The Ukrainian journalist Stanislav Aseyev lost touch with his writing while captured by pro-Russian militants in 2017. In “The Bell,” an excerpt from his memoir, Aseyev reclaims his art. “Writing, like boxing, required constant training,” he writes, and he finds himself “completely out of shape after being held captive.” This excerpt appears in Love in Defiance of Pain, in which sixteen authors—some published and award-winning, others new to the world stage—offer a wide-ranging picture of contemporary Ukrainian writing in all its passion, comedy, and resilience. In the words of Adam Higginbotham, who contributed an introduction, the volume is a “kaleidoscope of contemporary Ukrainian voices.” It is also a love letter to prose. 

 The anthology aptly starts with “The Ukraine” by Artem Chapeye, a writer serving in the Territorial Defense Forces. Translated by Zenia Tompkins, this short story describes the narrator’s complex relationship with his lover and their trips across the beautiful country near the end of her life. Featured earlier this year in The New Yorker, the story is filled with evocative language and vivid details ranging from the tender (“the slightly squat, chubby mother and daughter speaking Surzhyk, that slangy combo of Russian and Ukrainian”) to the melancholy (“Outside, a cold, damp wind blew, piercing through our flesh all the way to the marrow”). The early nuanced depictions set the stage for the loves to come, including passionate love of the craft of writing.

The collection’s second story, “Vera and Flora” by Kateryna Kalytko, translated by Ali Kinsella, takes place on a mysterious island where people never die. As Vera, the narrator, comes of age, she forms affectionate relationships with Ivan, a doctor, and Flora, a botanist. These entanglements are eloquently presented, with an eroticism that makes the human-made world seem more habitable and nature, more hospitable. Unhappy love also has its place. The narrator of “When to Start, What Not to Pay attention to, or How to Fall in Love with George Michael,” has burgeoning feelings for a boy, Tolia, who doesn’t return them. Her attempts at “artificially stimulat[ing] the process of falling in love” by leaving anonymous notes with her favorite poems in his pocket serve only to push him away. 

Love of writing, of craft, is evident throughout, particularly in the use of humor and playful conceptions of story. In Sashko Ushkalov’s charming “Panda,” translated by Iryna Shuvalova, the narrator recalls his exciting adventure with two Moldovans he met on a train while applying to for a post — as a panda. “I told your colleague that I’m perfectly suited for the panda position, but I’m actually a little afraid of heights,” the narrator says in this distinctively voiced story with a masterful comedic sense. In “The Owner of the Best Gay Bar,” Serhiy Zhadan’s dialogue mixes humorous interactions with absurdity. Through some forty pages recounting a failed attempt to own a bar, Zhadan engages the reader with quick, witty exchanges like this one, between Sanych, the gay would-be bar owner, and his friend, Vika, whose girlfriend has just split:

‘So why are you still here?’ Sanych asked. ‘Well, what about you?’ Vika countered. ‘Well, I’ve got a business,’ he said. ‘Plus I don’t know any foreign languages.’ ‘Neither does she,’ Vika said. ‘She’s an actress, her body is her language, you understand?’ ‘Not really,’ Sanych honestly replied.  ‘Listen, you’re almost thirty. Why haven’t you gotten married yet?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Sanych said. ‘I’ve been busy with business. I’ve got three wounds. Plus, a broken hand.’ ‘Just find yourself a gay guy,’ Vika suggested. ‘You think it will help?’Sanych doubted. ‘Probably not,’ Vika said. 

Another comic highlight is Tanja Maljartschuk’s “Me and My Sacred Cow.” Unfolding the fraught relationship between the heroine, Tania, and her cow, Daisy, Maljartschuk uses surprise to hilarious effect. In every sentence, readers are shocked by what happens next, whether it’s the talking cow, Daisy, fighting with Tania, or some kids cheering about their aunt’s death as Tania rides Daisy in a race.

Form takes a front seat in Taras Prokhasko’s “Essai de deconstruction (An Attempt at Deconstruction).” The story’s three sections flow from analysis of time to diary entries laced with thoughtful observations. After we meet the central character, a writer and scientist stuck in his past, we read his diary entries about his interaction with a friend, Irzhi, at his boarding house. Irzhi teaches him to  “write lightly, with joy so that it likewise is read with joy.”  Clearly Prokhasko has followed that advice as well.

In a collection with so many different translators, hiccups in the English are almost unavoidable. I was at times surprised by jarring shifts from past to present tense and distracted by wordy clusters of sentences. But the strengths of these stories, which do offer readers plenty of solid prose to connect with, far outweigh these slips. Love in Defiance of Pain introduces readers to Ukraine’s best contemporary authors, including new writers who deserve a broader audience, and the publisher has graciously agreed to send book’s proceeds to humanitarian efforts in Ukraine. But the greatest strength of Love in Defiance of Pain remains its unique and compelling characters. While the title of the collection draws its name from the first lines of “The Ukraine,” the story’s final line more strongly encapsulates the glue that holds these stories together: “People are beautiful, even if they don’t realize it.”

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A former Peace Corps volunteer, Ali Kinsella lived in Ukraine for nearly five years. Her work has appeared in Solstice, Kenyon Review, Apofenie, and Guernica. Eccentric Days of Hope and Sorrow: Selected Poems by Natalka Bilotserkivets, a collection she co-translated with Dzvinia Orlowsky (Lost Horse Press, 2021) is a finalist for the 2022 Griffin Poetry Prize. She lives in Chicago.

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Zenia Tompkins, an American of Ukrainian descent, translated Tanja Maljartschuk’s A Biography of a Chance Miracle, Olesya Yaremchuk’s Our Others: Stories of Ukrainian Diversity, Vakhtang Kipiani’s WWII, Uncontrived and Unredacted: Testimonies from Ukraine, and Oleksandr Shatokin’s The Happiest Lion Cub. She has served as the lead English translator for The Old Lion Publishing House, Ukraine’s premier literary press, since 2019. She lives in Virginia with her husband and three children. 

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Writer and translator Roos Ufberg cofounded New Vessel Press.

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Robert English is a writer who lives in New York City. His writing has appeared in The Under Review, Entertainment Weekly, and on WABC Sports Radio.