What do you think?
Rate this book
Miron Białoszewski. Utwory zebrane #3
Pamiętnik z Powstania Warszawskiego
Uderzający swoją odrębnością na tle bogatej literatury wspomnieniowej zapis doświadczeń człowieka nie zaangażowanego bezpośrednio w zmagania wojenne, przeżywającego dni powstania wśród ludności cywilnej.
Jest to relacja z powszedniej egzystencji piwnicznej, ze świata schronów, podwórek, ukrytych przejść i kanałów, z codziennej krzątaniny wokół zaspokajania elementarnych potrzeb życiowych w atmosferze ciągłego zagrożenia i lęku.
Narracja utworu ukształtowana jest na wzór opowiadania ustnego, z jego naturalną dygresyjnością, swobodnym biegiem skojarzeń, uzupełnianiem i poprawianiem opowieści oraz potocznością wypowiedzi.
Jest to relacja z powszedniej egzystencji piwnicznej, ze świata schronów, podwórek, ukrytych przejść i kanałów, z codziennej krzątaniny wokół zaspokajania elementarnych potrzeb życiowych w atmosferze ciągłego zagrożenia i lęku.
Narracja utworu ukształtowana jest na wzór opowiadania ustnego, z jego naturalną dygresyjnością, swobodnym biegiem skojarzeń, uzupełnianiem i poprawianiem opowieści oraz potocznością wypowiedzi.
244 pages
First published January 1, 1967
110 people are currently reading
2565 people want to read
About the author
Miron Białoszewski
55 books56 followersMiron Białoszewski – polski poeta, prozaik, dramatopisarz i aktor teatralny.
Debiutował w krakowskim "Życiu Literackim" w 1955 w ramach Prapremiery pięciu poetów obok wierszy m.in. Herberta, a pierwszy tom jego wierszy, Obroty rzeczy, ukazał się rok później. Następnie wydał tomy poetyckie: Rachunek zachciankowy (1959), Mylne wzruszenia (1961) oraz Było i było (1965).
W 1970 zasłynął jako prozaik - po wydaniu tomu Pamiętnik z powstania warszawskiego, w którym 23 lata po koszmarach wojennych spisał swe przeżycia powstańcze. Niebawem ukazały się dalsze tomy prozy: Donosy rzeczywistości (1973), Szumy zlepy, ciągi (1976) oraz Zawał (1977).
Zmarł 17 czerwca 1983 po kolejnym zawale serca.
Debiutował w krakowskim "Życiu Literackim" w 1955 w ramach Prapremiery pięciu poetów obok wierszy m.in. Herberta, a pierwszy tom jego wierszy, Obroty rzeczy, ukazał się rok później. Następnie wydał tomy poetyckie: Rachunek zachciankowy (1959), Mylne wzruszenia (1961) oraz Było i było (1965).
W 1970 zasłynął jako prozaik - po wydaniu tomu Pamiętnik z powstania warszawskiego, w którym 23 lata po koszmarach wojennych spisał swe przeżycia powstańcze. Niebawem ukazały się dalsze tomy prozy: Donosy rzeczywistości (1973), Szumy zlepy, ciągi (1976) oraz Zawał (1977).
Zmarł 17 czerwca 1983 po kolejnym zawale serca.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 87 reviews
July 11, 2019
Milosz calls Bialoszewski “a poet of dirty staircases” who “questions the communicative function of language, and substitutes for words mumblings and mutterings”. This only becomes obvious when one reads his excellent “A Memoir of the Warsaw Uprising” (1970), which, to the unwitting reader, is strange to say the least; he writes as if he is associating ideas or objects with memories and vice-versa. There is a rambling logic to it all made more pertinent when one realises that Bialoszewski took no part in the Rising and thus simply relates his experiences as a passenger, trying to focus on some sense of normality in the cruel surreality of history.
As an eyewitness to the fighting and death itself, Białoszewski manages to create a sense of almost everydayness but also confusion to the death and threat of death. As a civilian he is a mere bystander,an individual, alone, watching, sometimes whilst cowering, sometimes in a surreal normality, as the fighting and chaos whirls around him. There is the constant search for a safe place, for water. The ever-present threat of death is there but all at a personal level - our level, not the anonymity of history. One vision stands out in my memory of tanks on the streets outside the rubble of Białoszewski's refuge - like something out of "War of the Worlds". And "War of the Worlds" it is; ants displaced by the uncaring boot of war.
As an eyewitness to the fighting and death itself, Białoszewski manages to create a sense of almost everydayness but also confusion to the death and threat of death. As a civilian he is a mere bystander,an individual, alone, watching, sometimes whilst cowering, sometimes in a surreal normality, as the fighting and chaos whirls around him. There is the constant search for a safe place, for water. The ever-present threat of death is there but all at a personal level - our level, not the anonymity of history. One vision stands out in my memory of tanks on the streets outside the rubble of Białoszewski's refuge - like something out of "War of the Worlds". And "War of the Worlds" it is; ants displaced by the uncaring boot of war.
November 11, 2015
A certain synchronicity brought me to A Memoir of the Warsaw Uprising on the tail of Inside the Head of Bruno Schultz. The latter book, a fictional account of a brief segment in the life of the Polish author shows Bruno Schultz, in 1938, desperately trying to communicate with the outside world via Thomas Mann. The Germans have yet to arrive in Schultz’s hometown of Drohobycz. The novel makes reference to the horrific slaughter committed by the Nazis yet to come, and in Miron Bialoszewski’s A Memoir of the Warsaw Uprising, the slaughter is well underway.
The memoir begins on August 1 1944. Author Bialoszewski was a civilian during the uprising so this is not a military overview of the event but rather the book concentrates on memories which recall the chaotic period. Almost immediately, we know that the author survives:
I shall be frank recollecting my distant self in small facts, perhaps excessively precise, but there will be only the truth. I am forty-five years old now, twenty-three years have gone by, I am lying here on my couch safe and sound, free, in good health and spirits, it is October, night 1967, Warsaw once again has 1,300,00 inhabitants. I was seventeen years old when I went to bed one day and for the first time in my life heard artillery fire. It was the front. And that was probably September 2, 1939. I was right to be terrified. Five years later the all too familiar Germans were still walking along the streets in their uniforms.
Bialoszewski tells his story rather as though we are sitting in the same room with him listening to his account. His memories are subject to revision–almost as though he tries to pull the scenes out of the fog and present them to his audience. Sometimes his style is abrupt–staccato, and there’s breathlessness to the action.
August 1 starts inauspiciously enough with the author being sent, by his mother, to collect bread. People are gathering on the streets and he hears that “they killed two Germans in Ogrodowa Street." Tanks are“cruising around,” the author hears shooting, “heavier weapons” including cannons, and then people begin cheering: “The uprising,” we told each other immediately like everyone else in Warsaw.
In spite of the sounds of machine guns and rocket flares, the general mood is definitely excitement. Civilians join in; barricades are erected. The author, now at a friend’s house, has a meal, nonchalantly plays a game and goes to sleep.
It was raining. Drizzling. It was cold. We could hear machine guns, that rat-a-tat. Nearer burst, then farther off. And rocket flares. Every so often. In the sky. We fell asleep to their noise, I think.
That short quote is a good example of the author’s style as memories flood back. There’s a sense that every detail is important. Every incident witnessed must be recorded.
The holiday mood of the uprising continues with intense organization. Partisans “showed up,” and “several fronts” are established on the streets. Tanks ride right over the barricades, and the author remembers people “throwing down tables, chairs, wardrobes onto the street” to fortify the barricades. But when furniture proves futile against tanks, concrete is removed from the pavement. Still, in spite of dire signs, the excitement continues. But by the fourth of August, the atmosphere begins to change.
We ran out into Choldna Street. The street was covered with clouds. Rust colored and dark brown. From bricks, from smoke. When it settled we saw a terrifying transformation. A reddish-gray dust was covering everything. Trees. Leaves. A centimeter thick, I think. And that devastation. One Wache less. But at what a cost. Anyway. Things were already beginning to change. To anxiety. And always for the worse. Visually too. From Zelazna Bram Square, from Bank Square, from Elektoralna Street along our side of Choldna against the wall, people were running and running–women, children, all hnched over, gray, covered with some kind of powder. I remember the sun was setting. Fires were burning. The people ran on and on. A flood of people. From the bombed-out houses. They were fleeing to Wola.
The atrocities begin….Water and food become critical issues, and at one point in the book an exciting escape via the sewers takes place, yet grim realities set in as the author asks if the Polish will receive help from the outside world: “perhaps it was worthwhile to defend, to rescue whatever and whomever could be rescued. Maybe at this point someone would smile pityingly.”
The Warsaw Uprising: August 1, 1944-October 2, 1944 –an important event in the history of WWII for several reasons–is recounted here by someone who lived through it, and this remarkable memoir grants the reader a sense of this event. Miron Bialoszewski (1922-1983), who was just 22 years old when the uprising took place, wrote the memoir more than twenty years after it occurred. The book’s introduction explains the background of the uprising: the Red Army was “encamped in the working-class suburb of Praga, directly across the river from Warsaw,” and how the Polish resistance Home Army “encouraged and directed by the London government in exile […] initiated the uprising in the capital.” But as the introduction, by translator Madeline G. Levine, tells us “the people of Warsaw were left to fight and die by themselves.” By the time the uprising ended, over 200,000 Poles were dead.
Originally published in 1970. Maps are included at the end of the book.
Translated by Madeline G. Levine
The memoir begins on August 1 1944. Author Bialoszewski was a civilian during the uprising so this is not a military overview of the event but rather the book concentrates on memories which recall the chaotic period. Almost immediately, we know that the author survives:
I shall be frank recollecting my distant self in small facts, perhaps excessively precise, but there will be only the truth. I am forty-five years old now, twenty-three years have gone by, I am lying here on my couch safe and sound, free, in good health and spirits, it is October, night 1967, Warsaw once again has 1,300,00 inhabitants. I was seventeen years old when I went to bed one day and for the first time in my life heard artillery fire. It was the front. And that was probably September 2, 1939. I was right to be terrified. Five years later the all too familiar Germans were still walking along the streets in their uniforms.
Bialoszewski tells his story rather as though we are sitting in the same room with him listening to his account. His memories are subject to revision–almost as though he tries to pull the scenes out of the fog and present them to his audience. Sometimes his style is abrupt–staccato, and there’s breathlessness to the action.
August 1 starts inauspiciously enough with the author being sent, by his mother, to collect bread. People are gathering on the streets and he hears that “they killed two Germans in Ogrodowa Street." Tanks are“cruising around,” the author hears shooting, “heavier weapons” including cannons, and then people begin cheering: “The uprising,” we told each other immediately like everyone else in Warsaw.
In spite of the sounds of machine guns and rocket flares, the general mood is definitely excitement. Civilians join in; barricades are erected. The author, now at a friend’s house, has a meal, nonchalantly plays a game and goes to sleep.
It was raining. Drizzling. It was cold. We could hear machine guns, that rat-a-tat. Nearer burst, then farther off. And rocket flares. Every so often. In the sky. We fell asleep to their noise, I think.
That short quote is a good example of the author’s style as memories flood back. There’s a sense that every detail is important. Every incident witnessed must be recorded.
The holiday mood of the uprising continues with intense organization. Partisans “showed up,” and “several fronts” are established on the streets. Tanks ride right over the barricades, and the author remembers people “throwing down tables, chairs, wardrobes onto the street” to fortify the barricades. But when furniture proves futile against tanks, concrete is removed from the pavement. Still, in spite of dire signs, the excitement continues. But by the fourth of August, the atmosphere begins to change.
We ran out into Choldna Street. The street was covered with clouds. Rust colored and dark brown. From bricks, from smoke. When it settled we saw a terrifying transformation. A reddish-gray dust was covering everything. Trees. Leaves. A centimeter thick, I think. And that devastation. One Wache less. But at what a cost. Anyway. Things were already beginning to change. To anxiety. And always for the worse. Visually too. From Zelazna Bram Square, from Bank Square, from Elektoralna Street along our side of Choldna against the wall, people were running and running–women, children, all hnched over, gray, covered with some kind of powder. I remember the sun was setting. Fires were burning. The people ran on and on. A flood of people. From the bombed-out houses. They were fleeing to Wola.
The atrocities begin….Water and food become critical issues, and at one point in the book an exciting escape via the sewers takes place, yet grim realities set in as the author asks if the Polish will receive help from the outside world: “perhaps it was worthwhile to defend, to rescue whatever and whomever could be rescued. Maybe at this point someone would smile pityingly.”
The Warsaw Uprising: August 1, 1944-October 2, 1944 –an important event in the history of WWII for several reasons–is recounted here by someone who lived through it, and this remarkable memoir grants the reader a sense of this event. Miron Bialoszewski (1922-1983), who was just 22 years old when the uprising took place, wrote the memoir more than twenty years after it occurred. The book’s introduction explains the background of the uprising: the Red Army was “encamped in the working-class suburb of Praga, directly across the river from Warsaw,” and how the Polish resistance Home Army “encouraged and directed by the London government in exile […] initiated the uprising in the capital.” But as the introduction, by translator Madeline G. Levine, tells us “the people of Warsaw were left to fight and die by themselves.” By the time the uprising ended, over 200,000 Poles were dead.
Originally published in 1970. Maps are included at the end of the book.
Translated by Madeline G. Levine
November 3, 2015
A valuable contribution to the canon of the Warsaw Uprising
Miron Białoszewski’s book is not the standard documentary account you would expect. He describes the civilian experience of the Uprising as an observer rather than an active participant despite being of military age at the time.
The Uprising numbers beggar belief. Of a prewar population of 1.3 million, 150,000 civilians and 18,000 underground soldier killed, and this is excluding 400,000 Jews who were sent to their deaths from 1939-43.
The book itself reads more like a stream of thought, rather than a coherent, chronologically accurate history.
This makes the account it all the more vivid and compelling as the confusion of events seems to accurately reflect the chaos and confusion of the civilian experience.
A valuable contribution to the paucity of books in English detailing the civilian experience of Warsaw Uprising of 1944.
Miron Białoszewski’s book is not the standard documentary account you would expect. He describes the civilian experience of the Uprising as an observer rather than an active participant despite being of military age at the time.
The Uprising numbers beggar belief. Of a prewar population of 1.3 million, 150,000 civilians and 18,000 underground soldier killed, and this is excluding 400,000 Jews who were sent to their deaths from 1939-43.
The book itself reads more like a stream of thought, rather than a coherent, chronologically accurate history.
This makes the account it all the more vivid and compelling as the confusion of events seems to accurately reflect the chaos and confusion of the civilian experience.
A valuable contribution to the paucity of books in English detailing the civilian experience of Warsaw Uprising of 1944.
December 16, 2022
Whilst this book vividly and relentlessly brings a battered, bruised and bombed-out Warsaw to life in the sixty-two days of the uprising, the continuous combat action, and its aftermath, it is the staccato and sometimes ungrammatical prose - clearly the work of an unconventional poet - that breaths new life to the subject, away from the traditional treatment of WW2 literature. The way he handles memory for one thing felt really innovative and gave a fresh perspective on the plain and simple ways of recalling imagery from one's past. It's an intensely told and unredeeming personal story, that sort of toys with the idea of a memoir. Białoszewski, who didn't actually fight in the uprising, is reflective when it comes to the memories of some twenty years earlier, but the narrative also has another voice; the younger twenty-two-year-old Białoszewski who writes of the mundane experiences of everyday life for the residents as they are actually happening, before the true horrors of a Warsaw on the brink of death has come around. I can't argue that it's an original and refreshing way to go about writing something that is clearly of great importance to him, but I couldn't help but find something altogether childish about this approach, which never truly reflected upon the great national sacrifice felt across the whole of Poland when it comes to it's biggest war effort against the Nazis. Is this an experience that really needed to be played about with like it were poetry? With its rapid and fragmented non-literary wildness, I'm sure it was a real pain in the ass to translate, so I'd imagine it works better in its original language only. I'm torn between three and four stars, but will settle with three as it's not a book I'll remember in the long run like many other WW2 books I've read.
September 20, 2020
Kawał znakomitej literatury. Za jakiś czas będę znów czytał.
May 24, 2025
dopiero po takich wspomnieniach cywila człowiek jest w stanie wyobrazić sobie skalę oddziaływania powstania na absolutnie każdy aspekt życia każdej istoty znajdującej się w obrębie miasta. no i język Białoszewskigo >
May 2, 2024
3.3/5
March 19, 2020
Powstanie warszawskie z punktu widzenia mieszkańca Warszawy, który przez 63 dni mieszkał w piwnicach i gruzowiskach, szukał jedzenia i wody, walczył z wszami i starał się przeżyć, liczył pociski i oceniał jak daleko spadają. Opisywane okoliczności są dramatyczne, ale Białoszewski mówi przede wszystkim o swoim i rodziny codziennym (prze)życiu: co zjeść, gdzie spać. Właśnie "mówi", a nie "pisze", bo narracja naśladuje język mówiony. Mamy więc tu dużo krótkich zdań równoważników, powtórzeń, przypominania sobie na bieżąco, jest nerwowość, staranie by opowiedzieć dokładnie, by to w końcu z siebie wyrzucić. Nie ma tu oceny Powstania, nie ma pretensji, ale jest dokument, który sķłania do refleksji i pokazuje Powstanie odarte z propagandowej aureoli, tu są kupy, trupy, wszy, krew i gruzy.
December 3, 2018
Beznadzieja
July 3, 2019
Warsaw, Poland suffered horribly during WWII. Occupied by the Germans in the 1st month of the war, its Jewish population was cruelly destroyed in 1943 following an uprising aimed at halting their slow deportation to death camps, and in the summer of 1944 the German army completed what was Hitler's longterm goal, the complete destruction of the city following the uprising by the Polish underground and Home Army. By July 1944 the advancing Soviet armies had driven the German army back to the city on the west bank of the Vistula River. The Polish resistance and organized forces began actions against the occupying Germans. It was thought the Polish resistance would aid the Soviets in taking the city, and it was thought the Soviets would help in driving the Germans from the city. But the Soviets stopped at the Vistula. Their cessation of combat operations and refusal to help the Poles allowed the German units to defeat the Polish resistance and to destroy the city as an act of retribution.
Miron Bialoszewski's memoir remembers his experiences during the 2 months of the battle for the city, August and September. At the time he was 22-years old, but he didn't take part in the fighting. He and his family spent their time hiding from the systematic German destruction of the city, struggling to find food and water, and moving from spot to spot in order to avoid the constant shelling and air attacks. Though the 2 months were a time of constant fear, danger, and death, he doesn't write graphically about the human carnage, though it's estimated 200,000 of the city's peopled died. In fact, little fighting is described at all. He mostly takes note of neighborhoods and familiar buildings burning or collapsed. He records the fates of friends and acquaintances as they experience the danger together, putting resources and ingenuity together in order to survive. There is a remarkable extended account of a movement from one part of the city to another part through nighttime sewers, literally under the feet of German units. By the end of September the Germans, under no pressure from the Soviets across the river, had eliminated the Polish resistance. The city's populace was moved to work camps. What remained of the city was burned and demolished.
The story of the Warsaw Uprising is a much larger one than Bialoszewski's narrow frame, but his book is an interesting, gripping read. It was written in the 1960s after he'd established a reputation as a poet and playwright. He admits he may have forgotten some events and misremembered others. He knew how to write, though, making this a more riveting read than you might expect. In particular, his use of single descriptive words adds to the immediacy of events.
Miron Bialoszewski's memoir remembers his experiences during the 2 months of the battle for the city, August and September. At the time he was 22-years old, but he didn't take part in the fighting. He and his family spent their time hiding from the systematic German destruction of the city, struggling to find food and water, and moving from spot to spot in order to avoid the constant shelling and air attacks. Though the 2 months were a time of constant fear, danger, and death, he doesn't write graphically about the human carnage, though it's estimated 200,000 of the city's peopled died. In fact, little fighting is described at all. He mostly takes note of neighborhoods and familiar buildings burning or collapsed. He records the fates of friends and acquaintances as they experience the danger together, putting resources and ingenuity together in order to survive. There is a remarkable extended account of a movement from one part of the city to another part through nighttime sewers, literally under the feet of German units. By the end of September the Germans, under no pressure from the Soviets across the river, had eliminated the Polish resistance. The city's populace was moved to work camps. What remained of the city was burned and demolished.
The story of the Warsaw Uprising is a much larger one than Bialoszewski's narrow frame, but his book is an interesting, gripping read. It was written in the 1960s after he'd established a reputation as a poet and playwright. He admits he may have forgotten some events and misremembered others. He knew how to write, though, making this a more riveting read than you might expect. In particular, his use of single descriptive words adds to the immediacy of events.
June 7, 2023
Ada shares my book hoarding. She’s bought several tomes on Europe including A Memoir of the Warsaw Uprising by Miron Białoszewski, but is still working her way slowly through a history of the Winter War. That gave me plenty of time to borrow this.
November 12, 2024
Przynajmniej narracja była dynamiczna
October 4, 2020
„Śmierć była zasadą. Największą możliwością. Prawie jedyną. Prawie jak sto procent.”
Proza Białoszewskiego jest jedyna w swoim rodzaju. Chwilami bardzo gęsta jednak nie przytłaczająca. Pobudza wyobraźnię. Książka ważna, potrzebna i obowiązkowa. W natłoku dzisiejszych bestselerów zakłamujących historię i nie zasługujących na miano literatury wojennej/obozowej ta książka wydaje się być trochę zapomniana. Czytajmy Mirona bo jego proza jest unikatowa - tak jak unikatowe było jego życie.
Proza Białoszewskiego jest jedyna w swoim rodzaju. Chwilami bardzo gęsta jednak nie przytłaczająca. Pobudza wyobraźnię. Książka ważna, potrzebna i obowiązkowa. W natłoku dzisiejszych bestselerów zakłamujących historię i nie zasługujących na miano literatury wojennej/obozowej ta książka wydaje się być trochę zapomniana. Czytajmy Mirona bo jego proza jest unikatowa - tak jak unikatowe było jego życie.
March 11, 2022
Niezwykły opis przeżyć cywila w trakcie Powstania Warszawskiego. Wspaniały, czuły, znajomy język Białoszewskiego. Mrugnięcia okiem do queerowego czytelnika. Niekończące się uciekanie spowodowane niemożliwością ucieknięcia.
January 31, 2018
Had to read this for school, but it ended it up both suprising and shocking me in ways only war can. Review to come soon
June 17, 2021
Raczej nie dla mnie 🤷♀️
Read
August 20, 2025w czasach kryzysu robi się to samo, co w czasach niekryzysu, tylko upycha się to w gruzach, znajduje się tylne wyjścia, staje na głowie, ryzykuje życiem, nurkuje w kanałach i bunkrach - żyje się, mimo wszystko, bo nadal trzeba coś jeść i mieć gdzie to jedzenie po strawieniu wydalić, i to w taki sposób, żeby nie doprowadzić do epidemii; podstawowe potrzeby nie znikają
ludzie umierają i ktoś ich chowa; nudzą się i szukają zabawy; boją się i trzymają się blisko, i o tym wszystkim pisze Białoszewski, cywil w powstaniu, obserwator, czasami uczestnik budowania barykad z płyt chodnikowych, okazjonalnie posłaniec po wodę czy nosiciel rannych
oderwane kończyny spadają z nieba, kamienice się walą, zwłoki leżą rzucone, zapychają kanały, ludzie żywią się kawą z sucharami i cieszą się z pękniętej rury, w której można wyprać ubrania, matki gotują dzieciom z przerwami na stanie we framudze, bo tam podczas bombardowania najstabilniej, wszy znajdują głowy, bomby znajdują ostatnie studnie, życie dopasowuje się do katastrofy - obok dzieje się historia, ale trzeba też spać w nocy
daję teraz wyraz frustracji związanej z edukacją historyczną w szkołach, ponieważ gdyby dzieje cywilów potraktować poważnie, nie tworzyć z nich tła dla żołnierzy, jakkolwiek byśmy ich nie oceniali, może łatwiej przyszłoby niektórym zrozumienie sytuacji innych mimowolnych uczestników wojskowych gier globalnych mocarstw i faszystowskich teokracji - jak w przypadku sytuacji systematycznie mordowanej cywilnej ludności Palestyny
Białoszewskiego nie tyle warto (choć to też), co należy przeczytać
ludzie umierają i ktoś ich chowa; nudzą się i szukają zabawy; boją się i trzymają się blisko, i o tym wszystkim pisze Białoszewski, cywil w powstaniu, obserwator, czasami uczestnik budowania barykad z płyt chodnikowych, okazjonalnie posłaniec po wodę czy nosiciel rannych
oderwane kończyny spadają z nieba, kamienice się walą, zwłoki leżą rzucone, zapychają kanały, ludzie żywią się kawą z sucharami i cieszą się z pękniętej rury, w której można wyprać ubrania, matki gotują dzieciom z przerwami na stanie we framudze, bo tam podczas bombardowania najstabilniej, wszy znajdują głowy, bomby znajdują ostatnie studnie, życie dopasowuje się do katastrofy - obok dzieje się historia, ale trzeba też spać w nocy
daję teraz wyraz frustracji związanej z edukacją historyczną w szkołach, ponieważ gdyby dzieje cywilów potraktować poważnie, nie tworzyć z nich tła dla żołnierzy, jakkolwiek byśmy ich nie oceniali, może łatwiej przyszłoby niektórym zrozumienie sytuacji innych mimowolnych uczestników wojskowych gier globalnych mocarstw i faszystowskich teokracji - jak w przypadku sytuacji systematycznie mordowanej cywilnej ludności Palestyny
Białoszewskiego nie tyle warto (choć to też), co należy przeczytać
October 25, 2025
This was an electrifying book.
Usually WWII memoirs are told by fighters, those who make the command decisions or those who are fighting on the ground. "A Memoir of the Warsaw Uprising" is by a non-combatant. The author was a college student in 1944. (He clearly supports the Uprising, and he carried stretchers and moved rubble to build barricades, but he did not carry or use a weapon.)
I can see how some readers might be put off by all the Polish street names, and it seems like every street in Warsaw, certainly every neighborhood, gets mentioned, but the book is written with a sense of urgency, as if the author is telling you about this most important event. (Bravo to the translator for capturing this urgency.) His account of going through the sewers is remarkable.
The version I read was utterly frank about stuff. (Apparently early versions were censored.) He mentions the fate of the (Jewish) Warsaw Ghetto in 1943, and he talks about Soviet inaction during the early part of the Uprising. But he makes it clear that there was some support from that side of the river late in September.
What was new to me was his emphasis on German air power in crushing the Uprising. I had never read about that aspect of the fighting, but it was certainly important to this memoirist.
He also is frank in discussing g/i disorders as the living conditions worsen.
Bialoszewski's memoir is essential WWII reading.
Usually WWII memoirs are told by fighters, those who make the command decisions or those who are fighting on the ground. "A Memoir of the Warsaw Uprising" is by a non-combatant. The author was a college student in 1944. (He clearly supports the Uprising, and he carried stretchers and moved rubble to build barricades, but he did not carry or use a weapon.)
I can see how some readers might be put off by all the Polish street names, and it seems like every street in Warsaw, certainly every neighborhood, gets mentioned, but the book is written with a sense of urgency, as if the author is telling you about this most important event. (Bravo to the translator for capturing this urgency.) His account of going through the sewers is remarkable.
The version I read was utterly frank about stuff. (Apparently early versions were censored.) He mentions the fate of the (Jewish) Warsaw Ghetto in 1943, and he talks about Soviet inaction during the early part of the Uprising. But he makes it clear that there was some support from that side of the river late in September.
What was new to me was his emphasis on German air power in crushing the Uprising. I had never read about that aspect of the fighting, but it was certainly important to this memoirist.
He also is frank in discussing g/i disorders as the living conditions worsen.
Bialoszewski's memoir is essential WWII reading.
May 3, 2022
An invaluable look into civilian life in the cellars during the uprising. The writing is deliberate in its chaotic style. Fragmented, flawed, and true to the fleetingness of one's memory. I'd recommend prior reading on the subject matter in order to help navigate the course of the narrative. Useful as well are the maps in the back of the book that help visualize the author's disorienting and constant movement through the Polish capital.
April 1, 2022
Książka doskonała dla kogoś kto się zastanawia jak dokładnie mogło wyglądać powstanie oczami cywilów,lecz opisy trochę zbyt monotonne w niektórych częściach książki
December 6, 2022
bumped up the rating to 5 stars because it's just impossible to get this book out of your head
March 11, 2023
"tutaj nie panowała pierwotna jaskiniowa wspólnota"
Read
November 15, 2024Treść jest bardzo interesująca i wstrząsająca, ale forma nie przypadła mi do gustu. Bardzo nie lubię aż takiego minimalizmu w budowaniu zdań, dla mnie to pójście na łatwiznę.
Read
December 17, 2024Dreadful translation. Idioms are translated literally, word for word, because the translator is clearly not a native speaker.
January 7, 2025
określenie powstania przygodą, w której się umiera jest dla mnie mocno nie na miejscu
June 14, 2025
nie spodziewałam się, że aż tak mnie zaciekawi
May 29, 2021
Wooow... To było NIESAMOWITE. Lektura z początku może wydawać się chaotyczna ze względu na swoją formę, lecz to nadaje jej charakteru i sprawia że nie da się od niej oderwać. Trudność może sprawiać duża ilość nazw ulic Warszawy, nie znając tego miasta, jednak w moim wydaniu załączone zostały dwie mapy z zaznaczonymi miejscami i datami wydarzeń opisanych w utworze. Ten dodatek niesamowicie ułatwił zrozumienie lektury. Chłodny styl opisywania strasznych wydarzeń powstania warszawskiego z perspektywy cywila pasuje idealnie, pozwalając nam odkryć fakty jednocześnie nie narzucając w jaki sposób mamy przeżywać. Myślę że ten utwór każdy odbierze inaczej na niektórych zrobi mniejsze lub większe wrażenie, ale z pewnością nikt nie przejdzie obok tych wydarzeń obojętnie. Uważam, że jest to pozycja obowiązkowa i zachęcam do własnego zagłębienia się w lekturę. Ja pokochałam ją całym sercem ❤️
Read
April 20, 2016a remarkable memoir in that it makes you tense in a way that others who recorded these events do not. There is constant running and scattering, constant bombings and shootings. I felt my jaw tighten. There are short sentences and poetry and singing. There are descriptions of the sewers. The gray poles and the dust and the pipes of basements. Lists of streets and buildings that have been destroyed. Eventually, the whole city is destroyed, it is all rubble.
November 30, 2016
Boring, boring, boring. Did I mention that it was boring? Well, it was. And confusing as well.
You get lost within the streets of Warsaw under siege, after the ghetto uprising? Before it? Well, who knows. The author tries to reproduce some sort of stream of consciousness and his readers don't a clue about where he was, who he as with, who was part of his family...
At the end of the day, a sad story but a very appealing one.
You get lost within the streets of Warsaw under siege, after the ghetto uprising? Before it? Well, who knows. The author tries to reproduce some sort of stream of consciousness and his readers don't a clue about where he was, who he as with, who was part of his family...
At the end of the day, a sad story but a very appealing one.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 87 reviews