The Nightingale: Two Paths of Resistance

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 21^st 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.