Things I Didn’t Throw Out (2021)
Viewing the history of postwar Poland through the prism of his late mother’s hoarded possessions, Wicha’s affectionate, illuminating and side-splitting work paints portraits of both a formidable, singular woman and a nation that passed from the ravages of war through the chill embrace of the Iron Curtain.
‘I was complaining about some dull educational programme on Polskie Radio, and my mother said: ‘Not everything in life can be turned into a funny story.’ I knew it was true. But still I tried.’
An intimate, unconventional and very funny memoir about everything we leave behind.
Lamps, penknives, paperbacks, mechanical pencils, inflatable headrests. Marcin Wicha’s mother Joanna was a collector of everyday objects. When she dies and leaves her apartment intact, Wicha is left to sort through her things. Through them, he begins to construct an image of Joanna as a Jewish woman, a mother, and a citizen. As Poland emerged from the Second World War into the material meanness of the Communist regime, shortages of every kind shaped its people in deep and profound ways. What they chose to buy, keep – and, arguably, hoard – tells the story of contemporary Poland.
Joanna’s Jewishness, her devotion to work, her formidable temperament, her weakness for consumer goods, all accumulate into an unforgettable portrait of a woman and, ultimately, her country.
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Zielony Balonik book club notes:
I was taken by surprise to read that Joasia Wicha had a copy of Jane Austen’s Emma in her collection of books. Marcin chose the book as one to keep after his mother’s death, despite its poor condition. I saw from the notes at the end of the book that her edition had been translated into Polish by Jadwiga Dmochowska and published in Warsaw in 1963. Some confusion here as in the episode headed ‘Mummy Austen’ Joasia had bought the book in 1961. 2025 is the 250th anniversary of the birth of Jane Austen and is being celebrated accordingly, especially in her home locality in the south of England. The setting of Emma and her other novels both in time and place must have intrigued Joasia in Warsaw in the 1960s. I was not sure at first whether she had read the book in English or Polish. I am not sufficiently skilled to know whether the translation was able to do justice to the precision writing style of Jane Austen.
Whilst reading Marcin’s book I also decided to remind myself of the well known story of Emma Woodhouse. I was intrigued to read a review of the book by Sir Walter Scott, especially as our meeting of Zielony Balonik to discuss Marcin Wicha’s book was held at 3 Rothesay Terrace in Edinburgh in the library. The room is modelled on the library of Sir Walter Scott at his home in Abbotsford in The Borders. Number 3 Rothesay Terrace was originally built for John Ritchie Findlay (1824-1898), the proprietor of The Scotsman, and is now part of the B+B Collection of hotels. The current Operations Manager is Magda Pszeniczna.
My favourite episodes related to Joasia’s books, the first one being entitled ‘Rubbish’. Others were reminders of the passage of time and experiences in post Second World War Poland with Joasia being the ‘hub’ not only of the family but also her friendship groups. She did not seem to waste a moment with her mind always on the alert. Understanding her was not easy on an every day basis. In Part 3 of the book the episodes become shorter, more poignant and reflective and with no titles. There is the conclusion that her character was underpinned by hidden fear and a necessity to be prepared for an escape. And to be able to adapt, just as the journalist from Budapest became a Jewish Refugee and then an Argentinian entrepreneur.
Daily living could be a challenge and with her husband there was attention to every detail and almost obsessive concern with acquisitions for the home, whether useful or not. Her attention to detail was part of her intelligence in her professional work and in her ability to manoeuvre her way through protocols and bureaucracy. Basically she was a very active citizen who was appreciated in her community.
Many of the places and interactions will be familiar to those who lived in Poland in those complicated times and would understand the humour and the comment that derision can be a substitute for justice. And who you know is essential even to secure a bed in the hospital when suffering the effects of terminal cancer. To sort out someone’s assets on death is always a task for those left behind which can be overwhelming and emotional beyond the anxiety and stress of making the practical arrangements, in accordance with the person’s wishes or not. The reality is that there are many phases of legacy and memory and there is no end to the process from the known to the unknown. The book is an intriguing and unusual memoir but I miss the absence of a photograph of Joasia in the publication.
Krystyna Szumelukowa
***
Things I didn’t Throw Out is a collection of short chapters about life in Poland from perspective of a son. Memories of the author consider 1990, 2000, and reveal more thoughts about events from 1968.
The book describes the life of an average Polish family. It is highlighted how happy they were going for shopping together, buying unnecessary things and having fun. However, everything changed with his father’s sudden heart attack and passing. The little boy had only his mother to rely on and things of melancholic value. The mother was convinced that parents leave children when they are not needed anymore.
Mother was Jewish but children never spoke about different nationalities. They were just friends at school with various names.
In the 1980s Polish schools were very strict; all children were rather scared and tried to be polite as much as they could, but in conflict situations Mother always defended her son. Children were punished for negative behaviour. Respect was also taught by checking knowledge by sudden, short, scary tests. The teacher of the author is described as having depression. In the 1980s at school nobody spoke about events taking place between adults, who were silently fighting for Poland, free from influences from the East. Teachers were serious, probably thinking about events outside school.
After mother’s passing, the young man tried to sell some of her books, but each time the buyer refused. Each book resembled the lesson given to him by his mum. Historical stories from ’the forties, portraits from the seventies, paper shortages and leaflets from the eighties and black series from the nineties.
With his grandma, Marcin visited local private toy shops where she would buy toys for him. These shops were slowly disappearing in the nineties, being replaced by large shopping centres and galleries.
Emma by Jane Austin was soul medicine for Mother and her friend. The romance set in Regency England resembled a fairy tale in times of luck and happiness, not hard work and family problems. Untouched since father passed away.
There were so many characteristic things understood by certain generations. No photos. She did not like them. Post-war memories were not positive.
The cookbook written in Russia during Stalinism looks grotesque as at the time the country suffered from hunger and poverty. Meals were not very sophisticated, but people were happy when they had anything on their plates. Even a bit of sugar could have become a present in 1946.
There are a lot of dishes in Polish cuisine taken from Jewish traditions such as carp in jelly, served at Christmas in many homes right up to the present. Traditional Polish meals are based on meat. Until the nineties people did not know dishes from other countries, like spaghetti or pizza. Meals were prepared from meat, fruit and vegetables from local farmers. The luckiest were those whose family lived in a village.
Marcin’s mum was dreaming about emigration to Canada, new jobs, new life, but when father died from a heart attack in 1990 she gave up English lessons.
A rainbow vacuum cleaner appeared at the beginning of millennium, with other luxurious goods. Customers created lists, waiting for the appearance of magical, extremely expensive things. Woolen blankets, magical pots or vacuum cleaner cost a fortune and a lot of people took out loans for their ‘must -haves’.
The picture of the engineer Kopscialko drinking coffee from a glass has been a symbol of Polish culture like the Mermaid of Warsaw. People drink from mugs or cups.
Marcin’s father used to sit and watch the news each evening in the eighties – the habit of all grandfathers, fathers and sons, waiting for good or bad, seeking the reflection at workplaces, during family meetings of birthdays or name days.
March ’68 protest of students against Labour Party divided families so politics was the topic through the following years.
Marcin had a daughter, little girl, who doesn’t have to be scared anymore but happy; if only the dream of peace was a reality.
In the eighties the cigarette was a symbol of freedom, being adult, taking decisions. Klubowe were the cheapest and most popular cigarettes. Smoking caused many diseases but conversely some patients with cancer were not allowed to stop. Smoke kills cancer.
The Silence of Lambs, philosophical fiction, the movie about the serial killer and fantastic psychologist. So much talking about euthanasia between people. Cancer kills with pain. Nowadays the patient has to sign an agreement for death and can receive as much morphine as needed. Emptiness.
I come from Poland, and Marcin’s memories are mine.
Patrycja Jankowska
***
‘Funny, clever and moving,’ says the blurb, introducing this memoir through objects in which the author creates aspects of his dead mother’s life and character, as well as life in People’s Poland.
I enjoyed reading about his attempts to buy a much desired children’s book which so well highlighted the black market economy, buying under the counter. Things have changed but I remember a Polish boy telling me in the early 2000s that he wanted to be American ‘so that he could get Harry Potter as soon as it came out.’
Several pages (too many) are devoted to Jane Austen’s Emma, a favourite book which Mother read almost all her life because ‘nobody will die in childbirth or be finished off with TB.’ That spoke volumes of her need to escape from a much harder life and wartime memories, yet finally, in her own terminal illness, Emma with its worn cover, stayed on the shelf, unread.
Yes, an enjoyable and insightful book, yet I felt that the hype that it had been given was more to do with the author’s fame as a best-selling writer, than the actual merits of this book.
However, it would seem that writing a memoir based on loved objects is currently in vogue. I chanced upon a recent review of Bee Wilson’s The Heart-shaped Tin: love, loss and kitchen objects, which explores an important dimension in the objects we don’t throw out (like Martin Wicha): their connections with people, ‘tiny museums of loved people and significant places,’ as the reviewer points out. (The review, headlined ‘I’m I love with a mug’ by Ceci Browning, appeared in the ‘Saturday Review’ section of The Times, May 3rd, 2025.)
Jenny Robertson