The Painted Bird

“Such eyes, known as Gypsy or witches’ eyes, could bring crippling illness, plague, or death. That is why she forbade me to look directly into her eyes or even those of the household animals.” 

Marta is the first peasant with whom the boy lives. Her wariness of the boy’s dark complexion foreshadows the discrimination the boy will experience throughout the rest of the novel. It also offers the first glimpse into the superstitions to which the peasants adhere. People in the villages believe the boy’s differences—they are fair-haired, with fair complexions—demonstrate that he is possessed by evil powers. Furthermore, they know that to house a Gypsy or a Jew is forbidden by the Germans, and they fear repercussions if the boy is found among them. These sentiments are echoed in Chapter 2 by Olga the Wise, who, while kind to him, believes “that [the boy] was possessed by an evil spirit” (20).

“I would keep them in my pocket and take them out when needed, placing them over my own. Then I would see twice as much, maybe even more […] Maybe the eyes had no intention of serving anyone. They could easily escape from the cats and roll out of the door. They could wander over the fields, lakes, and woods, viewing everything about them, free as birds released from a trap.” 

After the miller gouges out the plowboy’s eyes, the boy stares at the eyes as they rest on the floor. Rather than feeling disgusted, he is fascinated, thinking of all the wonderful new things he could see if the eyes were his. He appears almost excited for the eyes, which now are not limited to seeing only what the plowboy sees in the village. This passage reflects the boy’s awareness that a “trap” can be more than physical. 

“Who knows, perhaps without his eyes the plowboy would start seeing an entirely new, more fascinating world.” 

This quotation reiterates the boy’s commentary on the plowboy’s eyes but takes it one step further by suggesting that from something violent or tragic, something beautiful can emerge. The question of whether the good in the world can outshine the darkness is a thread that runs throughout the entire novel. The hope the boy demonstrates in this quotation will change as he is disappointed by prayer, by love, and by God.

“The painted bird circled from one end of the flock to the other, vainly trying to convince its kin that it was one of them. But, dazzled by its brilliant colors, they flew around it unconvinced. The painted bird would be forced farther and farther away as it zealously tried to enter the ranks of the flock. We saw soon afterwards how one bird after another would peel off in a fierce attack. Shortly the many-hued shape lost its place in the sky and dropped to the ground.” 

Lekh, in his anger at Ludmila, releases a beautifully-painted bird back into the wild, where its flock rejects and destroys it for its appearance. The bird is a metaphor for the boy, who travels from village to village seeking comfort, shelter, and companionship and is tortured and cast out at nearly every turn. Though he is one of them, he is rejected because he looks different. In “Afterward,” Kosiński notes that readers wrote to him describing how the book “offered a topography for those who perceived the world as a battle between the bird catchers and the birds”; they recognized that “outsiders,” especially “members of ethnic minorities,” were “feared, ostracized, and attacked” by “insiders” (xxv-xxvi). Thus the painted bird is a metaphor not only for the boy but for all outsiders, and for mankind as a whole: the boy’s musing in the final chapter that “people did not understand one another anyway,” that a man’s “emotions, memory, and senses divided him from others as effectively as thick reeds screen the mainstream from the muddy bank” (232), suggests that we are all, in our own way, painted birds.

“Right next to me a small lizard leapt out of a root and stared attentively at me. I could have squashed it with a whack of my hand, but I was too tired.” 

Immediately following the scene in which the German soldier defies orders by sparing the boy’s life and pretending to execute him, this passage demonstrates the power of a good deed in a world full of evil. In The Painted Bird, situations with animals are frequently used to impart a message involving humans. The boy’s saving the lizard mirrors the soldier’s saving the boy, and it suggests that a kindness, however small, can cause a ripple effect and is therefore not meaningless.

“So it was believed that neither rain, nor fire, nor wind could ever wipe out the stain of a crime. For justice hangs over the world like a great sledgehammer lifted by a powerful arm, which has to stop for a while before coming down with force on the unsuspecting anvil.” 

The boy witnesses a man murder another man at a wedding and wonders why, against common belief, the murderer doesn’t meet his own death when stepping over the bloodstains. He recalls a story in which a murdered brother enacted revenge on the brother who killed him, ten years after the fact; he concludes that “the workings of justice were often exceedingly slow” (86). This quotation foreshadows Mitka’s teachings about revenge and lays the groundwork for the question of the meaning of “justice.” The people the boy encounters tend to define “justice” as their own execution of “appropriate revenge” (214).

“I wondered what gave people the ability to invent such things. Why were the village peasants unable to do it? I wondered what gave people of one color of eyes and hair such great power over other people.” 

The boy studies the discarded German weapons found in the forest and wonders at their superiority to the peasants’ crude tools. It is the first of many times he’ll question why some groups of people seem more powerful and talented than others. Having been taught by the peasants that his coloring makes him inferior, he begins his journey by focusing on the Germans’ fair complexions. Later, he will conclude that their superiority derives not from their coloring but from their having sold their souls to the Devil, disseminating hatred and violence in exchange for power. He will again suggest one’s coloring determines one’s destiny when he looks at the dark-haired Kalmuks and concludes that God has punished him for the actions of those who look like him.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to change people’s eyes and hair than to build big furnaces and catch Jews and Gypsies to burn in them?” 

In this quotation, the boy alludes to the absurdity of persecution, especially persecution based on appearance. It also demonstrates the boy’s innocence; in his mind, changing people’s appearance is a possibility. It’s a tender reminder of the boy’s age, which can be forgotten as he experiences horror after horror.

“I knew my fate was being decided in some manner, but it was a matter of indifference to me. I placed infinite confidence in the decision of the man facing me. I knew that he possessed powers unattainable by ordinary people.” 

It isn’t just the SS officer’s “neat perfection” that makes him appear “superhuman” to the boy, it’s also that his appearance is evidence of his power. The boy states that “[t]he granite sound of his language was ideally suited to order the death of inferior, forlorn creatures” (113) and that he experiences “a twinge of envy I had never experienced before” (114). The boy is magnetized by the officer’s authority, a quality he desires for himself. His dominance is at the core of the boy’s admiration; therefore, the fact that he holds the boy’s fate in his hands actually makes him more appealing.

“Suddenly the ruling pattern of the world was revealed to me with beautiful clarity. I understood why some people were strong and others weak, some free and others enslaved, some rich and others poor, some well and others sick. The former had simply been the first to see the need for prayer and for collecting the maximum number of days of indulgence.” 

Part of the boy’s journey is his attempt to explain why some have power and others do not. When he hears the priest discussing days of indulgence, he thinks he’s stumbled upon the answer. For the rest of the chapter, he prays constantly, believing this, at last, is what he needs to regain control. He anticipates that his bin would overflow with prayers and “that heaven would have to assign me a larger one” (126); he imagines for himself not just happiness, but strength and largess—a reversal of his present condition of submission.

“In my dreams I turned into a tall, handsome man fair-skinned, blue-eyed, with hair like pale autumn leaves. I became a German officer in a tight, black uniform. Or I turned into a birdcatcher, familiar with all the secret paths of the woods and marshes. In these dreams my artful hands induced wild passions in the village girls, turning them into wanton Ludmilas who chased me through flowery glades, lying with me on beds of wild thyme, among fields of goldenrod.” 

During the boy’s sexual awakening, his fantasies revolve around being powerful—he is the dominant figure, not the submissive victim. In this passage, he equates sexual prowess with the ability to control others and to dominate using violence; similarly, he equates the sexual receiver with a victim of sexual violence. These fantasies are the result of his experiences as a witness to sexual violence.

“Hatreds of large groups of people must have been the most valuable of all. I could barely imagine the prize earned by the person who managed to inculcate in all the blond, blue-eyed people a long-lasting hatred of dark ones.” 

Throughout the novel, the boy has tried to figure out the source of the Germans’ power. Here, when he sees Ewka with the goat, he comes to the conclusion that some people are more powerful than others because they have sold their souls to the Devil. It is only logical that evil deeds that cause the most harm to the most people are deemed most valuable. Therefore, the Germans, who “delighted in waging wars,” are “invincible” (153). It isn’t only their power that must come from a supernatural force—it is also their ability to disseminate hate. By arguing that only a people supported by the Devil could “manage to” create that much hate, he seems to suggest that there could be no plausible reason for the hate.

“I myself hated many people. How many times had I dreamed of the time when I would be strong enough to return, set their settlements on fire, poison their children and cattle, lure them into deadly swamps. In a sense I had already been recruited by the powers of Evil and had made a pact with them. What I needed now was their assistance for spreading evil […] I felt stronger and more confident. The time of passivity was over.” 

The boy considers the Germans’ invincibility and decides that he, too, will dedicate himself to spreading evil. His comment that he’d “already been recruited by the powers of Evil” alludes not only to the dark complexion that, according to the peasants, is a sign of the evil inside him, but also to the terrible things that have happened to him: in Chapter 13, he lists the losses he’s suffered and claims that the Evil Ones inflicted this pain on him “[t]o train me in hatred” (158). Love and faith have subordinated and hurt him, and he will now take action. He believes this will make him powerful, that he will cease to be a victim.

“From God’s point of view it seemed to make more sense if everyone lost the war, since everyone was committing murder.” 

In pondering the peasants’ belief that God dictates what happens on Earth, the boy wonders how God could choose to side with either the Germans or the Soviets, for both sides are “a menace to His people” (174). The boy seems to acknowledge that all people are equally evil, that no society is superior to another. It’s a concept that perfectly aligns with his experiences in the villages; the peasants, the Germans, and the partisans all kill without mercy. Interestingly, despite the ambivalence he expresses here, he will grow to revere the Red Army and its soldiers, obsessively reading the Soviet newspaper and refusing to remove his Soviet uniform. By that point, the Red Army is considered the liberating force, and the boy feels powerful associating with them.

“I realized why God would not listen to my prayers, why I was hung from hooks, why Garbos beat me, why I lost my speech. I was black. My hair and eyes were as black as these Kalmuks’. Evidently I belonged with them in another world. There could be no mercy for such as me. A dreadful fate had sentenced me to have black hair and eyes in common with this horde of savages.” 

This passage shows how the boy has taken to heart the peasants’ fear of his dark features. From the beginning of the novel, Marta, Olga, and others have said he had evil forces inside him(a generalization not unlike that which is employed by the Nazis). Here, the boy watches with disgust as the Kalmuks perform acts of unspeakable evil; later, watching the dead Kalmuks swing from the trees, he grows dizzy and breaks out in a sweat. The fact that he identifies with them explains why he is so disturbed, why “[a] pain again pierced [his] chest” (184).

“This shadow of their family trailed people relentlessly, just as the concept of original sin hounded even the best Catholic.” 

The leaders of the Communist Party value some family backgrounds over others. A man whose parents were industrial workers has a better chance of ascending the ladder than others. Like original sin, one’s family background is not something one can control. By comparing the two, Kosiński hints at the absurdity of holding a person accountable for either. The boy, however, worries that his own background will prevent him from fitting in with Gavrila and the Community Party. His desire to understand and be part of this complicated system demonstrates his childlike worship of Gavrila and the liberating army.

“The German officer in the magnificent black uniform, who spent his time killing helpless prisoners or deciding the fate of small black fleas like me, now appeared pitifully insignificant in comparison with Mitka.” 

This quotation suggests that the boy, who’s had little control over his own life, respects most he who demonstrates the greatest power over others. Those with control seem superhuman to him. In Chapter 9, he describes the SS officer almost as if he were a god. However, while both the officer and Mitka are powerful, Mitka possesses skill the officer does not; the SS officer’s victims are defenseless, but Mitka, whose victims are soldiers, has true power. In both cases, the boy is impressed mostly by the men’s ability to kill.

“An individual might think his actions were of no importance, but that was an illusion. His actions, like those of innumerable others, formed a great pattern which could only be discerned by those at the summit of society. Thus some apparently random stitches of a woman’s needle contributed to the beautiful floral pattern as it finally appeared on a tablecloth or bedcover.” 

Gavrila impresses the boy with his lofty vision of a society in which individuals’ actions add to the greater good. He tells him of Stalin, who doesn’t wait for divine intervention to create “a new way of life which made all equal” (188), and of the Communist Party, which “was to the working people what the engine is to a train” (191). However, the boy feels “lost in this maze” (194) of complicated Party rules, and he is intimidated by the knowledge that “[e]very stumble could slow down the whole column.” While these beliefs are appealing to the boy, the Party’s strict observance of its members makes the boy feel even more keenly the urgency of fitting in. The fixation on group thinking also bears ominous similarities to the Nazis: one must stay precisely in line or risk “loss of contact with the masses,” which “would lead to decadence and degeneracy” (195).

“Man carries in himself his own private war, which he has to wage, win or lose, himself—his own justice, which is his alone to administer.” 

Like Gavrila, Mitka believes in the power of the individual. However, whereas Gavrila’s teachings tend to celebrate the individual’s contribution to the “great pattern” (187) of society, Mitka envisions the individual as more isolated, dependent on his own agency to achieve justice for himself. What “justice” means varies from person to person and usually involves revenge; later, the boy will recall Mitka’s belief that “[a]man should take revenge according to his own nature and the means at his disposal” (214).

In the lines above, the boy reflects on how Mitka would not feel deserving of his accolades if he didn’t avenge his friends, for the opinions of others mean nothing if he doesn’t respect himself. The fact that Mitka wins his private war through killing is not problematic for the boy; in fact, the boy requests that Mitka kill a dog that reminds him of Judas. It’s a subtle, ominous moment that reflects how the boy has internalized the violence he’s experienced. The boy’s statement that he “envied” (206) Mitka is reminiscent of his worship of the SS officer, who similarly was a pinnacle of personal autonomy and power.

“During the short time when the carriages roared over one’s body, nothing mattered except the simple fact of being alive […] I found at the very bottom of this experience the great joy of being unhurt.” 

The boy has been persecuted for six years and has yearned to feel powerful. Flattening himself on the railroad tracks and letting the trains pass over him is a way for him to regain control. Surviving this dangerous feat unhurt makes him feel more keenly that he is alive. Furthermore, it impresses other kids, including those in the orphanage who’d attacked him. It’s something he can do that no one else can do, and it helps him avoid being a victim. It’s a small act of resistance, an assertion of his power.

“To be capable of deciding the fate of many people whom one did not even know was a magnificent sensation.” 

Similar to his flattening himself against the railroad tracks, the boy’s knowledge that he can switch the railroad spur at any time, killing countless innocent people, is an assertion of power. Having spent so long at the mercy of others, he now decides who will be spared mercy and who will not. He imagines the men who drove the trains to the concentration camps felt the same way. As he did with the SS officer, the boy casts those with power, no matter how problematic, in a positive light. In this case, he identifies with them, and the resulting sense of power is satisfying.

“He now carried the cage in himself.” 

When the boy chooses to go with his parents, he likens himself to Makar’s hare, who fought at first for his freedom but ultimately returned willingly to his cage. Makar didn’t even need to cage the hare, for the hare had been broken into submission. The boy feels he is giving up his freedom and suggests he has been broken, too.

“In daytime the world was at peace. The war continued at night.” 

While living with his parents in the city, the boy goes out at night and witnesses scenes of crime and depravity. Here, he comments that while the country was technically at peace, its people had been ravaged by the war. Similarly, the boy himself has been saved, as he is back with his parents. However, like the city, he is not the same as he was before. Peacetime cannot erase the physical and psychological toll.