Kochan’s love for the land he grew up in and his family comes through strongly in this often pained story, especially in the early chapters when he is describing his youth in Tudorkovychi. While the memoir is fundamentally apolitical, the historical context Kochan lives through casts a shadow on his experiences: He describes the fear of being educated within a police state and the chilling experiences of witnessing the “Great Aktion”—the clearing of the Lviv ghetto and murder of over 50,000 of its residents.
Family photos are also included to give readers a better sense of who the main characters involved are, but a map may help readers who are less familiar with the geography. A Generation of Leaves is framed by lovely reminisces from Christine Kochan Foster, Ivan’s daughter and one of the editors. Kochan’s vividly detailed experiences as a refugee are upsetting but also inspiring in his and others’ courage and dedication to find safety and to keep the very idea of Ukraine alive, at a time when the “leaves” are scattering. Likewise heartening: his persistent dream of a free and peaceful Ukraine.
Takeaway: Moving memoir of a Ukrainian’s wrenching experiences in World War II.
Comparable Titles: Timothy Snyder’s Bloodlands, Anatoly Kuznetsov’s Babi Yar .
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: B
An informative tale, told with buoyancy, poignancy, anger, and love. -Kirkus Reviews
Kochan offers reflections on life in the Old Country and the upheaval of World War II that led to his 1948 immigration to Canada. This posthumously published memoir, compiled and edited by his daughter, Christine Kochan Foster, and collaborator Mark Collins Jenkins, is both a personal tale and a story of generations of Ukrainians longing for national independence. The author was born in 1923 in the small village of Tudorkovychi, then part of eastern Poland; nearly all the roughly 1,200 inhabitants were Ukrainians. To the east was Ukraine, then part of the Soviet Union. During his early years, Kochan was raised by his paternal grandparents; he later learned that his parents had divorced. His father lived in another town and was a member of the Polish Parliament; his mother had returned to her parents’ farm, close to Kochan’s home. In the fall of 1930, the then-7-year-old author witnessed his first example of the endemic ethnic and political conflicts in Eastern Europe: Polish troops marched through his village hunting for members of the more violent of two Ukrainian Separatist groups. The narrative is packed with lavish imagery of the Ukrainian countryside and is encyclopedic in its detailing of local culinary, social, and religious customs. It’s also a tale of the author’s hair-raising adventures as he moved from town to town, and country to country, trying to continue his education as Europe moved closer to war. Overall, this is not only an engaging portrait of World War II from the perspective of European civilians caught in its midst, but also a timely one; in 2015, when Russia annexed Crimea, Kochan’s daughter asked her elderly father whether he thought Russia would stop with that acquisition: “They’ll be back,” he replied, presciently. “They always come back.”