As Trump, Putin weigh Ukraine’s east in talks, new book gives voice to war-battered region
When Russia launched its invasion into Ukraine’s eastern Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts in 2014, the battle was not only over territory but also historical memory.
In the city of Kostiantynivka, the struggle played out not just with weapons, but with spray paint — where a single letter in a piece of wall graffiti shifted allegiance from the pseudo-state known as the Donetsk People’s Republic, which is just the Russian-occupied part of Donetsk Oblast, to the short-lived early 20th-century Ukrainian People’s Republic, which was founded after the Russian Empire’s collapse.
Moments like these fill the pages of Oleksandr Mykhed’s “I’ll Mix Your Blood with Coal: Snapshots from the Ukrainian East,” which has now been published in Tanya Savchynska and David Mossop's English translation by Northwestern University Press. Born out of a cultural initiative that led Mykhed to travel throughout the two regions in 2016, the book documents the fruits of his trips to archives and interactions with local residents during his visits to the largest cities in the region under the Ukrainian control, including Kostiantynivka, Pokrovsk, Dobropillia, Lysychansk, Siverskodonetsk, and Bakhmut.
The emergence of cultural initiatives after 2014, such as the one that brought Mykhed eastward, was no accident. Russia’s war — framed by the Kremlin as a campaign to “protect” the so-called Russian-speaking population from Kyiv and expressed by a barrage of weaponry launched against that very population — has made the region increasingly inaccessible to most Ukrainians. In this fraught context, Mykhed’s visit was more than an intellectual endeavor — it was the chance to give Ukraine’s east a rare opportunity to speak for itself. Listening to these voices can be a complex, painful, and sobering act — but one that is essential if Ukraine is ever to fully break free from the suffocating grip Russia has held over it for so long.
The book’s appearance in English matters all the more now, at a time when Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts, along with other Ukrainian regions, have again been reduced to the status of bargaining chips in a familiar great-power game. The scene is hardly new: in the name of "peace," the leaders of the United States and Russia prepare to decide the fate of territories, almost certainly without input from Ukraine, including the millions of Ukrainians who have called, and still call, these regions home.
"I'll Mix Your Blood with Coal," in a certain sense, also functions as a last will and testament for these cities. After all, the Ukrainian east that Mykhed visited in 2016 bears little resemblance to the region it is today. After the start of Russia’s full-scale war in 2022, Bakhmut was razed to the ground, Siverskodonetsk and Lysychansk came under Russian occupation, while the front line keeps creeping toward Dobropillia, Pokrovsk, and Kostiantynivka.
All of this proved fertile ground for exploitation, and Russia — unsurprisingly — did precisely that, and continues to do so, through the varied instruments of hybrid warfare, seeking to deepen internal divides among Ukrainians, promote the false notion of “brotherly nations” that was established during Soviet times, and to place fresh obstacles in the path toward national unity. Mykhed describes in the book how, amid the “slow death of (Soviet) ideology” that has manifested in decaying industrial landscapes, he wanted to try to explain why some people there maintain a sense of loyalty, or even fleeting sentimentality, toward the Soviet past that had wrought so much suffering upon them.
The enduring grip of Soviet ideology fostered in some Ukrainians a deep-seated skepticism toward Kyiv — one that cast events such as the 2013-2014 EuroMaidan Revolution, which culminated in the ousting of the pro-Russian President Viktor Yanukovych, through a lens of suspicion and hostility. It compels some to see Ukraine’s history as that of one among equals in Soviet times — “brotherly nations,” as the Russians like to call it — a dangerous illusion that conceals the reality of the horrors Russia has inflicted upon Ukraine. Wherever Soviet ideology lingers, it remains an obstacle to Ukraine fully achieving its sovereignty. To recognize and understand this legacy is the essential first step toward dismantling it.
As Mykhed observes, the Soviet Union was “an adept engineer of human souls,” shaping not only societal structures but also individual worldviews. In Ukraine, this often meant suppressing Ukrainian cultural identity through acts of terror and narrowing one’s perceptions of personal agency. Nowhere was this more pronounced than in Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts — long coveted by Russia for their rich resources and industrial might — leading Soviet rule to leave deep imprints on collective consciousness and regional dynamics.
“I’ll Mix Your Blood with Coal” is divided into sections with unattributed quotes from the local residents alongside commentary from Mykhed himself. These standalone testimonies are supplemented by monologues from several prominent cultural figures from the Ukrainian east, including writers Olena Stiazhkina, Serhii Zhadan, and Volodymyr Rafeyenko, as well as religious scholar Ihor Kozlovskyi.
One of the book’s most compelling strengths lies in its presentation of local voices, which are sometimes contradictory to the author’s own vision, and therefore uncomfortable but necessary to read. Mykhed himself “apologizes” on behalf of some of their commentary, establishing distance between the generation of those shaped by the Soviet Union and those, like Mykhed, born in an independent Ukraine.
Some of the local residents are drawn into the enduring allure of the so-called "miner’s myth," a Soviet narrative steeped in industrial pride and the romanticization of hardship. Others express a wary skepticism toward Kyiv and western Ukraine, questioning the relevance — or even the benefit — of policies decided in the capital.
These voices often raise pointed, if not entirely illogical, questions. For instance, they want to know how symbolic gestures like renaming cities — part of Ukraine’s sweeping decommunization efforts since 2014 — translate into tangible improvements in their daily lives. In Pokrovsk, one local tells Mykhed, “There’s a running joke around here: some people stayed in Krasnoarmiisk (the Soviet name for the city), while others moved to Pokrovsk,” a tragicomic reflection on the divide between those trapped in the Soviet past and those actively striving to move beyond it.
By letting these doubts and ambivalences surface unfiltered, Mykhed resists easy binaries, rendering a layered and complex portrait of Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts. Yet, the choice to name cultural figures while leaving local residents faceless deepens the tension between these two competing visions for Ukraine, underscoring that Mykhed would like to consign those still ensnared in the Soviet mindtrap to drift, nameless, within the confines of history. At the same time, the monologues from leading cultural figures from both regions add essential context, a legitimization of Mykhed’s stance, helping to explain why some people from the region think in those ways — and how the failure to reckon with the Soviet past tainted life and inevitably paved the way for war.
As Kozlovskyi, a religious scholar who was kidnapped by Russian militants in Donetsk and tortured for weeks for his pro-Ukrainian views, tells Mykhed: “We create myths because we don’t want to do the research. If we truly wanted to find something out, we would have to start by debunking the myth.”
Their reflections also reveal challenging yet important truths when viewed in retrospect. Kozlovskyi also describes how, after independence, the Ukrainian state failed to invest money and resources in Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts, leaving the regions under the control of local oligarchic clans. This neglect led to a declining standard of living and a lack of opportunity — conditions ripe for exploitation. Those who took up arms with Russian forces from 2014 onward were already living on the margins of society: “Because of the lack of liberal arts education, their ignorance remained at the level where any seed could be planted in barren soil.”
The fact that some cities, like Bakhmut, were founded long before Soviet industrialization took hold only deepens the tragedy of their loss later on during the full-scale war. Locals emphasize to Mykhed that the city is nearly 500 years old, and therefore not a product of rapid Soviet industrialization, proudly recalling how they planted roses even under bombardment when fighting between Ukraine and Russia began in 2014.
Historical tragedies in Ukraine’s east serve as a kind of roadmap for understanding the increasingly frightening present. As Mykhed notes, the need to learn from history is more urgent than ever — especially as Russia attempts to erase it. One example in Bakhmut is the story of Hyrhorii Khailov, a Soviet surgeon who stayed behind in Artemivsk (the Soviet name for Bakhmut) due to his own initial illness and ended up spending the German occupation there saving lives.
Mykhed learns of his heroism from the local museum’s possession of a note Khailov later submitted to regional officials — an effort to explain his actions amid the Soviet regime’s “suspicion of those who didn’t suffer martyrdom” in German-occupied territories. In his testimony to the Communist Party, Khailov describes how, among other feats, he diagnosed Soviet prisoners of war with fictitious illnesses, taught them how to fake symptoms, and forged documents for those otherwise destined for labor camps after recovery. Local officials and colleagues were aware of what he was doing, but no one betrayed him.
With roughly twenty percent of Ukraine’s territory now under Russian occupation, stories like Khailov’s are not confined to the past — they offer glimpses of the remarkable acts of bravery and sacrifice still waiting to be uncovered. Khailov’s story prompts Mykhed to reflect on the many unrecorded acts of quiet resistance unfolding in the occupied regions under similar conditions. The reasons people remain under occupation — whether by necessity or conviction — are complex, yet their capacity to commit acts of courage or even small gestures of compassion amid the daily horror speaks to a profound resilience. Uncovering stories like Khailov’s stand as a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit, while also compelling us to acknowledge and understand the hardships and atrocities faced by those most directly impacted by war.
Note from the author:
Hi, this is Kate Tsurkan, thanks for reading this article. There is an ever-increasing amount of books about or related to Ukraine, Russia, and Russia's ongoing war of aggression against Ukraine available to English-language readers, and I hope my recommendations prove useful when it comes to your next trip to the bookstore. If you like reading about this sort of thing, please consider supporting The Kyiv Independent.
