As far as most of us in the West are concerned, World War Two ended with the defeat of Nazi Germany and the capitulation of Japanese forces in August 1945. But for the people of Lithuania the withdrawal of German troops in 1944 simply meant the exchange of one oppression for another when the Soviets resumed the occupation the war had interrupted. Antanas Sileika's novel Underground tells the story of the Lithuanian resistance in the years immediately following the German withdrawal. Lukas and Elena make themselves targets when they brazenly execute a group of drunken Soviet officials at a party meant to celebrate their engagement. They go underground and join the resistance, which, with dwindling resources, is waging an increasingly futile struggle against the Soviet occupiers. When Lukas loses track of Elena during a skirmish, he assumes she has been killed, and he allows himself to be persuaded to leave Lithuania for Europe, where, with his reputation as something of a folk hero the hope is that he will rally support for the Lithuanian struggle. But the Soviets have many allies willing to turn a blind eye to their brutal actions in order to keep the peace. In Paris he remarries and attempts to live a normal life. But then word reaches him of events in his homeland and the dire situation of the resistance movement, and he is compelled to return. Underground is a timeless and very human story, one that tells of small triumphs amidst widespread tragedy. Antanas Sileika writes without sentiment of a dark period in history and gives a voice to people who struggled long and hard to regain their freedom. ( )

Brilliantly written reportage might hope to attain the epithet, “it reads like fiction”. Could historical fiction legitimately aspire to the claim that it “reads like reportage”? And if it were historical fiction that reads like reportage reading like fiction, what then?

This is a workmanly piece of writing – well-structured, spiced with romance, driven forward through a temporal sequencing of events, unburdened by complex characters that might need development or effort to align the sympathies of the reader, highlighted by a few set-piece scenes of visceral violence, and tied, finally, to the real lives of people living in present day. You might think it had been shaped by a writing school in order to attract government grants during its “research” phase, and a film deal during its “post-production” phase. In which case, you will not be surprised to learn that the author is the Director of the Humber School for Writers and that Underground has recently had its film rights picked up.

Depending on your point of view, the above description will have you lining up for a chance to read this novel of (a) life in the Lithuanian underground in the latter half of the 20th century, or moving quickly on to writing a tad more adventurous and less predictable. Either way, you win. ( )

Decent but too many asides to explain Lithuanian words or history that would have been better served in an epilogue or history chapter at the end of the book. ( )