APRIL 25, 1995 KAUNAS, LITHUANIA
“What are you doing? Keep moving or we won’t finish today,” said the man. Construction vehicles roared behind him.
“I found something,” said the digger, staring into the hole. He knelt down for a closer look.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.” The man lifted a wooden box from the ground. He pried the hinged top open and looked inside. He removed a large glass jar full of papers. He opened the jar and began to read.
Dear Friend,
The writings and drawings you hold in your hands were buried in the year 1954, after returning from Siberia with my brother, where we were imprisoned for twelve years. There are many thousands of us, nearly all dead. Those alive cannot speak. Though we committed no offense, we are viewed as criminals. Even now, speaking of the terrors we have experienced would result in our death. So we put our trust in you, the person who discovers this capsule of memories sometime in the future. We trust you with truth, for contained herein is exactly that—the truth.
My husband, Andrius, says that evil will rule until good men or women choose to act. I believe him. This testimony was written to create an absolute record, to speak in a world where our voices have been extinguished. These writings may shock or horrify you, but that is not my intention. It is my greatest hope that the pages in this jar stir your deepest well of human compassion. I hope they prompt you to do something, to tell someone. Only then can we ensure that this kind of evil is never allowed to repeat itself.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Lina Arvydas
9th day of July, 1954—Kaunas
AUTHOR’S NOTE
“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”
—Albert Camus
In 1939, the Soviet Union occupied the Baltic states of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. Shortly thereafter, the Kremlin drafted lists of people considered anti-Soviet who would be murdered, sent to prison, or deported into slavery in Siberia. Doctors, lawyers, teachers, military servicemen, writers, business owners, musicians, artists, and even librarians were all considered anti-Soviet and were added to the growing list slated for wholesale genocide. The first deportations took place on June 14, 1941.
My father is the son of a Lithuanian military officer. Like Joana, he escaped with his parents through Germany into refugee camps. Like Lina, members of his family were deported and imprisoned. The horrors the deportees endured were ghastly. Meanwhile, the Soviets ravaged their countries, burning their libraries and destroying their churches. Caught between the Soviet and Nazi empires and forgotten by the world, the Baltic states simply disappeared from maps.
I took two trips to Lithuania to research this book. I met with family members, survivors of the deportations, survivors of the gulags, psychologists, historians, and government officials. Many of the events and situations I describe in the novel are experiences related to me by survivors and their families, experiences they said were shared by many deportees across Siberia. Although the characters in this story are fictional, Dr. Samodurov is not. He arrived in the Arctic just in time to save many lives.
Those who survived spent ten to fifteen years in Siberia. Upon returning in the mid-1950s, the Lithuanians found that Soviets had occupied their homes, were enjoying all of their belongings, and had even assumed their names. Everything was lost. The returning deportees were treated as criminals. They were forced to live in restricted areas, and were under constant surveillance by the KGB, formerly the NKVD. Speaking about their experience meant immediate imprisonment or deportation back to Siberia. As a result, the horrors they endured went dormant, a hideous secret shared by millions of people.
Like Lina and Andrius, some deportees married and found comfort in knowing looks and whispers in bed late at night. Beautiful children, like Jonas and Janina, grew up in forcedlabor camps and returned to Lithuania as adults. Countless mothers and wives like Elena perished. Brave souls, who feared the truth might be lost forever, buried journals and drawings on Baltic soil, risking death if their capsules were discovered by the KGB. Like Lina, many channeled emotion and fear into art and music, the only way they could express themselves, keeping their nation alive in their hearts. Paintings and drawings were not shared publicly. Art was passed secretly, encoded with messages and news from the various prison camps. Sketches of symbols from their homeland were sometimes enough to push a deportee onward, to fight for another day.
It is estimated that Josef Stalin killed more than twenty million people during his reign of terror. The Baltic states of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia lost more than a third of their population during the Soviet genocide. The deportations reached as far as Finland. To this day, many Russians deny they ever deported a single person. But most Baltic people harbor no grudge, resentment, or ill will. They are grateful to the Soviets who showed compassion. Their freedom is precious, and they are learning to live within it. For some, the liberties we have as American citizens came at the expense of people who lie in unmarked graves in Siberia. Like Joana for Lina, our freedom cost them theirs.
Some wars are about bombing. For the people of the Baltics, this war was about believing. In 1991, after fifty years of brutal occupation, the three Baltic countries regained their independence, peacefully and with dignity. They chose hope over hate and showed the world that even through the darkest night, there is light. Please research it. Tell someone. These three tiny nations have taught us that love is the most powerful army. Whether love of friend, love of country, love of God, or even love of enemy—love reveals to us the truly miraculous nature of the human spirit.
Ruta E. Sepetys
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am enormously indebted to many wonderful people who have assisted in the journey that is this novel.
Lindsay Davis, who believed in this book from the first page—you are my hero. Steven Malk, whose guidance and music brought me to Writers House. Rebecca Sherman, who assured me I could do it, and the incredible Ken Wright, who appeared on a white horse to make it all possible. I couldn’t ask for better mentors, representation, and friends.
My spectacular editor, Tamra Tuller, invested unfathomable time and effort in this novel. We are a team and I am forever grateful. A deep bow to Michael Green, who was brave enough to pull the jar from the earth and finally bring this story to the world. Courtenay Palmer, Camilla Sanderson, Farah Géhy, Liz Moraz, Julia Johnson, and all of the wonderful people at Philomel and Penguin. Thank you for believing.
My writing group—Sharon Cameron, Amy Eytchison, Rachel Griffiths, Linda Ragsdale, Howard Shirley, and Angelika Stegmann. Thank you for your dedication and, most of all, your friendship. I couldn’t have done it without you! Thanks to Laura Goering for her assistance with the Russian language.
Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, whose Work-in-Progress grant, conferences, and wild parties helped me realize that I really could write a book. Special thanks to Genetta Adair and Tracy Barrett from SCBWI Midsouth.
Yvonne Seivertson, Niels Bye Nielsen, Fred and Lindsay Wilhelm, Mike Post, Mike Cortese, Jeroen Noordhuis, Louise Ardenfelt Ravnild, Laurence Harry, Heather Napier, Gerry Rosenblatt, JW Scott, Daniel Schmidt, John Wells, Gavin Mikhail, the Reids, the Tuckers, the Peales, and the Smiths have all assisted or supported my efforts on this book from day one.
I owe everything to Mom and Dad, who taught me to dream big and love even bigger. And John and Kristina—my inspiration, my best friends. My dream is to someday write as well as you.
And my husband, Michael, who suggested I begin writing in the first place. Your love gave me the courage and the wings. You are my everything.
Without Linas Zabaliunas, this book simply would not have been possible. Linas directed me to countless individuals for my research, provided translation, accompanied me throughout Lithuania, provided spurgos and cepelinai, and even arranged for me to be locked away in a former Soviet prison. Ačiū labai, my friend!
My sinc
ere gratitude to the Lapteviečiai organization and the following survivors from the Lithuanian deportations for spending time and sharing their experiences with me: Mrs. Irena Špakauskienė, Mr. Jonas Markauskas, Dr. Jonas Puodžius, Mrs. Rytė Merkytė, and Mr. Antanas Stasiškis.
Special thanks to Ms. Agnieška Narkevič for translation in Vilnius; Mrs. Dalia Kazlauskiene for sharing her husband’s stunning photos of Siberia with me; Nemunas Tour and the Zabaliunas family; Dr. Danute Gailiene, head of the Department of Clinical Psychology at the University of Vilnius in Lithuania for meeting with me to answer all of my questions; Gintare Jakuboniene, director of the Memorial Department of the Center of Genocide and Resistance; Vilma Juozevičiūtė at the Museum of Genocide Victims; the Genocide and Resistance Research Center; Lithuanian Parliament; the Lithuanian Foundation; Rumšiškės Museum, and Karosta Prison in Latvia.
I am indebted to the following books that helped fill in the blanks: A Stolen Youth, a Stolen Homeland by Dalia Grinkevivičiūtė, Sentence: Siberia by Ann Lehtmets and Douglas Hoile, Leave Your Tears in Moscow by Barbara Armonas, Lithuanians in the Arctic by the Lapteviečiai Organization, and The Psychology of Extreme Traumatization by Dr. Danute Gailiene.
And finally, to the extended family of Jonas Šepetys. Thank you for the continued love and support you have always shown our family. Your patriotism, loyalty, and sacrifice shall never be forgotten.
Ačiū labai!
Ruta Sepetys, Between Shades of Gray
(Series: # )
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