Diary of an Invasion:

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Then the armoured personnel carrier halted outside the house. “Any talk about heroism, like stopping an APC, etc – that’s for big cities,” he wrote. “We’re a small village, where the number of patriotic people you could bring together was two, three people max. I had known this for a long time, which is why I lived my life as a hermit.” Probably the first important literary work to emerge from a conflict that appears likely to alter the course of world history, Diary of an Invasion is a thoughtful and humane memoir by one of Ukraine’s most prominent living authors." —Simon Caterson, The Sydney Morning Herald On February 24, 2022, all citizens of Ukraine found that their lifetime had been cut brutally in two, into the period “before the war” and that “during the war”. Of course, we all hope that there will be a period “after the war as well”. The soldiers finally left the house. Vakulenko told his parents he had been taken to a “special department” set up near the village school, where he had been beaten in the groin. The soldiers had told him: “Don’t get upset.”

On the Donbas front we meet Ukrainian soldiers, outgunned and exposed, who adopt the dogs and cats left by fleeing civilians. Not only are they company, but the animals can hear incoming shells three seconds earlier than any human. When their pets take cover, so do the troops. Ukraine has lost probably 50,000 people already - 30,000 in Mariupol alone - so in every village there are now widows and orphans. This hate will not disappear." One of my favourite writers A.J.Cronin gets a mention in Kurkov's diary. But not in the way we might expect. That particular passage goes like this –Ukraine will either be free, independent, and European, or it will not exist at all. (…) Ukrainians did not give up even when they were not free – after WW2, the partisan war against the Soviets in Ukraine continued until the early 1960s. Ukrainians will not now give up, especially after thirty years of free and independent life.” on big explosions, when nothing remains, no identification is possible - forever missing [entertainment center in Kremenchuk] Every war leaves a deep wound in the soul of a person. It remains a part of life even when the war itself has ended. I have the feeling that the war is now inside me. It is like knowing that you live with a tumour that cannot be removed. You cannot get away from the war. It has become a chronic, incurable disease. It can kill, or it can simply remain in the body and in the head, regularly reminding you of its presence, like a disease of the spine. Eight months on, despite almost worldwide condemnation of Vladimir Putin's actions, the fighting remains vicious and vast swathes of Ukraine are without water or electricity.

When I saw someone reading this at the cafe in the spring, I thought it might be a good introduction to Ukraine (a country I know little about) and the war from the Ukrainian perspective. I’m so glad I did. This is written just before and during the first 6 months of the war. Kurkov and his family become IDPs in their own country and he essentially journals that experience. He is furious and anxious and grim but also full of cautious patriotism and hope for his country. While key events we know from the news are referenced, Kurkov also covers the mundanity and minutiae of war. What people do in the in between. He also talks history and politics and culture but also about his neighbours and shops and cinema and the plight of animals. I found it really enlightening to have his perspective on Russian aggression, Putin’s motivations, European politics as it pertains to Ukraine and Ukrainian daily life (the culture of Ukrainian borscht! Easter bread! Eurovision! Life in metro stations. The people who stay.) But most interesting was Kurkov’s discussions about the status of Ukrainian literature and the attempted cultural destruction of Ukraine by Russia. In the Ukrainian countryside, there is a long tradition of having plenty of bread on the table and of eating it with butter and salt or dipping it in milk. Russians were vertical in their thinking, always looking feudally upwards,” he concludes. “Ukrainians were horizontal – a collective or superorganism. This millions-strong, decentralised network was working tirelessly towards a shared and shimmering goal: victory.”On the night of February 23rd this year a few writers and journalists gathered in the Kyiv flat of renowned writer Andrey Kurkov, where their host fed them borshch, Ukraine’s national dish. Having registered on TikTok to follow the account of artillery officer Tetyana Chubar, I have started worrying about her too. I am willing her to emerge victorious from each new artillery duel and I would gladly support her quest to paint the self-propelled cannon pink all over – albeit after the war, of course. I think this will not only be her biggest reward but will be the icing on the cake for all her TikTok followers."

As for a possible coup, he adds: "Putin is from the KGB, he is very well protected. He has made the two Russian secret services - the FSB and GRU, the Army intelligence service - fight each other, the typical behaviour of a dictator. The truth is, nobody's happy there. In reality they have already lost the war. They can still destroy Ukraine, but the war is lost."

Once again, for the third time this century, Ukraine has won the Eurovision song contest. Each of the country’s victories in this competition has come in the wake of historical upheaval. I want to believe that this year’s victory will be the last for many years. I don’t usually watch the Eurovision and I missed this one too, but I’ve listened to the winning song and I like it. Most of all, I like the solidarity of the Europeans who voted for Ukraine. This erasure of history, memory and fact is, Kurkov says, key to the enduring power of the Kremlin, whoever may be lodged there, whether Czar, Stalin or Putin. Most Russians, he says, don’t want to know what the Kremlin did to Ukraine: they don’t even want to know what it did to Russia. But then, Ukraine is a country of many shades of political opinion - there are some 400 registered parties - and this rampant individualism, Kurkov says, is at the heart of the nation's steadfast opposition to Russia.