REVIEWS
FULL REVIEW FOUND HERE
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"{Braun’s}central paradoxical premise of inheriting not only silence but also “words unconsciously proffered and silently tendered” (to borrow the phraseology of Michael Levine from another context) performs complex work. Like other accounts of largely unspoken trauma and loss, hers queries the multiple sites where memory gets stored and the dynamics of physical and affective transmissions."
--Grace Kehler, McMaster University
“A frequent contributor to the Mennonite literary journals, Braun puts her strong, narrative voice toward telling the story of her Mennonite ancestors’ treacherous migration from Russia to Canada — an attempt, she explains, ‘to seek meaning and order from history’s chaos.’ A series of old photographs (included throughout, and reaching as far back as 1865) combined with notes from conversations with her father (undertaken for the purpose of writing this memoir) effectively frame this family portrait, which is also an opportunity for Braun to offer a broader portrait picture of Mennonite origins, life and migration from Eastern Europe to North America. The occasional interruption of simple pleasures --a kiss after an engagement, two boys taking a swim and seeing a motor boat — brighten what are otherwise bleak circumstances, determined by no-win ‘choices.’ Is it worse to be persecuted by Hitler or Stalin? Such are the options for Braun’s family members. Readers looking for a window into Mennonite history, especially during World War II, will find Braun’s quiet member satisfying. She fills a gap in the early twentieth century Mennonite story, albeit with what amounts to many years of pain, sadness, and unlikely —perhaps even miraculous — survival. (Nov.)”
--Religion Bookline, and Publishers Weekly
"Connie Braun’s memoir is a remarkable and readable account of Soviet Communism of the early twentieth century, not only as an event in world history but as a crisis that continued to unfold for generations in those who eventually emigrated to Canada."
--John Bentley Mays, author of Power in the Blood
"Connie Letkeman Braun offers an evocative, but not sentimental portrayal of tragedy and courage that shapes her own ancestral story.”
--Marlene Epp, author of Women without Men: Mennonite Refugees of the Second World War
"Connie Braun’s language is beguiling; the narrative compelling.”
--Claudia Cornwall, author of Letter from Vienna: A Daughter Uncovers her Family’s Jewish Past
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"{Braun’s}central paradoxical premise of inheriting not only silence but also “words unconsciously proffered and silently tendered” (to borrow the phraseology of Michael Levine from another context) performs complex work. Like other accounts of largely unspoken trauma and loss, hers queries the multiple sites where memory gets stored and the dynamics of physical and affective transmissions."
--Grace Kehler, McMaster University
“A frequent contributor to the Mennonite literary journals, Braun puts her strong, narrative voice toward telling the story of her Mennonite ancestors’ treacherous migration from Russia to Canada — an attempt, she explains, ‘to seek meaning and order from history’s chaos.’ A series of old photographs (included throughout, and reaching as far back as 1865) combined with notes from conversations with her father (undertaken for the purpose of writing this memoir) effectively frame this family portrait, which is also an opportunity for Braun to offer a broader portrait picture of Mennonite origins, life and migration from Eastern Europe to North America. The occasional interruption of simple pleasures --a kiss after an engagement, two boys taking a swim and seeing a motor boat — brighten what are otherwise bleak circumstances, determined by no-win ‘choices.’ Is it worse to be persecuted by Hitler or Stalin? Such are the options for Braun’s family members. Readers looking for a window into Mennonite history, especially during World War II, will find Braun’s quiet member satisfying. She fills a gap in the early twentieth century Mennonite story, albeit with what amounts to many years of pain, sadness, and unlikely —perhaps even miraculous — survival. (Nov.)”
--Religion Bookline, and Publishers Weekly
"Connie Braun’s memoir is a remarkable and readable account of Soviet Communism of the early twentieth century, not only as an event in world history but as a crisis that continued to unfold for generations in those who eventually emigrated to Canada."
--John Bentley Mays, author of Power in the Blood
"Connie Letkeman Braun offers an evocative, but not sentimental portrayal of tragedy and courage that shapes her own ancestral story.”
--Marlene Epp, author of Women without Men: Mennonite Refugees of the Second World War
"Connie Braun’s language is beguiling; the narrative compelling.”
--Claudia Cornwall, author of Letter from Vienna: A Daughter Uncovers her Family’s Jewish Past
“The Steppes Are the Colour of Sepia consistently amazes and amuses readers with numerous examples of Letkemann’s irrepressible energy, audacity and charm. . . . a moving testament to the plight of all people who have been dispossessed by antagonistic forces outside their control.”
— Vancouver Sun
“The Steppes Are the Colour of Sepia tells an engrossing tale, and makes a worthy contribution to the contribution and understanding of the Mennonite diaspora of the last century.”
— The Conrad Grebel Review
“The gift of this engaging book is that [Braun] joins scholars and historians in who have recently begun to help to create ground that remembers. . . . This book reminds us of the fragility of faith and freedom.”
— The Winnipeg Free Press
“Braun brings three extrordinary gifts to this tale . . . passion and love of language . . . a thorough comprehension of the relevant works of Russian and Canadian Mennonite history . . . conscientious detective work — uncovering deeply repressed and thus scantly recorded memories.”
— Mennonite Quarterly Review
“a spell-binding story . . . I thank Connie Braun for her labour of love in Steppes.”
— Rhubarb
“Braun offers a lyrical first-generation witness to all those who have suffered displacement in history’s disasters and whose obscured stories must be told.”
— Rural Roots