'This book's power lies in its depiction of civilians trying to lead ordinary lives during the horror of war . . . It is shattering stuff, but Rothmann is tender towards his characters and this book is as memorable as his last.' The Times, 'Historical Fiction Book of the Month' As the Second World War enters its final stages, millions in Germany are forced from their homes by bombing, compelled to seek shelter in the countryside where there are barely the resources to feed them. Twelve-year-old Luisa, her mother, and her older sister Billie have escaped the devastation of the city for the relative safety of a dairy farm. But even here the power struggles of the war play out: the family depend on the goodwill of Luisa's brother-in-law, an SS officer, who in expectation of payment turns his attention away from his wife and towards Billie. Luisa immerses herself in books, but even she notices the Allied bombers flying east above them, the gauntness of the prisoners at the camp nearby, the disappearance of fresh-faced boys from the milk shed - hastily shipped off to a war that's already lost. Living on the farm teaches Luisa about life and death, but it's man's capacity for violence that provides the ultimate lesson, that robs her of her innocent ignorance. When, at a birthday celebration, her worst fears are realized, Luisa collapses under the weight of the inexplicable. Ralf Rothmann's previous novel, To Die in Spring, described the horror of war and the damage done on the battlefield. The God of that Summer tells the devastating story of civilians caught up in the chaos of defeat, of events that might lead a twelve-year-old child to justifiably say: 'I have experienced everything.'

Paints a delicate portrait of a twelve-year-old boy named Julian growing up in a mining community in 1960s Germany. First Light covers only a few summer weeks, following young Julian’s gradual social and sexual awakening amidst his parent’s financial and marital problems. Avoiding any overt drama in the description of his predicaments and observations, Rothmann instead creates a quiet sense of hope and new beginnings. His subtle, restrained prose captures the unarticulated, yet increasingly conscious feelings of the boy as he approaches the end of childhood, but still remains very remote from the adult world he sees around him. From his stressed, exhausted mother to their suspicious neighbor Herr Gorny, the adult characters remind him of his own powerlessness rather than offering encouragement; but his little sister Sophie proves his most devoted ally, gently standing up to their mother’s fits of rage. As the novel progresses, Julian becomes increasingly aware of the weaknesses and failures of the adults; despite his difficulties in understanding what goes on around him, one senses a wisdom and integrity that sets him apart from many of the other characters in his life. Rothmann’s refreshingly unpretentious style offers the perfect medium for this portrait of ambivalent youthful consciousness.

As the Second World War enters its final stages, millions in Germany are forced from their homes by bombing, compelled to seek shelter in the countryside where there are barely the resources to feed them.

Twelve-year-old Luisa, her mother, and her older sister Billie have escaped the devastation of the city for the relative safety of a dairy farm. But even here the power struggles of the war play out: the family depend on the goodwill of Luisa’s brother-in-law, an SS officer, who in expectation of payment turns his attention away from his wife and towards Billie. Luisa immerses herself in books, but even she notices the Allied bombers flying east above them, the gauntness of the prisoners at the camp nearby, the disappearance of fresh-faced boys from the milk shed – hastily shipped off to a war that’s already lost.

Living on the farm teaches Luisa about life and death, but it’s man’s capacity for violence that provides the ultimate lesson, that robs her of her innocent ignorance. When, at a birthday celebration, her worst fears are realized, Luisa collapses under the weight of the inexplicable.

Ralf Rothmann’s previous novel, To Die in Spring, described the horror of war and the damage done on the battlefield. The God of that Summer tells the devastating story of civilians caught up in the chaos of defeat, of events that might lead a twelve-year-old child to justifiably say: ‘I have experienced everything.’

'This book's power lies in its depiction of civilians trying to lead ordinary lives during the horror of war . . . It is shattering stuff, but Rothmann is tender towards his characters and this book is as memorable as his last.' The Times, 'Historical Fiction Book of the Month' As the Second World War enters its final stages, millions in Germany are forced from their homes by bombing, compelled to seek shelter in the countryside where there are barely the resources to feed them. Twelve-year-old Luisa, her mother, and her older sister Billie have escaped the devastation of the city for the relative safety of a dairy farm. But even here the power struggles of the war play out: the family depend on the goodwill of Luisa's brother-in-law, an SS officer, who in expectation of payment turns his attention away from his wife and towards Billie. Luisa immerses herself in books, but even she notices the Allied bombers flying east above them, the gauntness of the prisoners at the camp nearby, the disappearance of fresh-faced boys from the milk shed - hastily shipped off to a war that's already lost. Living on the farm teaches Luisa about life and death, but it's man's capacity for violence that provides the ultimate lesson, that robs her of her innocent ignorance. When, at a birthday celebration, her worst fears are realized, Luisa collapses under the weight of the inexplicable. Ralf Rothmann's previous novel, To Die in Spring, described the horror of war and the damage done on the battlefield. The God of that Summer tells the devastating story of civilians caught up in the chaos of defeat, of events that might lead a twelve-year-old child to justifiably say: 'I have experienced everything.'

Walter Urban and Friedrich 'Fiete' Caroli work side by side as hands on a dairy farm in northern Germany. By 1945, it seems the War's worst atrocities are over. When they are forced to 'volunteer' for the SS, they find themselves embroiled in a conflict which is drawing to a desperate, bloody close. Walter is put to work as a driver for a supply unit of the Waffen-SS, while Fiete is sent to the front. When the senseless bloodshed leads Fiete to desert, only to be captured and sentenced to death, the friends are reunited under catastrophic circumstances.

In a few days the war will be over, millions of innocents will be dead, and the survivors must find a way to live with its legacy.

An international bestseller, To Die in Spring is a beautiful and devastating novel by German author Ralf Rothmann.

Almost twenty years after the fall of the wall, the Kreuzberg district of Berlin has become unbearably trendy and deeply unappealing to Alina and Wolf. They move to Müggelsee, at the city’s bucolic border, where the differences between East and West have not yet faded and strange encounters with men from the vanished republic are still a part of daily life. But there, Wolf finds himself increasingly strained by the triviality of his daily routine with Alina. The monotony of life in their comfortable apartment gives way, however, when an old girlfriend surfaces and Wolf escapes his boredom into a torrid affair. As Wolf’s struggle with his infidelity grows, so grows the hell of his concealment. Called “a grand master of his craft� by Neue Zürcher Zeitung, and “among the best and brightest that contemporary German literature has to offer� by Fuldaer Zeitung, Ralf Rothmann is one of Germany’s most gifted writers. Fire Doesn’t Burn is a dark recasting of the delicate reunification of East and West as a chronicle of erotic desire and an extraordinary rediscovery of emotion and place

Almost twenty years after the fall of the wall, the Kreuzberg district of Berlin has become unbearably trendy and deeply unappealing to Alina and Wolf. They move to Muggelsee, at the city's bucolic border, where the differences between East and West have not yet faded and strange encounters with men from the vanished republic are still a part of daily life. But there, Wolf finds himself increasingly strained by the triviality of his daily routine with Alina. The monotony of life in their comfortable apartment gives way, however, when an old girlfriend surfaces and Wolf escapes his boredom into a torrid affair. As Wolf's struggle with his infidelity grows, so grows the hell of his concealment. Called "a grand master of his craft" by Neue Zurcher Zeitung, and "among the best and brightest that contemporary German literature has to offer" by Fuldaer Zeitung, Ralf Rothmann is one of Germany's most gifted writers. "Fire Doesn't Burn" is a dark recasting of the delicate reunification of East and West as a chronicle of erotic desire and an extraordinary rediscovery of emotion and place.