Take a photo of a barcode or cover
There are two moments which stand out to me as the most potent: When the main character and others are walking along train tracks that the Nazis use, they find the signed pictures, passports and personal effects of the Jews being taken away, thrown out in a last ditch effort to have some part of their lives and memory held onto by someone. He flips one of the pictures and finds the ink too sunbleached to be read.
The other is at the end of the book, when the war is over. For a split second the book is much kinder to the main character than any reader could have really expected. Both of his parents survived the war and have come and found him. But by the time that they find him, he has been so warped by his experience and by the comfort given to him by the Soviet army that he hopes against hope to not go back to them, to just be a Soviet soldier instead.
couldn't really get into it, seemed to sorta meander along.
but i liked the happyish ending
Graphic: Adult/minor relationship, Animal cruelty, Animal death, Child abuse, Child death, Death, Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, Genocide, Gun violence, Hate crime, Incest, Pedophilia, Physical abuse, Racism, Rape, Sexual assault, Sexual content, Sexual violence, Torture, Violence, Xenophobia, Antisemitism, Grief, Religious bigotry, Murder, Abandonment, War
Graphic: Adult/minor relationship, Alcoholism, Animal cruelty, Animal death, Body horror, Child abuse, Child death, Death, Emotional abuse, Gore, Infidelity, Misogyny, Pedophilia, Physical abuse, Rape, Sexual assault, Sexual violence, Torture, Violence, Blood, Excrement, Antisemitism, Murder, Abandonment, Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Bullying, War
Read in college as part of a class. I will never forget the rabbit.
‘The Painted Bird’ was first published by Jerzy Kosiński in 1965, and revised in 1976. It is a fictional account of the personal experiences of a boy aged six who could be Jewish or might be a Gypsy taking refuge in Eastern Europe during World War II. It is a fictional account filled with hate for Polish peasantry and packed with excruciating, horrifying detail of rape, murder, bestiality and torture.
‘The Painted Bird’ depicts a journey through a very brutal and brutalising hell. There are no safe places, really, for this boy. He may have escaped with his life but he can never escape his experiences.
There are good reasons to not like this book: it is not, as has been thought, an autobiographical account of Kosiński’s own experiences. Additionally it relies on the proximity of the Holocaust to intensify its own horror; it demonises Polish peasantry as both cruel and backward; and it wallows in violence. But for all of that, it has its own haunting power.
I’ve first read this novel at least 20 years ago and recently revisited it. I do not like the graphic, seemingly unending violence. The point is made and reiterated: man’s inhumanity to man takes many forms and vulnerability is often relative rather than absolute. Did Kosiński really regard the world as being beyond redemption? Is that the question he was posing in this novel? Is that why he committed suicide in 1991? Did he write this novel to give voice to his own despair as a consequence of the events of World War II? For me this novel raises far more questions than it answers. And some of those questions about the author and his intent colour the way I read this novel. I cannot ‘hate’ it: it is far too well written for that. I cannot ‘love’ it: it is far too ugly and there are far too many questions unanswered. Instead, I ‘like’ it in an uneasy sort of way because it makes me wonder about the world.
I won’t need to read it again.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith