I don't read a ton of poetry or fiction, but I made an exception for this one. It's a collection from a bunch of Ukrainian writers, one of whom I've heard of (Stanislav Aseyev) about various slice-of-life type fiction, plus poems. It was finished and published after the Russians invaded, so there are a few works in here with the invasion and Russians as a theme. The stuff written pre-invasion is usually melancholy and evocative and so is the stuff post-invasion, but with an added element of terror prompted by being confronted by an enemy bent on genocide. The account of being Ukrainian as partially being defined by their proximity to the Russians seems very relevant right now - but was written in 2018, when the Russians had only occupied Crimea and seized the Donbas and Luhansk as opposed to what they're doing now. ( )

"How much time would you need to pack if you found men with machine guns on your doorstep and they told you, get out, the transport is waiting?"
(Oksana Zabuzhko, p. 28)

This is an impassioned, intense and deeply emotional anthology, and its pull is difficult to resist. Ukraine has become one of the defining issues of our time, and we all seem to sense that it is a canary in the coal mine for our collective futures.

Back in the 60s, what moved us about Viet Nam were the videos, the reporting on the ground, a new way of experiencing war coverage. With Ukraine, the coverage is far more intense; and these are not peasants in rice paddies. They are families in cities, with highways, malls, and Western autos; the rubble and devastation we are seeing is of museums, factories, community centres, apartment blocks.

In the 60s, if you mentioned Viet Nam, it could only mean one thing: the war. We have, I think, now reached that point with Ukraine.

We can sense the common chord in these very articulate writers and poets:

"The children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren of the deported, we have spread over the surface of the planet like a new ocean, carrying with us our virus of acquired home-deficiency. We want to feel at home everywhere—and so we have homogenized, ironed out the universe into a few universally recognizable—and therefore (trans)portable—elements: the highway, the gas station, the McDonald’s, the airport"
(Oksana Zabuzhko, p. 30)

The individual voices represented here are little known in the West; yet they
evidently participate in a vital and powerful network dedicated to uniting them and speading their messages.

Have there been people who have endured as much as this ? Going back to the Crimean War, the Russo-Turkish War, invasions, repression, pogroms. Stalin's Holomodor. Famines. The Great War, as it is called in Russia. Expulsions, prison camps. How many revolutions ? The Revolution on Granite (1990), The Orange Revolution (2004), The Revolution of Dignity (or Euromaidan, 2014); Crimea, 2014, and then the current violence.

In Volodomyr Rafeyenko's "Harvest" (p. 32), one senses the deep attachment to the place, the land, the ancestral and childhood memories. At the same time, all of this is inseparable from anger and bitterness at the burning of the past, the devastation.

Regardless of one's feelings toward nationalism, and toward the politics of the situation, these are voice that should be heard and listened to. This is from Iya Kiva's "Refugees (The Station)":

"the long road home to a home no longer there
lays breath tracks through the station in Lviv—
people with death faces gaze at their emptied lives
the way last year’s snowmen gaze at the war’s first flowers"

This is from Taras Prokhasko's reflections (p. 61) on the situation:

"It always happens that something that seemingly does not let you live a normal life is, in fact, the most genuine life, its fullest manifestation. This is how the co-existence of Ukrainians and Russians should be viewed. Ukrainians—as long as they are true to themselves—will never be able to live a normal life, withstanding the Russian factor. But perhaps it is this eternal confrontation, this continuous pressure that Ukrainians have to withstand that makes their life full and complete—a genuine, consciously chosen existence."

This is such a rich and powerful collection that singling out the most striking passages and writers is difficult. There is the intense lyricism of Pavlo Korobchuk; the magical realism and identification with youth culture of Lyubko Deresh; Kostiantyn Moskalets and the vivid warmth of his anthemic Army of Light; Stanislav Aseyev, who writes from the background of having been beaten and tortured in a Russian prison camp; Borys Khersonsky, from Odessa, a psychiatrist of Jewish background, and his unsparing poetry, written at the time of the most recent invasion; Olaf Clemensen, who writes in what seem like mythopoetic fables; Tamara Duda, through whose work one sees the fabric of daily life stretched and altered by the realities of wartime; Olena Herasymyuk, whose devastating modernization of the Lord's Prayer is at once sardonic, irreverent, streetwise and bloody

Throughout, there is a willingness, an eagerness even, to take on large themes: war, love, death, god, history, the essence of being human. It's a timely and disturbing collection, and very worthy of wide attention. ( )

Kazimirova and Daryna Anastasieva edited this collection of writings from Ukraine. I found it very interesting to get the perspective of a wide variety of people in Ukraine. I enjoyed the variety of poetry and prose. ( )

This is journey of 50 years from independence to Joining Nato decision and in between war.

Voices of Freedom: Contemporary Writing From Ukraine is a collection of Ukrainian writing that aims to introduce the English-speaking world to some of the most iconic living writers whose work is shaping contemporary Ukraine. These are leading intellectuals and moral authorities for the Ukrainian people, whose voices and opinions have helped to synchronize the internal compasses of Ukrainian society in the struggle for the freedom of their country. Through poetry, short stories, and essays, this collection demonstrates that the desire for freedom and the struggle to achieve it is a theme that cuts across generations of Ukrainian writers, and is a central preoccupation of Ukrainian society.

The curated poetry is an instant reaction to the events taking place today, which speaks directly to this current moment and the national psyche. The short stories sensitize readers to Ukraine's indivisible history and the present. These are accounts of the memory of generations, choices and transitions, self-irony, friendship, love, and the powerful significance of home. These stories and novellas represent a single continuous story showing the paths, lives, and values of the Ukrainian people who have amazed the world with their courage. The essays showcase the voices of contemporary Ukrainian intellectuals, providing analysis and reflection on what is happening in the present, showing historical connections and parallels, and shedding light on the origins and triggers of the war on the mental level.By presenting a mosaic of perspectives, experiences, and forms, this volume showcases the depth, diversity, and resistance of the culture Putin seeks to erase ( )

[Disclaimer: I got this book via LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program]

The books is a collection of poetry and excerpts by contemporary Ukrainan writers. For my own taste, poetry is oversampled (and since I am two layers of language apart, it is difficult to state its value). What I really appreciated is the context of the book. Ok, it's probably partizan. But I learned a lot in reading that after the war of 2014 - which for most Ukrainans did not end - many writers started writing in Ukrainan instead of Russian. Moreover, nearly all the selected works deal with the war. After a while, reading becomes heavy, and that's the reason why my vote is not very high.

The pieces I appreciate more: War, by Yuri Izdrik: a dispassionate series of images from a war which is normal and abnormal at the same time; Leontovych, by Ivan Malkovych: a poem set up in a universe where the author of Carol of the Bells was not killed; Second Try, by Tamara Duda: an old woman is brought out of the frontline, but she apparently tries to resist; The Smell of a Siren, by Lyuba Yakinchuk: a poem where war is set in an eternal February; is there hot war in the tap, by Iya Kiva: war is like water, it's everywhere; My Mother’s Prayer, by Yuliya Musakovska: for the verse "how Christ is temporarily being replaced by the severe God of the Old Testament".

The book contains portaits of all the authors, and a short bio of each translator: this is also quite interesting and uncommon. ( )