The Lost Letter: A Novel

The Lost Letter: A Novel

by Jillian Cantor
The Lost Letter: A Novel

The Lost Letter: A Novel

by Jillian Cantor

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Overview

“A gorgeous and thrilling novel… Perfect for book clubs and fans of The Nightingale.”PopSugar

A historical novel of love and survival inspired by real resistance workers during World War II Austria, and the mysterious love letter that connects generations of Jewish families. A heart-breaking, heart-warming read for fans of The Women in the Castle, Lilac Girls, and Sarah's Key.

Author of the forthcoming In Another Time.

 
Austria, 1938. Kristoff is a young apprentice to a master Jewish stamp engraver. When his teacher disappears during Kristallnacht, Kristoff is forced to engrave stamps for the Germans, and simultaneously works alongside Elena, his beloved teacher's fiery daughter, and with the Austrian resistance to send underground messages and forge papers. As he falls for Elena amidst the brutal chaos of war, Kristoff must find a way to save her, and himself.

Los Angeles, 1989. Katie Nelson is going through a divorce and while cleaning out her house and life in the aftermath, she comes across the stamp collection of her father, who recently went into a nursing home. When an appraiser, Benjamin, discovers an unusual World War II-era Austrian stamp placed on an old love letter as he goes through her dad's collection, Katie and Benjamin are sent on a journey together that will uncover a story of passion and tragedy spanning decades and continents, behind the just fallen Berlin Wall.
 
A romantic, poignant and addictive novel, The Lost Letter shows the lasting power of love.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780399185694
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Publication date: 06/13/2017
Sold by: Penguin Group
Format: eBook
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 70,160
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

Jillian Cantor is the author of award-winning novels including, most recently, the critically acclaimed The Hours Count and Margot. Born and raised outside Philadelphia, Cantor currently lives in Arizona with her husband and two sons. Her new novel In Another Time will be published in March 2019

Read an Excerpt

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***

Copyright © 2017 Jillian Cantor

Austria, 1938

At first, Kristoff didn’t understand the power of the burin. He didn’t know that the one small simple-looking engraving tool could eventually save them. Or get them killed. All he knew, in the beginning, was that the burin was impossible to use precisely, and that he was not naturally suited for metal, the way he’d always been for canvas.

He didn’t like the way it felt in his hand either. Oddly heavy, hard to maneuver. He felt it should create lines with the agility of a brush, or even charcoal, and yet his hand kept getting stuck, and he became repeatedly frustrated at his inability to achieve the perfect lines and grooves in the metal the way Frederick showed him. He worried that Frederick would fire him as his apprentice, and then he would have to find not only another job, but also another place to live. As Frederick’s apprentice, Kristoff had been receiving room and board with the Faber family in their beautiful home on the out- skirts of Grotsburg, as well as five schilling a week. But most important, the opportunity to learn the trade that Frederick Faber was known for throughout Austria: engraving. His greatest creation was the country’s most popular—and, Kristoff would argue, artistically perfect—postage stamp, the 12 Groschen Edelweiss. The stamp was a stunning replica of the pure white f lower, and Frederick had both designed and engraved it himself in 1932.

Kristoff remembered placing that stamp on a letter he’d written to his mother once, but had never sent. He could not mail a letter to someone who didn’t exist, or whose existence and location he could never determine in spite of his best efforts. But even as a young boy of thirteen, Kristoff had admired the artistry of that stamp, the perfect bows of the petals. He’d always wanted to make a living as an artist. So when he’d heard the rumor last fall from another street artist in Vienna, that Frederick Faber, the Frederick Faber, was searching for a new apprentice, Kristoff had packed up his art supplies and spent most of his small savings to hire a ride to take him the two hundred kilometers out to Grotsburg. And when he’d arrived, he’d convinced Frederick to give him the job after he showed Frederick some of his charcoal sketches of Vienna.

“You have a good eye,” Frederick had said, staring at what Kristoff thought was his most noteworthy sketch: Stephansdom, elaborate in all its detail of the two wide turrets in the front. Frederick had raised a thick gray eyebrow. “But what do you know of metal, my boy?”

“I’m a quick learner,” Kristoff had promised, and that had seemed enough to convince Frederick to take him on. Though, so far, this had turned out not to be true, at least where engraving was concerned.

Though he didn’t master the burin right away, Kristoff did learn two things in his first few weeks working for Frederick. One, Frederick was older than Kristoff had initially thought, and sometimes his hands began to shake when he tried to teach Kristoff how to use the engraving tools. Frederick had told Kristoff he needed an apprentice because there was business enough for two master engravers to work on his stamp assignments for Austria, but now Kristoff suspected the real reason was that Frederick might not be able to continue on with his trade much longer. And Frederick didn’t have any sons.

That was the second thing Kristoff learned. Frederick had two daughters: Elena, who was seventeen, a year younger than Kristoff, and who reminded Kristoff of the edelweiss with her snowy skin, waves of long light brown hair, and bright green eyes. And Miriam, who was thirteen. If Elena was a flower, then Miriam was the buzzing bee who wouldn’t leave the flower alone. Or, as Mrs. Faber called her with an exasperated roll of her green eyes, a flibbertigibbet. But Kristoff still found her amusing, even when her family did not.

Kristoff quickly became accustomed to life in Grotsburg, where the world was green and very quiet, and instead of buildings and throngs of people, he woke up each morning to a view of the forest and rolling hills. But even more, Kristoff reveled in the warmth of the Fabers’ dining room, of the fragrant smell of Mrs. Faber’s stews, of the bread they broke on Friday nights in the glow of their candles. The challah was a savory bread, and Kristoff had never tasted anything like it growing up in the orphanage in Vienna, where the nuns had led him to believe there was only one religion anyway. Not that he was necessarily a believer. Kristoff was much more drawn to the Fabers, the light and wholeness of their family, than he had ever been to God or the institutional church.

“Miriam, sit still,” Mrs. Faber chastised, one night a few weeks after Kristoff had begun his apprenticeship. Almost a month in, Kristoff was still failing miserably at the metalwork. Though earlier that day he had impressed Frederick with his sketch of the hillside, and even hours later, he was still basking in Frederick’s compliment that it was “not half bad.”

“I’m sitting still, Mother,” Miriam said in a singsong voice, bouncing slightly in her chair and casting a sideways smile at Kristoff.

Kristoff hid his own smile in his spoonful of soup. He glanced at Elena, but she refused to look at him. He had yet to determine whether she was shy or rude, whether she acted so standoffish around everyone, or whether it was just around him.

“Elena, dear. Go fetch another log or two for the fire. It’s chilly in here,” Mrs. Faber said. It was the deepest, coldest part of winter, and the Faber’s three-story wooden house was drafty. Kristoff ’s room in the attic had a small woodstove, but he had to huddle under two blankets to stay warm at night. Still, it far surpassed the orphanage, his bed in a row of ten others in a large cold room, and only a thin blanket to cover him. And Mrs. Faber’s cooking was much better than the nuns’.

Elena put her soup spoon down and stood. Kristoff tried to meet her eyes again, but she wouldn’t look up.

“I can help.” Kristoff stood, before he lost his nerve, and Elena turned toward him. At least he’d caught her attention.

Her beautiful face sunk into a frown. “It’s not—” she began.

Mrs. Faber spoke over her: “Thank you, Kristoff. I’m sure Elena would appreciate that.”

He smiled at Mrs. Faber and followed Elena. They went wordlessly through the kitchen, out the back door, toward the woodpile, which rested across the Fabers’ sprawling yard in front of Frederick’s workshop. The earth was frozen, and the ground crunched beneath their feet; the night air was biting and neither Kristoff nor Elena had grabbed a coat. Elena shivered, and her hair fell into her eyes as she reached down to grab the wood. Kristoff resisted the urge to pull it back, and instead reached down and took the log from her hands.

“Really,” she said sharply, pulling it back and holding it toward her chest. “I’m just fine. I’ve been doing this on my own long before you came here. I don’t need your help.”

“But I want to help,” he said. “And it’s no trouble.” Elena glared, and he was suddenly certain that she was not shy—she just didn’t like him. And this realization bothered him. He had the urge to fix it.

But before he could say more, Elena turned and began to walk back toward the house. Kristoff picked up another log from the pile and ran after her. He caught her just before they reached the back door, and he reached for her shoulder. “Have I done something?” he asked her, slightly out of breath from running in the cold. His words came out jagged and smoky against the chilly air.

“Something?” she echoed back.

“To upset you?”

“Why should you think that?” Her breath made frosty rings in the air, and she shivered again.

“Never mind,” he said. “We should get back inside. You’re freezing.”

“Look,” she said. “It’s just that we’re not friends, okay. We’re not going to be friends. I don’t expect you to be here long. They never are.”

“They?” he asked, considering, for the first time, Frederick’s last apprentice, or maybe his last few? Were they all terrible with the burin, like him, and promptly fired?

But Elena didn’t answer. She carried the wood inside and placed it into the fire. Kristoff did the same, and then he excused himself to go to bed. Up in the attic, wrapped in two blankets, he took out his sketch pad and a nib of charcoal. He found himself sketching Elena’s angry green eyes and wondering how long this place would stay his home.

Reading Group Guide

The Lost Letter Reading Group Guide

1. Why do you think it’s so important for Katie to do something with her father’s stamp collection? What does it mean for Katie to get out of the car that first morning when she arrives at Benjamin’s office?

2. Compare and contrast Katie and Elena. How are their lives different due to the times and places they were born? How are they the same?

3. What is the meaning of the edelweiss flower in the book? How could it be seen as a “proof of unusual daring” (as in the epigraph) for each of the characters?

4. When Katie learns about Benjamin’s personal story, she sees him differently. How are Katie and Benjamin similar? How are they different with regard to how they’ve responded to the struggles each has gone through? What does Katie’s father’s stamp collection mean to each of them?

5. How do father-daughter relationships play a role in the book? Compare Frederick’s relationship with Elena to Ted’s relationship with Katie.

6. Discuss the role memory plays in the book. How does Ted’s illness impact the story? How does memory—or lack thereof—guide the different characters’ decisions?

7. What do you think of Elena and Miriam’s relationship? Why does Elena leave Miriam on the train? Is Elena’s behavior brave or stupid?

8. Discuss Gram’s role in the book. How does her past and her life in 1989 impact the story?

9. In what ways is The Lost Letter a love story? Whose love story is it?

10. Why is the trip to Germany in 1990 important? How does it change and impact things for all the different characters?

11. Compare Amy’s life in East Berlin to Elena’s life in Austria. How were the two places and eras the same? How were they different?

12. Why is the novel called The Lost Letter? What does losing—and finding—the letter mean for each character?

13. What role does religion play in the characters’ lives and in the story, in both timelines?

14. How do acts of resistance—both big and small—play a role in the novel?

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