Tag Archives: rape

A Woman in Berlin (1945, 2006)

Image Credit: barnesandnoble.com


Written By: 
Anonymous
Translated By: Philip Boehm
Published By: Metropolitan Books

A Woman in Berlin tells the story of, well, an anonymous woman in Berlin during one of the most brutal periods of human history. World War II is drawing to a close as Russians besiege the city from the east. The civilians, many of whom are women, hide away within their homes in a desperate attempt to protect themselves while awaiting salvation from the Fuhrer that will never come. Bombs explode, walls collapse, windows shatter, and many innocent people die. The woman, for whom we will hereafter call Anonymous, scribbles away in her notebook as the city crumbles around her, giving us a first-hand account of Berlin’s transition from protected city to smoldering rubble.

It’s not pretty.

From the very outset, the incoming Russian invasion is tempered with fear. Apartments and businesses alike are crushed by the same indiscriminate missile payloads day after day after day. Thousands of people, mostly women and children, are displaced from their homes in one fashion or another—many have fled to the shelter of the West, while those less fortunate have found unlikely alliances with neighbors, acquaintances, and strangers as they seek out suitably dark hiding places that are often underground. Rumors circulate both by whispers and by words about the fates of those unfortunate to be caught in the midst of the onslaught, ostensibly created to inspire what few brave German men remain to take up arms and defend the Fatherland to the death.

Anonymous is skeptical of the rumors’ intended effects, going so far as to call headlines regarding violence and rape ridiculous. She states that “their only effect is to send thousands more helpless women and children running out of town, jamming the roads heading west, where they’re likely to starve or die under fire from enemy planes. (5)” There is a sense here that the war has already been lost, the Russians are coming, and no one—man or otherwise—will be able to stop them. Further driving this skepticism is a sequence regarding salvation from ‘that man’ (as we now call A.H.). When an elderly gentleman from the neighborhood only called ‘Siegismund’ comes onto the scene, talking about how the Fuhrer will save them all because he has some kind of plan, the other residents only exchange awkward glances as he rambles on. No one bothers to argue with him; in fact, no one says anything at all because “who wants to argue with a madman? Besides, madmen can be dangerous. (12)”

This skepticism devolves into apathy as the bombing and gunfire continues. Anonymous witnesses some German soldiers pitifully marching toward the front, looking listless and tired. She looks on for a bit, but can no longer bear to watch them as they trudge toward a bitter end. Over the next day or so, this apathy evolves into full blown resentment as the civilians discuss how they’d be better off if “[Hitler’s] old lady’d had a miscarriage. (28)” All that is left up to this point is to wait out the storm and resolve to remain intact both in mind and in body, for no man could apparently save them from this doom.

When the Russians finally arrive and set up their base camp throughout the ruins, there is a very brief but very interesting shift in Anonymous’ observations that seems to endure throughout at least the first 100 pages of A Woman in Berlin, although subdued more in some parts than in others. The Ivans milling about the base camp appear at first to be quite the fascinating lot. “Some Russians are wheeling freshly stolen bicycles up and down the driveway. They’re teaching one another to ride, on their seats as stiffly as Susi the bicycle-riding chimpanzee in the zoo. They crash into the trees and laugh with pleasure… It turns out that Russian men, too, are ‘only men.’ (47)”

There is almost a flair of innocence going on with these Russians; the lot of them seem to be merely boys with a newfound freedom to do whatever they please. Usually this means finding all the liquor and looting as much cool stuff as possible. Interestingly, the Russians feel compelled to loot watches more than other things, often covering both arms with these spoils. But freedom in the hands of someone who may not deserve it can turn that someone mad indeed and, as Anonymous has already pointed out, a madman can be very dangerous.

This is when things begin to go sour, when the innocence quickly fades away. Anonymous is raped several times over many nights by many people in many places. Needless to say, her spirit is dampened considerably when the Russian authorities on the scene refuse to help condemn the perpetrators of these vile acts, and doubly so when her compatriots all but refuse to intervene. The papers apparently weren’t all wrong, and the attacks on her person are nothing less than savage. She resorts to her feminine wiles and primal know-how to fend off the pack, to survive, to not let herself be destroyed by the Ivans. She is reasonably successful in this regard as she seeks out an officer named Anatol who serves as a sort of protective alpha male.

Although this doesn’t mean her outlook is getting much better, it does afford her enough protection to focus her account of the Russian presence and her experience with the Russian conquerors. As things settle down (relatively speaking), the Ivans turn the flat into a kind of mess hall conference room. She sees many different Russians come and go, and though many seem to be crude barbarians, she is also astonished to find some adept individuals in their midst. Individuals such as the placid young Vanya who is nothing but a child, who says, “We humans are all bad. Me, too, I’ve done bad things; (76)” Schoolteacher/chess player Andrei, who likes a good debate now and then; and even Major –ovich So-and-So, who is dapper if not a little clumsy and forward. Her apprehension ebbs and flows like the tides as one shade of gray after the next steps forward to make his claim, either by earnestness or by force.

At the time A Woman in Berlin was written, men and women shared entirely different roles in society. Men were generally manly, fighting in wars and driving tanks and doing the butchery and taming the dogs and running the factories and protecting the women. Women were generally expected to stay at home and maybe pursue an education or wash dishes or clean the carpets and support the men. The events seen in this book clearly shattered those roles, leaving countless women and children stranded with nothing but their wits to see them through. During the fall of Berlin, it wasn’t men who offered protection; it was men who offered to plunder. The women were forced to make choices that would benefit their survival or risk losing everything. The men in the war, the men who stayed home, and the men invading the city are not regarded amiably in any sense of the word. A lot of things could be said about any camp actually, but given the events of past and present for A Woman in Berlin, one feeling trumps all: the feeling of disappointment in the men who on both sides are sworn to protect the weak, the old, and the feeble.

A

The Casual Vacancy (2012)

Image credit: hpsupporters.com

Author: J.K. Rowling
Publisher: Little, Brown

What’s this? A book? What the hell is that? Well kids, way back in the Jesus time some guy got it into his head that he would take a bunch of rolls of papyrus, smash them together, write some sweet picture-symbols on them, and then sell them to mongoloids to use for firewood during the winter time. I won’t always review them, mainly because I’m a slow reader and long-winded enough, but I thought it would be a nice change of pace to leaf through some pages and then tell you about it. Plus, with all the school I’ve been doing I don’t have time to watch movies as much as I like, but can sneak in a page or two during class downtime. So, without further adieu, let’s jump into this business and see what all the fuss is about.

I’m going to dispense with talking about how Harry Potter has ended and J.K. Rowling is trying to make a sincere and honest departure from the precedent she set with that particular series. It’s only natural to make that kind of comparison, and frankly my reviews at least try to make an attempt that allows a work to stand by itself wherever possible. It’s only fair.

The Casual Vacancy is a character-driven adult fiction story about a small town full of small-minded, nosey, and generally unpleasant people that are drawn together (both directly and indirectly) to deal with the death of a prominent young man on the local council who was a sort of paragon. His now vacant seat (of which the title is derived) is contested by several townsfolk who lust for the power and prestige that being a local leader over a rabble of hicks brings. As the story progresses, the point of view drifts transparently and fluidly from person to person, with little machinations set up and paid off in ways that are decidedly backhanded at best. There is no hero of the story to speak of, rather we’re left rooting for one person when they do something awesome, and then we switch gears to hate that same person when they do something particularly devious, sometimes in the same chapter. At its heart it is an easily digestible enquiry into the lives of the smallfolk as they scheme and plot against one another, with small victories and tiny tragedies that congeal into a perfect storm of sadness and guilt.

I think there is a little something here for everybody. If you live in a small town, for example, you are probably cognizant of the local crone who has a thumb in everybody’s business. You’ll find that archetype in Shirley Mollison, who has a tendency to ask probing questions of her consorts in a shrewd effort to hold the best cards in her hand at all times. When something particularly tasty happens, she is typically the first person to find out, and she relishes in being the first to spread the rumor. There’s Kay Bawden, a transplant from London (the big-time!), who moved with her daughter to tiny Pagford in hopes of securing support from lanky, indecisive boyfriend Gavin. Her daughter Gaia is ridiculously hot and hates the town and all its crazy people; pimply-faced Andrew lusts after Gaia, who accompanies the homely Suhkvinder around because she is so different from the rest.  It even features a town bicycle played by Krystal Wheedon!

Yet, all of these characters are unique in their simplicity which makes each one of them memorable without much unwarranted personality overlap. Ensemble casts are incredibly hard to do, and my argument is that a reader can feel easily overwhelmed with all the different strands in this particular web, especially when they run out of ideas for visualizing faces of so many fucking people.  It can be daunting to quickly jump from toon to toon and keeping everything straight as well; eventually it becomes easier to just kind of blur everything and focus on the political theater.  That’s more interesting, anyway.

Speaking of political theater, the dominoes take about half of the novel to set up before going down like a house of cards, so those reading on with trepidation may find themselves stumbling up to the halfway mark. The build-up is rather subtle in that regard, what with its little bits here and there that keep its continuity well in line.  I really liked how Rowling handled tension between the characters when the pay-off scenes came. They were very well managed and didn’t always turn out the way I wanted them, but were still satisfying turning points nonetheless. The picture she paints of Pagford Parish and its awful, backasswards populace is crude at first; but, given a chance, the novel warms up easily and we learn to care about these assholes even if we’d rather not.

The last thing I would like to mention before I conclude this review is that J.K. Rowling’s decision to go full-on adult audience is, well, appropriate. I guess this is where all that HP hubbub is all abuzz: F words, S words, rape, sex, drugs, cyber bullying, and physical violence abound in this story. Anyone looking for a fun adventure will certainly not find it here; most of these characters are tragic and pitiable, if not totally contemptuous, and the story plods along in a way that reminds me of a supermarket tabloid or dollar-bin book bucket (which is arguably the point). The Casual Vacancy opts for the grittiness of the small-town life rife with skeletons in the closets of its most stalwart and noble citizens. It aims to show a darker side to small town humanity while making no attempt to romanticize any of it and, as far as I’m concerned, it delivers well enough. It wouldn’t hurt to return to the small town simplicity and naivety that this little novel offers, even if it only serves as a bitter reminder about how we might all be trapped in are own little bubbles most of the time.

B+