The Bohemian Flats: A Novel by Mary Relindes
An excellent book for the generations of immigrants who lost track of the historical divisions that precipitated wars and land grabs that continue to this day.
As a child born in 1940 my first recollections of WW ll was the slogan “Kill the Nazis” that turned into this: “Kill the Germans”. Ironically that war that ended in 1945 was the last war that America would win.
Historically speaking this well-written monumental book is a great eye opener.
Excerpts:
“There is nothing much for you and Albert here in Germany, being second and third sons. Nothing to inherit. You need to become more fluent in English. Albert is nearly there. Because when you become men, you will need to leave this country, leave Europe. It is America you must go to. There at least you will have the chance to find what the French call joie de vivre—the joy of life.”
He strolls through neighborhoods, rich, middle class, and working poor, seeing that the definition of each level remains the same. The rich have large and opulent houses set back from the road with large flower gardens and lawns, many gated to keep uninvited pedestrians out. The middle class have smaller but still comfortable houses, sitting on just enough of a lot to command some respectable grass frontage. The poor neighborhoods are like the Flats, a group of Minneapolis police officers are forcing an Indian family to leave the teepee they had pitched among the trees next to a sash and door company. He watches city workers dismantle the teepee, stack the lodge poles, and pile up the hides that covered them. The Indian family watches impassively but Raymundo recognizes the deep reserve of grief.
The Lutherans in Augsburg saw miracles as flamboyant displays of Catholic mysticism and a shameless way to peddle holy relics: something the Protestants had gotten rid of with the Reformation.
They had learned about the Peace of Augsburg agreement in 1555, allowing the two religions to coexist with uneasy duality.
“Do not tell me what is blasphemous!” “This discussion is clearly pointless,” Albert interjects. “We are withdrawing our sons from the school. My wife and I will teach them at home. Good day.” “Then they will be cast into ignorance,” the priest shouts as they walk away. Magdalena turns around. “I doubt that very much. It is you who is ignorant. Damnant quodnon intelligent.” The old priest stares at her. She reads his thoughts as though he has spoken. The Jew speaks Latin. He makes the sign of the cross with a shaking hand.
The Fox Lake people found the name of the church and school strange—Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow—and after seeing a man nailed to a crosshatch of logs inside, concluded that the Catholics were obsessed with sorrow, death, and punishment.
She thinks of Ernst Hasse, the founder of the Alldeutsche Verband—the Pan-German League—and what he said, published in an Augsburg newspaper in 1891. We want territory even if it belongs to foreigners, so that we may shape the future according to our needs. Her mother was horrified, her father disgusted.
They know now that the book that Raymond had sent to them—Northern Wisconsin: A Hand-book for the Homeseeker—was greatly exaggerated and full of outright lies in some parts.
It was a book that lured Joseph Weir to this part of Wisconsin. They have since learned that the lumber companies, after decimating the land of its timber, colluded in the lie so that they could unload what they considered worthless land onto to unsuspecting immigrants.
It upset them but did not deter them.
She is no longer in control of what happens, is no longer so safe from harm. There is a bigger world, a world in which people hate other people based on where they are from.
Father Boland is affected by the disturbing news but refuses to have his German parishioners bear the guilt of actions they are not a part of. Rather than destroy the books, he has put them in the rectory’s attic.
The number of German deserters has skyrocketed; more have given themselves up as prisoners, desperate for food and sick of fighting. Some of them are thrilled when Americans capture them. “I want to be a citizen of America,” a young private announced to Eberhard, his hands still in the air.
Even if he had the money, he fears what would happen in his absence if he left the front line of the battle. He also fears that a visit would ensnare him into becoming involved in the inevitable second war. And he won’t do that. He’s done his service. He won’t abandon the Flats again. Goddamn Hitler! he thinks. Goddamn Minneapolis!
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