Book Blurb:
Feeling stifled as a Jew living in a Moldovan shtetl, violinist Elazar just wants to find love and eventually succeed his father as conductor of the family band and hardware business.
But that could take years, and in 1922 Kalarash, he's known all the girls his age since he was a child. He would love to move to Kishinev, Odesa, or Kyiv and become a musician, but it would kill his mama, and he'd feel guilty for the rest of his life.
At his cousin's wedding, Elazar falls for Ita Kaplan, an heiress from Bolgrad, but she plans to move to Paris and become a painter. He's then taken by Mariam Gabashvili, the daughter of a local vintner, but is forbidden to marry her because she's not Jewish.
History-the rise of Stalin, his brutal takeover of Ukraine, and later Hitler's invasion of the USSR-grants Elazar's wishes in ways he never dreams, sending he and his family on an epic flight to Uzbekistan, where they endure the war, and then back to Moldova, where they pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.
With cunning, class and determination, one violinist brings to life a turbulent era in the Soviet Union, where, while life was punishing and brutally unfair, he finds music in devastation and conducts his family-his orchestra-in such a way as to not let the horrors defeat them or hate to overcome them.
Book Buy Link: https://geni.us/1iVOv0S
Editorial Review:
The Reluctant Conductor by Tim Turner and Moisey Gorbaty is set in Moldova during the Second World War. This lovely novel tells the story of a Jewish Moldovan family who left who must survive the double threat of Nazi Germany and the Russians.
Lest you think ‘Oh, no, not another World War II story,’ this one has a refreshing take as it’s not told from the same old angle. The story is from the first person perspective of Elazar “Lazar” Gershovich, a Moldovan Jew living in the former Pale of Settlement, under the dark shadow of Stalinist Russia.
Lazar lives in the small Shtetl called Kalarash, in modern day Ukraine, where opportunity is scarce and women even more so. In the beginning of the story he takes on a kind of creepy stalker persona as he looks for love in all the wrong places, but he is so likeable his creepy stalker persona is more interesting than it is weird, and the reader amused more than anything else.
Lazar tends to fall in love all too easily and when his first choice rejects him for being the creepy stalker, which, even Lazar acknowledges, he immediately falls in love with Mariam Gabashvili based on eye contact and a wave. However, she is a Gentile and therefore, off limits. Lazar’s ability to fall in love so easily felt unrealistic. One encounter and boom. Instant love.
He does finally woo Ita, whom he stalked after his cousin’s wedding, marries her, and together they raise two children, Rivka and Ira.
The story opens with a prologue explaining a pogrom in 1903 that brought them to Kalarash from Kishiniv. In 1922, Kalarash is part of Romania but in the shifting sands of borders and governments in the area between the wars this becomes confusing. The authors tended to explain the story when they wanted the readers to have information. It would have served the story better and made a richer and deeper experience if these political tensions were shown through actions and injustices brought upon them, rather than explained to the reader.
While pogroms have happened for hundreds of years all over Europe from Barcelona to Prague – this happened in the 20th century. Initially, it was a global scandal wherein politicians from America and all over were outraged and demanded justice. But punishment for the perpetrators came to little or no avail, and because countless, more outrageous atrocities have since occurred, to most of the world, the Kishinev Pogrom of 1903 has been swept under the carpet. Not to us. I don’t know how or why any of us survived but that’s why papa and mama, Toiva and Polina Gershovich, uprooted our family, packed up the business, and fled to this shtetl—this Jewish prison.
The authors do a wonderful job of showing the everyday life of the Gershovich family. Slowly the reader sees their lives growing more dangerous as Stalin makes his moves against these smaller countries, Moldova, Belarus and others in the region in order to protect his borders against Nazi incursion, but he does nothing to protect his Jewish population living in what used to be known as the Pale of Settlement.
Where the authors could have improved the story was when the Nazi invasion did, in fact, happen. Beyond radio announcements there seemed to be no reaction on the part of the Jews in the area. Were they fearful? Did they think the Nazis would never reach them? Did they fear what Stalin might to do them as a result? None of these questions did they raise which was disappointing as it would have added deeper tension and given a more historical aspect to the moment.
In fact, one part of the story felt as if the authors simply didn’t want to write about the passage of time, so they did a sort of time jump, which was disappointing because they jumped over one of the most crucial dates in twentieth century history.
September 1, 1939.
1926 to 1940 – These are the happiest, least traumatic fourteen years of my life. On June 25th, 1927, Ita gives birth to a beautiful girl, whom we name Rivka, after my beloved grandmother. This sets in motion the era of parenthood for Ita and I, and we relish every milestone: when Rivka learns to crawl, utters her first word, learns to walk… three years later, on March 15th, 1930, we are blessed with a second child, this time a boy—more milestones—whom we name Ira after Ita’s father. A girl and a boy! Oy vez mir. In the eyes of God, we clearly are doing something right…Sept. 1940 — Boom. Fourteen years later, and I enter the kitchen holding a rolled-up newspaper just as a fly buzzes past my face and lands on the breakfast table. I swat at the fly but miss. “I rarely used to miss killing flies,” I say, “but it seems all of a sudden that I’m missing a lot.”
There is no mention of the start of the war. What that means for the Jewish population. Surely, they had to be talking about it as Poland was in their backyard, so to speak. They did it again in December 1941 when the Americans entered the war. Even Germans were aware of what that meant, but there was no mention of it in the story. It didn’t feel realistic.
When the Gershovich’s must flee from Kalarash and begin their harrowing journey across Russia ending up in Uzbekistan, we see some of the danger of their escape with German bombings but that too felt lacking because overall, things came too easily to them. The family was able to stay together, and nothing of consequence happened to them. A young girl like Rivka, one would expect to see a possible kidnapping or attempted rape, but no. Lazar carried a great deal of money on him, well hidden, of course, but no attempted robbery. War brings out the worst in people, but we see none of that as they make their escape to a distant country. No acts of antisemitism committed on them.
When they needed a place to stay, they came upon a woman who was willing to take them in. When they needed more food, Lazar stumbles upon a hidden cache of food. When his family simply couldn’t walk any further, a horse appeared, and he conveniently found a cart. The reader will find themselves wishing things were harder. After all, nothing moves a story like conflict.
10 July, 1941, 05:45 — As the sun comes up the next morning, we exhaustedly come upon a small house not far from the road. Smoke billows from the chimney, and we all salivate at the smell of baking bread. At the same time, Ita and I spot an oblong ornament affixed diagonally to the inside of the door jamb at about head height, inscribed with Hebrew. We look at each other. “ey have a mezuzah,” I say. “Hello!” I say in Yiddish. “We mean you no harm. We have been running for three days...” I pause. e woman’s look indicates that she understands, and she understands why. “And we are tired and hungry. Please help us,” I plead. e woman, who wears a black wool dress with a white apron around her waist, appraises Ita and me. She glances behind us at the rest of our entourage, takes a deep breath, and appears to process an internal dialogue. At last, she cracks a weary smile and says, “My name is Dvore, please come in.” I flash an “okay” sign to the family.
The title of the story is imbued with double meaning as Lazar is a musician. He plays the violin and once had dreams of becoming a musical conductor, who now must lead his family on a quest of survival.
Lest this critique sound too harsh, this story was a gem to read. It was well paced, the characters were fun, if somewhat shallow at times, but the setting was intriguing and new. It was a refreshing take on the European war of the mid-twentieth century and is well recommended.
*****
The Reluctant Conductor” by Tim Turner and Moisey Gorbaty received 4 stars by the Historical Fiction Company.
To have your historical novel editorially reviewed and/or enter the HFC Book of the Year contest, please visit www.thehistoricalfictioncompany.com/book-awards/award-submission
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