'Under the Poppy' is the love story of Istvan and Rupert, lovers

In the words of Kathe Koja, author of Under the Poppy, there unfolds a tale not merely of passion, but of betrayal, longing, and the unquiet dance between love and desire: “‘Under the Poppy’ is the love story of Istvan and Rupert, lovers and friends from childhood, who've been parted by jealousy — and a secret betrayal by Istvan's sister, Decca, who also loves Rupert, with whom she runs the brothel called Under the Poppy, where the floozies cater to every taste from saucy to peculiar.” Behind these words lies a story that mirrors the ancient conflicts of the human soul — the struggle between love and envy, between loyalty and lust, between what is pure and what is profane.

At its heart, Koja’s world is not unlike those of the great tragedies of old. Her Istvan and Rupert are two souls joined in youth, as if fate itself had conspired to make them one. Yet as time and circumstance unfold, the serpent of jealousy enters — that ancient intruder who has haunted love since the first hearts ever burned. Through the betrayal of Decca, the sister torn between affection and envy, the bond between the lovers is broken. Thus begins a tale older than time: the fall of love not by hatred, but by possession, by the restless hunger that seeks to claim what cannot truly be owned.

The brothel, Under the Poppy, becomes a symbol of this struggle. It is a house of pleasure and illusion, where love wears a mask and desire is sold by the hour. Yet beneath its silken drapery and shadowed laughter lies a truth more haunting — that even amid the flesh and fragrance of longing, the human heart still aches for authentic connection. In the flickering light of the brothel’s candles, we see reflected our own contradictions: our yearning for beauty, our surrender to temptation, our endless pursuit of meaning within the transient.

In Koja’s creation, the characters are not wicked but wounded, driven by forces that echo through the history of humankind. Jealousy, in her telling, is not the envy of the shallow, but the torment of the unloved — the desire to be chosen, to be seen, to matter. Decca’s betrayal springs not from malice, but from the loneliness that festers when love is unreturned. Her actions remind us of the tragic figures of the ancient world — Medea, Clytemnestra, or Guinevere — who, caught between passion and pain, became instruments of their own undoing. In such souls, the line between love and destruction blurs until both burn together.

And yet, even amidst betrayal and sorrow, Istvan and Rupert’s love endures — a thread of tenderness woven through the fabric of ruin. Their story speaks to the indestructible quality of true affection, which may be buried, tested, even severed, yet never wholly destroyed. Love, Koja suggests, is not a fragile bloom but a wild vine that grows through the cracks of human frailty. It persists, even “under the poppy,” beneath the intoxicating fog of pleasure and sin. It reminds us that no matter how corrupted the world may seem, there is always something sacred in our longing to be known and cherished.

We may see a reflection of this in the life of Oscar Wilde, who, like Rupert and Istvan, lived in a world that both desired and condemned him. His great love, his betrayal, and his eventual downfall echo the same tragic truth — that love in a world of judgment and jealousy becomes both salvation and suffering. Yet, like Koja’s lovers, Wilde’s spirit survived through art, through beauty, through the undying flame of passion that refused to bow before hypocrisy.

The lesson, then, is clear and eternal: guard your love from jealousy, but not from truth. For love that is honest, though it may wound, redeems; but love that is shadowed by envy consumes. Do not betray the ones you cherish in pursuit of the love you imagine — for to betray another is to betray your own heart. And remember, even in the dimmest corners of your life, even “under the poppy,” where pleasure masks pain and truth is veiled by desire, there remains the possibility of redemption — if you dare to love selflessly once more.

So let us learn from Koja’s tale: that love, though it may be scarred, remains the greatest force in the world — one that survives jealousy, betrayal, and time itself. Let us live not in the illusion of passion, but in the reality of devotion. And when temptation calls us to trade sincerity for spectacle, let us remember the words hidden within this story — that to love truly is not to possess, but to honor, not to demand, but to endure. For even amidst the perfumed shadows of Under the Poppy, the light of love — honest and unyielding — still burns eternal.