As my love of historical fiction persists, I sometimes struggle to find stories that are both engaging and informative. But I hit the jackpot with City of Thieves, a refreshing combination of captivating storytelling and historically accurate content.
With rich character development, deep insights and an odd bit of humor, David Benioff spins the story about the heartbreaking siege of Leningrad into so much more.
I know what you’re thinking: humor doesn’t belong in a novel about World War II. And before reading this book, I would’ve wholeheartedly agreed.
But something about Benioff’s language and ability to shift his tone from lighthearted to devastated in a rapid yet controlled way tilted my previous stance on its axis.
To preface, when I found this book on a bookshelf in my basement — apparently it was assigned to my siblings in high school and they hated it — I had barely wiped away the dust before deciding it wasn’t for me.
But I decided to push my doubts aside and flipped the paper back over to read Benioff’s blurb.
I’ll admit, I thought it sounded bizarre at first.
The summary reads:
“During the Nazi’s brutal siege of Leningrad, Lev Beniov is arrested for looting and thrown into the same cell as a handsome deserter named Kolya. Instead of being executed, Lev and Kolya are given a shot at saving their own lives by complying with an outrageous directive: secure a dozen eggs for a powerful Soviet colonel to use in his daughter’s wedding cake. In a city cut off from all supplies and suffering unbelievable deprivation, Lev and Koyla embark on a hunt through the dire lawlessness of Leningrad and behind enemy lines to find the impossible.”
I blinked a few times. Then, I reread it. And I realized “bizarre” wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Before the story of Lev and Koyla is told, Benioff opens the book with a chapter about a young Los Angeles screenwriter named David — an allusion to himself — who visits his grandfather in Florida in hopes of hearing his rendition of what happened during the siege.
The assumption throughout the rest of the novel is that the screenwriter’s grandfather is grown-up Lev, reflecting on the almost ludicrous quest and the ridiculous but brilliant companion that literally saves his life.
Lev, the 17-year-old son of an esteemed Soviet Jewish poet, is introduced as a timid and introspective kid. His wiry frame reflects the food deprivation the city’s inhabitants endure, while his awkwardness and naivety highlight his soon-to-be-torn-away youth.
Koyla embodies almost everything Lev does not. He’s bold, he speaks his mind and he seems to know how the world works — or at least he’s good at pretending he does. He’s depicted as charming, a trait he pairs with his good looks to get what he wants.
But Lev’s innocence and Koyla’s charisma can’t save them from execution.
The only thing that can is a dozen eggs.
And so the unlikely pair sets out on a journey to find their ticket to freedom in a starving city — one so destitute that residents resort to eating the spines of books or the limbs of other people.
Yup. You read that right. Cannibalism.
Anyway, with nothing but the clothes on their backs, Lev and Koyla scour the city, encountering the aforementioned man-eaters, malnourished civilians, violent bandits and bigoted soldiers.
After a stay at the apartment of Kolya’s friend, the two recognize the impossibility of finding eggs in Leningrad. But the ever-optimistic Koyla has a plan.
Lev follows Koyla’s lead as he seduces his way out of the city, cracking jokes, making inappropriate quips and attempting to keep their spirits up as their hopes fall.
The two encounter more “minor” yet essential characters. To avoid retelling their entire adventure, I’ll leave it at that. But I will say there are upsetting scenes, gruesome descriptions and an overarching emphasis on the inhumanity of the Nazi party throughout the rest of the novel.
Though merely days since the colonel first sent the duo out into the cold on a seemingly fruitless mission, the book’s last few chapters depict Lev as an entirely new version of himself. As seen in other stories focused on adolescents during World War II, Lev’s innocence has been ripped away.
At its root, this story seems to comment on the absurdity of some individual’s actions during the war. The desire for men in power to make ridiculous requests while individuals around them are struggling to live draws parallels to an abundance of political and diplomatic issues in the modern world.
In a clever way, Benioff somehow made me laugh, feel nauseous, gasp, nervously bite my nails and cry within the span of 20 minutes as I finished the book.
As I closed the cover, I thought of the opening chapter and did some digging. Though Benioff says the story is not based on a real-life account — both sets of his grandparents are supposedly from the United States — I know it was at the very least well-researched.
Every historical novel holds some semblance of truth, and the cleverness with which the author enlightens readers about World War II experiences and the residents of what is now known as Saint Petersburg is impressive.
Benioff takes readers on a rare journey into an under-discussed World War II-torn city, and knowing his background in screenwriting, I can’t help but wonder why City of Thieves has yet to be made into a movie (though if it ever is, I’d like to advise the directors to leave a few scenes out).
Though it doesn’t surpass my favorite historical fiction novel, I give this book 4.8/5 stars, urging any history buffs looking to read something different to give the cynical yet ingenious tale of Lev and Koyla a chance.
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