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annabend's review
3.0
Lviv is a city of fractured identities. I knew it as a Ukrainian city somewhere far away to the west. I didn't know its streets of histories. We had some family and friends who were once it citizens but it felt as much a mystery city to me as Zafón's Barcelona.
Józef Wittlin, the author of the first essay in this collection, knew Lviv as Lwow--a metropolitan Polish city, home to Jews, Austrians and Poles alike. He also remembered it as the German Lemberg during the Nazi occupation, and the Russian Lvov during the Soviet Union dominance. A city truly pinballed between countries and cultures. And although when Phillippe Sands, a British journalist, has experienced the Ukrainian Lviv, his essay spends a lot of time in the past tracing the footsteps of Wittlin and his contemporaries.
As someone who will be traveling to Lviv/Lvov for the first time in a week or so, I wouldn't recommend this book to a fellow traveler. Although Wittlin and Sands cover an important part of Lviv's history--shedding light on the city's little-known role in forming the terms of "genocide" and "crimes against humanity"--the lense that is used to introduce Lviv is so narrow that it hardly creates the panorama Sands was hoping for.
Wittlin's essay is at times comical but difficult to read. He makes references to people and places in Lviv like old friends. Even for a Slavic person all the names and words are difficult to read, and the characters hard to sympathize with. Wittlin's Lwow is a nostalgic city, meant to be read by people who are familiar with the city and its former inhabitants. It is a return rather than a discovery.
Sands' Lviv is fraught with guilt and dramatized retracing of Wittlin's steps. He invokes the fate of his own Jewish family, a portion of which escaped while others were exterminated, but because the reader has such little time to get to know everyone involved Sands' reflection ring false, over-dramatic nostalgic episodes. The book in itself feels very Western, which is a shame considering Lviv's role in Ukraine today. I didn't get the impression that Sands really understood its modern identity--he was too focused on the past to connect it to today. He writes about ghosts but ignores the real people. One of the most frustrating things was his perspective on the Maidan demonstrations. In a typical Western way he judges the Russian people harshly without realizing that they too are part of the story, they too are part of the Ukrainian identity now. He is softer on Ukrainians but even then he groups them in with "the conquerors" and doesn't really consider them much. I am not a Lvovian, but I am Russian-Ukrainian and his depiction of Lviv in 2016 did not sit comfortably with me. Perhaps because he is British, he is not as used the constantly shifting borders in Eastern and Central Europe. There history is constantly shifting, it is not a linear story of kings in queens. I liked Wittlin's perspective on Lviv as a cosmopolitan city, capable of representing many cultures and nationalities. His insistence the Lviv become a Lviv of inclusivity and diversity, learning much from its WWII scars, seems like a truer representation of Lviv today. Sands' view is too grim and narrow. I would have liked to see third essay after Sands' from a local. Because as it is, someone who doesn't know any better may just take Sands' opinions as the only truth.
I thank the writers for exposing the struggles of the Jewish, Armenian and other minority groups in Lviv, but I wish this collection was all-encompassing. I didn't really get a sense for Lviv as a city. Although all the landmarks were described along with sounds and smells, the brief and confusing references to important figures and movements left me feeling like an outsider.
This was my first experience of the Pushkin Press paperback collection. The book was well-made and felt just-right in my hands. I liked its proposed exclusivity--is there any other press in the world who would think to cover some obscure text by a forgotten Polish novelist? I thought Antonia Lloyd-Jones did a wonderful translation of Wittlin's essay and Diana Matar's photographs were subtly unsettling. I would definitely pick up another in the collection (maybe Isaac Babel's Odessa Stories, which would hit far closer to home). To anyone who is considering this collection, I would recommend to pick up a few history books before you dive in, lest you be left behind.
Józef Wittlin, the author of the first essay in this collection, knew Lviv as Lwow--a metropolitan Polish city, home to Jews, Austrians and Poles alike. He also remembered it as the German Lemberg during the Nazi occupation, and the Russian Lvov during the Soviet Union dominance. A city truly pinballed between countries and cultures. And although when Phillippe Sands, a British journalist, has experienced the Ukrainian Lviv, his essay spends a lot of time in the past tracing the footsteps of Wittlin and his contemporaries.
As someone who will be traveling to Lviv/Lvov for the first time in a week or so, I wouldn't recommend this book to a fellow traveler. Although Wittlin and Sands cover an important part of Lviv's history--shedding light on the city's little-known role in forming the terms of "genocide" and "crimes against humanity"--the lense that is used to introduce Lviv is so narrow that it hardly creates the panorama Sands was hoping for.
Wittlin's essay is at times comical but difficult to read. He makes references to people and places in Lviv like old friends. Even for a Slavic person all the names and words are difficult to read, and the characters hard to sympathize with. Wittlin's Lwow is a nostalgic city, meant to be read by people who are familiar with the city and its former inhabitants. It is a return rather than a discovery.
Sands' Lviv is fraught with guilt and dramatized retracing of Wittlin's steps. He invokes the fate of his own Jewish family, a portion of which escaped while others were exterminated, but because the reader has such little time to get to know everyone involved Sands' reflection ring false, over-dramatic nostalgic episodes. The book in itself feels very Western, which is a shame considering Lviv's role in Ukraine today. I didn't get the impression that Sands really understood its modern identity--he was too focused on the past to connect it to today. He writes about ghosts but ignores the real people. One of the most frustrating things was his perspective on the Maidan demonstrations. In a typical Western way he judges the Russian people harshly without realizing that they too are part of the story, they too are part of the Ukrainian identity now. He is softer on Ukrainians but even then he groups them in with "the conquerors" and doesn't really consider them much. I am not a Lvovian, but I am Russian-Ukrainian and his depiction of Lviv in 2016 did not sit comfortably with me. Perhaps because he is British, he is not as used the constantly shifting borders in Eastern and Central Europe. There history is constantly shifting, it is not a linear story of kings in queens. I liked Wittlin's perspective on Lviv as a cosmopolitan city, capable of representing many cultures and nationalities. His insistence the Lviv become a Lviv of inclusivity and diversity, learning much from its WWII scars, seems like a truer representation of Lviv today. Sands' view is too grim and narrow. I would have liked to see third essay after Sands' from a local. Because as it is, someone who doesn't know any better may just take Sands' opinions as the only truth.
I thank the writers for exposing the struggles of the Jewish, Armenian and other minority groups in Lviv, but I wish this collection was all-encompassing. I didn't really get a sense for Lviv as a city. Although all the landmarks were described along with sounds and smells, the brief and confusing references to important figures and movements left me feeling like an outsider.
This was my first experience of the Pushkin Press paperback collection. The book was well-made and felt just-right in my hands. I liked its proposed exclusivity--is there any other press in the world who would think to cover some obscure text by a forgotten Polish novelist? I thought Antonia Lloyd-Jones did a wonderful translation of Wittlin's essay and Diana Matar's photographs were subtly unsettling. I would definitely pick up another in the collection (maybe Isaac Babel's Odessa Stories, which would hit far closer to home). To anyone who is considering this collection, I would recommend to pick up a few history books before you dive in, lest you be left behind.
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