In She Came From Mariupol, Natascha Wodin (1945) shares her search for her mother’s past, which was long hidden from her, while reflecting on how it resonates in her own life. Despite some stylistic shortcomings, I was deeply moved and impressed by the story, which demonstrates the extent to which people are subjected to circumstances and politics, as well as the consequences of forced displacement.

Altijd weer, de keerzang van mijn kinderjaren: ‘Als je gezien had wat ik heb gezien…’

Of the four parts, only the first one didn’t fully satisfy me. Wodin’s attempt to uncover more about her mother, who committed suicide when the author was just 10, is described in excessive detail, yet in the end, she owes most of her findings to an overenthusiastic stranger. That said, what emerges is so fascinating that putting the book down was never an option. The story of her mother’s side of the family is gut-wrenching, poignant, and unimaginable. It proved to be a distressing yet rewarding reading experience.

The following parts are must-reads. First, Wodin revisits the written memoirs of her aunt Lidia, who – coming from an impoverished noble family – witnessed the Russian Revolution, the arrival of the Red Army, and the total anarchy in the Soviet Republic of Ukraine. Some of the details make 1984 seem like a children’s tale. The author then tries to recount her mother’s life, born in 1920 in Mariupol, using both public sources and her own imagination. This story covers Operation Barbarossa in 1941, the raids to deport ‘Ostarbeiter’ to Germany, the scorched earth tactics as the Nazis retreated, and, finally, the life of Ukrainians as second-class citizens in Germany. In the final part, Wodin reflects on memories of her own youth in a camp for displaced persons, where poverty and the traumas of the past play a profound role.

While reading, I was reminded of Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang, due to the intense yet intimate depictions of a gruesome past, and The Son and Heir by Alexander Münninghoff, whose journalistic work remains unmatched. While Wodin’s style might not always stand out, her novel certainly made an impression on me.