Olesya Khromeychuk, A Loss: The Story of a Dead Soldier Told by His Sister
Olesya Khromeychuk, A Loss: The Story of a Dead Soldier Told by His Sister, Stuttgart: ibidem, 2021, 126 pages. With a foreword by Andrei Kurkov
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1This book was first published in 2021, and primarily explores events of 2017 – a sobering reminder that Russia’s war in Ukraine started long before 2022. Nevertheless, this story has acquired far greater resonance – and a wider readership – since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine on 24 February 2022.
2In ‘A Loss’, Olesya Khromeychuk, a historian and writer, tells the story of her brother’s death on the frontlines of the war in eastern Ukraine in 2017. Although Khromeychuk is a trained historian, this is not a typical academic monograph. Rather, in this slim volume which is part memoir, part essay, Khromeychuk shares an intensely personal account of the loss of her brother, Volodymyr Pavliv.
3It is a rare experience to read such an intimate book by an academic. In most disciplines, the personal and professional remain separate. But here we find a very personal tale of the author’s relationship with her brother, and experience of his death. It is a brave and generous endeavour by Khromeychuk to share her story. The resulting book is an unorthodox but important contribution to writing on the war in Ukraine, which will resonate for a variety of readers.
4Those following Russia’s war in Ukraine from afar, via news stories and statistics, are invited to witness the private experience of the impact of the war, and the loss of a single soldier, upon one family. It is sobering to reflect upon how many iterations of this story are currently playing out across Ukraine, as the casualty count of those killed defending Ukraine continues to climb. Perhaps the most valuable contribution of the book is this way in which it foregrounds the impact of the war upon ordinary Ukrainians, and reminds us of the human cost of the conflict.
5Academics and policymakers from Ukraine and the wider region, and others who research Ukraine, may recognise some of their own thoughts in the chapters “Theory and Practice of War”. Here, the author reflects upon how the war has blurred the lines between her personal and professional life. Khromeychuk is a historian of war, whose life is upended when her own brother is killed in a one. “Was I able to be impartial? Should I be impartial?” she writes. Since February 2022, many more who work on Ukraine have found their personal lives touched by the war: making frantic calls to friends or family in the war zone, volunteering, fundraising, helping or hosting displaced persons. Or, maybe even sourcing that perfect pair of boots for those deployed to the front line, like Khromeychuk in the book. By sharing her concerns about the way in which her personal and professional life are newly and tragically intertwined, the author offers space to reflect on how we should react when these two spheres collide.
6Still, many readers will not share this experience. And even most of those touched by the war in some way will not share the very specific “loss” described in this book. Nevertheless, elements of Khromeychuk’s account feel almost universal. Anyone who has experienced the sudden death of a loved one may recognise the emotions and experiences which the author so carefully and unflinchingly shares: the dilemma of what to do with now-ownerless possessions; how difficult it can be to talk about “what happened”; strange dreams after a loved one’s death, and how wide-ranging, complex and vast grief can feel. The book can be read as a meditation on loss itself. Those affected by unexpected or premature bereavement may see elements of their own experience reflected in the writing – even if their own personal tragedy took place very far from a battlefield.
7Beyond its wide resonance, the real strength of “A Loss” is the way in which it combines a highly personal touch with a historian’s eye for detail and nuance, and a refusal to shy away from difficult topics. At times, the unconventional format and variety of chapter styles can feel frustrating for a reader seeking a clear, linear narrative. But the book’s style gives the author space to reflect upon a variety of confronting themes, ranging from the ways we remember the dead, to complex family dynamics, and narratives about the war. In both the reflective and nuanced ways she writes about these topics, and the structure of the book itself, Khromeychuk reminds us that serious subjects such as family relations, death, and war are not matters of black and white, but are complex with many shades of grey – like the illustrations scattered throughout the pages, by Hanna Strizh. “We like wars to be straightforward, with good and evil clearly defined,” writes the author. “But, as with all wars, this one is a messy story of suffering, cruelty and pain.”
8Despite all its broader themes, “A Loss” is ultimately a book about war. Unlike most texts on war written by academics, this one does not seek to put forward an argument, present empirical research, or advance academic theory. As described by writer Andrey Kurkov in the foreword, the book “does not focus on numbers and dates, but on human experience in a country that has found itself in a state of war.” Those seeking a dispassionate, scholarly analysis of the conflict should look elsewhere – undoubtedly there are many such books to come. But readers who want to better understand the human impact of Russian aggression in Ukraine will likely find what they are looking for in Olesya Khromeychuk’s moving, personal, and unflinchingly honest work.
References
Electronic reference
Emma Mateo, “Olesya Khromeychuk, A Loss: The Story of a Dead Soldier Told by His Sister”, The Journal of Power Institutions in Post-Soviet Societies [Online], Issue 23 | 2023, Online since 25 September 2023, connection on 23 March 2025. URL: http://journals.openedition.org/pipss/6543; DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/pipss.6543
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