THE GERMAN WOMAN

From the bloody aftermath of World War I to the somber streets of London under Nazi attack, this intelligent epic fuses romance, disaster, historical analysis and poetic observation.

Kate Zweig’s husband, a German surgeon, was blinded by a bomb on the eastern front in 1919, and when he died, Kate turned hard—and hardy. Griner (Collectors, 2001, etc.) examines divided loyalties and the exigencies of survival through the eyes of this English-born nurse—bold, beautiful, astute. Loyal to her husband in WWI, she’d witnessed horrors—a priest shot pointblank by marauding Reds; field hospital barbarism (bags of salt sewn into wounds). Then, in 1944 London, a new love arrives—Claus Murphy, American filmmaker of Irish and German descent. His complicated past includes being jailed as a traitor for making a movie about the American Revolution that, revealing real-life British atrocities, threatened the U.K./U.S. alliance. Claus suspects the refugee Kate of pro-Nazi sympathies (she decries the Allied bombing of German civilians) but is soon taken with her subtle and principled politics, courage and air of mysterious sadness. By night, he’s an air warden, pulling bodies from the wreckage of bombed buildings; by day, for the Ministry of Information, he feeds the Nazis lies about D-Day and crafts British propaganda films. The two bond over tales of trauma: his dad, a shopkeeper beaten by anti-Kaiser goons; her vivid remembrance of wartime agony (“the sunken eyes and cyanotic lips of the cholera victims; the lilting bubble of typhus sufferers”). As the two connect, they negotiate the minefields of their histories—histories as messy and moving as those of all combat survivors.

Complex, authentic and compelling.