War On The Margins- novel extract
The following is an extract from the novel War on the Margins, generously provided by author Libby Cone. The meticulously researched Jersey-set novel tells the story of a young Jewish woman, Marlene Zimmer, throughout the war years of occupation. We struggle with her as this heretofore timid and nervous young woman gathers strength and maturity to aid two famous French women in their Resistance efforts against the occupiers. The book has been added to the stock of our Occupation shop or can be purchased from Duckworth Books.
This passage concerns Marlene Zimmer, a clerk for the Aliens Office who goes into hiding when Clifford Orange, the Chief Aliens Officer for Jersey, asks her to register as a Jew because of her deceased Jewish father. She flees St. Helier, winding up hiding in St. Brelade with Claude Cahun (Lucille Schwob) and Marcel Moore (Suzanne Malherbe), the Surrealist-artists-turned-Resistance propagandists (They signed their propaganda leaflets “The Nameless Soldier”).
War On The Margins:
“Thank God for the wireless. They listened to BBC (”the Beeb”) and the powerfully intrusive German stations sporadically during the day; often Lucille would take notes on the nine o’clock BBC news broadcast and, with Suzanne’s illustrations, turn these into missives from the Nameless Soldier. They liked to think the recent rumors of multiple desertions were due, in part, to their efforts. More Orders against the Jews had appeared, spelling out the means by which proceeds from terminated Jewish businesses were to be handled. Since the local government that had been her place of employment was now the agent of her persecution, she [Marlene] had become a regular news listener. They wanted to turn her in to the Nazis; they might even be looking for her actively. Her coworkers had become jerrybags and informers. The fact of a Jewish father, formerly just a curiosity, was now a dangerous secret. Lucille and Suzanne, Mary Drummond, and the wireless were her new family. She had gotten to know the news readers; they now often introduced themselves before reading the report in order to prevent impostors from passing on propaganda.
Alvar Liddell, Bruce Belfridge, Frederick Grisewood, and Godfrey Talbot were cousins who came to her home bearing news that they wanted her to hear from their own lips. They pulled no punches, but they never went to pieces. They did not lecture or condescend like Haw-Haw, who would be more
depressing if he didn’t sound so pompous. Haw-Haw was the tippling uncle on German Overseas Radio whom everyone made lame jokes about. Churchill, though his speech often sounded somewhat slurred, was a more beloved uncle whose faults were overlooked in the face of his unrelenting optimism and eloquence. Although Mr. Orange had been an example of an untrustworthy authority figure, she couldn’t bring herself to think the same about Churchill; it made her nauseous with fear. What if all of them were in on it? What if Churchill was making the “V” sign with one hand and taking Reichsmarks with the other? She shivered and quickly argued the thought away before it drew tears.
With a history book with maps borrowed from Lucille and Suzanne’s vast library, she began sorting out the different locations mentioned on the wireless: Tunis, Berlin, Kiev, Singapore. She wanted to put a map of the world on the wall and put pins in locations where war was being waged; she wanted to put a big pin on Jersey, where she lived. Maybe she should just put a pin in her heart, to locate her on the map of suffering which unfolded almost worldwide. It became the world itself, really, and not a map. She was just a pin, a dot. She could put nothing on her heart, especially not a monogram. She could be taking her life in her hands if she wore a monogrammed sweater; the thought made her chuckle.
They sat in the living room after a Sunday dinner of bread and swedes, sipping wine. They had managed to scrounge enough wood for a small fire, so each woman needed only a single shawl to ward off the chill. They switched on the wireless at nine to listen to the news. Alvar Liddell came on and began announcing a surprise attack by Japan on a place in the Pacific belonging to the United States, Pearl Harbor. Marlene had never heard of Pearl Harbor; she looked toward Suzanne and Lucille, who were listening intently with unreadable expressions. When Liddell had finished, they looked at each other. “This is bad for America,” said Suzanne, “but I think it is good for Europe. I think America will join the war now; they will defeat the Germans.”
Lucille interjected, “But, cherie, America has always been averse to this war. They want nothing to do with our problems; they are capitalist.”
“True, Lucille, but they to some extent incited this. They cut off Japan’s oil supply. Surely they knew that would lead to something.”
“I suppose. But they still have to decide to enter the war.”
“Yes; well, time will tell.”
“This is a good opportunity, though, for that letter to the jerries we were planning: ‘Hitler leads us.’”
Suzanne, smiling, took it up: “‘Goebbels speaks for us. Goering eats for us.’”
“‘Himmler…Himmler murders for us.’”
“‘But nobody dies for us!’”
For more information and reader reviews, please look at the Amazon page for War On The Margins.
