Boy meets girl. That’s how countless romantic novels and sappy movies usually start. Clumsy boy meets irritated girl, they argue, they split, they realize their love, and violins play.
You know, of course, that real life is nothing like that at all, it’s messier and louder. And in the new book, “Milena and Margarete” by Gwen Strauss, it can be tender, but dangerous.
So many coincidences.
When Ravensbruck, the Nazi concentration camp for women, was first in operation, it was more lax than other camps nearby. Says Strauss, it was still a prison, but there were flowers planted there, and the head guard gave her prisoners more freedom.
In early 1940, though, the power between prisoner’s blocks abruptly shifted, causing positions of influence within the population to change.
When she arrived in Ravensbruck that year, activist Grete Buber-Neumann’s language and interpersonal skills put her in place to be appointed room elder in the Asoziale block, the lowest of Ravensbruck’s caste system. Later, she was appointed block elder, which gave Grete more privileges around the camp, which was cleaner than the Gulag where Stalin had sent her years before. More privileges allowed opportunities to receive quietly-passed messages like the one from Milena Jesenska, requesting a “meeting.”
It was a meeting Grete would remember for the rest of her life.
Grete had never loved a woman before but she was smitten with Milena. As the daughter of a famous man, Milena enjoyed limited protection from the cruelty of the camp’s commandant, and Grete was captivated. When mere touches mattered, the women met away from guards and the commandant, away from prying informants, as often as they dared.
“The language… we have today,” says Strauss, didn’t exist to explain the relationship between Grete and Milena, but the Nazis considered them as “other” and abnormal.
Among Ravensbruck’s prisoners, they were known as “passionate friends.”
And people like them would be targeted for extermination….
So you say you’re up for a nice, tender romance, something unusual. That’s what you’ll find inside “Milena and Margarete,” but you’ll absolutely need to beware: yes, there’s history here, which means that this story is wrapped so very tightly inside brutality and horror that finding any softness takes a wince, a deep breath, and a strong stomach.
In her afterword, author Gwen Strauss explains how she discovered this tale and how she was drawn to Milena’s life and her bravery. Throughout, Strauss nicely frames social attitudes from then and now, helping readers understand how astounding this account is, while simultaneously waving aside archival records written by people who were not gay or lesbian. She purposely avoided certain terms, too, which helps readers to immerse themselves in the story without conclusion or judgment.
Strauss admits using some imagination in penning this book, so be aware that what you’ll read is well-researched but at least somewhat novelized. If you can handle the fictional parts, the stomach-churning brutality of it, and the heartbreak inside “Milena and Margarete,” though, it might be the most compelling book you’ll ever meet.
Want more? Then look for “The Women’s Orchestra of Auschwitz” by Anne Sebba (also from St. Martin’s Press). It’s the story of the women and girls who formed the orchestra that played music to concentration camp inmates on their way to and from work each day. It’s a tale of survival and brutality, so be warned.
