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A Woman in Amber: Healing the Trauma of War and Exile

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"A Woman in Amber" is a touching and sensitive memoir of a young girl's escape from war-torn Latvia. Agate Nesaule left home with her family in 1944 along with more than one hundred fifty thousand other Latvians seeking refuge in the West. They were fleeing the oncoming Red Army and a resumption of the horrific Soviet occupation of 1940-41. Nesaule's family got only as far as what became the Soviet zone of Germany, a place of desperation and violence. Finally as the war neared an end they managed to reach the relative safety of a displaced persons camp in Berlin and eventually to secure passage to the United States. The second half of the book recounts the difficult experience of Nesaule and her family in starting their lives over in a new land. This book is not a history of the emigration but simply one woman's heartfelt story. Even amongst the description of all the pain and loss, there are scenes of heroism and humor. Once I started reading "A Woman in Amber," I could hardly put it down until I was finished. Highly recommended.

The title of this book is a remarkable, symbolically apt appellation, "A Woman in Amber"; imagine the imprisoned feeling. But the beauty of amber, as in the beauty of this book, is that light can be seen through it. After reading Dr. Nesaule's book, I purchased it as a gift for Latvian friends. My Indian women friends have used this book as study material in their bookclub and my Irish friends have received great solace from the work because of its honesty in its disclosure about the needs, desires, and trust that may or may not exist between a mother and a daughter. Self-honesty begets self-truth, and this book is an honest exploration that seeks whatever truths can be found between a mother and a daughter under the most extreme conditions - war and its aftermath. If you want language without pretense painting a daughter's portrait of her life's process that searches for solid ground on which to plant her understanding of forced exile - both physical and familial, then read this book. It is not a history book nor is it a travel guide to Eastern Europe. It is the finished product of a search many of us give up on after a parent's death. The book is a singular image of one Latvian family exiled by war; its deeper content however, is about the universal tugs of emotional wars that exist in many families. I questioned myself after reading the book and wondered how truthful I could be on paper if writing about my mother who left this world early with many of her own questions unanswered: I hasten to try. The author's up front disclosure about her own questioning of what truth in one's memory really is, is an honest prelude to this self-investigation. My treasured, older Latvian friends have discovered that "A Woman in Amber" was the #1 best seller in Latvia in 1998, and in reference to some critiques of the book, one friend recited a line she learned in a Latvian school during the war: "It is easier to perceive error than to find truth, for the former lies on the surface and is easily seen, while the latter lies in the depth, where few are willing to search for it." - Goethe. Dr. Nesaule is a courageous writer who had the guts to disembowel learned, protective protocol that can distort self-truth in any culture. I thank her for writing this book and wish her continued success.

Suffering is not good for the soul, no matter what anyone tells you. There is nothing redemptive about it. The pain continues long after the actual experience is over. You do not become a better person because you have endured much, though perhaps your patience increases. No, we don't learn lessons from reading about others' suffering, even from such a well-written book as Nesaule's. Her life is not an example to anybody. Certainly not an inspiration. If you keep your eyes and ears open in life, and don't watch too much TV, you cannot but become aware of a huge amount of suffering and pain in the world. Whether abroad---during World War II, in Korea or Vietnam, or in the myriad wars and dictatorships of the late 20th century-or at home thanks to racism, poverty, substance abuse or simple human cruelty, we should be no strangers to the tragedy of life on earth.

A WOMAN IN AMBER describes a life broken by war, dislocation and brutality. Darkness surrounded Agate Nesaule at an early age, a gray cloud that did not begin to dissipate for nearly forty years. After early childhood happiness in Latvia, her homeland was occupied by Russians, then Germans, then Russians again. Obviously fearing the Russians more, when Soviet forces loomed on the horizon in 1944, the family fled to Germany, a refugee camp where Jews and Gypsies were sought out and taken away. Then came the raping, thieving Soviet forces, a dramatic escape to the British-occupied zone of Berlin, and five years of life in the DP camps. In 1950, the whole family, still miraculously together, emigrated to Indianapolis to begin the hard process of rebuilding a life in America. Life in the slums, little income, sub-standard housing, but at least the chance for education followed. Nesaule made a disastrous marriage to a repulsive, manipulative slob of an American, perhaps the worst choice possible, and stayed with him for over twenty years. Through everything, she longed for a close, open relationship with others, especially her mother, but could not achieve it, thanks to her own unfortunate choices. At last, divorced, she reached some peace thanks to an understanding psychiatrist and a decent, loving man. For years, the writer could not distinguish normal authority and everyday forms of social control from stark, cruel, and arbitrary forms found in squalid refugee camps, under foreign military regimes, or in the hearts of parents in the most extreme situations. At times, Nesaule seems to take a perverse pleasure in her pain, but I felt that this emerges due to her extreme honesty, her attempt to plumb the depths of her feeling in order to arrange it on paper, and remove from her psyche all those feelings warped and twisted by war, by the desperation of her childhood.

The question a reader must ask, as does the author, is how many more Agates are there out there? In Bosnia, Kosovo, Palestine, Chechnya, Ethiopia, Sudan, Angola, Congo, Liberia, Vietnam, Cambodia, Timor, Colombia, Nicaragua, and dozens of other places ? A WOMAN IN AMBER is the moving story of a sensitive personality crushed by hardship and brutality, skewed to accept ruinous relationships because all self-confidence had been lost. The use of dreams to further self-understanding is extremely effective. As a Jew, whose extended family in the Baltic area was totally annihilated by the Germans (and their local minions) during WW II, I was not inclined to be sympathetic at first to a Latvian woman whose family, after all, must have lived comfortably through that same time, but I soon relented as I read on because self-pity is entirely absent. Suffering is universal, even if human brotherhood, of which we dream, is nowhere in sight. Perhaps sharing that suffering is, indeed, the very brotherhood we seek. Bleak conclusion. Read this book, you can't fail to be moved by the honesty and lack of nationalistic drivel.

Being of Latvian heritage myself, perhaps it is impossible for me to read Nesaule's book as anyone else of a different heritage might. I have grown up on stories that are but variations on a theme to this one. My first language was Latvian, my first book was Latvian, my own first efforts in creative writing were in the Latvian language. Indeed, I have just participated in a literary reading of Latvian authors at the 11th Latvian Song Festival in Chicago, Illinois, where I had the honor of sharing the podium with Agate Nesaule. Is it possible for me to turn the pages of "Woman in Amber" without a deeply ingrained bias? Perhaps not. But I can say that these pages, these words, these memories, resonated profoundly with me. The war experience in many ways, however, is a suffering and a horror that crosses all lines of ethnicity, all borders of nationality. For this reason, I believe this is an important account for a far larger audience than just the Latvian reader; I am thrilled that this book was written first in English, then translated into, I believe, seven other languages.

Latvia is a tiny but beautiful country on the coast of the Baltic Sea. The Latvian language is one of the oldest still in existence. The country's history is one of the most war-torn and ravaged of any country anywhere - although it has existed for many, many centuries, Latvia has been independent, free of occupation by other armies, for only a wink in time. If this nation can be proud of anything, it can be proud of its ability to survive even the cruelest and most oppressive conditions. This memoir, "Woman in Amber," opens a small window of light shed on how such a people survive. Even more precisely, it gives an account of how a very young girl can survive - losing her home, losing her family, conditions of hunger, rape, pillage, exile, and the terrifying experience of being a stranger in an immense and completely alien country where the culture and language are all new and strange. Most memoirs of war and battlefields are written by men. It is particularly interesting to read a different kind of account, from the perspective of a woman. If soldiers on a battlefield suffer, there is a quieter, less evident suffering that happens behind the front lines, and this memoir reveals, painfully and movingly, the no less violent and scarring battles that happen there.

Agate Nesaule's memoir is a couragous sharing of the experiences she endured - not just during World War II, but for many years following the war. Long after the sounds of war have died down, the wounds are still bloodied and pulsating with pain. Healing can often take a lifetime. My respect to this author for sharing her experience, and my hope that it has offered her healing. This is a book I am proud to recommend to both my Latvian friends as well as my non-Latvian friends.

Quite simply, one of the best books that I've ever read--and I read for a living. The style is elegant but simple enough to be read by high school students. The memoir details the long-term effects of war on "civilians," who are of course unable to remain non-participants. This book tells a gripping story. In adddition, it shows how the "put-it-behind-you" strategy that allows survival in extreme conditions then later prevents healing. In addition, it shows how the American desire to be without history, and to be cheerfully optimistic, silences those with painful experiences. Wonderful choice for bookgroups, classes in peace studies and conflict resolution, women's studies, autobiography, literature, immigration.

So often the tale of war is told from the standpoint of the brave soldiers or the cowardly soldiers or the stupid soldiers. Here is a book about war told from the woman's point of view. Women are so vulnerable, and so often the innocent victims along with their children of the cruelties of the soldiers.

This was the first history I read about war from the perspective of a woman. I think the thing I fould most shocking about Ms. Nesuale's story is that she survived the Nazi occupation relatively entact, only to suffer dreadfully at the hands of the liberating Russian army.

The book has it's harrowing moments, but it is extremely uplifting. Ms. Nesaule survived the war and it's aftermath, moving to the U.S. as a refugee immigrant. She went on to become an educated woman, and today is happily married and a college professor at the University of Wisconsin. Her story is worth reading.

Others have argued the authenticity of Ms. Nesaule's account of life in the concentration camps; indeed, the author herself voices her own uncertainty of her story, confessing to much she has forgotten. Still, it is a story worth reading. American born, I've never found myself, or even thought to imagine myself, in a situation where I have feared for my life and the lives of my family.

Ms. Nesaule's account, which she manages to relate with frank detachment, is disturbing. Who among us, in America, can understand how it feels to be kept in a basement, never knowing when it might be our turn to be taken behind the partition to be raped, or taken outside to be lined up to be shot? To be cuffed or threatened for whispering to a sibling?

During her ordeal, the young Agate learns the futility of prayer, that what doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger, and that wounds such as those she endured never heal; although by the end of the book, after a failed long-term marriage left her the victim, she finds a semblance of peace.

Despite its obvious flaws-among others, Ms. Nesaule's son Boris is virtually non-existent and her portrayal of her husband Joe is far too one-dimensional... his dialogue is stilted and comprised of only a few phrases, which she uses time and time again (perhaps these are all she recalls after two decades of emotional abuse-A Woman In Amber is a compelling read. Whether more fiction than fact is immaterial. Ms. Nesaule's simple message is this: her suffering, as is the suffering of all men and women since the dawn of civilization, is but a single page in the history of mankind. How sad that man cannot get along with himself, sadder still that he keeps making the same mistakes over and over again and never learns.

Recommended.

Dr. K. Feig, author, Hitler's Death Camps: I suppose I have read 4000 memoirs of WWII experiences - and experienced each of those many times the range of emotions one could expect. And have not been attracted to newer memoirs or thought I could learn anything from those written 50 years after - by survivors who could not face their pasts until it was almost too late. And then I picked up Agate Nesaule's book. And realized it is never too late to learn and to be stunned again and "resobered." What a truly remarkable book. Understandable that it won a 1996 American Book Award. This brilliant gifted professor of English and writer has given us yet another picture of value as we try to understand the extraordinary abuses civilized humans heap upon other less powerful civilized humans. Perhaps the most valuable impact is the reminder that all over this "human" world, living survivors of atrocities, war, holocausts are living with the reality of those "experiences" every day of their lives - while we chose to read about and ponder them when we wish. It is also important to remind ourselves that those "experiences" in the hundreds of thousands in every part of the globe are truly forever - regardless of the strength and determination of the strugglers who lived.

The émigré/exile path is fickle one often steered by minute variables such as where one finds himself when the bombs drop, or which side of the shifting tides of battle one is on , or how the politics of the day flow. Age, escape travails, accompaniment, which displaced person camp, what country of emigration, and the luck of the draw in sponsorship, all result in profoundly different destinies. Some escape unscathed, while many, do not. There is no one generic narrative to fit them all.

I happen to be a post homeland Latvian born in a Regensburg d.p. camp who with his family ultimately found himself growing up and living the American dream.

A Woman In Amber is the courageous exposure of experiences, thoughts and interpretations as viewed through the eyes of one child, the author, savaged by the Eastern European experience and in adulthood sifted through in retrospect. This is a cathartic examination of short and long term reactions to barbarism. One should not expect a clinical dissertation of historic events from a young child undergoing the horror and savagery described. The author is astute and honest enough in understanding the complexities of childhood memories to openly even question her own. She does so through a transparent sharing with the reader of the internal onslaught of fantasy, reality and fiction as they meld and unfold within her, not only at happening but in the lingering torment throughout her life.

As the author shows, the damage perpetrated upon Latvians did not end with the closing of the camps and debarkation to "better shores". Latvian's wounds have proven themselves to be more lasting than time, the melting pot, and even streets paved in gold. Her unveiled exposure reveals the virtual impossibility of healing such wounds, guilt and dysfunction and their perpetuation upon one's children. Though many within the Latvian exile community might scoff, muttering reassuringly how truly fine they are now doing, they do so still entwined in their own imposed opacity and continuing refrain of "it could always be worse".


Given the return and unfolding of democracy to a brutalized and emaciated Latvia and the approaching demise of many of the original emigree's, their own begrudging hindsights reaffirm that escape and abandonment of their homeland was more a matter of no alternatives rather than the long held mantra of betterment. Their outward trappings of possessions, titles and successes belie their lifetime's disappointments of unfulfilled hopes, dreams, and aspirations for homeland and children. Without question, a large majority of Latvians would admit that had not their homeland been invaded and no attempts made to exterminate it's population, the exodus would never have happened.

A deeper understanding of the impact to my generation will become clearer as we, those with one foot on each side of the Atlantic, near our own death-bed honesties. Towards this, there is much to be admired and I dare say loved about the Latvian heritage. Yet conversely it must be understood that the totality of the Latvian legacy, especially including the WW 2 debauchery, that it's children are culturally born and tethered to, is certainly no lighthearted novel and has lasting consequences. It is a legacy that continues to burden and divide those under it's grasp from whatever broader community and normalcy they find themselves in.

I personally thank the author for her courage, dedication and shared self introspection. It is a lifetime's work that few would dare. Her insights on her relationship with her family and the Latvian exile community in general are very useful for me because they have opened a doorway to a better understanding of my parenting. I have come to learn that my experiences were not as unique as I formerly believed. They also have caused me to reassess and enumerate how many, sadly, from my little slice of that community lived in quiet misery and met ignoble ends. But more so I thank her for her exposure of personal inner quandries as to who she is, where she belongs, and now with a modicum of understanding, what should be the path for the rest of her life. For these are questions many children of the exiles have and still grapple with, alone in their own silences.

I believe this is a very valuable book for anyone coming to grips with the loss of their homeland and an understanding of the exile experience. Perhaps even more so for their friends and neighbors among whom the exiles have tried to forge a new life.

I read this book upon the recommendation of a friend. This is very much the type of book I enjoy, but this book left me wondering about the fact that many things were unexplained. I didn't feel that even at this juncture the author had some to terms with the events of her past.

It seemed to me to be bits and pieces of what happened but I wanted to know more about the "why's" in the story. It was as though her son Boris was mentioned but never a part of her life. Her father was a distant character, too. I finished the book but was left puzzled about many parts of it.