“Code Name Verity” by Elizabeth Wein

I recently went to a funeral. It was a life celebrated, but also a life denied. Human beings are complex, and that complexity can be almost impossible to put into words. In some ways, we learn as much about a person by what is not said than what is. Verity is a young British woman captured by the Germans in Occupied France during WWII. Much like Scheherazade, Verity has a limited amount of time to weave a story of her life … one that will capture the attention of her inquisitor and allow her to live another day. Unlike the mythical “1001 Arabian Nights” however, this tale could have been taken straight from the actual events of 1943. Told in diary-like entries, I wasn’t pulled in at first by a narrative that is heavily technical in military and aeronautic detail, but it is not these “facts” that compel you to turn the page. This is the story of a friendship – two women caught up in a war and how one of them, exploring that friendship, reveals so much of herself. It is pure poetry at times, and heartbreaking at others. As mentioned above, human beings are complex, and Ms. Wein takes care that every character in the tale is not an “us” or a “them” but people with their own inner needs who struggle to stay afloat amidst events that are far beyond their control. The research for the book, described in a “debriefing” and bibliography at the end, must have been intense. As Elizabeth Wein admits, this is a fiction, but so much fact is woven up in her tale that it reads like actual history. The British-isms, techno-jargon, language and manners of the time, even the settings are steeped in reality to the degree that I felt I had traveled back in time. There is an inexorable march here to some awful inevitabilities, but I came to love Verity – for her spunk, her intractability, her sheer force of will. The book has a twist or two – one I saw coming and one I did not. In the end, it is a book that has stayed with me, even though I finished it many days ago. It “haunts my thoughts” frequently and I have insisted that several friends read it at once. A New York Times Bestseller, it became the darling of mother/daughter bookclubs this year, most probably because it reveals so much about the forgotten role of British women during the war. Because of the bookclub thing, it is listed as a YA book on many recommended lists, but it feels like an adult novel to me. The protagonists are college-age and the density of the material made for a lengthy read. There is real literary structure here, and enough literary allusion to make any English teacher sit up and take notice. Nonetheless, it is far more of a compelling tale than I guessed at in the first few pages and dedicated readers of any age (particularly girls) are likely to label it a “favorite.” So, not for little ones, but certainly a book that is “worthy” of the many accolades being piled upon it. Grab some Kleenex, block off a week or so, and delve in.