THE LILAC PEOPLE

MILO TODD is a Massachusetts Cultural Council grantee and a Lambda Literary Fellow. His work has appeared in Slice Magazine and elsewhere. He is co–editor in chief of Foglifter and teaches creative writing to queer and trans adults.

Goodreads, A Most Anticipated Title
LGBTQ+ Reads, A Most Anticipated Book

“Not only is The Lilac People a moving story, it might also be a roadmap of how we move forward.” —Michelle Hart, Electric Literature

“Stirring . . . In Todd’s hands, this vital chapter of LGBTQ+ history comes to life, as the characters find a means to survive through found family. This timely historical drama hits hard.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Todd’s detailed narrative conveys the terrors and uncertainties of life during wartime: the inability to trust even close neighbors or loved ones’ true identity; the fear of attack; the wrenching horror of trying to make sense of who lived and died. The ambitions and joys of Berlin’s queer community are equally well drawn . . . Todd vividly illustrates the power of love and community in the face of oppression.” —Kirkus Reviews

“From its thrilling first pages to its elegiac yet buoyant close, The Lilac People is a fully immersive reading experience filled with indelible and achingly human characters. A masterful debut, and a treasure of a novel.” —Christopher Castellani, author of Leading Men

“Through deft world-building and astute characterization, Milo Todd’s The Lilac People transports readers to WWII-era Germany, where queer and trans people were subjected to a world that worked overtime to snuff them out, eerily similar to the world we live in today. Through this book, I was reminded of the timely history that it depicts, and I was delighted by Todd’s intentional, careful prose. If you want to read a book that accurately depicts trans people of this period wholly, pick up this book.” —KB Brookins, award-winning author of Pretty

1. Bertie has a fixation about inanimate objects, such as where they came from and where they went. Why do you think this is?

2. Bertie is often preoccupied with Gert’s whereabouts, especially after WWII. In what ways is his preoccupation reasonable? In what ways is it detrimental? Where is the line, if any, between healthy and unhealthy concern about a loved one?

3. Trans people during the Weimar Republic could carry police-sanctioned cards identifying themselves as trans. In relation to the time, do you feel this was a good thing or a bad thing? Why?

4. Why do you think Karl was so resistant to masculinity lessons despite identifying as a man?

5. Does this book reflect today’s current political climate? Why or why not?

6. Karl says that survival is inherently selfish. Do you agree or disagree? Why?

7. In what ways, if any, does this book alter your perceptions of WWII, the Holocaust, and/or America’s role in the liberation of Germany? Did anything surprise you?

8. When Karl shares his story, no white space is used. Contrarily, when Hitler becomes chancellor, plenty of white space is used. What do you think these narrative approaches are meant to express?

9. Bertie, Karl, and Sofie all show their grief and survivor’s guilt in different ways. What are these ways and why do you think they differ from one another?

10. Do you feel Sofie and Bertie are bad people for going into hiding instead of actively fighting against fascism? Why or why not?

11. Do you feel Bertie was in unrequited love with Gert? Why or why not?

12. What do you think “Das Lila Lied” (“The Lilac Song”) means to Bertie, Sofie, Karl, and Gert? What do you think it represents in the story itself?

13. Do you agree or disagree that all German citizens were made to pay reparations after WWII (in the form of physical labor and low food rations)?

14. In what ways do you feel community is expressed in this book? Which expressions are positive and which are negative?

15. Do you believe Sofie would have been better off if she’d never met Bertie? Why or why not?

16. Do you interpret the ending as happy, sad, bittersweet, foreboding, hopeful, or something else? Why?

The Lilac People Historic Artifacts

We’ve received word that the liberation of the camps is not the celebration we’d hoped. The Allied Forces are sending all pink triangles and any qualifying black triangles to jail to start the sentence for their crimes. All other categories of identity, crime, or marker have been liberated, for the Forces feel they have suffered enough.

We repeat. All inverts, transvestites, and lilac people who survived the camps have been sent to jail. If you avoided detection during the War, you are still not safe. We repeat: You are still not safe.

To any left out there, be safe, be well, and look after one another. Our sun will shine after this night. Thank you and goodnight.

Ulm, 1945

It was Sunday now, nearly two weeks since the War ended, a breezy-aired morning in mid-May. Bertie had been harvesting the potatoes, pulling them up by satisfying fistfuls when Sofie heard it over the radio, calling out as she ran to him. She left the cow half-milked, he the last row unharvested, as they dislodged the flag from their doorstep. They tore it that night, burning the scraps in the fire pit behind the house. She wondered if the news was false, more propaganda spread by the Nazis to punish those who were not true believers, who were hiding in plain sight like them. He wondered if they could soon use their real names again in public.

They had ridden out the length of the War in Ulm on a little farm that was not theirs, less than two morgen large, and in an arguably undesirable spot. They were in the hilly part, more than half of their ground only useful for heartier crops, and a quarter of it ended in a forest of five-meter conifers that ate both space and sunlight. Oma and Opa had surely built the house by the edge of those trees as a way to content themselves. But what that contentment was, Bertie was still not sure.

It was a Schwarzwaldhaus, what they had built, a wohnstallhaus byre-dwelling made of dark wood from the Black Forest. The shingled roof was steeply hipped and near black, sloping down to the ground floor. When Bertie first arrived, he felt it all gave the look of a foreboding fairy tale, sticking out oddly dark against the sunshine and rolling hills, the chirping birds and greenery. But he had learned the intelligence behind it all. The wood was sturdy, splitting the heaviest winds and snowfalls. The roof was angled to work with the sun, shading them from its summer height and warming the walls when it hung low in the cold. During the early part of the War, Bertie helped Opa convert the roof from thatch to shingle. He slid off twice.

The farm was close to where the Blau and the Iller joined the Danube, but not too close. It was as safe enough a place as possible to survive the War. It had not mattered, did not matter, as they knew they were surrounded by dead vineyards by now. Only them and their most immediate neighbor, Frau Baer, were left from the original small grouping of farms, far as they could gather.

Bertie sipped his hot water and placed the teacup beside him, his folded paper rustling in the light wind. He looked out over the farm. Hilled in places, flatter in others, but he was proud to maintain such neat rows of rich green and brown. He had recently finished planting the carrots, their tiny seeds light as air and frustrating to match. He had once sneezed and lost the worth of an entire bed. It was impressive how much life could fit in the palm of a hand, and he would soon need to choose which ones to uproot so they did not choke one another. He did not like that part. He did not like what he worried it represented, if the path from plant to person was a short one, if there was something in his blood to be terrible, deciding what lived and what did not. But they were too young yet to poke through the mounds, for now just rows of freshly-turned earth, darker than the dirt around them. The pumpkins and squash would be next, planted in a few more weeks.

The hilly parts, he had been taught, were perfect for root vegetables. The drainage was natural and the soil was sandy. They did not bring much on the market, but they kept them well fed during the War. They did not have to deal with ersatz meat or many of the other substitutes the townsfolk paid for with their ration cards.

Bertie closed his eyes and breathed. The sun felt warm and good on his eyes, painting the backs of his eyelids a deep pink. Some birds called in the distance. The chickens absently glucked amongst the crops, pecking at beetles and grubs that caught their eye. He otherwise only had to throw a handful of feed at them in the morning, mostly the bits and ends and peels that Bertie and Sofie did not eat themselves, and they were fine. There was a soft plop of liquid dripping to the ground every few moments behind him, the lump of cheesecloth Sofie had squeezed tight and left high on a nail an hour earlier. She had become quite good at making simple cheeses from vinegar and salt. Bertie caught a faint whiff of sharp, damp curds when the breeze turned. The air felt light and clean, the sun smelled like the sun. He did not believe a person would understand what he meant by that until they lived here.

A Letter From the Publisher:

Dear Readers,

I’m writing to tell you about a very special book we are extremely proud of here at Counterpoint! The Lilac People by Milo Todd is a beautiful, moving, suspenseful work of World War II historical fiction. It is also an essential exploration of the trans history of that time—an untold true story that most readers don’t know anything about. This brilliant debut novel is resonating with mainstream book club fans and queer readers alike, and we know that libraries are the perfect partners to recommend this important read in all fifty states.

In 1932 Berlin, Bertie, a trans man, and his friends spend carefree nights at the Eldorado Club, the epicenter of Berlin’s thriving queer community. An employee of the renowned Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld at the Institute of Sexual Science, Bertie works to improve queer rights in Germany and beyond, but everything changes when Hitler rises to power.

After the war, the danger remains—not from the Nazis, but from the Allied forces who are arresting queer prisoners while liberating the rest of the country. Ironically, as the Allies’ vise grip closes on Bertie and his family, their only salvation becomes fleeing to the United States.

Brimming with hope, resilience, and the enduring power of community, The Lilac People tells an extraordinary story inspired by real events.

While The Lilac People is a work of fiction, author Milo Todd has done extensive research behind the story.

The Lilac People Historic Artifacts