“Kyiv was still a city at peace,” Yaroslav Trofimov writes about the afternoon of February 23, 2022, the day before Russian forces invaded Ukraine. The sun was shining, the bars were full; he saw no scenes of panic buying at the shops or snaking lines at the ATMs.
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Most of the book chronicles his travels throughout Ukraine during the first year of the war, lingering especially on the chaos of those early weeks. He had to prove his identity to some fellow Ukrainians by saying the word for a bread that Russians apparently have a hard time pronouncing. Staring down the Kalashnikovs of screaming police officers, he made a video call to an interior ministry official who vouched that Trofimov was not a Russian spy. As the war ground on, artefacts of a thriving economy began to look like cruel taunts. Amid the wreckage of Kharkiv, “decapitated mannequins spilled out of windows,” and a Nike billboard boasted, “We planned for everything.”
The book is divided into 48 chapters spread out over 11 parts; such fragmentation is a sign that the story Trofimov is telling is still unfolding, its arc still unclear. Most of the Ukrainians he quotes are adam-ant about repell-ing the Russian invasion, including some who had been supporters of Putin’s Russia before February 2022. One Russian-speaking mayor of a Ukrainian town scoffs at “the Russians and their imperial mania of greatness.” But Trofimov also meets Ukrainians living in places where “the Russian takeover had been quick and painless,” whose lives were severely disrupted only after the occupiers withdrew.
The desire for stability is a constant, Trofimov finds, fuelling fearful collaboration with the Russians in some cases and fierce resistance in others. A morgue attendant in Mykolaiv, a city near the Black Sea, gestures at a pile of cadavers brought back from the front line. “Now we can go to a shop that is full of goods or buy a cup of tea,” he tells Trofimov. “We are free to walk the streets.” His point is that the return of ordinary pleasures is a hard-won victory. But it is also provisional. Trofimov describes a bustling promenade in one paragraph and bodies being pulled out of the rubble in the next.
The book’s title is a line from Ukraine’s national anthem: “Our enemies will vanish/Like dew at sunrise.” Trofimov clings to this rousing sentiment, even if the war reporter in him is constantly reminded that conflicts never work out that way. “A long, grueling fight lay ahead,” he writes at the very end of the book. It’s a sober, plain-spoken assessment that doesn’t tell us all that much — which is also what makes it honest.
©2024 The New York Times News Service
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