Echoes of Warsaw
€21.99
About this Book
Warsaw, 1968. As student protests erupt across Europe, journalist Marek Nowak finds himself caught in a dangerous web of political intrigue when he receives a mysterious package from a former resistance fighter. Inside are photographs that implicate high-ranking officials in both the Polish communist regime and Western intelligence agencies in a long-buried wartime atrocity.
As Marek investigates, he navigates a city still scarred by war and now shadowed by Cold War tensions. With the help of Anna, an American diplomat's daughter with her own secrets, Marek follows a trail of clues through Warsaw's rebuilt Old Town, underground jazz clubs, and the corridors of power, where history and present-day politics collide with deadly consequences.
Tomasz Kowalski's masterful thriller captures the atmosphere of 1960s Warsaw with cinematic precision while exploring moral ambiguity, the legacy of wartime choices, and the personal cost of seeking truth in a society built on silence.
Critical Acclaim
- Winner, Polish Crime Writers Association Award, 2021
- "One of the most compelling historical thrillers of the year" — Warsaw Literary Review
- Finalist, International Thriller Writers Award for Best Translated Novel
Kowalski recreates 1960s Warsaw with such vivid detail that you can almost feel the tension in the air. The plot is intricate but never confusing, and the way he weaves historical events into the narrative is masterful. I particularly appreciated how the translation maintained what feels like a distinctive Polish literary voice while being completely accessible to an English reader.
While the historical background and setting are fascinating, I found the middle section dragged somewhat. The protagonist spends too much time in introspection when the plot should be moving forward. That said, the final third of the book more than makes up for it with several unexpected twists and a satisfying conclusion. Worth reading for anyone interested in Cold War era Poland.
As someone with Polish heritage, I was immediately drawn to this book, and it didn't disappoint. Kowalski offers a nuanced view of this period that avoids simplistic East vs. West narratives. The characters feel authentic to their time and place, and the moral complexity of their choices resonates long after you finish reading. This is historical fiction at its best - entertaining while also illuminating a specific moment in time.
From Chapter Two
The café on Nowy Świat hadn't changed since before the war—at least that's what Marek's father always said. In truth, almost nothing in Warsaw remained unchanged. The buildings along this once-elegant boulevard were meticulous recreations, ghosts of their former selves rebuilt from old photographs and architectural drawings salvaged from the ruins. Even this café, with its pretensions to pre-war glamour, was barely fifteen years old.
Still, they made decent coffee, which was more than could be said for most places in the city. Marek took a sip and watched the entrance. Punctuality had never been Stefan's strong suit, even back when they were students together. Now that he worked for the Ministry, he seemed to consider tardiness a mark of importance.
Outside, sleet was falling in a gray curtain, turning the rebuilt cobblestones slick. A tram rattled past, its windows fogged with condensation. Marek checked his watch again. Twenty minutes late. He should have brought the manuscript he was supposed to be editing.
When the door finally opened, bringing with it a gust of cold air and the smell of wet wool, it wasn't Stefan who entered but a young woman Marek had never seen before. She paused just inside the doorway, scanning the half-empty café with practiced casualness. Her gaze passed over him, then returned. She removed her headscarf, revealing short dark hair, and approached his table.
"Pan Nowak?" she asked, her voice low.
Marek nodded, instantly alert. "I was expecting someone else."
"Stefan sends his apologies." She didn't sit down. "He asked me to give you this."
She placed a manila envelope on the table, her movements unhurried, as if they were colleagues exchanging routine documents. But the tension in her posture told a different story.
"Who are you?" Marek asked.
"That doesn't matter." She glanced toward the window. "What matters is that you don't open that here. And when you do open it—be careful who you tell."
