In her debut novel, Parasiti, author Alisha Gamisch delivers a harrowing, deeply layered exploration of what it means to be a woman within the specific, often suffocating context of the Russian-German diaspora. Through the interconnected lives of three generations of women—Lydia, her niece Valli, and her granddaughter Rina—Gamisch interrogates the unspoken rules of womanhood, the lingering trauma of displacement, and the haunting persistence of the past in the present.
The narrative, which spans from the stark, poverty-stricken reality of 1960s Siberian barracks to the sanitized, suburban quietude of a modern-day row house in Fürstenfeldbruck, serves as a literary excavation of a history often buried under layers of shame and silence.
The Catalyst: A Plastic Embryo and a Stifled Voice
The novel begins with a disruption of domestic normalcy. A small, pink plastic object—a model of a ten-week-old embryo—arrives in the mail, accompanied by anti-abortion literature. For the protagonists, Valli and Lydia, this unsolicited delivery acts as a traumatic trigger. It is not merely a political statement but a physical manifestation of a history that Lydia has spent decades trying to suppress.
The impact on Lydia is immediate and severe. She ceases to speak, withdrawing into a shell of non-responsiveness. This silence is the central motif of the novel; it is a silence inherited, a survival mechanism passed down like a genetic trait. As the reader discovers, Lydia’s reaction is not born of a sudden epiphany, but of a lifetime of trauma related to her reproductive autonomy—or lack thereof.
Chronology of Displacement and Survival
Gamisch expertly weaves the narrative through temporal shifts, moving between the harsh realities of the Soviet era and the contemporary German experience.
The Siberian Barracks (1960s)
The foundation of the women’s trauma lies in the Soviet past. We see a young Lydia struggling to survive in a barracks settlement near Novosibirsk. Here, the struggle for survival was not just economic but moral. The pressure to conform to rigid social standards—to be "upstanding" and not like the "sooty Germans" who let their children run wild—created a psychological environment of extreme surveillance and self-policing.
The Burden of the "Parasite"
The title of the novel, Parasiti (the Russian word for parasites), is drawn from the Soviet "parasite laws," which criminalized unemployment. For Lydia’s husband, Sashka, and many others, the label was a tool of state oppression. However, Gamisch subverts the term, applying it not just to those who did not work, but to the clandestine nature of the abortions Lydia endured. In a world where she lacked access to modern contraception, the clinic—the "Balnitza"—became a site of frequent, traumatic intervention. The term "parasite" thus takes on a multi-layered meaning: it refers to the state’s view of the unproductive citizen, the social stigma of the "disordered" woman, and the physical reality of unwanted pregnancies.
Supporting Data: The Anatomy of Generational Trauma
While the book is a work of fiction, its roots in the lived reality of Russian-German history are profound. The sociological backdrop of the story highlights a phenomenon common among families who have experienced forced migration and extreme poverty: the "conspiracy of silence."
The characters in Parasiti navigate a world where specific topics—sexual autonomy, the realities of the Soviet regime, and the violence of their displacement—are never discussed. This lack of verbal processing forces the trauma to manifest in other ways. For young Rina, this presents as an acute sense of "otherness" and social anxiety. Despite her best efforts to fit in—meticulously sharpened pencils, tidy appearances—she feels like an "incongruous Christmas ornament" in the German school system.
Gamisch uses this to illustrate a key implication of the migrant experience: that integration is not merely a matter of language or housing, but a painful, internal negotiation of identities that are constantly at odds with one another.
Literary Style and Cultural Context
Alisha Gamisch, born in 1990 in Tegernsee, brings a lyrical precision to her prose that prevents the narrative from collapsing under the weight of its own darkness. Having previously established herself as a poet—notably with her 2020 collection Lustdorf and the Nora-Pfeffer-Prize-winning work—Gamisch utilizes a fragmented, rhythmic style.
The density of the text is intentional. She forces the reader to pause, to breathe, and to sit with the discomfort of the characters. Furthermore, the inclusion of Russian-German linguistic "interjections" serves to ground the novel in a specific, lived culture. The "Small Russian-German Inventory" provided at the end of the volume acts as a bridge for the reader, inviting them to engage with the specific vocabulary of a community that has historically existed on the margins of mainstream German discourse.
Implications for the Contemporary Discourse
The release of Parasiti comes at a pivotal moment in the German cultural landscape. As debates surrounding identity, the integration of the Russian-German community, and the legacy of the Soviet era continue to evolve, Gamisch’s work offers a necessary, intimate perspective.
The novel refuses to offer easy answers. It does not romanticize the struggle of these three generations, nor does it paint them as mere victims. Instead, it highlights their agency, their resilience, and the deeply flawed, often destructive ways they have learned to protect themselves. By centering the story on the bodies and voices of these three women, Gamisch forces a reckoning with the history that is usually omitted from traditional historical accounts.
A New Voice in Literature
Gamisch’s affiliation with "No Scribes," a literary group she co-founded with Raphaëlle Red and Paula Fürstenberg, signals a new, collaborative approach to literature. By engaging with institutions like the Center for Anti-Slavic Research and the PostOst-Café, she is not merely an author but a curator of a broader dialogue regarding the Eastern European experience in Germany.
Conclusion: The Necessity of Speaking
Parasiti is a profound meditation on the cost of silence. Through the character of Lydia, who eventually stops speaking entirely, Gamisch demonstrates that when we are unable to articulate the traumas of our past, they do not disappear; they simply harden, becoming "parasites" that feed on our capacity for joy and connection in the present.
As Valli and Rina navigate their own paths, the reader is left with a stark realization: the breaking of the cycle requires more than just the passage of time. It requires the courage to name the things that have been hidden, to reclaim the stories that were deemed unworthy of being told, and to finally give voice to the experiences that have been systematically suppressed.
Alisha Gamisch has written a book that is as much a social document as it is a work of art. It is a vital, challenging, and deeply empathetic addition to contemporary literature, reminding us that while the past may be a foreign country, its borders are often found within our own families.
Book Details:
- Parasiti
- Author: Alisha Gamisch
- Publisher: Voland & Quist, Berlin 2026
- Length: 240 Pages
- Price: 24 Euro
