The God of Freedom by Yuliya Musakovska Review by Nicole Yurcaba and Interview by Tiffany Troy
The God of Freedom by Yuliya Musakovska
Translated by Musakovska and Olena Jennings
Review by Nicole Yurcaba
Interview by Tiffany Troy
Publisher: Arrowsmith Press
ISBN: 9798987924181
Pages: 116
“Our Home is Not a Bottomless Pit” Review by Nicole Yurcaba
Ukrainian poet and translator Yuliya Musakovska’s poems have been translated into more than 30 languages and published across the globe. Now, thanks to Arrowsmith Press and translator Olena Jennings, Musakovska’s collection The God of Freedom arrives in an English translation filled with taut, emotional, and intensely surprising poems in which the imagery reminds readers that, for some, war is an entity ingrained within their beings.
In this collection, the speaker’s observations of the events unfolding in Ukraine and abroad blend whimsical metaphors, ironic personal observations, and a collapsed sense of time. This collapsed sense of time is most noticeable in poems such as “Angel of Maydan.” “Maydan” refers to Kyiv’s Independence Square, the center of Ukraine’s main national movements, including 2014’s Revolution of Dignity. It opens with the image of the Archangel Michael—Kyiv’s patron saint—shaking “soot off his wings, / his wooden sword circled by a snake.” A child defiantly sings, “I am Ukraine,” an image reminiscent of the hundreds of TikTok videos of Ukrainian children singing patriotic songs shortly after Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Other images from the 2014 Revolution of Dignity shape the poem: the speaker observes people sleeping in tents, lifeless subways, and common citizens like taxi drivers who offered to help those in need. “Angel of Maydan” aptly captures the quieter moments of city life around Independence Square and reminds readers of the small, yet significant, pieces of everyday existence one forgets until violence unfolds.
In Ukrainian culture, the moon is a significant symbol, associated with integrity, fertility, and completeness. In “In the Moon’s Palm” the moon is personified, even described as “generous.” Important Ukrainian culinary features, like kutia—a traditional Ukrainian Christmas dish—center the poem, solidifying its folkloric tone:
poppy seeds pour from your hand;
nuts crack inside your fist—
the kutia will be rich.
A sense of unity forms as the speaker observes, “And there is only one spoon.” This line embodies the role kutia holds during the Holy Dinner at Ukrainian Christmas. Kutia is the first dish served. It is representative of past generations coming together with future ones. The poem develops into a series of enlightenments such as “Hold onto the mane of dreams” and “Your resolve will find a way / to dive headfirst / into the colors of the night.” These observations read like wisdoms and advice passed from one generation to the next, but it is the final three lines which allude to the Ukrainians’ generational struggle for freedom and sovereignty:
Go ahead—swing,
fly,
fight.
The structural change places emphasis on the words “fly” and “fight.” It concentrates the resilience and determination Ukrainians have displayed for centuries, and particularly since February 2022, into a single word, sparking inspiration and innovation and reminding readers of the flame that burns eternally in the Ukrainian spirit.
That same spirit appears in “The Spartan Boy,” which like Serhiy Zhadan’s “‘They buried their son last winter,’” reflects on the human cost of war. War becomes an entity that is carried and has “gnawed a whole in you as if it were a fox cub.” The speaker attempts to “sew the hole shut” and hopes the hole “stays closed a little longer.” The poem alludes to a much larger socio-cultural issue that Ukrainians will endure not only during the war, but also for decades long after it—the mental health issues and consequences of post-traumatic stress disorder which affect not only Ukrainian veterans, but also the general population. The speaker observes that the Spartan Boy has a “vision of your mates’ faces / at the bottom of the lake.” This haunting image is emotionally evocative, portraying the psychological manifestations of war’s brutality. Physical manifestations also appear in the poem. The speaker notices “the scratched steel mug” from which the Spartan Boy never separates and the “fierce hatred of fireworks” the Spartan Boy develops. Others describe the Spartan Boy as a “lucky one” who “could have lost so much more” and as “almost whole.” These are unfortunate responses from those who have not endured battle’s horrors, and their inclusion in the poem is immediate and necessary. Currently, experts cannot speculate about the scale of PTSD in Ukraine. However, Musakovska’s lines are a call not necessarily for action, but for empathy and understanding during and after the war.
“Jesus of War” reads like a prayer of sacrifice by the sacrificed. The address and repetition of the phrase “Oh my Lord” creates this effect. Throughout the poem, however, the speaker does not describe the Lord in affectionate, or even reverent, terms. Instead, they describe the Lord as “clothed in spiderwebs and dew” and as “ardent and disheartened.” A crucifixion scene centers the poem, creating a distinctive juncture:
Oh my Lord, so ardent and disheartened,
thorns pressing against your forehead
How does it feel to walk wearing a crown
barefoot through the ravaged land.
The speaker encourages the Lord to “shine and bloom abundantly” while the wind casts “a ball” into the Lord’s face. The environment smells “of something human, burning.” Then, the speaker’s tone becomes resentful, as though they are questioning the Lord’s existence:
While numbers multiply in the matrix
while it’s still early morning, sleep, my Lord
Let us hold on but what’s left to hold on to?
Rose petals, raindrops and thorns.
A moment of doubt emerges: “Let us hold on but what’s left to hold on to?” However, the final line’s images—”Rose petals, raindrops and thorns”—not only hold religious connotations. Natural imagery replicates the ebb and flow of ease and hardship in one’s life. “Rose petals” may represent the periods of happiness and joy, while “raindrops” is the line’s nucleus, introducing a sense of cleansing. “Thorns” are representative of life’s difficult tumults. The line’s reliance on it as the final word forms a resting place that replicates the current status of Ukrainians enduring the war in their homeland.
“Shadows” is another of The God of Freedom’s exemplary poems. “What do we hide between pieces of paper, the world’s folds?” opens the poem, establishing a sense of deep personal and universal secrecy. This secrecy develops even more in the third line when the speaker states, “We are mere shadows of our past selves. A taste of late berries.” The speaker’s correlation of the human condition to the natural world reflects the inherent respect Ukrainians hold for nature, a concept which developed from an agrarian way of life that led them to rely on and deeply respect the land and animals. This connection develops more as the speaker portrays the “sun’s yolk” being “spilled” and every “stem, ray, web disturbed.” Autumn is described as that which “closes the circle,” giving way as “the next one unfolds.” A sensation of recurrence, of an unstoppable force, and of time’s unforgiving march forms a rhetorical moment that allows readers to pause and reflect.
The poems in The God of Freedom rebuke and question, introduce and preserve one of the darkest moments in modern European and global history. Simple images of “wet, clipped fields” transform into “rebellious girls,” and an innocent speaker emerges as “wind that got caught in striped stocking.” Musakovska’s verses hold an entire nation’s historical and current burdens during which each individual is fighting for survival and the right to exist. Dense and surreal, The God of Freedom is a collection readers will not forget.
A Poetic Record of Fighting for What Is Most Important:
A Conversation with Poet Yuliya Musakovska and Translator Olena Jennings about God of Freedom, Conducted by Tiffany Troy
Tiffany Troy: How does the opening poem, “Such Love,” set up the poems that are to follow in The God of Freedom? To me, it is a deceptively simple “list poem” and I say it’s deceptive because it begins with personal love and goes into love of a homeland. “It is like a street musician / that has been slaughtered at Pidzamche;” or “Like the black grass, bird nests turned to ashes / and the whisper of the void.”
Olena Jennings: “Such Love” establishes the relationships that are important throughout the collection. They are relationships that survive despite war, relationships not only with people but with emotions. Sometimes the emotions take on a fairytale quality as they do in “Sister Guilt” when guilt becomes impersonated, becoming someone who feeds on “bruised apples and my wrists.” The most striking example in the collection is the poem “The God of Freedom,” when there is love for the emotion and idea that is freedom. “Such Love” prepares the reader for this moment through the words: “Such love it is which has grown deep into you / and will never let go” just as freedom has grown deep into the body of the man in the poem who is inspired by it like a “holy fool” and goes through terrible trials for his devotion. This poem is, by the way, based on a true story from the times of the Soviet occupation of Ukraine.
Yuliya Musakovska: Love is what keeps us going, but only freedom makes it possible. We often realize how much we love and cherish something when it is being attacked or taken away. The opening poem in the collection begins by depicting strong romantic affection — to draw a parallel — but gradually unfolds into a confession of love for one’s homeland; a musician killed in a usually safe area of Pidzamche in Lviv is a dark omen. In times of a brutal war against your country and people, this kind of love becomes the ultimate kind. The poems that follow reflect on love’s transformative force: how a relationship can become a home, and how a home can become freedom, providing not only comfort and care but, also, a nurturing environment. However, just like war and occupation have ruined the lives of previous generations, present-day Russia’s invasion of Ukraine shakes the very foundations of our being and threatens the future. What lengths can love go to protect freedom from the aggressor? How does the desire for freedom transform a person? The answers can be found in further poems of the book.
TT: Yes! And something that I learned from Nicole Yurcaba is just how much of The God of Freedom is rooted in the bravery of Ukranians gathering by Kyiv’s Independence Square, children saying, “I am Ukraine” on TikTok, and the role of the moon in Ukrainian folklore. Could you speak about your collaboration as translators in bringing Musakovska to an English-speaking world?
OJ: I met Yuliya in 2016 at Lviv Book Forum. At that time, she gave me her collection, Men, Women, and Children (2015) as a gift. I read it with great interest. Then, when a mutual friend of ours was in Ukraine, he returned with a copy of The God of Freedom (2021) for me. I could relate a lot to the poems, especially the love for one’s homeland since, living in a diaspora family, I had the love of Ukraine passed onto me from a young age. I wrote a poem inspired by Yuliya’s poetry, which she then translated, beginning our collaboration. I expressed interest in translating some of The God of Freedom. Yuliya suggested acting as my co-translator so that we could translate all the poems and not lose the crucial flow of the collection. We finished the first translation, “Such Love,” the day before the full-scale Russian invasion, and it took us one year to complete the book.
YM: Indeed, The God of Freedom’s concept was strongly inspired by the Revolution of Dignity of 2014 taking place on Maydan in Kyiv. This was the time when my generation learned that freedom is not something taken for granted and one must be prepared to fight for it, even pay the ultimate price. It is a multi-faceted collection, diving into the past, present, and future while exploring the idea of freedom as a divine spirit transforming a human being. It largely reflects on the aftermath of Russia’s aggression against Ukraine that began in 2014 with the occupation of Crimea and parts of Donetsk and Lugansk regions.
I appreciated that Olena with her Ukrainian background could intuitively understand and relate to many aspects of this collection. We collaborated online, exchanged emails, and discussed our translation drafts in numerous Zoom meetings. All amidst the full-scale war in Ukraine, air-raid alerts and missile attacks, blackouts, news of atrocities committed by the Russian army, cities bombed and friends and colleagues killed. It was a very difficult time to be translating a book, but Olena’s support, understanding and persistence helped us stay on track.
TT: Can you take us through the structure of The God of Freedom. Specifically, across “Part I: The Lost Heart,” “Part II: Red Pajamas,” and “Part III: The Fox.” What is the process in choosing the final order that the poems are in. Does it differ from the Ukrainian original? In sticking with the motif of the archetype of folklore, the sections feel thematic and form arcs within arcs.
OJ: Though strong throughout, the book builds up to where it feels its fullest in the last section, which includes the title poem “The God of Freedom.” It’s not a coincidence that the section starts with the poem “At Their Roots,” adding to the roots already created within the reader who is invited to connect deeply with the poems and participate in a collective freedom. The idea of freedom becomes more individual in the last section as freedom from sickness is brought to the forefront in poems such as “Two Annas.” Finally, in the last section, the reader is confronted with the “Red Pajamas” that title the second section. The poem also brings the reader to a hospital setting. The different sections reveal freedom as a personal and collective phenomenon.
YM: The English translation entirely repeats the structure of the Ukrainian original including the order of poems. There is a certain logic in the structure, and there are several key metaphors. I’d put it like this: a lost heart matures by going through various trials. These include a hospital confinement, representing not just limited mobility and choices, but also a totalitarian state like the Soviet Union or today’s Russia. Here, red pajamas are a hospital garment and uniform, a forced role. The response to the trials leads to transformation, sometimes empowering and sometimes unfortunate, and, in many cases, both.
The fox, a folklore-inspired character, is a symbol of transformation. In “The Spartan Boy”, a fox in the shirt pocket is a metaphor for the war that had been going on for too long, eating away the life force. The female characters of the poems in the last section embody a country harassed by an aggressor and drained by the sickness of the lengthy war. But freedom requires fight and sacrifice, and this is emphasized in the collection’s concluding poem.
TT: Do you have any closing thoughts for your readers of the world?
OJ: I internalized the poems in The God of Freedom when translating them with Yuliya and I hope the readers will also keep the poems in their memories. I hope they will feel the freedom within the poems. It was crucial to bring the poems into English at this moment in history in order to help the fight for freedom.
YM: It is a devastating realization to represent an endangered culture the enemy is trying to obliterate. For us, Ukrainians, freedom means survival and preserving our identity. However, an attack on an independent nation’s freedom means great threat to global democracy, to the entire free world. In my collection, I explored many situations in which freedom is taken away and how we fight for it. I hope the book resonates with readers, helping them understand Ukraine, and reminding them of freedom’s true meaning and price.
Yuliya Musakovska is an award-winning Ukrainian poet and translator. She was born in 1982 in Lviv, Ukraine, where she lives and works. She has published six poetry collections in Ukrainian, the most recent being Stones and Nails (2024). Her collection The God of Freedom (2021) was shortlisted for the Lviv UNESCO City of Literature Prize and was among the top eight nominees for the Taras Shevchenko National Prize. It was released in English translation by Olena Jennings and the author from Arrowsmith Press in 2024. Yuliya’s work has been translated into over thirty languages and widely published around the globe. Her poems have appeared in The Southern Review, AGNI, Tupelo Quarterly, NELLE, The Common, and other journals.
Olena Jennings is the author of the poetry collection The Age of Secrets (Lost Horse Press, 2022) and the chapbook Memory Project. Her novel Temporary Shelter was released in 2021 from Cervena Barva Press. She is a translator of Kateryna Kalytko’s Nobody Knows Us Here, and We Don’t Know Anyone (Lost Horse Press, 2022) together with Oksana Lutsyshyna and Vasyl Makhno’s Paper Bridge (Plamen Press, 2022). She was shortlisted for the Ukrainian Literature in Translation Prize 2023 for her translations of Yuliya Musakovska’s poetry. She is the founder and curator of Poets of Queens reading series and press.
Nicole Yurcaba (Нікола Юрцаба) is a Ukrainian American of Hutsul/Lemko origin. Her poems and reviews have appeared in Appalachian Heritage, Atlanta Review, Seneca Review, New Eastern Europe, and Ukraine’s Euromaidan Press, Lit Gazeta, Chytomo, Bukvoid, and The New Voice of Ukraine. Nicole holds an MFA in Writing from Lindenwood University, teaches poetry workshops for Southern New Hampshire University, and is the Humanities Coordinator at Blue Ridge Community and Technical College. She also serves as a guest book reviewer for Sage Cigarettes, Tupelo Quarterly, Colorado Review, and Southern Review of Books.
Tiffany Troy is the author of Dominus (BlazeVOX [books]) and co-translator of Santiago Acosta’s The Coming Desert /El próximo desierto (forthcoming, Alliteration Publishing House), in collaboration with Acosta and the 4W International Women Collective Translation Project at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She is Managing Editor at Tupelo Quarterly, Associate Editor of Tupelo Press, Book Review Co-Editor at The Los Angeles Review, and Assistant Poetry Editor at Asymptote.
24 July 2024
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