History in the Margins

I am fascinated by stories of the resistance in World War II. (My guess is that comes to no surprise to those of you who have been hanging out here in the Margins for a while.) And I have slowly come to realize that the resistance took different forms in different places. All of which explains why I said yes with no hesitation when I was offered an advance copy of Tim Brady’s A Light in the Northern Sea: Denmark’s Incredible Rescue of Their Jewish Citizens During WWII. (This despite the fact that I have been turning down most of the books publicists offer me because life is short and the To-Be-Read piles are tall.)

I’m glad I did: the story is amazing.

I’m also glad Tim Brady agreed to answer some questions. Take it away, Tim

What path led you to the story of the Danish resistance movement in World War II?   And why do you think it is important to tell this story today?

After finishing Three Ordinary Girls, which told a story about the Dutch Resistance during WW II, I was looking for another resistance story to tell. I knew vaguely of what had happened in Denmark—the story of the rescue of the Danish Jews—but only at a surface level. When I decided to dive into research, I quickly realized what a powerful story it was. These early efforts were occurring just as Russia was invading Ukraine, which seemed like a very timely example for what happens when a powerful, authoritarian nation occupies a lesser power with democratic traditions.

The resistance in France and the Netherlands has been the subject of many books in English  over the last few years, including your own Three Ordinary Girls. How did the Danish resistance differ from these better know experiences?

The Danish resistance was slow to begin. The German occupation began in April 1940, but as a consequence of the agreement signed by the Danish government at the time, the German takeover was less oppressive than occurred in other Western European nations, and a majority of Danes were not moved to resistance by the presence of Germany in their daily lives. It would take three years before an effective resistance evolved in Denmark.

Why do you think people are drawn to these stories today?

I think readers have grown more interested in the nooks and crannies of the history of World War II. While the great sweep of the war remains a powerful focus of its history, many are looking into lesser-known aspects of the conflict to get a better sense of what happened to a wide variety of its participants.

You introduce your readers to individual members of the resistance, who come to the work by different paths and carry out different missions.  Do you have a favorite among them?

Jurgen Kieler and the whole of his family are great heroes of mine, and of much of the Danish nation. The Kieler’s alignment with and participation in the resistance grew out of a deep moral conviction that the German presence in Denmark could not be tolerated. They struggled within the family, particularly Jurgen and his older sister, Elsebet, in how best to respond to the oppressive nature of the occupation, before ultimately siding with a violent resistance. They paid deeply for their decision;  four siblings, and their father, all spent time in concentration camps before the war ended.

Was there a story you were sad to leave out?

There was no one story that I was sad to leave out, but collectively I wished I had more opportunity to delve deeper into the story as a whole: more history of Denmark, extending back before the 20th century; more depth about the nature of the Danish character—what were the roots of their collective decision to come to the aid of the nation’s Jews? More understanding of the Danish monarchy and how it worked with the country’s democratic institutions. More details about particular aspects of the resistance like the rescue of the Jews through Bispebjerg and other hospitals in Copenhagen. More about the White Bus rescue— how it was organized and  how it worked.

What was the  most surprising thing you learned working on this book?
I would say the most surprising thing was the fact that I found the story was essentially as true as its reputation. I’m by nature, and probably by profession, skeptical when it comes to history stories that promise heroics and good deeds across a wide swath of a nation’s populace. While there are many footnotes and asterisks to go along with this story, I think it lives up to its reputation; the Danish people deserve a tip of the cap for what they did to rescue 95% of the country’s Jewish population from capture by Nazi Germany.

Tim Brady is an award-winning author whose books—Twelve Desperate Miles, A Death in San Pietro, His Father’s Son, and Three Ordinary Girls—have received wide critical acclaim. He has contributed to PBS history documentaries and has written frequently for the History Channel Magazine. He lives in St. Paul, Minnesota, and is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop.