This Rebel Heart
(Sprache: Englisch)
The Fountains of Silence meets Spinning Silver in this rollicking tale set amid the 1956 Hungarian revolution in post-WWII Communist Budapest from Sydney Taylor Honor winner Katherine Locke.
In the middle of Budapest, there is a river. Csilla...
In the middle of Budapest, there is a river. Csilla...
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The Fountains of Silence meets Spinning Silver in this rollicking tale set amid the 1956 Hungarian revolution in post-WWII Communist Budapest from Sydney Taylor Honor winner Katherine Locke.In the middle of Budapest, there is a river. Csilla knows the river is magic. During WWII, the river kept her family safe when they needed it most--safe from the Holocaust. But that was before the Communists seized power. Before her parents were murdered by the Soviet police. Before Csilla knew things about her father's legacy that she wishes she could forget.
Now Csilla keeps her head down, planning her escape from this country that has never loved her the way she loves it. But her carefully laid plans fall to pieces when her parents are unexpectedly, publicly exonerated. As the protests in other countries spur talk of a larger revolution in Hungary, Csilla must decide if she believes in the promise and magic of her deeply flawed country enough to risk her life to help save it, or if she should let it burn to the ground.
With queer representation, fabulist elements, and a pivotal but little-known historical moment, This Rebel Heart is Katherine Locke's tour de force.
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Chapter OneCsilla
October 17, 1956
When she woke, she woke in pieces.
This happened often.
She had to pull herself together. In her sleep, Csilla Tisza s body drifted apart. Her hands were always farthest, reaching for the window that was bolted shut. The window that faced the Danube River.
She was invariably returning to the river.
She assembled herself, letting the skin knit edge to edge, seamless except to those looking for the seams of her. Her shoulder touched and bonded again to her upper arm, her upper arm to her elbow, her elbow to her forearm, her forearm to her wristbones, her wristbones to her hands. Only then could she curl her fingers against her palm, the fist sending a pulse of pain to her mind. That was how she knew she was connected again. The pain.
Her eyes never left her skull.
It was as if they knew better. They d seen things out there, in the world, that they didn t want to see again. They d rather stay here, beneath the quilt her mother had made, in the bed where her parents made her, in an apartment one-fourth the size it was when she was a child, when she was one-fourth the size she was now.
Csilla s hair stayed attached to her head too, moon-colored as it d been since the day she was born. It was luminous, catching and throwing the light like a prism, every strand reflecting and deflecting light so it was impossible not to stare at the threaded lines on the walls that moved when she moved.
She wore the river on her head.
There had been little color left in Budapest since the end of the war. The Soviets marched in, and color marched out. (In truth, by the time the Soviets arrived, the only color left in Budapest was blue--the color of the sky, the color of babies eyes, the color of the thread in her father s tallit, the color of her mother s favorite dress.)
Next to her, in the only bed they had, her aunt slept, mostly in one
... mehr
piece, as one body. Her aunt never drifted too far from herself.
Csilla took a deep breath, pressing her hand flat against her chest, just above her left breast. Her heart beat against her palm. She was alive. Somewhere beyond this bed, somewhere beyond this window, the river whispered to her.
She could feel the whispers in her chest, could hear them in her mind. When she was a child, before the war, before the river, her parents spoke to each other in Yiddish, a language they didn t share with her. This was how the river felt to her--a language that soothed her, a constant presence, but one she barely understood.
When she was a child and her parents spoke Yiddish, she wanted to understand. By the time she was old enough to understand that they d use Yiddish to speak about her, or about things they didn t want her to hear, or to fight, they d stopped speaking Yiddish. Her mother had continued to speak Yiddish with her sister, Csilla s aunt Ilona, but that was the entirety of the Yiddish left after the war, after the Shoah: soft words between sisters in the early mornings, over cups of coffee and in the bathroom, where one brushed the other s hair.
When her parents died, so did the Yiddish in their home.
Csilla had only the river left and its quiet, ceaseless murmurings.
Still, as every morning, Csilla waited, listening to the apartment as if she could hear it speak, as if something might have shifted overnight while the earth turned slowly. As if time would rewind.
She wanted time to rewind, but she didn t know where she d stop it if she could. She d go back to four years ago, before Stalin died, before her parents were detained and murdered by the Hungarian secret police, the ÁVH, for a crime she was sure they hadn t committed--the crime of dual loyalty, of Zionism. She d go back ten years, to her father s joining the Hungarian
Csilla took a deep breath, pressing her hand flat against her chest, just above her left breast. Her heart beat against her palm. She was alive. Somewhere beyond this bed, somewhere beyond this window, the river whispered to her.
She could feel the whispers in her chest, could hear them in her mind. When she was a child, before the war, before the river, her parents spoke to each other in Yiddish, a language they didn t share with her. This was how the river felt to her--a language that soothed her, a constant presence, but one she barely understood.
When she was a child and her parents spoke Yiddish, she wanted to understand. By the time she was old enough to understand that they d use Yiddish to speak about her, or about things they didn t want her to hear, or to fight, they d stopped speaking Yiddish. Her mother had continued to speak Yiddish with her sister, Csilla s aunt Ilona, but that was the entirety of the Yiddish left after the war, after the Shoah: soft words between sisters in the early mornings, over cups of coffee and in the bathroom, where one brushed the other s hair.
When her parents died, so did the Yiddish in their home.
Csilla had only the river left and its quiet, ceaseless murmurings.
Still, as every morning, Csilla waited, listening to the apartment as if she could hear it speak, as if something might have shifted overnight while the earth turned slowly. As if time would rewind.
She wanted time to rewind, but she didn t know where she d stop it if she could. She d go back to four years ago, before Stalin died, before her parents were detained and murdered by the Hungarian secret police, the ÁVH, for a crime she was sure they hadn t committed--the crime of dual loyalty, of Zionism. She d go back ten years, to her father s joining the Hungarian
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Katherine Locke
Katherine Locke
Produktdetails
- Autor: Katherine Locke
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 12 Jahre
- 2022, Internationale Ausgabe, 448 Seiten, Maße: 13,8 x 20,6 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Knopf Books for Young Readers
- ISBN-10: 0593487664
- ISBN-13: 9780593487662
- Erscheinungsdatum: 05.05.2022
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
"Vivid, suspenseful, emotionally grounded, and heartbreaking... essential reading for lovers of historical fiction." SLJ, starred review"A breathtaking, affecting work . The queer characters, gentle three-way romance and passionate socio-political activism in This Rebel Heart are likely to strike a recognizable chord for teens of any era." Shelf Awareness, starred review
"Like Sepetys The Fountains of Silence, this will certainly send readers to research a lesser-known resistance movement and realize that while it s easy to judge history in hindsight, it s far more difficult, but necessary, to try to make it." The Bulletin, starred review
With its richly drawn characters and gutting depictions of post-Holocaust trauma and antisemitism, This Rebel Heart is a grounded, often heartbreaking account of Jewish life under Russian occupation." Polygon
"Katherine Locke isn t a household name yet. This Rebel Heart could very well be the book to change that." BookPage
"History and magic intertwine in a beautifully rendered Budapest.... Challenging and rewarding." Kirkus Reviews
"Locke offers an original, moving tribute to the bravery of freedom fighters straight and queer, Jewish and gentile who risked their lives for their cause." Publishers Weekly
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