A fraught, fragile family

In this bittersweet work of historical fiction, Manitoba’s Sarah Klassen tells a powerful story that explores childlessness, family and belonging in a Mennonite family, set against the backdrop of the Russian Revolution.

Best known for her poetry, Klassen has also published several works of short fiction.

Her 2013 debut novel, The Wittenbergs, examined the history and inner struggles of a Mennonite family in 1990s Winnipeg.

The Russian Daughter is a worthy followup. Both novels demonstrate Klassen’s gifts for storytelling, period pieces and thoughtful prose.

The Russian Daughter opens some years before the 1917 Russian Revolution in the Mennonite village of Friedental.

Friedental is one of many Mennonite communities located on the Russian steppes, segregated from mainstream Russian life but aware of growing political unrest.

However, Isaak and Amalia Albrecht, a prosperous but childless couple, are more interested in news of a pregnant, unmarried Russian girl in a nearby city.

Amalia is desperate for a child. So Isaak agrees they should adopt the baby despite his worries about the mother’s heritage.

“He wishes the girl were here in Friedental instead of in Kharkov. That she were not Russian but a Mennonite girl,” Klassen writes.

Amalia and Isaak expect their new daughter, Sofia, will complete their family. But parenthood is not as they expected.

As their family is shaken again and again by misunderstandings, unmet needs and events beyond their control, they must adjust their views of the world and learn to accept each other for who they are.

Klassen doesn’t make obvious links between the current Russian invasion of Ukraine and the political events of 1917.

Instead, she subtly implies Friedental is located in what is now Ukraine and lets readers draw their own parallels.

It’s a strategy that demonstrates Klassen’s subtle but powerful storytelling. She doesn’t waste words and each character is believable and not always easy to understand.

Readers may not always like Amalia, who sometimes blames Sofia for not being the perfect child Amalia dreamed of.

However, many mothers will relate to Amalia’s conflicts as she raises a child who doesn’t always seem to appreciate her:

“She’s trying to love her adopted daughter who shows her so little love in return,” Klassen writes of Amalia.

While Sofia is well-developed and richly imagined, she is also symbolic of the Mennonites’ relationship with Russia.

Sofia and her family love each other but often treat each other badly; they struggle to connect and always remember their differences.

When Sofia’s teacher asks if her adopted parents have been good to her, Sofia answers truthfully, “Sometimes. Not always… And I haven’t always been good to them.”

Klassen takes a refreshingly matter-of-fact view of historical Mennonite life. In contrast to fellow Mennonite writers Miriam Toews and David Bergen, Klassen doesn’t deliberately portray Mennonites as hypocritical or corrupt.

She also avoids the clichés of portraying pre-revolutionary Mennonite villages as paradise or emigration to Canada as a ticket to the promised land.

Instead, the people of Friedental appear as flawed but sympathetic people who prefer their own way of life but love their homeland and acknowledge their own shortcomings.

Kathryne Cardwell is a Winnipeg writer.

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