infância em busca das suas raízes e de um familiar há muito desaparecido. A história familiar de Victoria Belim é extraordinária e, ao mesmo tempo, tão comum a muitos dos que viveram na URSS. Familiares que morreram nas guerras, familiares que um dia foram levados pelo KGB e nunca mais foram vistos, familiares que sobreviveram ao século XX soviético, mas que ainda assim ficaram com mazelas para o resto da vida. Mazelas físicas ou psicológicas, já que o medo da Grande Fome está sempre presente na família.
Foi interessante para mim, também, perceber que apesar de a URSS já não existir, ainda há vestígios soviéticos por todo o lado, nomeadamente em relação a leis e burocracia. Há até uma personagem que afirma, "Esperava que o modo de vida soviético desaparecesse juntamente com o Estado? Ainda temos muito que andar até aprendermos a fazer as coisas de uma maneira que não seja soviética".
Aprendi muito sobre a história da Ucrânia, mas também sobre os costumes e cultura ucranianos. Reconheci nomes de cidades que infelizmente aparecem diariamente nas notícias: Kiev, Odessa, Mariupol, Kharkiv.
Por causa da sua posição geográfica, a Ucrânia tem sido sempre um "joguete" entre os seus vizinhos, está sempre metida nos jogos políticos entre a União Europeia e a Rússia. Um povo que só quer viver uma vida normal, mas que é constantemente apanhado em guerras, que eles não começaram mas que sofrem as consequências.
Foi uma experiência de leitura muito informativa e quem gostar de ler sobre a guerra, sobre a Rússia e a Ucrânia, quem gostar de saber mais sobre o Leste europeu, vai apreciar muito este "A Casa dos Galos". Aconselho!
Escrito em 2014, é assustador o quão actual este livro continua a ser. A autora faz um contexto histórico excelente, através das conversas que tem com os familiares vai mencionando alguns factos da História ucraniana. Victoria Belim nasceu na Ucrânia, mas mudou-se para os Estados Unidos quando era criança.
A autora faz uma viagem à Ucrânia da sua infância em busca das suas raízes e de um familiar há muito desaparecido. A história familiar de Victoria Belim é extraordinária e, ao mesmo tempo, tão comum a muitos dos que viveram na URSS. Familiares que morreram nas guerras, familiares que um dia foram levados pelo KGB e nunca mais foram vistos, familiares que sobreviveram ao século XX soviético, mas que ainda assim ficaram com mazelas para o resto da vida. Mazelas físicas ou psicológicas, já que o medo da Grande Fome está sempre presente na família.
Foi interessante para mim, também, perceber que apesar de a URSS já não existir, ainda há vestígios soviéticos por todo o lado, nomeadamente em relação a leis e burocracia. Há até uma personagem que afirma, "Esperava que o modo de vida soviético desaparecesse juntamente com o Estado? Ainda temos muito que andar até aprendermos a fazer as coisas de uma maneira que não seja soviética".
Aprendi muito sobre a história da Ucrânia, mas também sobre os costumes e cultura ucranianos. Reconheci nomes de cidades que infelizmente aparecem diariamente nas notícias: Kiev, Odessa, Mariupol, Kharkiv.
Por causa da sua posição geográfica, a Ucrânia tem sido sempre um "joguete" entre os seus vizinhos, está sempre metida nos jogos políticos entre a União Europeia e a Rússia. Um povo que só quer viver uma vida normal, mas que é constantemente apanhado em guerras, que eles não começaram mas que sofrem as consequências.
Foi uma experiência de leitura muito informativa e quem gostar de ler sobre a guerra, sobre a Rússia e a Ucrânia, quem gostar de saber mais sobre o Leste europeu, vai apreciar muito este "A Casa dos Galos". Aconselho!
May 10, 2023
Książka "Dom pod kogutami" to poruszająca i emocjonalna opowieść o kobiecie, która zdecydowała się na odważny krok, by zgłębić swoją przeszłość i odnaleźć korzenie. Victoria Belim opowiada historię swojej rodziny, która odcisnęła piętno w jej życiu, związane z dramatycznymi wydarzeniami, jakie miały miejsce na Ukrainie podczas Wielkiego Głodu. Nie potrafiąc pogodzić się ze śmiercią ojca i konfliktem z wujem postanawia odkryć prawdę, która była zawsze zamiatana pod dywan. Po latach spędzonych w USA i Belgii wróciła na Ukrainę. Wróciła do domu.
Książka porusza wiele ważnych tematów, takich jak poszukiwanie własnej tożsamości, szukanie prawdy w historii, a także rodzinne tajemnice skrywane przez lata. Autorka wyrusza na Ukrainę, by spotkać swoje babcie i odkryć tajemnice swojej rodziny, a także poznać historię Wielkiego Głodu.
Opowieść o Walentynie, babci Victorii, która obsesyjnie zajmuje się ogrodem i dba o zapasy, to symbol traumatycznych doświadczeń, jakie przeszła jej rodzina w czasie Wielkiego Głodu. Choć sama go nie doświadczyła, to odziedziczyła ten strach po rodzicach.
Czytelnik jest w stanie wczuć się w emocje bohaterki, która walczy z demonami przeszłości, by lepiej zrozumieć siebie i swoją rodzinę.
Książka "Dom pod kogutami" to również niezwykle ciekawy obraz życia na Ukrainie, z perspektywy ludzi, którzy przeżyli Wielki Głód, a także walka z bezdusznym, skorumpowanym systemem i próba przetrwania. Autorka z dużą wrażliwością i dbałością o szczegóły opisuje życie w małych ukraińskich wsiach i miasteczkach, a także codzienne wyzwania, jakie stawia przed ludźmi życie w warunkach trudnej rzeczywistości.
Podsumowując, książka "Dom pod kogutami" to poruszająca i wciągająca opowieść o poszukiwaniu własnych korzeni, szukaniu prawdy w historii i rodzinnych tajemnicach. Autorka porusza ważne tematy i w ciekawy sposób opowiada o życiu na Ukrainie, w kontekście traumatycznych wydarzeń z przeszłości. Nie jest to lekka lektura, wiele w niej bolesnych tematów. Victoria Belim dzieli się z czytelnikami swoją historią, nie upiększając - najintymniejsze szczegóły z przeszłości wyszły na światło dzienne.
Książka ta jest z pewnością warta uwagi i polecam ją wszystkim, którzy interesują się historią, a także poszukują wnikliwych i poruszających opowieści o ludzkich doświadczeniach.
Książka porusza wiele ważnych tematów, takich jak poszukiwanie własnej tożsamości, szukanie prawdy w historii, a także rodzinne tajemnice skrywane przez lata. Autorka wyrusza na Ukrainę, by spotkać swoje babcie i odkryć tajemnice swojej rodziny, a także poznać historię Wielkiego Głodu.
Opowieść o Walentynie, babci Victorii, która obsesyjnie zajmuje się ogrodem i dba o zapasy, to symbol traumatycznych doświadczeń, jakie przeszła jej rodzina w czasie Wielkiego Głodu. Choć sama go nie doświadczyła, to odziedziczyła ten strach po rodzicach.
Czytelnik jest w stanie wczuć się w emocje bohaterki, która walczy z demonami przeszłości, by lepiej zrozumieć siebie i swoją rodzinę.
Książka "Dom pod kogutami" to również niezwykle ciekawy obraz życia na Ukrainie, z perspektywy ludzi, którzy przeżyli Wielki Głód, a także walka z bezdusznym, skorumpowanym systemem i próba przetrwania. Autorka z dużą wrażliwością i dbałością o szczegóły opisuje życie w małych ukraińskich wsiach i miasteczkach, a także codzienne wyzwania, jakie stawia przed ludźmi życie w warunkach trudnej rzeczywistości.
Podsumowując, książka "Dom pod kogutami" to poruszająca i wciągająca opowieść o poszukiwaniu własnych korzeni, szukaniu prawdy w historii i rodzinnych tajemnicach. Autorka porusza ważne tematy i w ciekawy sposób opowiada o życiu na Ukrainie, w kontekście traumatycznych wydarzeń z przeszłości. Nie jest to lekka lektura, wiele w niej bolesnych tematów. Victoria Belim dzieli się z czytelnikami swoją historią, nie upiększając - najintymniejsze szczegóły z przeszłości wyszły na światło dzienne.
Książka ta jest z pewnością warta uwagi i polecam ją wszystkim, którzy interesują się historią, a także poszukują wnikliwych i poruszających opowieści o ludzkich doświadczeniach.
January 22, 2023
Victoria Belim ist in der Ukraine geboren, zieht als Teenager mit ihren Eltern in die USA und später mit ihrem Ehemann nach Belgien. Als 2014 Russland die Krim annektiert, reist Victoria für einen längeren Aufenthalt in die Ukraine und macht sich auf die Suche nach ihren Wurzeln.
Im Zentrum ihrer familiären Spurensuche steht die Suche nach ihrem Urgroßonkel Nikodim, der in den 1930er Jahren spurlos verschwan - keine Seltenheit im damaligen politischen System. Dabei zeigt sich immer wieder der Konflikt zwischen den Generationen: Victoria möchte wissen, was mit ihren Vorfahren geschehen ist, sieht die Sowjetunion kritisch. Ihre Großmutter Valentina und ihr Onkel Vladimir sehen die Sowjetunion auch teils positiv (etwas, das Victoria nicht nachvollziehen kann), Valentina hat aber gleichzeitig eine solche Angst vor dem System, dass sie die Suche nach Nikodim eigentlich unterbinden möchte.
Durch Victorias Suche erfährt man viel von der Geschichte des Landes - mir ist (mal wieder) bewusst geworden, wie wenig ich da eigentlich weiß. Zugegebenermaßen, das Buch hatte für mich persönlich im Mittelteil einige Längen, diese wurden allerdings durch die Einblicke wieder wettgemacht.
“Rote Sirenen” hat sehr emotional aufgezeigt, welche Auswirkungen ein solches politisches System hat und wie lange es sich noch ausgewirkt hat beziehungsweise immer noch auswirkt. An der Stelle im Buch, als Victoria Belim aufgedeckt hat, was mit Nikodim geschehen ist und vor allem, wie es seiner Familie danach ging, hatte ich beim lesen Tränen in den Augen. “Sogar nach dem Ende der Sowjetunion wurden die Kinder für die vermeintlichen Verbrechen ihrer Väter verantwortlich gemacht.” (S. 265)
Besonders berührt hat mich dann nochmal das im August 2022 geschriebene Nachwort, in dem die Autorin auf ihre Suche und die aktuelle Situation in der Ukraine zurückblickt: “Ich habe mich manchmal bitter gefragt, ob wir 2022 in diese Situation geraten wären, wenn sich die Welt 2014 mehr um mein Land geschert hätte.” (S. 346)
Empfehlung für alle, die mehr über die Geschichte der Ukraine und die Auswirkungen der Sowjetunion erfahren möchten, und/oder gerne persönliche Erzählungen über Familie/Herkunft/Identität lesen!
Im Zentrum ihrer familiären Spurensuche steht die Suche nach ihrem Urgroßonkel Nikodim, der in den 1930er Jahren spurlos verschwan - keine Seltenheit im damaligen politischen System. Dabei zeigt sich immer wieder der Konflikt zwischen den Generationen: Victoria möchte wissen, was mit ihren Vorfahren geschehen ist, sieht die Sowjetunion kritisch. Ihre Großmutter Valentina und ihr Onkel Vladimir sehen die Sowjetunion auch teils positiv (etwas, das Victoria nicht nachvollziehen kann), Valentina hat aber gleichzeitig eine solche Angst vor dem System, dass sie die Suche nach Nikodim eigentlich unterbinden möchte.
Durch Victorias Suche erfährt man viel von der Geschichte des Landes - mir ist (mal wieder) bewusst geworden, wie wenig ich da eigentlich weiß. Zugegebenermaßen, das Buch hatte für mich persönlich im Mittelteil einige Längen, diese wurden allerdings durch die Einblicke wieder wettgemacht.
“Rote Sirenen” hat sehr emotional aufgezeigt, welche Auswirkungen ein solches politisches System hat und wie lange es sich noch ausgewirkt hat beziehungsweise immer noch auswirkt. An der Stelle im Buch, als Victoria Belim aufgedeckt hat, was mit Nikodim geschehen ist und vor allem, wie es seiner Familie danach ging, hatte ich beim lesen Tränen in den Augen. “Sogar nach dem Ende der Sowjetunion wurden die Kinder für die vermeintlichen Verbrechen ihrer Väter verantwortlich gemacht.” (S. 265)
Besonders berührt hat mich dann nochmal das im August 2022 geschriebene Nachwort, in dem die Autorin auf ihre Suche und die aktuelle Situation in der Ukraine zurückblickt: “Ich habe mich manchmal bitter gefragt, ob wir 2022 in diese Situation geraten wären, wenn sich die Welt 2014 mehr um mein Land geschert hätte.” (S. 346)
Empfehlung für alle, die mehr über die Geschichte der Ukraine und die Auswirkungen der Sowjetunion erfahren möchten, und/oder gerne persönliche Erzählungen über Familie/Herkunft/Identität lesen!
May 3, 2023
Eine sehr schöne Romanbiografie einer ukrainischen Familiengeschichte!
July 16, 2023
Liigutav lugemine! Kuigi teadsin tema blogist (♥️) juba hästi, et autor valdab sõnakunsti imeliselt, siis raamatukaante vahel tuleb anne eriti hästi esile. Ukraina avastamise ning NSVL (perekonna)jutustuste vaatevinklist kindlasti huvitavam lugemine neile, kes idaeurooplase talumatut raskust endaga kaasas ei pea kandma, eestlast kahjuks need lood ei üllata. See ei tee aga raamatut sugugi kehvemaks - oli tõesti nauditav lugemine ning ehk on see raamat just see, mis toob Ukrainas toimuva lääne ja muu maailma lugejale lähemale.
April 2, 2023
Ik las dit boek met het oog op het Passa Porta Literatuur Festival dat tweejaarlijks plaatsvindt in Brussel, 26 maart ging ik er naartoe. Dit jaar was het thema Refugé. Onder de vele internationale schrijvers uit alle uithoeken van de wereld afkomstig sprongen deze keer de Russische en Oekraïense schrijvers in aantal er boven uit.
Deze Victoria Belim werd samen met haar Oekraïense collega Oksana Zaboesjko geïnterviewd. Victoria Belim schrijft in Rode sirenes over haar familiegeschiedenis. Ze werd in Oekraïne geboren, groeide op in de VS en woont nu in Brussel.
In 2014 keerde ze terug naar Oekraïne om de verdwijning van haar oudoom Nikodim te onderzoeken. Je krijgt een inkijk in de 20e eeuwse geschiedenis van Oekraïne met zijn rijke traditie van onder meer borduurkunst. Dit boek is een goede inleiding om de complexe relatie met het sovjetverleden te plaatsen en als achtergrond bij de huidige oorlog. Een mustread wanneer je interesse hebt voor Oekraïne.
Deze Victoria Belim werd samen met haar Oekraïense collega Oksana Zaboesjko geïnterviewd. Victoria Belim schrijft in Rode sirenes over haar familiegeschiedenis. Ze werd in Oekraïne geboren, groeide op in de VS en woont nu in Brussel.
In 2014 keerde ze terug naar Oekraïne om de verdwijning van haar oudoom Nikodim te onderzoeken. Je krijgt een inkijk in de 20e eeuwse geschiedenis van Oekraïne met zijn rijke traditie van onder meer borduurkunst. Dit boek is een goede inleiding om de complexe relatie met het sovjetverleden te plaatsen en als achtergrond bij de huidige oorlog. Een mustread wanneer je interesse hebt voor Oekraïne.
November 15, 2024
I was so pleasantly surprised by this one! As mentioned in previous reviews, family histories are BIG in Central/Eastern European literature, and family histories from Ukraine certainly don't form an exception - on the contrary. I liked the first few pages I scanned when I picked up the book from a table with books on sale, and decided to give it a go, but was a bit scared that it would be 300+ pages of 'I've seen this before/boring'. But it turned out to be lovely. Belim's search for her family (hi)story, specifically that of her great uncle who disappeared in the Great Repression of the 1930s, is exciting and interesting. I felt like I got to know Belim a little bit, and the fact that very recent events (COVID, the full-scale invasion of Ukraine by Russia) are incorporated in a way that doesn't feel premature or hurried formed a strong element. But I specifically loved the way in which Belim managed to paint a very convincing portrait of her grandmother, and a striking, nostalgic image of life in the countryside of Eastern Europe and the accompanying atmosphere. The process of getting closer to her grandmother - from initial annoyance and conflict to a deep, warm bond - was described in a way that contained humor (I think every person with Slavic roots knows a woman like this grandmother), sharpness, and tenderness, and was touching, as were the descriptions of celebrations, food, folklore, and smells (Belim pays a lot of attention to smells, sometimes bordering on excess, but as I am someone who is really focused on/sensitive to smells I liked this angle a lot). A strong book within the saturated Eastern-European-family-history-genre. It (re-)inspired me to dive into the archives myself...
December 18, 2023
Victoria Belim spricht 18 Sprachen. Hat nix mit dem Buch zu tun, beeindruckt mich aber ungemein, zumal die Sprachen von Slawisch über Romanisch bis zu Persisch völlig unterschiedlich sind. Wow. Und schreiben kann sie auch noch, im vorliegenden Debüt geht es um ihre ukrainisch-russische Familie inklusive Geheimnisse und Verwerfungen, was dieses Werk angesichts des andauernden Kriegs sehr aktuell und zeitgeistig macht. Und es hat mir den Begriff (Job? Besonderheit) der Gurkenflüsterin nahe gebracht, was es nicht alles gibt.
Mehr zum Buch in unserer ausführlichen Besprechung @ Papierstau Podcast: Folge 241: Thank you to the Academy
Mehr zum Buch in unserer ausführlichen Besprechung @ Papierstau Podcast: Folge 241: Thank you to the Academy
November 23, 2025
Minu arvamuse raamatust leiab blogist https://triinuraamatud.wordpress.com/...
July 6, 2023
As complicated as the history of Ukraine has with Russia, Victoria attempts to unravel her own history to come to terms with events that have shaped her life and to understand it better. Deeply thoughtful, provocative as well as heartbreakingly honest; she does so with honesty and verve.
I really enjoyed reading this book. It has given me some context with which my own back history with Ukraine goes. My grandfather immigrated to Canada from Ukraine, I still have relatives there to this day. The complexity is evident, the history of Russian aggression, the evident fighting spirit of Ukrainian people, myself included.
I really enjoyed reading this book. It has given me some context with which my own back history with Ukraine goes. My grandfather immigrated to Canada from Ukraine, I still have relatives there to this day. The complexity is evident, the history of Russian aggression, the evident fighting spirit of Ukrainian people, myself included.
February 20, 2023
»Meine Großmutter […] sagte: »Die ganze Zeit, in der du nach Nikodim gesucht hast, habe ich gehofft, dass du nichts finden und aufgeben würdest. Ich habe unterschätzt, wie wichtig es ist, die Wahrheit zu erfahren, was auch immer diese Wahrheit sein mag. Als mir das klar wurde, hoffte ich nur, dass die Wahrheit dich nicht verletzen würde.«« (S.269)
Victoria Belim emigrierte als Teenager aus der Ukraine in die USA, hat dort studiert, und arbeitet und lebt heute in Brüssel. Als Russland 2014 die Krim annektierte begann die Autorin und Protagonistin sich intensiver mit ihrer ukrainischen Familiengeschichte auseinanderzusetzen und reiste von 2014-2019 regelmäßig für mehrere Monate in ihre Heimat in der Ukraine zurück, um dort mit ihrer Großmutter Valentina in deren kleinem Haus und Obstbaumgarten zu leben und zu recherchieren.
In ihrem Debüt »Rote Sirenen - Geschichte meiner ukrainischen Familie« (übersetzt aus dem Englischen von Ekaterina Pavlova) erzählt Viktoria von der aufwändigen Recherche ihrer Familiengeschichte ausgehend von ihrer Urgroßmutter Asja verbunden mit dem Wunsch das Verschwinden ihres Urgroßonkel Nikodim in den 1930er Jahren aufzuklären. Die Autorin erzählt von Valentina, von Asja, von der Ukraine, von der ehemaligen Sowjetunion, von ihrem Onkel Wladimir und dem Selbstmord ihres Vaters und nach und nach erschließt sich Leser:innen, wie die Dinge, Menschen und Themen miteinander verbunden ist. ❤️🩹 »Rote Sirenen« erzählt nicht nur von der Familiengeschichte und familiären Zusammenhalt, sondern auch von ukrainischen Vergangenheit, dem Holodomor, ukrainischer Kunst & Kultur und Zeitgeschichte.
Eine Familiengeschichte und vor allem die aufwändige, ernüchternde und nicht leichte Recherche von Viktoria Belim sind sehr berührend und zeigen, wie wichtig familiärer Zusammenhalt (in Krisenzeiten), und auch, wie wichtig und richtig Hoffnung ist. 🕊️
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»My grandmother [...] said: »All the time you were looking for Nikodim, I hoped you would find nothing and give up. I underestimated how important it is to know the truth, whatever that truth may be. When I realised this, I only hoped that the truth would not hurt you«.« (own translation; p.269)
Victoria Belim emigrated from Ukraine to the US as a teenager, studied there, and now works and lives in Brussels. When Russia annexed Crimea in 2014, the author and protagonist began to explore her Ukrainian family history more intensively and regularly travelled back to her homeland in Ukraine for several months from 2014-2019 to live and research with her grandmother Valentina in her small house and orchard.
In her debut »The Rooster House. A Ukrainian Family Secret«, Viktoria tells of the extensive research into her family history, starting with her great-grandmother Asya, combined with the desire to solve the disappearance of her great-granduncle Nikodim in the 1930s. The author tells of Valentina, of Asya, of Ukraine, of the former Soviet Union, of her uncle Vladimir and her father's suicide, and little by little readers discover how things, people and themes are connected. ❤️🩹 »The Rooster House« tells not only about family history and family cohesion, but also about the Ukrainian past, the Holodomor, Ukrainian art & culture and contemporary history.
A family story and especially Viktoria Belim's elaborate, sobering and not easy research are very touching and show how important family cohesion is (in times of crisis), and also how important and right hope is. 🕊️
Victoria Belim emigrierte als Teenager aus der Ukraine in die USA, hat dort studiert, und arbeitet und lebt heute in Brüssel. Als Russland 2014 die Krim annektierte begann die Autorin und Protagonistin sich intensiver mit ihrer ukrainischen Familiengeschichte auseinanderzusetzen und reiste von 2014-2019 regelmäßig für mehrere Monate in ihre Heimat in der Ukraine zurück, um dort mit ihrer Großmutter Valentina in deren kleinem Haus und Obstbaumgarten zu leben und zu recherchieren.
In ihrem Debüt »Rote Sirenen - Geschichte meiner ukrainischen Familie« (übersetzt aus dem Englischen von Ekaterina Pavlova) erzählt Viktoria von der aufwändigen Recherche ihrer Familiengeschichte ausgehend von ihrer Urgroßmutter Asja verbunden mit dem Wunsch das Verschwinden ihres Urgroßonkel Nikodim in den 1930er Jahren aufzuklären. Die Autorin erzählt von Valentina, von Asja, von der Ukraine, von der ehemaligen Sowjetunion, von ihrem Onkel Wladimir und dem Selbstmord ihres Vaters und nach und nach erschließt sich Leser:innen, wie die Dinge, Menschen und Themen miteinander verbunden ist. ❤️🩹 »Rote Sirenen« erzählt nicht nur von der Familiengeschichte und familiären Zusammenhalt, sondern auch von ukrainischen Vergangenheit, dem Holodomor, ukrainischer Kunst & Kultur und Zeitgeschichte.
Eine Familiengeschichte und vor allem die aufwändige, ernüchternde und nicht leichte Recherche von Viktoria Belim sind sehr berührend und zeigen, wie wichtig familiärer Zusammenhalt (in Krisenzeiten), und auch, wie wichtig und richtig Hoffnung ist. 🕊️
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»My grandmother [...] said: »All the time you were looking for Nikodim, I hoped you would find nothing and give up. I underestimated how important it is to know the truth, whatever that truth may be. When I realised this, I only hoped that the truth would not hurt you«.« (own translation; p.269)
Victoria Belim emigrated from Ukraine to the US as a teenager, studied there, and now works and lives in Brussels. When Russia annexed Crimea in 2014, the author and protagonist began to explore her Ukrainian family history more intensively and regularly travelled back to her homeland in Ukraine for several months from 2014-2019 to live and research with her grandmother Valentina in her small house and orchard.
In her debut »The Rooster House. A Ukrainian Family Secret«, Viktoria tells of the extensive research into her family history, starting with her great-grandmother Asya, combined with the desire to solve the disappearance of her great-granduncle Nikodim in the 1930s. The author tells of Valentina, of Asya, of Ukraine, of the former Soviet Union, of her uncle Vladimir and her father's suicide, and little by little readers discover how things, people and themes are connected. ❤️🩹 »The Rooster House« tells not only about family history and family cohesion, but also about the Ukrainian past, the Holodomor, Ukrainian art & culture and contemporary history.
A family story and especially Viktoria Belim's elaborate, sobering and not easy research are very touching and show how important family cohesion is (in times of crisis), and also how important and right hope is. 🕊️
January 17, 2023
Victoria Belims autobiographisches Buch „Rote Sirenen“ dokumentiert die Rückkehr der Autorin zur eigenen Kultur und in das Land, in dem sie aufgewachsen ist. Gleichzeitig ist es eine Spurensuche innerhalb der eigenen Familie und eine Reise in die Geschichte der Ukraine.
Victoria Belim wächst als Tochter eines russischen Vaters und einer ukrainischen Mutter in der Ukraine auf. Die weitere Familie ist jedoch durch zahlreiche Kulturen geprägt, was sich in Belims Verständnis von Identität und Kulturzugehörigkeit widerspiegelt. Mit fünfzehn zieht sie mit ihren Eltern in die USA, arbeitet später in Brüssel und kommt erst im Rahmen der Recherchen für das Buch für längere Zeit in die Ukraine zurück.
Sie begibt sich auf die Spuren ihres Urgroßonkels Nikodim, nachdem sie im Tagebuch ihres Urgroßvaters liest, dass dieser in den 1930er verschwand. Zuvor hatte er für die Unabhängigkeit der Ukraine gekämpft.
Belims Reise und das Buch, welches daraus entstanden ist, malen das Bild eines Landes und seiner Menschen zwischen Westen und Osten, zwischen Kulturen, Ideologen und Kriegen. Ein Land, das sich stets im Dazwischen wiedergefunden hat, dem immer eine Schwellenposition zwischen den Welten zugewiesen wurde. Ein Land, das Konflikte oft am härtesten zu spüren bekommen hat, wie auch der aktuelle Krieg wieder zeigt. Oder um an dieser Stelle Belims Großmutter zu zitieren: Ein „Blutland“.
Es ist faszinierend zusammen mit der Autorin zu lernen, zu erfahren und zu entdecken. Sie lässt uns auf authentische, auf glaubhafte Weise an ihrer eigenen Lebensgeschichte und an der ihrer Vorfahren teilhaben. Nie rutscht sie ins Rührselige oder Kitschige ab. Und so entstehen kostbare Einblicke, ein lesenswertes Familiendokument.
Victoria Belim wächst als Tochter eines russischen Vaters und einer ukrainischen Mutter in der Ukraine auf. Die weitere Familie ist jedoch durch zahlreiche Kulturen geprägt, was sich in Belims Verständnis von Identität und Kulturzugehörigkeit widerspiegelt. Mit fünfzehn zieht sie mit ihren Eltern in die USA, arbeitet später in Brüssel und kommt erst im Rahmen der Recherchen für das Buch für längere Zeit in die Ukraine zurück.
Sie begibt sich auf die Spuren ihres Urgroßonkels Nikodim, nachdem sie im Tagebuch ihres Urgroßvaters liest, dass dieser in den 1930er verschwand. Zuvor hatte er für die Unabhängigkeit der Ukraine gekämpft.
Belims Reise und das Buch, welches daraus entstanden ist, malen das Bild eines Landes und seiner Menschen zwischen Westen und Osten, zwischen Kulturen, Ideologen und Kriegen. Ein Land, das sich stets im Dazwischen wiedergefunden hat, dem immer eine Schwellenposition zwischen den Welten zugewiesen wurde. Ein Land, das Konflikte oft am härtesten zu spüren bekommen hat, wie auch der aktuelle Krieg wieder zeigt. Oder um an dieser Stelle Belims Großmutter zu zitieren: Ein „Blutland“.
Es ist faszinierend zusammen mit der Autorin zu lernen, zu erfahren und zu entdecken. Sie lässt uns auf authentische, auf glaubhafte Weise an ihrer eigenen Lebensgeschichte und an der ihrer Vorfahren teilhaben. Nie rutscht sie ins Rührselige oder Kitschige ab. Und so entstehen kostbare Einblicke, ein lesenswertes Familiendokument.
July 1, 2023
I won an ARC of this book and I am completely disappointed in myself for waiting so long to read it. The author has an extremely strong connection to Ukraine and gives a lot of history and description of particular cities that have affected her upbringing within the country. She includes both individuals and landmarks that play a significant role in her life, even as an adult who no longer resides there. This book is very educational as far as the evolvement of Ukraine. Politics. Historical events. Characteristics of the land. Citizenship. Agriculture/horticulture. Religion. Architecture.
I always appreciate a book with themes of humanity scattered throughout. Ukrainians are respected in cultures world-wide for their display of kindness. This book contains examples of Ukrainian hospitality and an understanding of what it means to be humble.
I struggled with pronunciation because I am not familiar with the language. The genealogy of her family proved a bit difficult as well. It’s extensive. I kept referring to earlier pages to grasp the familial relationships that each member had. Details are extremely important to the story. This book is not an easy read but one I am very grateful to have had the opportunity to invite into my reading adventure. 4 stars.
I always appreciate a book with themes of humanity scattered throughout. Ukrainians are respected in cultures world-wide for their display of kindness. This book contains examples of Ukrainian hospitality and an understanding of what it means to be humble.
I struggled with pronunciation because I am not familiar with the language. The genealogy of her family proved a bit difficult as well. It’s extensive. I kept referring to earlier pages to grasp the familial relationships that each member had. Details are extremely important to the story. This book is not an easy read but one I am very grateful to have had the opportunity to invite into my reading adventure. 4 stars.
December 30, 2022
Ik kreeg dit boek van @araik.jpg voor kerst, en het bleek een prachtig boek. Over een dramatische familiegeschiedenis waarbij je van alles te weten komt over Oekraïne en haar geschiedenis. Aanrader!
April 22, 2023
Wil je lezen. Juist nu. Een persoonlijk verhaal over de geschiedenis van een Oekraïense familie.
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