Crete, 1936. Eleni, who is half-English and half-Cretan, spends all her summers with her dead mother’s family on the island of Crete. She’s beautiful, fun, popular, and very happy, but so far untouched by love. Then Otto and his family arrive for a holiday in the villa next door, and the two fall head over heels in love.
The romance is beautifully drawn. Eleni, though she tries to play it cool, is too honest and too much in love to do so, and Otto – oh, Otto is head over heels in love. In that first year, they have to grasp every opportunity to meet in secret because Eleni is hidebound by the Cretan traditions and terrified her family will find out she has a boyfriend. Crete is a close-knit community where everyone knows everyone, and they all protect their own – take heed of this, it gets very, very important!
Otto and Eleni spend an idyllic summer snatching moments of bliss. The island and it’s inhabitants are so utterly beautifully drawn, it’s clear that to the author this is a very personal story. So much of the landscape resonated with me too, for the years I spent living in Cyprus, which also mean that the close-knit community, the ‘old-fashioned’ protectiveness resonated. Sunlit skies, clear turquoise seas, stunning sunrises and sunsets – Eleni and Otto forget the real world, but it’s there from the beginning, in Otto’s family, where his mother’s MS has to be hidden from the Nazi party, the family friend Marianne’s presence in the villa has to be kept secret because Marianne is a Jew, and Lotte, another guest, whose father is a senior Nazi, would be appalled to discover that his daughter was mingling in such company. Poor Lotte, who is in love with Otto, and whom no-one likes or trusts, and who as a reader you instinctively dislike too, because of her father’s affiliations.
But nothing is what it seems, and this is one of the many things this wonderful book proves. You don’t know who to trust. You cannot judge people by what they say or do in public. You take so much risks in being honest – it’s not only Eleni and Otto who are suppressing their real feelings. There’s not only a sense of a beautiful, idyllic romance in this section of the book, there’s a terrible sense of impending doom.
Because of course we know that WWII is about to happen and we know that Crete is going to be occupied and we know, no matter how much we hope otherwise, that loyalties are going to be tested. And we know that Otto and Eleni’s love can never, ever be. We know all that, and we turn the pages with a sense of hope and horror. It’s a hope though, that the author keeps stamping on, because the story is interspersed with the transcript of a post-war interview with a person (we don’t even know if they are a man or a woman) who was a traitor.
The occupation of Crete was long and horrific. The people resisted, and the reprisals were utterly inhumane, yet still they resisted. War is not black and white, good versus evil, as this story shows. There are no winners and no losers. War is fought by real people with real feelings with allegiances and loyalties that are constantly tested and stretched. Sometimes your feelings cannot be tamed. Love can’t be tamed, no matter how forbidden, ‘wrong’ or dangerous it is. And this is a love story – Eleni and Otto’s love story, but also the author’s love story with Crete and the people.
It’s a story of heroism, and the triumph of the human spirit – on every side. (And that’s a very difficult thing to do.) Otto is an officer in the German army. That makes him a Nazi. The enemy. A Nazi on paper, but not in his heart and soul. He’s still Otto. Parachuting into Crete, Otto wants his mission to fail, but he doesn’t want his men to die, not even the men whom he despises. They are men with families, and he doesn’t want to imagine those families bereft.
‘He hated what he’d become, and what he did, but he wanted his life; the chance at a future that held none of this in it, where he built houses rather than threw grenades at them.’
Years ago, at an Open University summer school, I attended a tutorial discussing resistance and collaboration in wartime. One woman insisted she’d ‘take her children into the hills and live off berries’ rather than co-operate with an occupier. Would she continue to resist if it put her children’s lives in danger, the lecturer asked, if she was starving? She insisted she would, and the more he questioned her, the more determined she was that she would. I could be wrong, she may well have been that courageous (or deluded, depending on your point of view) but for me, it was a real turning point in how I thought of collaboration and in understanding, in so much as anyone can understand who hasn’t been through it, of how torn and twisted you are likely to become, and how very, very desperate to survive. So reading about the strength of the Cretan resistance, of the price they all paid, made this book even more moving. Reading of Otto’s dilemma and the role he was expected play in reprisals – and Otto can’t have been so very unusual – made the story heart-breaking.
I won’t say what happens. This was a deeply emotional read for me, and a very rare full five stars for fiction. It put me through the emotional wringer. I hoped and despaired and hoped and despaired, and in the end sobbed my way through the last fifty or so pages. In a good way or a bad way? I’m not going to say. What I will say though is, though I’m not a huge fan of endings and epilogues which tie up every loose knot, in this case it was very necessary and very satisfying.
This is my first book by this author, but I’ll definitely be going back for more. Loved it.
I was given a copy of the book by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. All views and opinions are my own.