Una battaglia persa

by Svetlana Alexievich, Claudia Zonghetti (Translator)

«Ho tre case: la mia terra bielorussa, che è la patria di mio padre e dove ho vissuto tutta la mia vita; l’Ucraina, che è la patria di mia madre e dove sono nata; e la grande cultura russa, senza la quale non riesco a immaginarmi. Ho care tutte e tre» ha dichiarato la Aleksievič allorché le è stato conferito il Nobel per la letteratura. «Ma è difficile parlare d’amore, di questi tempi» ha aggiunto. Solo chi si era fin dall’inizio assunto il compito di «donna-orecchio» – per raccogliere dalla voce della gente semplice il «quotidiano dell’anima» – e di testimone oculare poteva esprimersi con tanta sofferta immediatezza. Ma soprattutto chi quel compito aveva svolto con audacia fino in fondo, scandagliando in libri che risuonano come cori di voci le stazioni più neglette e laceranti di una storia collettiva.

Genres: Nonfiction, History, Essays, Short Stories, Memoir

46 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2015

About the author

Svetlana Alexievich was born in Ivano Frankivsk, Soviet Union. Her father was Belarusian and her mother Ukrainian. Alexievich grew up in Belarus, where both her parents were teachers. She studied to be a journalist at the University of Minsk and worked a teacher, journalist and editor. In Minsk she has worked at the newspaper Sel'skaja Gazeta, Alexievich's criticism of the political regimes in the Soviet Union and thereafter Belarus has periodically forced her to live abroad, for example in Italy, France, Germany and Sweden.

Svetlana Alexievich depicts life during and after the Soviet Union through the experience of individuals. In her books she uses interviews to create a collage of a wide range of voices. With her "documentary novels", Svetlana Alexievich, who is a journalist, moves in the boundary between reporting and fiction. Her major works are her grand cycle Voices of Utopia, which consists of five parts. Svetlana Alexievich's books criticize political regimes in both the Soviet Union and later Belarus.

In 2015 Ms Alexievich was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Reviews

[Adina ( back from Vacay…slowly recovering) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Svetlana Alexievich is an investigative journalist, the winner of the Nobel prize for literature in 2014 and this is her Nobel Lecture. It can be read here: https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_priz...

After reading her lecture I am more decided than ever to read one of her books but I am also horrified to do it. I almost cried many times while I reading this small sample into her world and I can only imagine what reading one of her books can do to my soul.

I admire her gift (and also course) of listening to people's stories. In a world where everybody wants to speak it is rare to find someone to listen and have the courage to tackle such difficult subjects (Chernobyl, Communism, War).

An example of the voices she hears:

"We lived near the Chernobyl nuclear plant. I was working at a bakery, making pasties. My husband was a fireman. We had just gotten married, and we held hands even when we went to the store. The day the reactor exploded, my husband was on duty at the firе station. They responded to the call in their shirtsleeves, in regular clothes – there was an explosion at the nuclear power station, but they weren't given any special clothing. That's just the way we lived ... You know ... They worked all night putting out the fire, and received doses of radiation incompatible with life. The next morning they were flown straight to Moscow. Severe radiation sickness ... you don't live for more than a few weeks ... My husband was strong, an athlete, and he was the last to die. When I got to Moscow, they told me that he was in a special isolation chamber and no one was allowed in. "But I love him," I begged. "Soldiers are taking care of them. Where do you think you're going?" "I love him." They argued with me: "This isn't the man you love anymore, he's an object requiring decontamination. You get it?" I kept telling myself the same thing over and over: I love, I love ... At night, I would climb up the fire escape to see him ... Or I'd ask the night janitors ... I paid them money so they'd let me in ... I didn't abandon him, I was with him until the end ... A few months after his death, I gave birth to a little girl, but she lived only a few days. She ... We were so excited about her, and I killed her ... She saved me, she absorbed all the radiation herself. She was so little ... teeny-tiny ... But I loved them both. Can you really kill with love? Why are love and death so close? They always come together. Who can explain it? At the grave I go down on my knees ..."

[Sidharth Vardhan · Rating 5 out of 5]

"I drove to a hospital for Afghan civilians with a group of nurses – we brought presents for the children. Toys, candy, cookies. I had about five teddy bears. We arrived at the hospital, a long barracks. No one has more than a blanket for bedding. A young Afghan woman approached me, holding a child in her arms. She wanted to say something – over the last ten years almost everyone here has learned to speak a little Russian – and I handed the child a toy, which he took with his teeth. "Why his teeth?" I asked in surprise. She pulled the blanket off his tiny body – the little boy was missing both arms. "It was when your Russians bombed." Someone held me up as I began to fall."


https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_priz...

[Óscar Moreno (OscarBooker) · Rating 5 out of 5]

¡QUE LIBRO MÁS POTENTE!

Básicamente son reflexiones, o memorias, de la autora Svetlana Aleksiévich; ganadora del Nobel de Literatura. Nos cuenta sobre su identidad y algunos eventos de los cuales ha sido testigo; Chernobyl o Afganistán.

“ vivía en un país donde nos enseñaban a morir desde pequeños. Nos enseñan la muerte. Nos decían que el ser humano existe para entregarse para arder para sacrificarse.”

Si te gusta el estilo de la autora y vivencias bélicas este corto libro es indispensable.

(Además las ilustraciones 10 de 10)

[Seregnani · Rating 4 out of 5]

«Dopo che è morto... qualche mese dopo ho partorito: era una femmina, ma è vissuta qualche giorno in tutto. L'avevamo aspettata tanto, e io l'ho uccisa...
Si è presa lei tutte le radiazioni, mi ha salvato. Era piccola piccola... uno scricciolino... Quanto li ho amati, tutti e due.
Cosa dici, l'amore può uccidere? Amore e morte vanno sempre a braccetto.
Sono sempre insieme. Perché?
Chi me lo spiega, perché è cosi?
Mi ci trascino ginocchioni, alla loro tomba.»


4 ⭐️ Straziante! E come dice Svetlana: come è difficile parlare d’amore, di questi tempi.

[Ileana · Rating 5 out of 5]

We all should have read Svetlana's work much earlier.

[Stephanie · Rating 4 out of 5]

   A strong and moving speech by Mrs. Alexievitch, with her own memories, the eye-witness accounts she recorded during her years as a journalist, and also her conclusions about what she had understood about the world and war from these experiences. It makes me want to read her works, to better understand her philosophy and to be able to “witness” what it is, war, for Russians, for Iraqis, for all humanity, from a point of view different than normal.

   Un discours fort et émouvant par Mme Alexievitch, avec ses propres souvenirs, les témoignages qu’elle a noté pendant ses années comme une journaliste, et aussi ses conclusions à propos de ce qu’elle a compris du monde et de la guerre à partir de ces expériences. Ça donne envie de lire ses ouvrages, pour mieux comprendre sa philosophie et de pouvoir ‘témoigner’ ce que c’est, la guerre, pour les russes, pour les irakiens, pour tout humanité, d’un point de vue hors la norme.

Citations commenté
   Le mal est impitoyable, il faut avoir été vacciné contre lui. Mais nous, nous avons grandi parmi des bourreaux et des victimes. […] Le mal était toujours là, à nous épier du coin de l’œil. – page 10

   Evil is pitiless, one must get vaccinated against it. But us, we grew up among the executioners and the victims. […] Evil was always there, spying on us from the corner of its eye. – page 10

   Tout de suite après la guerre, Theodor Adorno, bouleversé, a dit : « Écrire un poème après Auschwitz est barbare. » […] Ici, on n’a pas le droit d’inventer. Il faut montrer la vérité telle qu’elle est. On a besoin d’une littérature qui soit au-delà de la littérature. C’est le témoin qui doit parler. On peut aussi songer à Nietzsche qui disait que pas un seul artiste ne peut supporter la réalité. Ne peut la soulever. – page 13 – « Ici, on n’a pas le droit d’inventer. » -- Je pense que ça, c’est la raison pour laquelle je n’ai pas réussi à vraiment apprécier le livre Rose Under Fire : je savais que rien n’était inventé, mais tout était utilisé d’une manière fictive dans l’histoire. De voir la vérité dans un ouvrage de fiction, ça m’a pris à rebrousse-poil.

   Right after the war, Theodor Adorno, overwhelmed, said, "To write a poem after Auschwitz is barbaric." [...] Here, we don't have the right to invent. One must show reality as it is. We need a literature which is above and beyond literature. It's the eyewitness who must speak. We can also think of Nietzsche who said that not a single artist is capable of holding up reality. Is not capable of raising it up. -- page 13 – “Here, we don’t have the right to invent.” I think that that is the reason why I didn’t manage to really appreciate the book Rose Under Fire : I knew that nothing was made up, but everything in the story was used fictitiously. To see those truths in a book of fiction, it rubbed me the wrong way.

   Mais qu’est-ce que la littérature aujourd’hui ? […] Il n’y a pas de frontières entre les faits et la fiction, les deux se chevauchent. Même un témoin n’est pas impartial. Quand il raconte, l’homme crée, il lutte avec le temps comme le sculpteur avec le marbre. Il est un acteur et un créateur. – page 14 –Primo : Dans les informations des États-Unis, on voit chaque jour que les faits et la fiction se chevauchent, encore plus que jamais – et ce discours était en 2015. Secundo : « quand il raconte, l’homme crée » -- c’est une position dans laquelle je me trouve souvent – j’ai l’impression que quand je raconte une histoire, je crée l’histoire dans la manière que je veux que ceux qui m’écoutent vont la retenir. C’est coloré avec mes idées, mes impressions, et non seulement avec que les faits.

   But what is literature today ? […] There are no borders between fact and fiction, the two overlap. Even an eyewitness is not impartial. When he tells a story, man creates; he fights with time as a sculptor with marble. He is an actor and a creator. – page 14 – First: in US news, we see the overlap of fact and fiction every day, even more now than ever – and this speech was in 2015. Secondly, “When he tells a story, man creates”—it’s a position in which I find myself often – I have the feeling that when I tell a story, I am creating the story in the way that I wish my listener to remember it. It’s colored with my ideas, my impressions, and not only with just the facts.

   Il parlerait du fait que la guerre, c’est tuer. C’est cela qui reste dans la mémoire des femmes. […] Ce dont les femmes parlent le plus, c’est de la disparition, de la vitesse à laquelle, à la guerre, tout se transforme en rien. – page 17 – « C’est de la disparition »

   He spoke of the fact that war, it’s killing. That’s what stays in the memory of women. […] What women talk about the most, it is the disappearances -- the speed with which, in war, everything becomes nothing. – page 17 – “It is the disappearances”

   J’ai découvert que les armes sont belles : les pistolets-mitrailleurs, les mines, les tanks. Les hommes ont beaucoup réfléchi à la meilleure façon de tuer d’autres hommes. L’éternel dilemme entre la vérité et la beauté. – page 20 – La morte est moche, donc il faut des jolies armes pour la rendre l’action de donner la morte à un autre être humain un peu moins barbare. (Ou comme Rachel, dans la série Animorphs #1-54: elle est grande, blonde, belle, mais elle est aussi la plus assoiffée de sang, la plus efficace quand il faut tuer.)

   I learned that weapons are beautiful : machine-pistols, mines, tanks. Men reflected a lot on the best way to kill other men. The eternal dilemma between truth and beauty. – page 20 – Death is ugly, so one needs beautiful weapons to make the action of delivering death to another human being a little less barbaric. (Or like Rachel, in the series Animorphs #1-54: she is tall, blond, beautiful, but she is also the most blood-thirsty, the most effective when someone needs to be killed.)

   Je me suis demandé quel livre j’aimerais écrire sur la guerre. J’aimerais écrire un livre sur un homme qui ne tire sur personne, qui est incapable de tirer sur un autre homme, que la seule idée de la guerre fasse souffrir. Où est-il, cet homme ? Je ne l’ai pas rencontré. – page 23

   I asked myself, What book would I like to write about war? I would like to write a book about a man who never shoots anyone, who is incapable of shooting another man, that the very idea of war makes him suffer. Where is he, this man? I have not met him. – page 23


Original short review 8/27/2017:
Review to come when I can think clearly/it's not after midnight. This speech was something else, and there are so many connections I can draw to my own reading experiences/what I've learned about war from reading. For now, I'll just leave with this quote:

   Tout de suite après la guerre, Theodor Adorno, bouleversé, a dit : « Écrire un poème après Auschwitz est barbare. » […] Ici, on n’a pas le droit d’inventer. Il faut montrer la vérité telle qu’elle est. On a besoin d’une littérature qui soit au-delà de la littérature. C’est le témoin qui doit parler. On peut aussi songer à Nietzsche qui disait que pas un seul artiste ne peut supporter la réalité. Ne peut la soulever. – page 13

Right after the war, Theodor Adorno, overwhelmed, said, "To write a poem after Auschwitz is barbaric." [...] Here, we don't have the right to invent. One must show reality as it is. We need a literature which is above and beyond literature. It's the eyewitness who must speak. We can also think of Nietzsche who said that not a single artist is capable of holding up reality. Is not capable of raise it up. -- page 13

All translations into English, as usual, are my own.

[Youssef]

"كتابة النثر عن كوابيس القرن العشرين يعد دنسًا. لا يمكن اختراع شيء. يجب أن تقدم الحقيقة كم هي. لا بد من أدب استثنائي. وكما قال نيتشه: لا يمكن لفنان أن يكون على مستوى الواقع. لن يستطيع حمله."

أدب هذه السيدة استثنائي..

[Aran🍁☕️📖 · Rating 3 out of 5]

Un discurso fuerte y conmovedor de la autora, con sus propios recuerdos, los relatos de testigos que registró durante sus años como periodista, y también sus conclusiones sobre lo que había entendido de la guerra a partir de estas experiencias.

Leyéndolo dan ganas de comprender mejor su filosofía y de querer “ser testigo” de lo que es la guerra para los rusos, para los iraquíes y para toda la humanidad desde un punto de vista diferente al normal.

A Sveltana le gusta escuchar las historias que las personas tienen que contar. En un mundo donde todo el mundo quiere hablar, es raro encontrar a alguien que escuche y tenga el coraje de abordar temas tan difíciles como lo son Chernobyl, el comunismo y la guerra.

[Nela · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lo que escriba Svetlana hasta el momento es de una calidad contundente sea extenso o breve como en este caso, siempre te dejará una sensación de que su prosa es un medio para transmitir tantas voces que han vivido en sacrificio y dolor.

[Giulia · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5 ⭐

[قـمَـر · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I’m writing a book about the war… Why about the war?
Because we are people of war – we have always been at war or
been preparing for war. If one looks closely, we all think in terms
of war. At home, on the street. That’s why human life is so cheap
in this country. Everything is wartime."

"I will take the liberty of saying that we missed the chance
we had in the 1990s. The question was posed: what kind of
country should we have? A strong country, or a worthy one
where people can live decently? We chose the former – a strong
country. Once again we are living in an era of power. Russians
are fighting Ukrainians. Their brothers. My father is Belarusian,
my mother, Ukrainian. That’s the way it is for many people.
Russian planes are bombing Syria…"

"A time full of hope has been replaced by a time of fear. The
era has turned around and headed back in time. The time we live
in now is second-hand…"

"I have three homes: my Belarusian land, the homeland of
my father, where I have lived my whole life; Ukraine, the
homeland of my mother, where I was born; and Russia’s great
culture, without which I cannot imagine myself. All are very dear
to me. But in this day and age it is difficult to talk about love!"

I love this great woman, I love everything she wrote and I will read everything she will write..
I can't tell how much I appreciate this literary genre!

[David Morillo Barrera · Rating 5 out of 5]

Que pequeño libro tan impresionante. Sé que es el discurso de aceptación del Nobel, pero Svetlana Aleksiévich logra en poco, describirse de una manera magistral de cómo ella se interesa por la voz de los sin voz. Describe su tipo de literatura y cómo importa no olvidar las historias de gente común. Ya que en temas como la guerra, tenemos una realidad distorsionada de cómo todo es heroico. Pero olvidamos que los que morían eran jóvenes muchachos que su futuro prometido les fue arrebatado.

Pero también tenemos la otra cara de la moneda en estos eventos, que por ejemplo, Svetlana retrata como las mujeres en la guerra mundial y cómo éstas eran minoría y criticadas. Los soviéticos en Afganistán y el rol de los niños en la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Sin dudas ella se encarga de ser una especie de “sabia del pueblo” ya que tiene toda la información de las distintas voces, que entrevistas para poder formar una sola historia protagonizada por gente que es granjera, de pueblo y para nada militar.

Un discurso increíble que siento que es una grandiosa puerta de entrada para cualquier persona que quiera conocer la obra de Svetlana Aleksiévich.

[Alexiel Dubois · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Il nostro vero capitale è il dolore. Non il petrolio. Non il gas. Il dolore. È l’unica cosa che produciamo costantemente. Ma perché tanto dolore non si converte in libertà”

Ho scoperto un’altra scrittrice che da oggi è entrata a far parte delle mie preferite.

Questo libro racchiude il discorso che lei ha fatto quando è stata premiata per il premio Nobel.
Non so come si faccia a raccontare in così poche pagine tanta intensità. Il concetto di morte e di bruttezza dell’uomo, la lei ci riesce.
In lei, come lei stessa scrive per altri, scorgo bellezza, la bellezza, forse rassegnata, della verità.
Di voler raccontare quello che succede, nonostante anche lei nei faccia parte.

In poche pagine ha raccontato ricordi, dolore, sgomento, ma anche fiducia e speranza, il ricordo di un ideale e la delusione. La delusione di un popolo che ci aveva creduto veramente.

[Kalina Stamatova · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't remember how and when I stumbled onto Svetlana Alexievich, all I knew was that I had to read something of hers. After 'The Unwomanly Face Of War', I went onto her Nobel lecture, 'On the Battle Lost'. No other author has moved me, appalled me, shook me the way Alexievich has.
I think it's absolutely imperative for humanity to read her works. I also know how hard that can be.
So if you're anything like me, do yourself a favor and at least read 'On the Battle Lost'. You'll find yourself unable to stop after that, anyway. I know I will.

[Carmè · Rating 5 out of 5]

E mi è rimasto soprattutto impresso che quelle donne parlavano d’amore, non di morte. Raccontavano di quando avevano salutato per l’ultima volta coloro che amavano, di come li avessero aspettati e li aspettassero ancora. Gli anni passavano, ma loro non smettevano di aspettarli: «Senza braccia, senza gambe, basta che torni: me lo porto in spalla». Senza braccia… senza gambe… Credo di averlo saputo fin da bambina, cos’è l’amore.

[Susana Ory · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tiene pinta de ser un artículo que sirve de manifiesto sobre por qué escribe lo que escribe, por qué escucha a la gente pequeña que cuenta su visión de la Gran Guerra Patria (WWII), chernóbil, afganistán o la caída de la URSS. Por brevísimo sabe a muy poco.

[ventura de monterrey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Poderoso, como todo lo que escribe esta mujer.

[GONZA · Rating 4 out of 5]

Se ci basiamo sulle parole che l'autrice ha scritto nel 2015 per leggere il 2024, non ci sono speranze per un futuro migliore, perché la Russia sceglierà sempre di essere piú forte piuttosto che piú giusta, e non che in questo sia l'unico paese al mondo, tutt'altro, basta guardare cosa succede sistematicamente in Asia o in Medio Oriente, quindi au revoir les enfants....

[Elías Ortigosa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Qué absurda la guerra, qué bien lo retrata la autora, qué bien lo traduce la traductora.

[itsvaleria · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un libricino di pochissime pagine ma dense di emozioni e significato...a dir poco straziante ed estremamente attuale.

[Esther · Rating 3 out of 5]

Qué gran oradora. Y las ilustraciones una monería.

[Linoleum · Rating 5 out of 5]

Intensa e poetica riflessione sulla guerra e sull’identità, e sul ruolo della letteratura in tempi sempre più bui.

[Marco Candigliota · Rating 5 out of 5]

Davvero un bel libro, veloce, suggestivo. In pochissime pagine riesce lasciarti impresse parecchie immagini significative che ti ronzano in testa anche giorni dopo la lettura.

[Hopeeverest · Rating 5 out of 5]

There are writers and then there are writers like Svetlana Alexievich who in their pursuit of human voices end up creating a whole new genre of literature. I haven't read her books. I only chanced upon on her Nobel Lecture titled 'On the Battle Lost'. It is only a peek into her world of words. But that is enough to rip your heart and question a lot of things about the world and its ways. There isn't a passage that doesn't move you and I had a hard time deciding which part of the speech should I pick to quote. The entire lecture is to be read, re-read and re-read every now and then. Such powerful writing. More power to her!

[AdN · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un discurso muy sentimental, escrito desde su forma de escribir: con el testimonio.

[Ingrid Neri · Rating 4 out of 5]

Svetlana da vida y reconocimiento a los testimonios en sus libros, es la voz de aquellas voces que habían callado. Su trabajo es excepcionalmente interesante.

[Rubén · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Me habría gustado escribir sobre un ser humano que no dispara, que no puede abrir fuego sobre otro ser humano, a quien la propia idea de la guerra le haga sufrir. ¿Dónde está? No lo he encontrado”.

Los ojos de Svetlana Aleksiévich han sido testigos de las tragedias humanas que sus compatriotas vivieron en la era soviética. Sus obras, polifónicas y centradas en lo humano, en las historias pequeñas y habitualmente olvidadas que conforman la gran Historia, dan voz sobre todo a las mujeres soviéticas que sufrieron la II Guerra Mundial, la catástrofe de Chernóbil, la guerra que la URSS libró en Afganistán… “Me interesa la historia del alma. Los modos de vida del alma. Lo que la gran Historia normalmente deja pasar, a lo que mira con altanería. Me dedico a la historia omitida”. En 2015, Aleksiévich recibió el premio Nobel por una obra literaria considerada “un monumento al valor y al sufrimiento de nuestro tiempo”. Ahora, Nórdica nos trae, en una bellísima edición ilustrada y en tapa dura, el discurso que Aleksiévich pronunció ante la academia sueca tras recibir el galardón y que lleva por título ‘De una batalla perdida’.

Ya en la primera línea, Aleksiévich rinde homenaje a las personas anónimas que han conformado sus obras con sus testimonios, a esas almas sin nombre cuyo sufrimiento sirvió para engrasar la maquinaria soviética. “No estoy sola en esta tribuna. Me acompañan voces, centenares de voces, siempre están conmigo”. A lo largo del discurso, la autora bielorrusa repasa diferentes pasajes de las cinco obras que conforman su pentalogía ‘Voces de la Utopía’: ‘La guerra no tiene rostro de mujer’, ‘Últimos testigos’, ‘Los muchachos del zinc’, ‘Voces de Chernóbil’ y ‘El fin del Homo Sovieticus’. “He escrito cinco libros pero me parece que son un único libro. Un libro sobre la historia de una utopía”, reconoce. 

En su discurso, Aleksiévich rinde homenaje a su profesión, a ese reporterismo que bebe de las obras de Kapuściński y del que otras, como ella o, posteriormente, Margo Rejmer han sabido tomar el testigo con valentía y de forma brillante para ajustar cuentas con los regímenes totalitarios comunistas del siglo XX. Un tributo a esa profesión que se lleva en la sangre, que busca la verdad en los testimonios de quienes vivieron los hechos para presentarla al mundo en forma de obra literaria. “Hay una parte de la vida hablada que no logramos conquistar para la literatura. Todavía no le damos valor, no nos dejamos sorprender ni maravillar por ella. A mí ya me ha hechizado y me ha convertido en su prisionera. Me encanta cómo habla la gente. Me encanta la voz humana solitaria”.

Este discurso es un testimonio de la dignidad. De la tragedia de un pueblo que luchó durante décadas por unos ideales que en realidad eran humo, y del precio que pagaron por ellos: nada menos que sus propias vidas, las de sus maridos, las de sus hijos. “Vivía en un país donde nos enseñaban a morir desde pequeños (…) Nos decían que el ser humano existe para entregarse”. Éste es un discurso necesario, lleno de verdad, de pasado y de futuro, de pacifismo y esperanza. Un discurso muy necesario que, como la pentalogía de la utopía, todos deberíamos leer. 

[Dea Bellan · Rating 4 out of 5]

«No estoy sola en esta tribuna… Me rodean voces, centenares de voces, siempre están conmigo. Desde pequeña. Vivía en un pueblo. A los niños nos gustaba jugar en la calle, pero por las tardes nos atraían, como imanes, los bancos junto a las casas, o jatas, como se dice en nuestra tierra, en las que se reunían las mujeres agotadas. Ninguna de ellas tenía marido, padre o hermanos; no recuerdo que hubiera hombres en el pueblo después de la guerra: durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial, en Bielorrusia, en el frente y en las operaciones de los partisanos, pereció uno de cada cuatro bielorrusos. Nuestro mundo infantil de después de la guerra era un mundo de mujeres».

Después de terminar “De una batalla perdida” estoy más que decidida a leer más libros de Svetlana Aleksiévich. En su discurso de recepción del Premio Nobel, la autora se pregunta por diferentes aspectos de la condición humana: la guerra, el amor, “los esclavos de la utopía”, y la persona –o como ella lo menciona, el alma humana–. Para much@s puede resultar amargo y desgarrador y, al mismo tiempo, colosal y esperanzador.

Desde la primera página nos sentimos confrontad@s gracias a su facilidad para hacernos reflexionar y a su don para escuchar historias, o en palabras de la escritora, para escuchar “la parte hablada de la vida humana”. Definitivamente, ella la conquista para la literatura universal y, en un acto generoso, hace de las voces de mujeres sus cómplices a través de monólogos, preguntas y reflexiones que encontramos en esta hermosa edición ilustrada.

[J_BlueFlower · Rating 4 out of 5]

Can be read as a fine introduction, overview and motivation of her author ship. Online here:
https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/lit...

I have previously read Voices from Chernobyl. Highly recommended.

Two quotations from On the Battle Lost:
”Suffering is our capital, our natural resource. Not oil or gas – but suffering. It is the only thing we are able to produce consistently.”

”today there’s a division between Slavophiles and Westernizers, “fascist-traitors” and patriots. And between those who can buy things and those who can’t. The latter, I would say, was the cruelest of the ordeals to follow socialism, because not so long ago everyone had been equal. The “Red” man wasn’t able to enter the kingdom of freedom he had dreamed of around his kitchen table. Russia was divvied up without him, and he was left with nothing. Humiliated and robbed. Aggressive and dangerous.”

[Giorgio Bugnatelli · Rating 3 out of 5]

Svetlana Alexievich is a Belarusian investigative journalist and author, notable for her deeply researched oral histories focusing on Soviet and post-Soviet experiences.
This book will appeal to those interested in contemporary European history, social commentary, and the nuanced realities of survival and loss during and after political turmoil.
In "Una battaglia persa," Alexievich assembles firsthand accounts to trace the personal fallout of catastrophic events in the Soviet Union. Using her signature style, she records the haunting testimonies of ordinary people caught in the crossfire of grand ideological change. The book’s narrative gently weaves together stories of grief, resilience, and resignation, avoiding melodrama but never shying away from tragedy. The result is an intimate portrait of loss, endurance, and the ways individuals try, and sometimes fail, to reclaim agency in the wake of defeat. The relentless bleakness, while authentic, can prove emotionally exhausting and repetitive, at times overshadowing moments of hope.
Memorable Quote
“Death is the fairest thing in the world. No one's ever gotten out of it. The earth takes everyone—the kind, the cruel, the sinners. Aside from that, there's no fairness on earth.”