Lilac Girls

“After that, we were like flies stuck in honey, alive but not really living.” 

The quote above speaks to a struggle that most of the characters in the novel will have to contend with. Time becomes something that all the women battle. Kasia struggles to relinquish her anger at her mother’s death, Caroline wishes to relive her time with Paul in New York, and Herta wants to bury her atrocities in the dirt. All the women have to accept and take responsibilities for their actions as the book and time continues on. 

“One day to keep warm I sat on my bed wrapped in a quilt and took a quiz in an old Photoplay magazine, my favorite indoor sport. A student in Pietrik’s clandestine economics class had paid him in American magazines and I memorized every word in them. The quiz said you would feel a click like the sound of a compact closing if you were in love, and I felt that click every time I saw Pietrik. Our interests matched perfectly (a rare thing according to the quiz).” 

The compact is a recurring motif in the novel. Kasia is complete with Pietrik, whole again like two sides of a compact coming back together. She does not feel the same way with Pietrik after the war, even after they marry. Kasia is unable to be intimate with Pietrik, unable to sleep in the same bed with him, and unwilling to be vulnerable with him. Kasia does not feel whole again until she is able to accept her mother’s death, let go of the deep well of rage inside her, and let other people in. 

“It seemed the Party rhetoric about a woman’s rightful place being at home raising children had taken root and many patients requested a male physician. Since, as a female university student, I’d been required to take needlework classes, I took in sewing work for extra money.” 

Herta directly supports a regime that does not have her best interests at heart. Herta believes the Reich is the best thing for Germany and is thus willing to sacrifice her own rights and career opportunities for the sake of it. 

“‘Me too,’ Fritz said. ‘And then, before I knew it, three months passed. After that, you’re here to stay, so make up your mind soon.’

There was no question. I would be gone by sunrise.” 

A part of the woman that Herta’s father believes her to be remains in the passage above. His emphasis on kindness and empathy is directly at odds with Herta’s own feelings towards Jewish people. However, upon seeing what she will be responsible for at the camp, her first instinct is to leave. Fritz’s comment speaks to the complacency that many people find under an authority; it is simply easier to give in and do as they’re told. 

“Our gardener, oddly enough called Mr. Gardener, was practically family as well. With his kind eyes and skin brown and smooth as a horse chestnut seed, he’d been by our side since we planted our garden up in Bethlehem just before Father died. It was rumored his people had come to Connecticut from North Carolina by way of the Underground Railroad through a stop once located in the old Bird Tavern just across the street from The Hay.” 

The above passage details one of the only non-white characters in the novel. The Ferridays are presented as liberal and a champion of equality. The image of Mr. Gardener and the Ferridays and Caroline’s insistence that their relationship is one forged on equal terms results in an odd perversion of the happy slave trope frequently used by anti-abolitionist literature. 

“How could I have been so reckless to have gotten us all sent to this terrible place? To make things worse, the block was never quiet, always filled with the sounds of shrill voices of women tortured by nightmares or the itch of lice, night-shift workers returning home, sleepless women exchanging recipes, and calls for a basin for the sick who could not get to the washroom in time.” 

The cacophony of noise in the bunkers speak to the sheer number of women forced into the small space. Kasia’s guilt for getting her family captured is simply one of the many tumultuous emotions in Ravensbrück. Kasia is only one story out of the countless in the concentration camp.

“‘It’s just a thing, Kasia. Don’t waste your energy on the hate. That will kill you sure as anything. Focus on keeping your strength. You’re resourceful. Find a way to outsmart them.’” 

Halina tries to get Kasia to fight the anger that has already begun to build inside of her. Halina recognizes that Kasia’s rage will only hurt herself. This undoubtedly foreshadows the struggle that an adult Kasia will have to contend with for the rest of the novel. 

“As the days grew shorter, Zuzanna warned us to keep our spirits up, for sadness was often a more potent killer than disease. Some just gave up, stopped eating, and died.”

The reader sometimes forgets Zuzanna’s training as a doctor as it is not mentioned as often as Herta’s. However, Zuzanna frequently uses her medical expertise to help the prisoners around them. The passage above demonstrates Zuzanna’s familiarity with depression and anxiety. Her sentiment is not unlike Halina’s comment about anger. 

“I took hold of both of Mrs. Mikelsky’s wrists and dragged her, still warm, across the snow, exhaling the white fog of my breath like a plow horse. The horror of it. The hate grew black in my chest. How could I live without revenge?” 

Kasia does not have the medical training that Zuzanna or Halina have. She is also a teenager at the time. Kasia is barreled over with the rage she feels for the soldiers and at the unfairness and injustice of it all. Kelly writes of hatred as a tangible thing, something that blots Kasia out, erasing and drowning her out, threatening to leave nothing behind but rage.

“‘You have no baby. You have nothing. You are only a number.’” 

One of the guards says the above to Kasia’s Math teacher, Mrs. Mikelsky. She is stripped completely of her identity, her family, and her name. The Nazis dehumanized the people they imprisoned, treating them like animals and objects. 

“Until then I’d not realized how underweight Halina had become. Even on Block One rations she had become wasted, especially about the hips and thighs. But her skin was unblemished and creamy white, the color of fresh milk. She practically glowed in the low light.” 

Herta’s relationship with Halina is extremely complicated, although it does undoubtedly have homoerotic tones. Herta begins watching and falling for Halina when the latter woman begins assisting her at the hospital. Herta finds a companion in Halina, and even though she is attracted to her, Herta does not attempt to help her. Herta notices how thin Halina has gotten but does not sneak her food. Likewise, she realizes Halina’s children are being experimented upon but continues to do so anyway. 

“Sometime that night I woke. Was I hallucinating? I was lying back in the ward, in my bed, only a dim glow coming from the window. A slice of light flashed into the room as the door opened and closed. I caught my mother’s scent and thought she stood by my bed for a few seconds, and then I felt her tuck me in, lifting the mattress and pulling the sheet extra tight underneath as she always did. Matka! I felt her lips meet my forehead and linger there.

“I tried to reach out but could not. Please stay.

“Soon there was another slice of light, and she was gone.” 

This is a key moment in Kasia’s life. For a long time, Kasia thinks that she imagines this moment, that her mother left her or that she died without saying goodbye. After Kasia confronts Herta, she realizes that Matka did say goodbye after all. This gives Kasia closure and she is finally able to accept her mother’s death. 

“After that, the name Rabbits stuck, and everyone at the camp called us this. Króliki in Polish. Medical guinea pigs. Lapins in French. Even Dr. Oberheuser called us her Persuchskaninchen. Experimental rabbits.” 

The women are called the Rabbits of Ravensbrück. The name brings them both pain and pleasure. Because of their story, the women are able to go to America and receive medical aid that they otherwise would not have been able to get. On the other hand, the women are constantly referred to as scared prey animals; dehumanized and objectified both by the people who hurt them and those who want to help them.

“‘I guess somewhere in a corner of our hearts, we are always twenty.’” 

Paul desperately wants to go back in time and be with Caroline in New York. Caroline realizes the futility of this hope but the nostalgia for what once was will always remain with them. This sense of nostalgia also resonates with the imprisoned woman, who cannot go back to who they were before the war.

“‘You have a choice. To wallow in the unfairness of it all or rise above it. Fix it. Let other people in.’” 

Marthe says this to Kasia after the latter refuses to let her daughter paint. Kasia is so stuck in the past that she is unable to see the present, to be with her daughter and her husband. Kasia hates Marthe; she believes Ade has replaced Halina with Marthe. Marthe wants nothing but to help Kasia and she says the above despite knowing that it might only rekindle her rage.

“Even if he didn’t have a family, it could never be like before. The world was so different now.” 

Caroline realizes that everything has changed. Although Paul wants to return to the way things used to be, that is no longer possible. Caroline does not believe that there is a future for them, but she will soon realize that though the past is unattainable, happiness in the future is very much possible.

“‘We are ladies, Miss Ferriday. Ladies who don’t all like being called Rabbits—easily frightened, caged animals. Ladies who live in a country where we cannot accept gifts. Is this not obvious to you? A new handbag from an American? People disappear for a lot less. A Polish journalist accepted chocolates from an American, and no one has heard from her since.’” 

Kasia says this to Miss Ferriday, who offers the survivors lavish gifts from America. The above passage is an example of Caroline’s well-intentioned ignorance. Although she means well, Caroline unknowingly offends the very people that she means to help and care for—she thinks American gifts are appropriate, whereas the Polish women do not.

“But it’s fitting in a way—Father loved the fact that a lilac only blossoms after a harsh winter.”

The lilac is a central motif in the novel and represents Caroline, Zuzanna, and Kasia as they face their respective struggles through the war and ultimately find happiness. Like the lilac, the women continue to live after the war, despite their respective traumas.

“I walked past Pietrik’s room. He slept with one arm across his face, chest bare. Beautiful. What if I just crawled in with him? Why didn’t I have the courage to sleep with my own husband?” 

Pietrik is still Kasia’s first love, but she is unable to be vulnerable with him, to feel any emotion apart from the easy rage that she has lived with for over a decade. Although Pietrik tries to be there for Kasia the same way she was for him, it is her journey alone to confront Herta and her anger that can bring her closer to him. 

“A slew of British doctors was ready to help me pressure the German government to revoke Herta’s medical license. Anise and friends were ready to go to battle as well. Herta was just one of many on our list of Nazi war criminals who needed to be held accountable.”

The community of strangers that continue to fight for justice despite the end of the war is a testament to its horrors. This demonstrates the strength and determination that resonated within the survivors—Kasia refuses to let the war criminal Herta go unscathed for her actions.

“I knew the doctor had liked Matka, but would my mother really have socialized with this criminal? Matka had surely only pretended to be friendly in order to organize supplies.” 

In many ways, Kasia is the same girl who entered Ravensbrück; she continues to have the idealistic and idolatrous love most children have for their parents. Although Kasia finds the relationship between Herta and Halina odd, she may never guess the exact nature of it. Kasia is similarly unable to accept that Halina might have actually been friends with Lennart, the SS man. 

“I stepped out of the office with a new lightness, leaving the door ajar, no longer craving the vibration of the slam.” 

After Kasia confronts Herta, she is finally given closure about Halina’s death. Kasia has her mother’s ring back, and by extension, her mother as well. She is now able to let go of the rage that fueled her for so long and move forward. 

“I passed the square under Lublin Castle where the ghetto once stood, now gone, demolished by forced laborers during the war, leaving only a brass plaque. Past our old pink sliver of a house where, at Felka’s grave in the backyard, Caroline’s lilacs had already taken root, on their way to growing into the prettiest, strongest plant. I rode down the street where Matka once walked me to school. I smiled at the memory of her, no longer a hot knife to the chest. I passed the new hospital and thought of Zuzanna with Caroline and hoped she was well. Maybe Halina and I would go to New York one day. She would like the art museums.”

Kasia finally begins to look towards the future rather than the past. Throughout the last decade or so of her life, Kasia has lived in her memory. She clung to her bitterness and was unable to live her life or let her family in as a result. Now Kasia is able to be like the lilac and bloom as a result of the harsh winter, rather than remain stuck under the ice.