Happiness as an act of rebellion

As a World War 2 novelist, I’ve been writing about war for the past four years, and I’ve now written eight novels set during that time period.

But, as I wasn’t alive during the war I’ve had to rely on extensive research, stories my grandparents told me, and my imagination.

When I was writing my eighth and next novel, The Resistance Bakery, I created a character who is irrepressibly upbeat and optimistic. 

As someone who likes to look on the bright side myself, I was interested in exploring what happens to a person with that type of character in a war situation: Are they able to retain their positivity, or would war break their spirit?

Early on in the book, this character says to another, ‘In a world ruled by hatred and fear, happiness is an act of rebellion.’ 

This idea becomes a running theme throughout the book, and as the Nazi occupation of Paris becomes increasingly oppressive the two characters double down on it, using happiness and their love for life as an act of resistance.

Of course, when I was writing these scenes I really hoped this would be a believable concept but having no direct experience of war, it was essentially wishful thinking.

Having now spent five weeks in Ukraine I now have lived experience of this notion in action. I’ve also realised how warfare is just as much psychological as it is physical.

Last week I told you how I’d heard my first explosions here in Lviv - in the form of booms in the distance.

Now, sadly, I can say that I’ve experienced a major air assault, when Lviv came under a lethal bombardment on Tuesday. I now know what kamikaze drones sound like. I now know the thud-thud-thud of the air defence, and, most chillingly of all, I’ve heard the whoosh of hypersonic missiles surging past my apartment and exploding just blocks away, killing seven people and wiping out four members of the same family.

These are all experiences that Ukrainians have been going through for years - not just the last two and a half, but since Russia first invaded their country, back in 2014.

On Tuesday night, when I found out that missiles were heading to Lviv I took shelter in my apartment bathroom as it has no windows (to shatter) and it would put two walls between me and any explosion. These are tips you quickly learn in a war zone.

Due to their speed, hypersonic missiles make a hell of a noise as they go rushing by, and when I heard them pass so close I honestly thought I was going to die - to the point where I actually sent my son an ‘I love you’ message (thankfully he’s been in the safest part of Ukraine all week, preparing for his church wedding there).

I crouched on the bathroom floor, shaking and teeth chattering, with explosions going on all around. It was absolutely terrifying, especially being on my own.

But again, I have to stress, Ukrainians have been experiencing this on a daily basis for years.

We finally got the all clear at around 7am and I exchanged a flurry of messages with my Ukrainian Airbnb landlady, both of us taking the opportunity to offload and process what had just happened.

After about half an hour she apologised for sending so many messages and for her anxiety.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO APOLOGISE AT ALL! I instantly replied. YOU CAN WRITE TO ME WHATEVER YOU LIKE AND AS OFTEN YOU LIKE!

Unable to sleep, I had a shower and got dressed and then, feeling the need to get out of my apartment and be around people, I took my laptop to my favourite coffee shop to work on my book.

As always, everyone I encountered was friendly and warm, if a little shell-shocked from the night’s events.

That evening I went out for dinner with my daughter-in-law - whose family home had narrowly escaped the bombing, with one of the missiles exploding in their street.

We talked about her and my son’s church wedding coming up on Saturday (or yesterday, by the time you read this!)

I joked about how previously I’d been worried I might catch covid and not be able to go to the wedding.

‘Now we have to worry about whether we’ll still be alive for it,’ she joked - gallows humour providing a much needed antidote to the stress.

The following day - one day after one of the worst assaults Lviv has suffered during the war - the cobbled streets were back to being bustling with people and the vibrancy and lack of self pity was awe-inspiring.

I made myself a breakfast of fresh figs and raspberries and delicious honey from Kharkiv - one of the worst affected regions of Ukraine, which is coming under a huge Russian bombardment.

I ate slowly and mindfully, savouring every bite, feeling so, so grateful that I was alive to be able to do so.

And then it hit me to the core - in a world ruled by hatred and fear, happiness - and gratitude - are acts of rebellion.

I got ready and set off again for my favourite coffee shop to do some writing.

I walked out of my apartment building to see the daily funeral cortege for the fallen soldiers of Lviv, slowly making its way down the street.

Everyone stood stock-still in total silence while a soldier played The Last Post on a bugle. The city went from bustling vibrancy to deep, deep sorrow in a second. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything so moving and I’ve never, in all my life, felt so choked up with emotion.

This country and its people are experiencing an unbearable amount of fear, pain and loss and yet somehow they don’t just keep going, they keep living, defiantly.

That night (last night as I write this) when my part of Lviv were experiencing a powercut (every day we have a staggered schedule of powercuts here due to Russia bombing the energy plants) I decided to take myself out to dinner and, in the spirit of happiness being an act of rebellion, I set myself the challenge of finding a really interesting restaurant to eat in.

I meandered around the cobbled streets, the sun beginning its slow descent in the sky and casting everything in gold, and all around me people sat eating and drinking on the restaurant and cafe terraces.

Halfway down one street and opposite the beautiful Armenian Cathedral, I spied a restaurant called Doctor Faust, with a fascinating man who looked a little like a wizard standing in the doorway.

I’d found my place and I wasn’t disappointed. I sat at a table outside sipping a ginger and pear lemonade and I ordered a mushroom risotto.

I knew from local friends that it’s been mushroom season up in the mountains so I knew I’d be in for a treat and I can honestly say I’ve never tasted mushrooms like them. They were so flavourful I felt I could taste the rich mountain soil they’d grown from.

Once again, I took my time and savoured every single delicious mouthful.

The sun began to set and a bride and groom suddenly appeared from the passageway leading from the cathedral, along with a few of their wedding party.

In a world ruled by hatred and fear, happiness - and love - are acts of rebellion.

Determined to enjoy the moment for as long as possible, I ordered dessert - mini coconut cheesecakes, which arrived warm, with a delicious vanilla and raspberry sauce and peaches, blueberries and raspberries.

Then suddenly, some members of my daughter-in-law’s family - my Ukrainian family now - appeared coming down the street and we hugged and laughed at the chances of us bumping into each other.

I returned to my apartment feeling full of love and gratitude and went to bed.

Two hours later, I was woken by the air raid siren and felt a surge of fear right to the pit of my stomach.

I was more prepared this time though, creating a chair of sorts in the bathroom made up of pillows and one of the sofa cushions.

my bathroom shelter

I stumbled through and sat down, checking my phone and praying there were no more missiles inbound.

Twitter informed me that kamikaze drones were heading our way. 

I heard the thud thud thud of the air defence artillery springing into action, and I felt so grateful to the brave people manning them.

We finally got the all clear at about 4am and I went back to bed.

I woke a couple of hours later feeling the kind of tired that could easily trigger a wave of negative thoughts or sadness.

But once again I had an important realisation - in a world ruled by hatred and fear, happiness isn’t just an act of rebellion - it’s an active choice.

I spilled my thoughts out in a voice note to a friend, ending with, ‘In a war situation you can’t not feel fear, but you can turn your fear into fire. This is how we win,’ I said firmly, ‘We turn our fear into fire.’

So I got out of bed, put on some music, and started getting ready for my son’s church wedding.

Until next week, cheers to all the happiness rebels!

Siobhan

PS: My novel, The Resistance Bakery, is out in just a couple of weeks and available to pre-order on Amazon now and here.