Whenever I read a description of another new novel dealing with The Holocaust I feel a little twinge of uncertainty. Despite being one of the most horrific acts of genocide in the past century it’s a subject that’s been covered in countless novels. Is there anything new to say about this atrocity? Of course there is. Many novels from Audrey Magee’s “The Undertaking” to Ben Fergusson’s “The Spring of Kasper Meier” have proven this to me. But never has a novel I’ve read about this period of history felt more relevant and close-to-home than Rachel Seiffert’s new novel “A Boy in Winter.” I’m conscious that this has a lot to do with the current politics of our world, but I truly recognized in this story situations and patterns of behaviour that feel very near. Seiffert has fictionally dealt with this era before in her debut book “The Dark Room” which is composed of three novellas connected to the war and set in Germany. This new book is set in a small village in the Ukraine over a period of a few days in late 1941 when the Nazis come marching through “cleansing” the community of its Jewish population. It’s stunningly told and it’s a devastating story, but it also speaks so powerfully about the world we live in now.

Seiffert has the most unique and powerful way of conveying the inner sense of a character’s emotions using only external descriptions. It’s something she did so expertly in her previous novel “The Walk Home” (which was one of my favourite books of 2014) and she does it again in this new novel with an adolescent Jewish boy named Yankel. Different sections of the book focus on different characters, but the author doesn’t often shine a spotlight on Yankel. Instead, we get a sense of him through other characters such as his father who has been put in a hellish temporary holding cell by the Nazis or a young woman Yasia who takes in Yankel and his younger brother. We get descriptions of the way Yankel carries himself, his stance or the movement of his eyes, but even though the reader is not often keyed into what he’s thinking we get a real emotional understanding of him from the author’s evocative external descriptions. Seiffert does this in a way which is powerful and quite unique. The arc of his story and the semi-tragic transformation he goes through in order to survive is brilliantly told.

This is an incredibly beautiful and impactful novel, but a slight problem I had with it is an instance where a certain character who is conscripted into the Nazi forces leads the reader through the way that Jewish people were processed. There’s nothing wrong with Seiffert’s descriptions of these scenes and their impact is devastating, but it clearly felt like his character was being used simply as a device to show what the author wanted to show rather than what his character would naturally encounter. However, a striking thing about this section is the way she describes the Nazis basically forcing each other to drink while they conduct their brutal and horrific executions. It gave a powerful sense of the way many of these soldiers had to use alcohol to deaden their humanity in order to perform the atrocious duties they were ordered to perform.

The central question of this novel asks what you would do if you were faced with the choice of following the evil will of an oppressive government or being severely punished for refusing to participate. It prompts you to ask yourself what you would do if neutrality wasn’t an option. Seiffert shows the complexity of this question through a number of different characters including non-Jewish Ukranians and a German engineer who takes a remote position in the army because he wants to avoid this moral dilemma but finds himself forced to make a horrific choice. The lines between an individual’s right and wrong become blurred when they are forced to ask themselves: “where was the wrong in staying alive?” It’s a haunting question.

I read this novel as part of a mini-book group I’ve formed with the writers Antonia Honeywell and Claire Fuller. We discussed it over lunch and had a fascinating conversation, but it’s quite special in that it’s the first book (out of the three we’ve read together so far including “The Underground Railroad” and “Mothering Sunday”) that all three of us were overwhelmingly positive about. Antonia and Claire are astute critics so the fact they both liked this novel so much is high praise! Rachel Seiffert is an incredibly talented writer and I find her writing moving in a way that is hard to describe. But it’s safe to say I’d recommend that everyone should read this timely historical novel.

Rachel Seiffert made an impactful debut when she published her first novel “The Dark Room” in 2001. Not only did the three novellas in this book set in Germany exhibit precise writing and memorable characters, but the book as a whole artfully handled social and political issues across a large span of time. This is a writer who is ardently engaged in the history of the society around her, how the past impacts upon the present and ways in which individuals survive under the pressures of domineering persuasive ideologies. It’s writing which makes me want to learn more about the subjects she references and engage with the issues raised. In Seiffert’s latest novel “The Walk Home” she shifts her focus to the Irish community living in the city of Glasgow. Graham is a character who joins the Orange Order, a Protestant fraternal organisation that is strongly linked to English/Irish unionism, where he is a drummer participating in the Orange walks that march through the city. This is a subject I knew virtually nothing about before reading this novel. I’ve since read up on it to better understand the context of the story. These parades or demonstrations are highly contentious within Glasgow as there have been at times skirmishes between the Orange Order members and Irish Catholics as well as the native Scottish population. To this day, there have been attempts to have the walks banned by some of the residents. Graham finds a strong sense of fraternity in the Orange Order and continues to participate in the walks despite the divide it causes to form between him and his family. The novel raises questions about the ways personal beliefs can estrange people from their families and the way time gradually transforms the meaning of these distant relationships.

The novel tells the story of how Graham grows to join the Order and fall in love with Lindsey, an Irish girl newly immigrated to Glasgow who is estranged from her father. Lindsey forms strong bonds with Graham’s mother Brenda as well as Eric, the black sheep of the family who remained estranged from his own father up until his death because Eric married an Irish Catholic woman. Alongside this story is the present day tale of teenage Stevie who has newly returned to Glasgow after a mysterious period of absence. Stevie is hired as a builder by Polish Jozef who is struggling to earn enough money to establish a better life for him and his wife, an endeavour which has led their relationship to devolve into a tense distant union. Although Stevie clearly comes from the city and should feel a part of it, he hides himself within it. Gradually the reader discovers what led to Stevie’s intense and vividly-portrayed sense of isolation.

This is a short novel and Seiffert skilfully covers a lot of ground, but still made me feel like I closely knew the characters. Brenda is the hard-working glue of the family who struggles to keep everyone in line and together although her relations splinter apart. Eric is an artistic melancholic who casts his family’s personal struggles against the back drop of biblical parables in finely detailed drawings. Malky is a stalwart patriarch who wisely keeps in the background and dispenses sage cautious wisdom: “if you loved, you learned to make allowances.” However, the character that most captivated me is Stevie. Despite being a quiet, almost silent boy whose emotions are also largely clipped out of the narrative, I felt his loneliness and spurred sense of hurt which has led him to break from his family. By portraying his measured deliberate actions, hollowed-out motivation and small tender gestures, Seiffert evokes a personality which feels the heavy burden of a family that’s been shattered by blistering internal strife.

The novel is filled with a lot of ambiguity and sides with no politics in particular. Rather, it opens up an understanding of the way families can be torn apart and the impact of the isolation this causes. When Eric commiserates with Lindsey about the difficulty she’s encountered with her father he observes: “Terrible tae be on your ain. Terrible tae feel that way.” Prolonged loneliness and tightly-held resentment leads to really deep-running grief – not only for the loss of a relationship which was once dear but the loss of time together if things had been different. Seiffert is a writer that gives tremendous nobility to characters caught by both difficult circumstances beyond their control and their own stubbornness. This novel shows how reconciliation and forgiveness are not guaranteed, but they are always a possibility. As she observes in this powerful line: “Hard to be hopeful, but not too much; keeping faith, over the long haul.”