Dmytro Chub, in his introduction to On the Fence: Ukrainian Prose in Australia, observes that ‘Although there are some fine novels set in Ukraine’s historical past and under Soviet rule, the period spent in Displaced Persons camps in Germany and the emigré experience in Australia has given birth to no more than a few short stories. While older writers sentimentalise about a lost past, younger writers do not wish to stir up the sensitive issues in the community.’ This is the problem of the anthology. While it may be admirable to translate into English Ukrainian writing, the act of doing so exposes the weaknesses of translator and writer. As long as the prose or fiction remains within the language context of the group, it gains from the common memory of things past, shared pain, shared loyalty, shared guilt. To the printed word is added associated experience. Set it into a new language, a different social context, and the word has to work much harder in getting things right.

It seems to me that in this anthology words don’t work well enough in most of the writing to raise it above school essay standard. Perhaps this doesn’t matter because experiences are being set down and those members of the community who do not read Ukrainian are gaining knowledge of life outside their own. In telling his tales, my father can shape experience into a short story; my mother can’t. The event remains an incident, a fragment, a didactical stick or a dismembered thing unconnected to a body of ideas. However, good oral storytelling does not necessarily mean skill in writing . In the speaking, voice, tone, cadence, pauses, make cliches acceptable. Some of the stories here need to be heard, literally. They also need to be reworked. A more skilled translator. a more imaginative editor may have given them the kiss of life. But as they are on the page they remain waiting for the magic touch.