I Can See the Sun

A story about life in a Georgian village in pre-war and wartime years. The main character, Soso, is brought up by his aunt, a Russian teacher. His parents were repressed, though this is not stated directly in the book. Soso becomes friends with the neighbor girl, who has been blind since birth.

Together they face everything—from the problems of growing up to a shared disaster, the war. They save the life of a fighter whom they hardly know anything about; they help their parents survive the hungry war years. And they constantly believe that the girl will be able to see. One doctor told her that if she could see the sun, he would restore her sight…

A nutcracker bird sang on a dry branch of a Spanish cherry with such devotion and rapture that the aunt stopped working, carried a three-legged stool into the yard, sat under the tree, and listened. I lay down on the grass at once and closed my eyes. The nutcracker sang without pausing for breath. I began to quietly, to myself, repeat the simple tune of the bird’s song, but there wasn’t enough air. And the bird kept whistling, sometimes glancing sideways at the sun rolling toward sunset. The huge red sun—like a copper dish—slowly sank to the horizon, and villages scattered in the valley of Supsa blushed under its rays as if they were burning with flames.

— Keto!—a cry sounded at the gate. The nutcracker fell silent.

— Soso!.. Sosoya!—the same voice repeated.

— Who’s there? Come in!—I answered irritably and got up. The brigadier of our collective farm, Datiko, entered the yard.

— Hello!—he greeted us.

— Hello!—the aunt replied. — Come in!

The aunt went into the kitchen; Datiko followed her. I lay down again and looked at the tree where the nutcracker had just been sitting. But its trace was gone.

I got up and went to the kitchen. The brigadier, who had been arguing passionately about something with my aunt, fell silent when he saw me. But the aunt stayed seated—arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the fire dying in the hearth.

The brigadier took a tobacco pouch from his pocket, rolled a cigarette, and lit it from a smoldering ember. The kitchen soon smelled of bitter, foul-smelling tobacco.

— Sosoya, be a friend—give me something to drink!—the brigadier asked me.

I took a small jug of water…