The Memory Keeper of Kyiv

Erin Litteken

Description

"A powerfully moving debut . . . Ukraine’s tragic history painfully echoes its current crisis, and on every page the Ukrainian spirit shines out, unbowed, unbent and unbroken.” Kate Quinn, author of The Diamond Eye

In the 1930s, Stalin’s activists marched through the Soviet Union, espousing the greatness of collective farming. It was the first step in creating a man-made famine that, in Ukraine, stole almost 4 million lives. Inspired by the history the world forgot, and the Russian government denies, Erin Litteken reimagines their story.

In 1929, Katya is 16 years old, surrounded by family and in love with the boy next door. When Stalin’s activists arrive in her village, it’s just a few, a little pressure to join the collective. But soon neighbors disappear, those who speak out are never seen again and every new day is uncertain.

Resistance has a price, and as desperate hunger grips the countryside, survival seems more a dream than a possibility. But, even in the darkest times, love beckons.

Seventy years later, a young widow discovers her grandmother’s journal, one that will reveal the long-buried secrets of her family’s haunted past.

This is a story of the resilience of the human spirit, the love that sees us through our darkest hours and the true horror of what happened during the Holodomor.

May we never forget, lest history repeat itself.

Winner of the She Reads Best Historical Fiction of 2022 Award

Winner of the Women's Fiction Writers Association Star Award

"A compelling and intimate story of love and survival. Harrowing and haunting . . . yet, at the same time, it is sensitive, beautiful and inspiring. Everybody should read this story, especially now. I cannot recommend it highly enough." Christy Lefteri, author of The Beekeeper of Aleppo

**
"A stunning portrait of Ukraine and its people, of strength, of endurance, of the fight for survival during the forced famine, the Holodomor, but also a tender story of Katya, a grandmother whose hidden history holds the power to guide her granddaughter through the darkness of loss and grief, toward life and a limitless future. A remarkable read not to be missed." Lisa Wingate, author of *Before We Were Yours
**
"This beautifully written snapshot of Ukraine’s history is both timely and heart-rending, sensitively bringing to life the culture of a nation devastated by an enemy invader. How shocking it is that it’s a history that’s being repeated today. And how important a reminder that where there’s life, there’s hope." Fiona Valpy, author of The Dressmaker’s Gift**
**
“Emotionally riveting and honest . . . simultaneously shines an unflinching light on historical atrocities while it celebrates the resilience of the human spirit. You won’t soon forget this stunning debut.” Paulette Kennedy, author of Parting the Veil

**
“The Memory Keeper of Kyiv is a meticulously researched novel . . . depicting a country whose people managed to dig deep enough to find the strength, determination and heart to survive." Deborah Carr, author of An Island at War
**
“Breathtaking. Devastating. Erin Litteken's The Memory Keeper of Kyiv chronicles a defining but forgotten moment of Ukrainian history.” Amanda McCrina, author of The Silent Unseen

**

Sujets

• Cultural Heritage
• Historical Fiction
• Feminist
• 20th Century
• Historical
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Ucrania
• Historical romance
• General officer
• Woman
• Feminism
• The Women
• General
• Family Life
• War
• Romance
• Fiction
• Ukraine

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 16 mai 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804157572
• Langue: English

Extrait

PRAISE FOR ERIN LITTEKEN

"A powerfully moving debut . . . Ukraine’s tragic history painfully echoes its current crisis, and on every page the Ukrainian spirit shines out, unbowed, unbent and unbroken.”  Kate Quinn, author of  The Diamond Eye

"A compelling and intimate story of love and survival. Harrowing and haunting . . . yet, at the same time, it is sensitive, beautiful and inspiring. Everybody should read this story, especially now. I cannot recommend it highly enough."  Christy Lefteri, author of  The Beekeeper of Aleppo

"A stunning portrait of Ukraine and its people, of strength, of endurance, of the fight for survival during the forced famine, the Holodomor, but also a tender story of Katya, a grandmother whose hidden history holds the power to guide her granddaughter through the darkness of loss and grief, toward life and a limitless future. A remarkable read not to be missed."  Lisa Wingate, author of  Before We Were Yours

"This beautifully written snapshot of Ukraine’s history is both timely and heart-rending, sensitively bringing to life the culture of a nation devastated by an enemy invader. How shocking it is that it’s a history that’s being repeated today. And how important a reminder that where there’s life, there’s hope."  Fiona Valpy, author of  The Dressmaker’s Gift

“Emotionally riveting and honest . . . simultaneously shines an unflinching light on historical atrocities while it celebrates the resilience of the human spirit. You won’t soon forget this stunning debut.”  Paulette Kennedy, author of  Parting the Veil

“ The Memory Keeper of Kyiv  is a meticulously researched novel . . . depicting a country whose people managed to dig deep enough to find the strength, determination and heart to survive."  Deborah Carr, author of  An Island at War

“Breathtaking. Devastating. Erin Litteken's  The Memory Keeper of Kyiv  chronicles a defining but forgotten moment of Ukrainian history.”  Amanda McCrina, author of  The Silent Unseen

" The Memory Keeper of Kyiv  is a truly enlightening read . . . I recommend this to anyone looking for a personal way to connect with Ukraine's history."  M.B. Henry, author of  All the Lights Above Us
THE MEMORY KEEPER OF KYIV


ERIN LITTEKEN
To the Ukrainian people. Your strength and resilience are an inspiration, then and now.
If only one man dies of hunger, that is a tragedy. If millions die, that’s only statistics.
JOSEPH STALIN
CONTENTS



Dear Readers


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue


Author’s Note

Acknowledgments

Reading Group Questions

More from Erin Litteken

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
Dear Readers,
The seeds of this story took root in my mind even before Russia invaded Crimea in 2014, and now I sit drafting this letter while the news of Russia’s brutal attack on Ukraine—its cities, its civilians, its future—plays on the television in the background. I never imagined the release of my novel on a past assault of the Ukrainian people would coincide with such a parallel tragedy.
Ukrainians today are fighting for their country with a strength and tenacity that has captivated the world, but it is impossible to deny that history is repeating itself. It’s horrifying, and we must do better.
As the granddaughter of a Ukrainian refugee from WW2, the poignancy of this war devastates me. While we can’t change history, we can all learn from it and do something to help the Ukrainian people today. I’m so pleased that my publisher, Boldwood Books, will be donating a portion of each sale to DEC’s Ukraine Humanitarian Appeal.
My heart goes out to the brave Ukrainians defending their country, their culture, and their lives, both then and now. Slava Ukrayini!
Erin Litteken
1
CASSIE



Wisconsin, May 2004

Cassie’s facial muscles twitched in rebellion, but she forced her mouth into a big, fake smile as her daughter entered the kitchen. She hoped if she smiled long enough, hard enough, Birdie would respond, but the little girl stared back, expressionless.
Cassie fought the urge to bang her head into the wall.
Birdie’s wide blue eyes contrasted sharply with her dark, tangled hair. The pink princess pajamas she’d wanted so badly for her fourth birthday now rode halfway up her calves and forearms. They’d shrunk. Or she’d grown. Maybe both. Cassie didn’t seem to be good at noticing these things lately.
Harvey plopped down at Birdie’s feet, his tail thumping the floor as his shaggy brown fur warmed her bare ankles.
“The dog keeps a better eye on Birdie than I do.” Cassie rubbed her hands over her face and resumed her typical routine of forcing out meaningless banter. She couldn’t bear the quiet. It gave her too much time to remember.
“Good morning! Did you sleep well? What would you like for breakfast? I have overnight oats, eggs, or I can make some quinoa, fruit, and honey if you want.”
Cassie was failing on many levels of parenting, but no one could say she didn’t feed Birdie well. The pantry overflowed with organic snacks bought in bulk, and the fruit bowl on the counter always contained several different options. Cassie didn’t care if she skipped dinner or ate saltines for breakfast, but she was determined to make sure Birdie received all of the nutrition she needed, even if her clothes didn’t fit or she never spoke again.
Birdie pointed to the carton of eggs Cassie had taken out of the fridge and the frying pan on the drying rack in the sink. Cassie picked them both up and brought them to the stove while Birdie got out a spatula and the butter dish.
“One egg or two today?” Cassie asked. She did this all the time, trying to trick Birdie into answering without thinking. It never worked. Birdie hadn’t talked in fourteen months, one week, and three days. No reason why today should be any different.
Birdie opened the carton, took an egg in each hand, and held them out to Cassie.
“All right. Two eggs it is. Why don’t you make the toast?”
Birdie padded toward the toaster and popped a piece of sprouted grain bread into it.
Cassie glanced around the messy house as the two eggs spattered and snapped in the pan. Mail stacked in a pile so high it threatened to topple over, dog hair balls growing at an alarming rate in the corners on the floor, and a garbage can that seriously needed to be emptied didn’t exactly paint a picture of a happy home. A year and a half ago, she would rather have been caught dead than live in a house this messy.
Her laptop peeked out from beneath a stack of newspapers. Cassie winced to see it so forlorn, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to write anything since that night. She threw a dishtowel over it so she wouldn’t have to keep staring at another example of her failure, then slipped the eggs onto a pink plastic plate and placed them in front of Birdie at the table. As her little girl dug in, Cassie watched the dark yellow yolks run into the toast Birdie had made and sighed. Another day, just like yesterday and the day before. Never moving forward, never healing, never getting on with life. She had to fix it, for Birdie’s sake, but she had no idea where to start.
The doorbell rang and Cassie froze. Even now, after all this time, the sound of the doorbell still terrified her. She pulled her ratty robe closed and tied it tight as she walked to the door. Her psychiatrist would say she was using the robe as a defense mechanism, attempting to block out whatever was at her door trying to get in. Cassie would say she didn’t want company to see her tattered old pajamas. Maybe that’s why she’d quit making appointments with that shrink.
She pulled open the door, and her mom, disheveled and wan, managed a half-smile before she hiccupped a sob back and barreled her way in to wrap her arms around Cassie.
“Oh, Cass. I had to come tell you in person; I didn’t want you driving yourself after you heard.”
Cassie stiffened and pulled away from her mother’s arms. “Tell me what?”
“Nobody has died,” she said. “It’s nothing that bad.”
“Mom, what are you talking about?”
“It’s about Bobby.”
“Bobby?” Cassie pictured her wrinkled ninety-two-year-old grandmother, long ago christened Bobby when a young Cassie had butchered the Ukrainian word for grandma, babusya , and refused to use the traditional nickname, baba .
“There’s been an accident.”
Cassie’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. She drew in a ragged breath and tried not to let panic overtake her, but the words were the same ones she’d heard last year, right before her world fell apart.
Cassie let her mother guide her into a chair at the table. Anna leaned over and kissed Birdie on the top of the head. “Hello, my darling.”
Birdie smiled silently up at her grandmother while sopping the yolk off her plate with her toast.
“It happened Friday, but I didn’t want to worry you until I knew more.” Anna sat next to Birdie.
Cassie counted the days back in her head. “Mom, that was two days ago! Bobby’s been hurt for two days and you couldn’t call?”
“Like I said, I needed to speak to you in person. When I found out she wasn’t in danger of dying, I decided it would be best for me to drive here and tell you. I couldn’t leave her side until today.”
“Tell me everything now,” Cassie ordered, her voice quaking.
Anna glanced at Birdie and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Birdie, Grammy and Mommy are going to talk. Do you want to go watch TV?”
Birdie picked up her plate and put it in the sink, then walked past the piles of mail and ne