Tag Archives: Voices from Chernobyl

Innocence and Optimism among Young Narrators in “Voices from Chernobyl” and “A Child’s Drawings”

The motifs of youthful innocence and child-like optimism are pervasive in Psychologist Pyotr S.’s testimony from the Chernobyl disaster during the Cold War. In describing his childhood years before Chernobyl, he states that he would dress up and “play dad” in an attempt to “see how life would appear” for those around him amidst the hostilities of war (Alexievich 26). With that said, Pytor states that he had still always felt protected, constantly believing that “the most horrible things had already happened” (26). This scene portrays one child’s optimism amidst an entire nation’s suffering. The juxtaposition of these images emphasizes innocence that had served to both symbolically and literally protect these children from the darkness of their war-environment.

This notion of being protected by one’s youth is not only a key element of Pytor’s testimony, but it is also clearly illustrated in the child’s drawings within Varlaam Shalamov’s piece “A Child’s Drawings.” In this short story, the boy artist had also lived in the Russian North during wartime, just like Pytor. However, this young artist functions merely as an apostrophe, represented only by the illustrated notebook he leaves behind. In this notebook, he draws bright green grounds and clear blue skies (Shalamov 137). Furthermore, he depicts numerous “yellow fences,” “black lines of barbed wire,” and soldiers traversing the Russian landscape (137). Just like Pytor’s childhood testimony, these illustrations are optimistic, expressing both bright, solid colors, and the images of defense and protection. Note, these drawings suggest that the boy’s memories focus more so on the notion of defense, rather than the specific destruction of war.

The final connective feature I would like to elaborate on is the sense of fear and greater understanding possessed by older characters within both of these pieces, despite the youthful optimism of younger ones. For instance, in Pytor’s testimony, he speaks about how his “past no longer protects ” him, as he is no longer protected by neither his childhood nor the optimism that had come along with it (Alexievich 26). The quotation that “there aren’t any answers” left in the past suggests that Pytor comes to realize that the world is more complex, now that he is an adult (26). Meanwhile, the convict in “A Child’s Drawing” functions as the older character, and has a similar realization about the complexity of life. He states that he is frightened by the brightness and lack of halftones in the artwork, and implies that there is a void of grey area and complexity in these illustrations. Overall, the wisdom of the narrator/artist in each of these pieces plays an important role in his perception of war scenes around him.

The format of Voice from Chernobyl

The impact of Svetlana Alexievich’s Voice from Chernobyl is helped by the book’s unique form. The first part is told in a series of unrelated monologues all circling around personal experience of the disaster. Each incredibly intimate and horrifying monologue begins to add to a collective voice about the event without minimizing or generalizing any single experience.

Alexievivh’s prologue titled “a solitary human voice” (5) begins to justify her unique form. This staring monologue is longer than the rest, taking pages to tell the two-week long suffering and eventual death of one of the first responders to the reactors. The repeat theme of this narrative is the growing de-humanization of Vasily, the narrator’s husband. Once taken away from their home and moved to a hospital in Moscow, the narrator is told multiple times that, “You have to understand: this is not your husband anymore, not a beloved person, but a radioactive object with a strong density of poisoning” (16).  The narrator is instructed to look past the humanity of her husband, ignore him as a victim and instead view him as an object.

Just as the narrator is asked to distance themselves from the humanity of her husband, the Soviet government asked citizens to distance themselves from the human horror of Chernobyl and instead focus their attention on the environmental impact. The rest of Alexievich monologues are an attempt to destroy this crafted blind spot.

A shift in fear

A reoccurring theme I picked up on in Alexievich’s Voices from Chernobyl was the greater fear humans had of fellow humans than of the natural environment and creatures within it. The quote that captured my attention initially was the following: “Any animal is afraid of a human. If you don’t touch him, he’ll walk around you. Used to be, you’d be in the forest and you’d hear human voices, you’d run toward them. Now people hide from one another. God save me from meeting a person in the forest!” (44). The first part, “any animal is afraid of a human” seems accurate and nondebatable to me – humans typically sit above most animals on the food chain and have historically displayed dominance over lesser species. The last part of this quote is what I found most striking. The voice of this quote claims that where humans were once unbothered by, and maybe even comforted by, the sound of human voice, we now fear it. Not only do we fear fellow humans in this situation, but we also retreat from them, which is the opposite, this quote claims, from what used to be true of mankind. The last part, “God save me from meeting a person in the forest!” really shows the fear of this person, and others in his situation, have of other humans. Considering the context of this time and their experiences in Chernobyl, fear of others humans can be understood.

Another woman discusses her level of comfort with humans in the forest, explaining that upon leaving home each day she dressed in “clean clothes, a freshly laundered blouse, skirt, underthings” (60) in preparation for if she were to be killed that day. She explains further, “Now I walk through the forest by myself and I’m not afraid of anyone. There aren’t any people in the forest, not a soul” (60). We have seen in some of the past literature we’ve read a fear of the elemental forces of nature, the sublimity, and the unknown; however, the fear this woman refers to regards humans, those of her very own species. We further learn, “I can’t be afraid of the earth, the water. I’m afraid of people” (60). This clearly shows the shift from a fear of nature to the fear of humans. She did not expand on what fear of the earth, water, and nature more generally entails, but we might speculate that fear of these things might have to do with their vastness, elemental force, unpredictability, etc.

Another man shares, “And I’ll say this: birds, and trees, and ants, they’re closer to me now than they were. I think about them, too. Man is frightening. And strange” (66). His current relationship with nature – what he defines as birds, trees, and ants – is more evident than it was before, in part to do with the decline in his relationship with humans. More broadly we might consider society as a whole and how this decline in human-to-human relations may be applicable more broadly. Lastly, one man states, “I am afraid of man. And also I want to meet him. I want to meet a good person. Yes” (67). This quote has a different tone than the rest. The ones discussed previously more directly point out the fear of humans and lack of fear of nature. However, the tone of the latter quote is more hopeful – while the man fears humans, he does want to meet someone that can disprove his fear of humans. The experiences of the people in this book are horrifying and the trauma and terrible mistreatment they have endured under the supervision and leadership of fellow humans makes it abundantly clear why they may be conditioned to fear humans. This last quote, while more hopeful, reinforces that idea.