I don’t often cry after or while reading
a novel, but I think I wept through the entire second half of The Nightingale, by Kristin Hannah.
Published in 2015, this World War II fiction follows the journey and very different
expressions of rebellion of two sisters during the Nazi occupation of parts of
France. The older, Vianne, has a young daughter, and her husband is a soldier
enlisted in the French army. The younger, Isabelle, lives with her older sister
and is reaching adulthood. The
Nightingale was not just an emotionally charged and powerful story about a
woman’s life during war. The effect the book has is quite subtle and the plot
surprising. My immediate reaction to the book was exactly what the reviewers
quoted on the back cover said you would come away with; a sense of what is
means to be a woman who goes through a hardship, not just in times of war but
wherever and whenever you exist in the world, including myself in a somewhat privileged
society in the 21st century.
Though I read The Nightingale something like a year
ago, the more I reflect on it the more I recall. The book appears to stick closely to a good versus evil storyline, with the
French Resistance on one side and Nazis on the other. However, it’s not that
simple. The storyline quickly jumps into the Nazis invading the countryside
where the older sister lives, and creating basically an extended and more formal
rape-and-plunder scenario. Here, we meet the “conflicted” Nazi; the one who may
have some moral compass but stuffs it down (I’ve seen this kind of a character
in other WWII books as well). We also meet an obviously horrible and disgusting
Nazi, who takes the personified form of the evil that can represent the war
raging across the world. Vianne, in short, endures and protests in her own ways
while under Nazi watch, while Isabelle takes a completely different and more
vocalized route and joins the French Resistance, right under the Nazis’ noses.
(that’s not really a spoiler).
As their stories unfolded I kept
thinking, what would I do? And even in this day and age, is the simple harsh
reality of suffering as a woman still exactly as it was in the 1940s? What does
it mean to be a hero and be a woman? Vianne
has obvious responsibilities, which is her daughter and younger sister.
Isabelle has responsibility as well but she feels it less as the younger of the
two, and is completely opposed to not taking action against the invaders. Vianne
fights back by allowing the Nazis to take advantage of her in order to protect
her daughter. Isabelle sets out to fight physically, joining a network of
localized Resistance members. Both are not necessarily responding to an outward
call, but an inner one in an effort to survive.
This book presented me with two
different paths, pulling me in two different directions when it came to
aligning with which I found more heroic: a path of action or a path of
protection? I felt I somewhat understood Isabelle’s youthful need to get up and
fight back aggressively. At the same time, Vianne absorbed everything for the sake of her family, which I’ve seen and heard
women do all the time throughout history, and greatly respect. The book’s
narrative is set in a different time with characters living completely
different lives. While elements of a hero’s journey were completely evident, the
book traced strikingly unique heroic intricacies. While a typical hero may
destroy the enemy, these heroines are in part destroyed themselves, while their
legacies live on. Since reading this book, I think I’ve better realized that
the women who are silently enduring pain in this world are fighting as hard as
the ones who hit back. I realized the capacity of absorption that is part of
being a hero (I’m sure it’s not restricted to just women). I’m generally more
inclined to get up and move. I’ve always found Rocky-type heroes who put
literal blood, sweat, and tears into their efforts compelling. The Nightingale showed me the
understated and under-appreciated rebellion that is silence.
