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THE GERMAN HOUSE

Questions of complicity and culpability are resolved by prosecutors and daughters alike in Hess’ slow reveal of large truths...

What is the cost of learning the truth? And who is responsible for telling that costly truth?

A prosecutor’s exhortation to learn “every conceivable” Polish word for “how to kill a person” is an early signal to a naïve German interpreter, called in 1963 to translate at the Frankfurt Auschwitz trials, that she will soon confront truths about the past never before revealed. Eva Bruhns, a young woman still living with her parents—the proprietors of the eponymous German House restaurant—looks forward to a betrothal to Jürgen Schoormann, her reserved boyfriend, and routinely works as a Polish-language interpreter in mundane contract matters and business disputes. Her sister, Annegret, works as a pediatric nurse while younger brother Stefan dotes on the family’s black dachshund. The Bruhns are a thoroughly average family. Eva’s growing awareness of the atrocities perpetrated by the Auschwitz defendants, coupled with a vague sense of déjà vu, jolts her out of complacency and ignorance about the role the average German citizen played during the war. Eva’s increasing passion to secure justice for the victims of Auschwitz, whose stories she absorbs daily, contrasts vividly with the attitudes and actions of her neighbors (and family members), whose desire to leave the past behind is clear. Hess, a popular television screenwriter in Germany, delivers scenes and dialogue in a linear sequence, and it is easy to envision almost any of the scenes (courtroom or dining room) on screen via the straightforward translation by Lauffer. Less linear are the continuing deceptions Eva confronts on an average day, in an average life, in an average city.

Questions of complicity and culpability are resolved by prosecutors and daughters alike in Hess’ slow reveal of large truths which are obscured by larger lies.

Pub Date: Dec. 3, 2019

ISBN: 978-0-06-291025-7

Page Count: 336

Publisher: HarperVia

Review Posted Online: Sept. 14, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2019

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THE NIGHTINGALE

Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.

Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.

In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.

Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.

Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3

Page Count: 448

Publisher: St. Martin's

Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014

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CIRCE

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

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A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.

“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.

Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.

Pub Date: April 10, 2018

ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018

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