“Love. It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between.”
Who am I, and who do I desire to be? This year I’ve taken up journaling under the guise of needing a New Year’s Resolution, while in actuality, it carves out a time each day for me to write—even if it’s something not meant to be read by myself or by others. I gravitate towards prompts like writing affirmations, listing what I’m grateful for, and defining the person or life I want to be or have.
In my journal, I often find myself talking about writing and reading, the creativity it inspires and the immense satisfaction that arises from carefully crafting words and finishing a book I know will stick with me. Written during this week’s journaling sessions: reading more, scheduling content for my bookstagram, and, consequentially, my Substack.
So, on my mission to read more real books—as opposed to e-books—I picked up The Nightingale. It was recommended by multiple people for its story, and it just happened to be sitting on the bookshelf under my TV (it went by unnoticed for a while without it’s cover).
Written by Kristin Hannah, the novel follows the lives of two sisters, Vianne and Isabelle Rossignol, in Nazi-occupied France during World War II. Navigating the perils of war, their choices and sacrifices highlight the resilience of the human spirit and the vitalness of love.
A few chapters in, I found myself wavering between their characters. Am I drawn to Isabelle’s outspoken and strong-willed nature because I aspire to embody those traits, or perhaps I already possess them? Conversely, do I identify with, or aspire to be, resolute and dilatory like Vianne? My mind changed with each chapter.
(While I’m often quick to turn from a World War II fiction novel, mostly because of the horror, I try to remind myself that it is the individual stories that can create the most impact on a reader. So that, even if fiction, the story will remind people of a time we never want to fall into again.)
“Tante Isabelle says it’s better to be bold than meek. She says if you jump off a cliff at least you’ll fly before you fall.”
I knew as soon as the last name Rossignol was uttered that I should pay attention. My years of French and literature classes told me so (rossignol being French for nightingale). Singing yet unseen, that’s the role Isabelle played in novel—one of utmost significance, of bravery and boldness. There was a cruel duality to Isabelle’s beauty: she was beautiful yet she was overlooked, a paradox that fueled her triumphs.
From the beginning, Isabelle exudes a swift demeanor, unafraid to voice her opinions and advocating for what she believes is just. Her immediacy to addressing injustices underscores not only her boldness but also her intellectual depth and profound desire to contribute in any capacity. This steadfast resolve is ingrained in her character, shaped by the turmoil of losing her mother, being abandoned by her father, and her sister, too. Left to navigate the world alone, she relies solely on her own instincts.
On the other hand, Vianne’s concerns are anchored by her responsibility as a mother to Sophie. Unlike Isabelle, she lacks the freedom to act impulsively. Initially reserved, Vianne’s transformation is triggered by personal tragedies that force her to confront the horrors with action. Her character is multifaceted.
MAJOR SPOILER ALERT AHEAD!!
“He leans close and kisses each of my cheeks, whispering, "I loved her all of my life," as he draws back.”
When I reached the ending, I found myself unexpectedly winded. Convinced that the older woman’s narrative belonged to Isabelle, to learn it was Vianne’s left me to stumble. It was a poignant realization that Isabelle never had the chance to see love through. I ached. For the love left unlived, the so-close-to-the-truth fiction, and the truth of so many individuals.