Andrzej Stasiuk’s ”Över floden” (Across the River), masterfully translated by Tomas Håkanson, transports readers to a claustrophobic corner of Eastern Europe in 1941. The setting, a small patch of land straddling the Bug River, becomes a microcosm of the brutal realities of World War II, specifically within the blood-soaked region Timothy Snyder termed the ”Bloodlands.” Stasiuk eschews grand narratives and sweeping historical accounts, instead focusing on the intimate experiences of a handful of individuals caught in the crosshairs of the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union. The novel meticulously portrays the physicality of their existence: the oppressive heat, the swarming mosquitoes, the treacherous terrain, and the ever-present threat of violence. This immediacy, amplified by Håkanson’s translation, pulls the reader into the suffocating atmosphere of occupied Poland and the pervasive fear that permeates every interaction.
Unlike many depictions of this historical period that focus on the horrific scale of atrocities, Stasiuk chooses to humanize the suffering by bringing individual stories to the foreground. He breathes life into a diverse cast of characters: a resourceful woman who barters with German soldiers, a ferryman who profits from the desperation of those fleeing the Nazis, a band of Polish partisans, and two young Jewish siblings dreaming of escape to the distant haven of Birobidzhan. These characters, stripped bare of any romanticized heroism, grapple with their circumstances, making difficult choices in a landscape devoid of easy answers. Their names, revealed gradually, further emphasize their emergence from the anonymity imposed by war and displacement, allowing them to become fully realized individuals in the reader’s mind.
The novel’s narrative structure, fragmented and non-linear, mirrors the fractured reality of life under occupation. Stasiuk weaves together disparate threads, creating a tapestry of fear, desperation, and fleeting moments of human connection. The landscape itself becomes a character, a constant and oppressive presence shaping the lives and destinies of those who inhabit it. The river, a symbolic boundary between two warring worlds, also serves as a conduit for escape and a grim reminder of the countless lives lost. The ferryman, reminiscent of Charon from Greek mythology, holds the power of passage, deciding who lives and who dies.
A present-day narrative frames the historical story, adding another layer of complexity. A middle-aged man returns to his father’s childhood village, grappling with his father’s dementia and the fragmented memories of the war. The father, a boy in 1941, recalls only the mundane task of polishing shoes, the identity of their owner lost to time. This ambiguity forces both the narrator and the reader to confront the uncomfortable realities of memory and the selective narratives that shape our understanding of the past. The narrator’s own reflections on the history of violence that permeates the landscape further underscore the enduring legacy of the war and its continued relevance in the present.
The violence in ”Över floden” is visceral and unflinching, but it is never gratuitous. Stasiuk depicts the brutality of the war not to shock, but to expose the human cost of conflict. The clumsy slaughter of a pig by the partisans sets off a chain of events that spirals into uncontrolled violence, extinguishing any flicker of hope. The image of two young boys, possibly including the narrator’s father, witnessing a cart carrying corpses under a cover of straw, encapsulates the brutal intrusion of war into the innocence of childhood. This scene, like many others in the novel, resonates with a chilling realism that stays with the reader long after the book is finished.
Stasiuk’s masterful prose, expertly rendered by Håkanson, creates a palpable sense of atmosphere. The reader can almost smell the dust of the hayloft, the stench of vodka and sweat, and the pervasive odor of blood that lingers even after eighty years. The novel’s fragmented structure and its focus on sensory details evoke a profound sense of unease and contribute to the overall feeling of claustrophobia. The ending, mirroring the opening lines with a reference to a war across the river in the present day, underscores the cyclical nature of violence and the enduring legacy of the past. ”Över floden” is not simply a historical novel; it is a profound meditation on memory, trauma, and the human capacity for both cruelty and resilience in the face of unimaginable suffering.
