Lisa Edmondson as Cultural Sensitivity Reader for My WWII Latvia Manuscript
- Diana Mathur
- May 21
- 7 min read
Trigger warning: This article discusses the Holocaust in Latvia, including violence against Jewish civilians and children, and ought to be distressing to people.
Any novelist writing about a culture not their own is wise to have the manuscript examined by a cultural sensitivity reader. My upcoming historical mystery is set in the meat grinder of 1941 Riga featuring war, occupation, genocide, and some of the Holocaust’s most horrific atrocities. I’m bound to offend somebody. A cultural sensitivity reader is essential.
A sensitivity reader evaluates a story through the lens of cultural knowledge, linguistic nuance, inherited memory, and historical context. She knows the lived reality of a place or people and recognizes when something rings false. Lived experience offers understanding that goes beyond archival research and mere facts.
I’m alert to the fact that my fictional “setting” is someone else’s family history—personal, probably painful, and sacred. I'm fortunate to get regular feedback from Jewish writers in my critique group. I needed a Latvian's opinions.
When Astra Moore, editor of the Dienvikkalifornijas Latviešu Informācijas Biļitens, suggested I ask Lisa Edmondson to look at my manuscript, it led to a rigorous and energizing stage of my writing process. Paldies, Astra.
Lisa Edmondson—a vegan-Pagan and stalwart pillar of the Latvian community, believes in helping others. That’s her express calling and it’s evident in her devotion to her bunny sanctuary, where she cares for some of the gentlest and most vulnerable creatures on earth.
Lisa was willing to help me.
She wrote, “It’s my pleasure if I can be of any help to YOU and also to establish Latvija’s name in the history of Europe.”
She then took on the task of cultural sensitivity reader with exacting focus and a generous spirit. Nothing was too minor to scrutinize. Few people know Latvian history, and its cultural currents more thoroughly than Lisa.
Nobody cares more.
“Did I ever have the chance to tell you….. my family home was in Vergales pagasts, the house and pharmacy were right there, by the Liepaja to Ventspils road. I was born in the Red Cross Hospital in Liepaja in 1940… and I don't think there was much activity by the Nazis in the countryside...I'm sure there were arrangements made by and by for how the farmers would turn part of the harvest over to Nazis in good time......But our house and pharmacy (mom’s profession) were owned by a Jewish gentleman, purchased by my dad (county veterinarian) and mom.....but he had FLED Latvija late thirties and we had no idea of his whereabouts and no place or way to pay monthly arrangements............
Mom and Grandma never indicated that anyone in Vergale loathed the Jewish pharmacist......oh and btw, he had an assistant, a young Jewish woman.......of course the Nazis scooped her up soon after arrival........
And Shkyede (SKEDE) county, between Liepaja and Vergale, on the Baltic coast, was one of the locations were Jewish women and babes in arms were brought to dig their huge mass grave and then, drafted Latvian young men machine gunned them into the mass grave.” =(
When we met at the Red Lion Tavern in Silver Lake, then later at the Latvian Community Center, and again at The Vegan Joint in Palms, I found that Lisa always backs up her opinions with a good argument.
Here are a few of Lisa Edmondson’s many observations that strengthened my manuscript.
1. The “Nonchalants” – another “lost in translation” moment for the author.
Kārlis Smīltens—“Uncle Karl”—had once told me that his older brother Arturs belonged to a group called the “Nonchalants.” In my earlier novella, Article 58, I turned that into a fictional circle of seven stylish, rebellious teenagers who read English newspapers, had black-faced wristwatches, and sharp creases in their fedoras.
Lisa clarified that the “Nonchalants,” or Vienaldzīgie, were not merely my uncle’s clique. They represented a broader countercultural current among Latvian youth—mostly in Riga, and to a lesser extent in the countryside—something closer to Beatniks, jazz intellectuals, or later punk rockers. A generation trying to preserve identity and individuality under occupation.
I made the correction.
Suddenly, my seven characters belonged to something larger: a restless, urban Latvian youth culture trying to remain itself while the world collapsed around it.
2. Pick one: Bolsheviks or Soviets—and stay consistent. The history is complicated enough for some people without switching back and forth.
3. Make the voice, tone, and idiom sound right to a Latvian, while not scaring away an English reader.
The Russians were famous for cursing constantly – not Latvians – but Kārlis (my protagonist) needs to say something besides ak tu kungs!
Some period-appropriate slang could be:
· Velns parauj. Roughly, “Damn it!”
· Kas par desām! Literally, “What kind of sausages are these?” But figuratively closer to “What the hell is going on?”
· Sausmas “Horrors”
• Ka ta var?! – “How can you behave this way?!” (Older ladies would say to Nonchalants.)
Lisa explained when Priekā! (Latvian for joy) would be the appropriate equivalent of “cheers” or when a character would say Prosit! (a Russian word, but Latvians use it.)
Drunkenness was rampant among the Schutzmänner (the Latvian auxiliary police who marshalled the Jewish ghetto under German command.) I’d been calling their swill samongonka –a Russian term for a homemade potato distillate. Lisa explained the connotations of kandža (moonshine); and concluded that the best term for me to use would be ļerga (low-quality “rotgut” liquor.)
She also corrected my Russianized spelling of “pierogis.” Use pirags (single), piragi (plural).
These, and many other catches, are small things individually. Together, they create a fuller, more believable world and a deeper respect for the culture. As a result of Lisa’s help, I think the dialogue builds a stronger sense of place.
4. Most Latvian women did not smoke.
But in that era a few cigarettes could buy a soul.
That sentence alone belongs in a novel.
5. The issue of the baby was tougher.
A more difficult decision concerns a scene I’ve included from accounts of the Riga ghetto liquidations and the massacres at Rumbula Forest.
I read reliable testimony describing an infant thrown from a window during the roundups to terrorize Jewish residents into moving faster toward execution. In my manuscript, Kārlis needs to prove to a German officer that he was physically present at the ghetto during the action, so he describes the incident.
A trusted editor I know urged me to remove the scene. “Too awful,” she said. “Readers will put the book down.”
I wrestle with this.
Just because it’s true doesn’t mean I have to repeat it, but I also don’t want to sugarcoat history. If the unpleasant aspects are ignored, does that skew the story for posterity? I asked my cultural sensitivity reader about it.
Lisa did not flinch. Instead, she told me about Liepāja. About Jewish women forced to dig graves near the Baltic coast. About mothers holding their infants before them so the babies would have the benefit of the bullets.
Lisa said they faced the Baltic, so the sea was the last thing they saw.
For now, I am keeping the scene.
Lisa also emphasized: if Kārlis (the protagonist) had refused his role in the Schutzmänner he would’ve been executed and someone else would’ve been forced to step up and do the killing. They had no choice. And for the Latvians who shot the Jews, they had no choice.
That is the crux of the story: what do ordinary people do when every available choice is corrupted?
Another danger in writing about this time period is over-simplification: imposing clarity that did not exist at the time.
6. Sometimes Lisa would send an email to clarify a point, as if the number of beavers in 1941 Latvia had been keeping her up at night.
“On page 485, you mention beaver dams. In 1940 Latvia there wouldn’t be many of them. … I knew there was something unique about them because the kids' animal story book I carried in my little backpack as we fled the Russians had NO mention of a beaver character. … it seems that BEAVERS were ‘re-introduced’ to Latvija in 1920.......WTH does that mean??? They may have been exterminated due to their fabulous fur...???
When I have some extra time I'll research it, but certainly mentioning ‘beaver’ is perfectly OK.....”
7. Lisa’s strongest objection concerns the title.
Lisa: “I STILL feel that Parade of the Dead is not fair. We fought back and survived. Considering the Forces of Ultimate Demonic Evil we latvieši had to face, we are victorious! Undefeated! Unbowed! Still carrying forth the tales, songs, dances, and customs of the Kursi, Seli, Latgali, among others......”
Diana: “I appreciate your feedback about the title, and I’m always on the lookout for something that will fit. The story is essentially a murder mystery in a historical setting — not a straight history of Latvia. It’s inspired partially by a painting of Kārlis Smīltens called Parade of the Dead — which I expect to use on the cover. But I’m open to other ideas. Once my working title was Murder Under the Thunder Cross. Once it was Where Blue Eyes Come From. So my ears are still open and I appreciate your sensibilities.”
Lisa: “Ya know, Parade of the Dead sounds SOOOOOO hopeless and depressing.......Uncle Smiltens absolutely deserves recognition but I wonder what HE'd say to using it for the title.......I like the "Murder....." title candidate.........
And later…
Lisa: “We didn't say anything about the book's title today......Did U consider The Undefeated??
There is already a book out there Parade of the Dead....author, Bumbgarner MD...'42-'45 auto bio story of US POWs in a Japanese POW camp...they were subjected to the Bataan Death March.
The truth is, if this book finds a publisher, someone else may ultimately decide the title and perhaps even the fate of the baby scene.
What do y’all think?
These are the details readers may not consciously notice—but the world of the story will feel less flat because of Lisa, the cultural sensitivity reader.
Working with Lisa Edmondson has been one of the most important stages of this manuscript’s development.
I close my eyes and I'm together with my ancestors the "Kurshi," as the ice cap melts and ever more of Europe is available for hunter-gatherers and soon, farmers......we trudge NORTH leaving behind us traces of pottery with patterns, our distinctive funeral pyres........and finally settle down over large areas of the Baltic Coast.
Now I'm off to dancercise. =)
Bunnyhugs!!!
Lisa
Lisa Edmondson, thank you.
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