Fugitive Pieces

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Overview

A New York Times Notable Book of the YearWinner of the Lannan Literary Fiction AwardWinner of the Guardian Fiction AwardIn 1940 a boy bursts from the mud of a war-torn Polish city, where he has buried himself to hide from the soldiers who murdered his family. His name is Jakob Beer. He is only seven years old. And although by all rights he should have shared the fate of the other Jews in his village, he has not only survived but been rescued by a Greek geologist, who does not recognize the boy as human until he begins to cry. With this electrifying image, Anne Michaels ushers us into her rapturously acclaimed novel of loss, memory, history, and redemption.As Michaels follows Jakob across two continents, she lets us witness his transformation from a half-wild casualty of the Holocaust to an artist who extracts meaning from its abyss. Filled with mysterious symmetries and rendered in heart-stopping prose, Fugitive Pieces is a triumphant work, a book that should not so much be read as it should be surrendered to.

A stunning debut novel from an award-winning poet. Jakob Beer, traumatically orphaned as a young child during World War II, learns over his lifetime the power of language to destroy, omit, and obliterate, and also to restore, conjure and witness, as he comes to understand and experience the extent of what was lost to him and of what is possible to regain.

Editorial Reviews

Boston Globe
Word by blessed word, it is a gorgeously written book.
From The Critics

Elegiac and redemptive, Fugitive Pieces, the first novel by Canadian poet Anne Michaels, is a beautifully written, quietly forceful reminder of "the large human values." A story of decency, compassion and hope under extraordinary duress, it is above all an argument for the healing power of words.

"I did not witness the most important events of my life," says Jakob Beer, the book's central character. While hiding in a cupboard in his family's home in Poland, the 7-year-old overhears the brutal murder of his parents by Nazi soldiers. Jakob escapes, terrified and wild with grief, into the forest. Caked with the mud he uses to camouflage himself, he is discovered by a Greek geologist, Athos Roussos, who smuggles him to Greece under his coat.

The scholarly, gentle Athos hides Jakob through the war years in the sun-drenched, book-lined rooms of his island house and later raises the boy to manhood in Toronto. From Athos, Jakob learns the consoling language of geology: "To go back a year or two was impossible, absurd. To go back millennia -- ah! that was ... nothing." Athos' stories of buried cities, the bravery of Antarctic explorers who perished while sledging fossils back from the South Pole, Bronze Age safety pins and salt cakes used as money are tonic to Jakob's scarred imagination. Haunted by his own terrible history, Jakob is burdened by "images rising in me like bruises": of his parents' murder, of the likely death of his sister, of the suffering of the victims of the war.

The same imagination that tortures Jakob is the instrument of his salvation. Michaels describes Jakob's slow rebirth in evocative, tactile language that recalls Michael Ondaatje. While thinking of the Nazis' mass graves, the bodies covered with only a dusting of soil, he remembers the discovery, in 1942, of the cave paintings of Lascaux: "twenty-six feet below they burst to life in lamplight: the swimming deer, floating horses, rhinos, ibex ... their hides sweating iron oxide and manganese." Fragments of memory, conversations, details from Athos' stories accrete into a richly depicted psychological landscape that lends credibility not only to Jakob as a character but also to his decision to become a poet. "Write to save yourself," Athos had advised him, "and someday you'll write because you've been saved."

Michaels stumbles only when, in her account of Jakob's second marriage, she insists too much on the healing power of sexual love. Overall, however, Fugitive Pieces moves compellingly toward Jakob's final realization: that a survivor's job is not to remain with the dead, but to survive them. -- Salon

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780679776598
  • Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 5/28/1998
  • Pages: 293
  • Sales rank: 145,998
  • Series: Vintage International Series
  • Product dimensions: 5.15 (w) x 8.00 (h) x 0.66 (d)

Meet the Author

Anne Michaels teaches creative writing in Toronto.  Her two collections of poetry are The Weight of Oranges (1986), which won the Commonwealth Prize for the Americas, and Miner's Pond (1991), which received the Canadian Authors Award and was shortlisted for the Governor General's Award and the Trillium Award.  Fugitive Pieces is her first novel.

Read an Excerpt

My sister had long outgrown the hiding place. Bella was fifteen and even I admitted she was beautiful, with heavy brows and magnificent hair like black syrup, thick and luxurious, a muscle down her back. "A work of art," our mother said, brushing it for her while Bella sat in a chair. I was still small enough to vanish behind the wallpaper in the cupboard, cramming my head sideways between choking plaster and beams, eyelashes scraping.

Since those minutes inside the wall, I've imagined the dean lose every sense except hearing. The burst door. Wood ripped from hinges, cracking like ice under the shouts. Noises never heard before, torn from my father's mouth. Then silence. My mother had been sewing a button on my shirt. She kept her buttons in a chipped saucer. I heard the rim of the saucer in circles on the floor. I heard the spray of buttons, little white teeth.

Blackness filled me, spread from the back of my head into my eyes as if my brain has been punctured. Spread from stomach to legs. I gulped and gulped, swallowing it whole. The wall filled with smoke. I struggled out and stared while the air caught fire.

I wanted to go to my parents, to touch them. But I couldn't, unless I stepped on their blood.

The soul leaves the body instantly, as if it can hardly wait to be free: my mother's face was not her own. My father was twisted with falling. Two shapes in the flesh-heap, his hands.

I ran and fell, ran and fell. Then the river: so cold it felt sharp.

The river was the same blackness that was inside me; only the thin membrane of my skin kept me floating.

From the other bank, I watched darkness turn to purple-orange light above the town; the color of flesh transforming to spirit. They flew up. The dead passed above me, weird haloes and arcs smothering the stars. The trees bent under their weight. I'd never been alone in the night forest, the wild bare branches were frozen snakes. The ground tilted and I didn't hold on. I strained to join them, to rise with them, to peel from the ground like paper ungluing at its edges. I know why we bury our dead and mark the place with stone, with the heaviest, most permanent thing we can think of: because the dead are everywhere but the ground. I stayed where I was. Clammy with cold, stuck to the ground. I begged: If I can't rise, then let me sink, sink into the forest floor like a seal into wax.

Then — as if she'd pushed the hair from my forehead, as if I'd heard her voice—I knew suddenly my mother was inside me. Moving along sinews, under my skin the way she used to move through the house at night, putting things away, putting things in order. She was stopping to say goodbye and was caught, in such pain, wanting to rise, wanting to stay. It was my responsibility to release her, a sin to keep her from ascending. I tore at my clothes, my hair. She was gone. My own fast breath around my head.

I ran from the sound of the river into the woods, dark as the inside of a box. I ran until the first light wrung the last grayness out of the stars, dripping dirty light between the trees. I knew what to do. I took a stick and dug. I planted myself like a turnip and hid my face with leaves.

My head between the branches, bristling points like my father's beard. I was safely buried, my wet clothes cold as armor. Panting like a dog. My arms tight up against my chest, my neck stretched back, tears crawling like insects into my ears. I had no choice but to look straight up. The dawn sky was milky with new spirits. Soon I couldn't avoid the absurdity of daylight even by closing my eyes. It poked down, pinned me like the broken branches, like my father's beard.

Then I felt the worst shame of my life: I was pierced with hunger. And suddenly I realized, my throat aching without sounds — Bella.

Reading Group Guide

1. Why is the first section of the novel entitled "The Drowned City?" Why is the title repeated for a later section?

2. Jakob says that Athos's fascination with Antarctica "was to become our azimuth. It was to direct the course of our lives" [33]. Why do you think Antarctica obsessed Athos? How does the story of the Scott expedition relate to that of Athos and Jakob? Do you agree with Jakob that Athos's fascination directed their lives?

3. "When the prisoners were forced to dig up the mass graves, the dead entered them through their pores and were carried through their bloodstreams to their brains and hearts. And through their blood into another generation" [52], Jakob writes, and later, "It's no metaphor to feel the influence of the dead in the world" [53]. How does the theme of the dead's influence on the living work itself out in the course of the novel?

4. The communist partisans in Greece, who had valiantly resisted the occupying Nazis, themselves committed terrible atrocities after the war, as Kostas and Daphne relate. Do you agree with their theory that violence is like an illness that can be caught, and that the Greeks caught it from the Germans [72]? What other explanations can be offered?

5. "I already knew the power of language to destroy, to omit, to obliterate, " says Jakob. "But poetry, the power of language to restore: this was what both Athos and Kostas were trying to teach me" [79]. What instances does the novel give of the destructive power of language? In what ways does writing—both the writing of poetry and of translations—help to heal and restore Jakob? Doessilence—the cessation of language—have its own function, and if so, what might it be?

6. "We were a vine and a fence. But who was the vine? We would both have answered differently" [108]. Here Jakob is speaking of his relationship with Athos; of what other relationships in the novel might this metaphor be used? Does Michaels imply that dependence is an integral part of love?

7. What is it about Alex's character that attracts Jakob and makes him fall in love with her? Why does he eventually find life with her impossible? Do you find Alex a sympathetic character, or an unpleasant one?

8. "History is amoral: events occurred. But memory is moral" [138]. "Every moment is two moments" [161]. How does Jakob define and differentiate history and memory? Can you see Fugitive Pieces as a comparison of history and memory?

9. Music is an important element of Fugitive Pieces, and it is central to the lives of at least three of the characters, Bella, Alex, and Naomi. What does music mean to each of these characters? Why has Michaels given music such a prominent metaphoric role in the novel?

10. What does Fugitive Pieces say about the condition of being an immigrant? Jakob never feels truly at home anywhere, even in Greece. Ben's parents feel that their toehold in their new home is infinitely precarious, an emotion that communicates itself to Ben. Does Michaels imply that real integration is impossible?

11. Can you explain the very different reactions Ben's parents have had to their experience in the Holocaust? What in their characters has determined the differing ways they respond to grief and loss?

12. The relationship between Ben and Naomi is a troubled one. Why is he angry at her for her closeness to his parents and her attention to their graves? Why does he reject her by leaving for Greece without her? How can you explain his intense desire for Petra—is his need purely physical? How do Petra and Naomi differ? What is the significance of their names?

13. Science has as important a role in the novel as poetry and music. Why is geology so important to Athos, meteorology to Ben? Does science represent a standard of disinterested truth, or does it merely symbolize the world's terrifying contingency?

14. Why might Jakob have named his collection of poems Groundwork, and in what way does that title relate to his life? Jakob calls his young self a "bog-boy" [5]. Why does Ben take such an interest in the preserved bog people he reads about [221]?

15. The last line of the novel is Ben's: "I see that I must give what I most need." What does he mean by this? What does he most need, what will he give, and to whom?

16. What is the significance of the novel's title? What do "pieces, " or "fragments, " mean within Michaels's scheme? Where in the novel can you find references to fragments?

Customer Reviews
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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 20, 2007

    More, please

    I was so impressed by this outstanding novel that I read four years ago, that I have since been waiting for more works by this incredible author. I keep scanning her name, every three months or so, with the expectation of getting another treat from her. The best poetic novelist I have read in the last ten years.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 9, 2006

    horrid

    The book was beautiful at first, with interesting metaphors. But as the book goes on, I can't help but get the feeling that the author was trying too hard to be 'insightful' and 'deep' with her topics, 'beautiful' and 'descriptive' with her language, and 'unique' in her style. I see no coherent plot in this book and I wonder if there is one at all.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 2, 2003

    Tidbits

    The book had many passages and quotes which I loved. The tidbits are what make this book a thought provoking, intellectual read. I wasn't expecting much out of an assigned book, and the first time I read it I was slightly disappointed. But then, we were told to go back and pick out passages that we liked. I couldn't believe how many little tidbits I could relate to. The story was confusing and haphazard, but the revelations that occurred because of these events made the book worth the confusion. It really is rather deep and insightful. I liked it and recommend it to anyone who'd like a look into the human soul.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 28, 2003

    I learned what it means to live

    I read it for my school; when I started it, I was not expecting myself to enjoy a book that my school is making me read. Then I realized that this book includes every pieces of emotions that I need to live as a human. I believe that this book can be hard and confusing, but don't just look at the surface; there are things that are invisible but very important. You need to think, that is what we should be doing in general. That IS what it means to be human.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 10, 2003

    The Most Beautiful book I have read in 20 years

    This is the most beautifully written and sinsitive book I have read since Carson McCuller's Heart of a Lonely Hunter. Ms. Michaels - in beautifully poetic prose, took me right into the heart of the characters and what they must face and subsequently do. I found myself in the wall hiding with the boy. I found my heart pounding as he hid in the forest and water. I felt deeply concerned as they approached the border. And truly moved as they moved on. The adult parallels are so beautifully sad adn true to the human experience, that I still find myself moved years after I had read the book. I give it as a gift to everyone I know who loves to read. Her writing is nothing short of poetry. The story is extremely humane and will resonate in me for years and years. (I've re-read ot four times now). I check the weekly NY Times book review in the hopes of finding her next book. Oprah should recommedd this for all readers. It is a truly beautiful book! Truly a gift for our times.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 20, 2003

    Breathtaking

    As the back cover states '..a book that should not so much be read as it should be surrendered to'

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 13, 2003

    THE most boring book ever ....

    I was so excited about this book, but was greatly disappointed. Don't waste your time and money on this one. It has to be THE most boring book I've read in ages. And very difficult to read too. Unless if you're truly into poetry and poets and/or Geology or whatever the heck the characters were into, don't bother with this one. A huge disappointment. I want my money back!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 27, 2002

    Beware

    This book was boring, confusing, and, overall, a thoroughly unenjoyable reading experience. I felt as if there was a mist in front of the book which preventing me from understanding anything that was occurring. I do not recommend this book and I cautoin anyone who wishes to read it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 22, 2002

    Beautiful, poignant, storytelling at it's best.

    Incredable story, beautifully written. Rarely does a novel have such impact. The story, the writing...beyond words!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 1, 2002

    Love's Perpetual Thrist

    Fugitive Pieces is Canadian poet Anne Michaels' first novel and it is beautiful in the extreme. At the heart of this lovely and moving book is the struggle to understand the despair of loss and the solace of love and, most of all, the difficulty of reconciling the two. The protagonists are two Jewish men, one a Holocaust survivor, the other the son of Holocaust survivor parents. Material such as that explored in Fugitive Pieces could very easily become trite and cliched, but in Michaels' extraordinarily gifted hands suffering, loss and grief become nothing less than transcendent. An extraordinarily gifted writer, Michaels creates wonderful characters and tells an engrossing story through the use of gorgeous, but spare, dialogue and subtle metaphor. The plot is a rather simple one (this is definitely a character driven story) but it is profound and also a profoundly moving meditation on the nature of grief and the redemptive power of love. The first line in the book, 'Time is a blind guide,' is haunting, but it is also ironic, for the story will prove that time is anything but blind. One of the protagonists, Jakob Beer, was orphaned as a seven-year old boy in Poland. Although the death of his parents affects Jakob most greviously, it is his sorrow at the death of his beloved older sister, Bella, that will remain with him for a lifetime. Jakob, himself, escapes the Nazis and flees into the forests of Poland where he is rescued by a Greek geologist, Athos Roussos, who eventually smuggles the boy to the Greek island of Zakynthos. On Zakynthos, Jakob can finally begin to put his life back together again. He is, however, haunted by memories of Bella, a gifted pianist. It is Bella who ultimately becomes Jakob's Beatrice as he begins his fascination with the poetry that will play a central role in the balance of his life. Athos, himself a widower, and Jakob, an orphan, seem to find in each other what they thought they had forever lost: a sense of family and abiding love and trust. As Athos finds joy in raising Jakob, Jakob finds joy in the values Athos seeks to instill in him: the love of language, scholarship and ethics. Although Athos seeks to heal Jakob, he does not attempt to obliterate his past. Ïnstead, Athos encourages Jakob to learn his Hebrew alphabet, telling him it is the future he is remembering rather than the past. As Jakob practices both the twisting and ornate letters of Hebrew and Greek, Athos tells him that both languages contain the 'ancient loneliness of ruins.' The narrative eventually moves from Greece to Toronto where Jakob becomes the product of his love for the late Bella and the teachings of Athos. The love given him so freely by both will serve as a continuum for the rest of Jakob's life as he realizes that the best teachers encourage, not the mind, but the heart. Jakob comes to know that Athos instilled in him the necessity of love and, that, to honor both Athos and Bella he must resolve a 'perpetual thirst.' The story closes with the character of Ben, a young professor who has become fascinated by both Jakob and his work. Their relationship is reminiscent of the relationship of Leopold Bloom and Stephen Dedalus in James Joyce's Ulysses. Ben's family was the very antithesis of the relationship shared by Athos and Jakob. In Ben's family there was no energy, no love, no sadness. Ben seeks strength and purpose in Jakob's life and in his words, words that have the ability to transmute the horror of war and the loss of family. Words that have the power to speak that which, heretofore, has remained unspoken. Fugitive Pieces is a beautiful novel, a meditation on love and loss and grief and solace. It is a quiet book but one that is immensely profound. Anne Michaels is a gifted poet and with Fugitive Pieces she proves that she is an extraordinary gifted writer of prose as well.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 27, 2001

    THE UNIVERSAL SEARCH FOR THAT WHICH IS LOST

    The author, with poetic and magical images, takes one to a holy place, that exudes humanity and beauty in a relentless search for that which is lost.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 19, 2000

    Moving and Beautiful

    Not only is the language beautiful in this book, the story is unusual and very moving. How often do read about a man transcending race, religion and laws to take care of a child? Fugitive Pieces is a unique story of love, admiration, personal growth and heroism. The words alone in this book are so beautifully strung together that each page is its own amazing piece of art and as a whole it is a masterpiece.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 6, 2000

    Pieces That Fit

    This is an exceptional book with a rich language that traces a young boy's life into manhood. Written in a poetic language, Michaels captures and exposes the spirit of her characters.

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