The Storyteller

Is it possible to put a Holocaust story, a vampire story, a love story and a tragic accident in the same novel without it sounding cliched or offensive? Jodi Picoult proves that the answer to this is yes and builds a story about the choices that people make collecting the seemingly mismatching threads into a rich tapestry.

The middle part of the novel is almost heartbreaking to read - the story of the Holocaust as seen by the eyes of a young girl that survives it. Even though you know it is a novel and that the narrator survives (because she is telling the story), it still is a very powerful piece of prose. And the fact that it is not a real survivor story does not make it less powerful.

And around this middle part is the framing story - show more the old Nazi officer Josef that decides to ask forgiveness from a Jewish woman. In her introduction to the novel, Picoult points out that this idea is not her, she found it in Simon Wiesenthal's "The Sunflower" and that she built her novel around the idea. Except that the case in "The Storyteller" is a little different - Josef does not seek one of his victims but Sage - a 20-something baker which is Jewish by birth but claims not to be and that lives in the 21st century. Sage has her own story and secrets - while Josef had lived his life hidden because of what he had done and had built himself a new identity and won the respect of the whole town, Sage had her face marked from an accidents and hides behind her profession and the weird hours that bakers keep.

Add to this Sage's grandmother Minka (who is the survivor that the middle part of the book belong to), a married man that Sage believes to be the best she deserves and a Nazi hunter who is ready to discount the whole story when he first hears it but then realizes that there is something in it, a retired Nun, interesting face showing in a bread (and I still do not see how that connected to the whole story...) and a few other secondary characters that allow the story to flow nicely.

And the main thread in the whole novel is choices - the choices that Josef made as a boy and then as a young man, the choices Minka hd to make in order to survive, the choices that Sage made in her own life and for the story of Josef, the choice that Josef had made when deciding to confess to Sage; choices of death and life (in more than one way); choices of belonging and staying away; of betrayal and honesty. Even the last act of the novel was a choice.

The turning point of the novel is hinted at very early in it and is fully shown long before Sage catches up on it - and that's one of the weak points of the novel. She should have seen it earlier - should have managed to process that information. But then should would not have made the same choice most likely - although I am not so sure that this would have been a bad thing.

And where are the vampires? In a story, where they belong. Between the chapters of the novel in the same way in which they had been written between the hard days of Minka. A story that saves her life and that plays a significant role in her narrative... and as unfinished as the life of a person can be. And a lot of the choices in that fictional story mirror the choices in the lives of the characters - and repeating some of the parts during the novel narration itself serves to show how close is life to an unreal imaginary story... and how powerful a story can be.

At one point, at the final part of the book Picoult defines history: "History isn't about dates and places and wars. It's about the people who fill the spaces between them." And that's one of the best definition I had heard. Because at the end of the day, history is the story of the choices made by people for people about people. And novels can relate these possible stories - because even if that one did not happen, millions of stories did happen in the ghettos and camps of WWII - and most of them cannot be told because noone survived to tell them. But "The Storyteller" is not just a Holocaust story even if it contains one; nor is it a vampire story - it just contains one. It is about memories, forgiveness, choices and hope. show less

Over the past few years I have become very disenchanted with Jodi Picoult's books and after the last one I read, said I was not going to read any more written by her. Thank goodness, I didn't follow through. "The Storyteller" was a truly riveting story centred around the Holocaust, with thought-provoking questions about forgiveness and justice. There were a number of narrators, but the one I found most compelling and tragic was young Minka's as she described her battle to stay alive while imprisoned in Auschwitz. From the start, I was hooked on this book and found it hard to put it down. A fabulous read.

my first picoult and i was surprised by how well it’s written and how thoughtful so much of it is. i was also really surprised by what the story ended up being as i went into it blind. which i guess is good because i wouldn’t have chosen a holocaust story on my own. and i think i would have preferred if that entire storyline wasn’t there or was much more condensed, as it’s just not something i need to read about, especially if what we’re doing is humanizing the nazis. that said, this was well done and brought up interesting questions. i’m not sure that i like the decision that sage made in the end, or that i agree with the conclusion she came to (at least in that moment) but i appreciate the question that picoult brings up. show more she’s talking about the ordinariness of evil, the way we all make mistakes, the way something can live inside us forever. she’s asking questions about forgiveness and justice and guilt and i’d probably prefer she didn’t answer them for us, but sage’s decision (against the backdrop of leo’s opinion) makes for interesting discussions, i'm sure. i also really always like the book within a book thing, and that’s true here too, especially in the parallels between that story and the flashback story. still, i would have preferred less of that and more of the contemporary story, as i don’t feel the need to read too many holocaust stories anymore, and it felt like that part took up too many pages and maybe was a little trauma porn-ish at times. and the interesting part is really in the processing and the modern day questions that the holocaust brings up. show less

To write about the ineffable or the incomprehensible is not easy, inherently it can't be. So to write about the Holocaust and the toll it took on its victims and its perpetrators...it must be handled with grace, skill, delicacy, if the work is to be taken seriously as a work of merit or true worth or weight.

And, oddly enough, Jodi Picoult does this...but she also doesn't. On the one hand her writing of the atrocities of what Jews, Poles, Communists et al went through at the hands of the Nazis (following the now well worn progression of 'accepted' anti-semitism to slow disenfranchising, and eventual tightening of the strangle hold and finally the knotting of the noose and the lighting of the ovens) is convincing with a refreshing absence show more of the usual pap and plastic flair and attempt at whimsy many American Jewish authors of late have tried to insert into their shtetl/Holocaust/European Jewish stories (I'm looking at you, Jonathan Safran Foer and your wife Nicole Krauss too!). But where Ms. Picoult falter is, unfortunately, her modern American need for definition and declaration in the realm of a story, real in history, imagined in her mind, that defies analysis.

I have no doubt as to the moral ambiguity inherent to all humanity on a good day, let alone during the conditions of war and microscoped down even more to during the conditions of mechanized genocide. And Picoult understands this well. But some, or almost none, can write about things like this with the gentle but powerful hand it requires. I'm sorry, but Ms. Picoult unfortunately cannot have her cake and eat it too. You can't infer a moral equivalency between the few, the individuals, while bemoaning the absolute evil of the many and the majority.

The power of story as discussed here, as confession, as catharsis, as hope, is a powerful one. But this message is threaded too thinly with too many disparate influences jockeying for attention. The conceit of the literary Nazi officer with a fondness for literature being charmed (or at least made curious) by the bookish leanings of one of his Jewish prisoners has been done before, and better I will add, by David Grossman in his superior See Under: Love, as well as, to a lesser extent, in Yoram Kaniuk's novel Adam Resurrected.

But the book has power and the effort and passion shows. Though I should mention that the modern portions of the book, detailing Sage and her (eventual) romance with government agent Leo Stein, are a pain to outright punishment to sit through. And this brings me back to one of my main concerns regarding not only this story but American storytelling sensibilities as a whole, at least, modern ones.

In essence, the story (despite the genuinely surprising and well crafted twist at the end) is too clean, it's too neat, and aside from the relevant and maddening questions of morality and justice brought up towards story's end, is concluded and wrapped up too neatly. This robs the story of the necessary bravery it needed to be a real literary statement about one of history's most horrific moments. The romance between Sage and Leo is too plastic, too forced and 'cute', too much a piece of wistful and forcibly romantic American pap in the face of something dark, ineffable, incomprehensible, something Hebraic and human, Old Testament and brutal.

As it stands, it's a decent and even good read. But it could have been and maybe should have been something so much more than what we were given. show less

I have often been of two minds about Picoult: she is an amazing storyteller whose formula is obvious but constantly renewed in a fresh an interesting way; I would even say that it has become her signature. Her conclusions, however, tended to be cowardly - a slight of hand to get her out of the complicated moral situation she had adroitly described.

In this novel, she accomplishes both: a breath-taking story in which she is able to expose the horrors of the war and the points of view of the various characters while coming up with a brilliant and heart-wrenching conclusion. Even though I had guessed the ending, it came as a double edged sword: bringing peace and justice on the one hand, shock and vengeance on the other. In my view, one of show more Picoult's best. show less

I have read several of Jodi Picoult’s books now, and they are somewhat hit-or-miss for me. There are some that I have definitely enjoyed more than others, and some that I didn’t particularly enjoy at all. Picoult is not a Christian writer, and though she is unafraid to delve deeply into complicated and sensitive issues, her endings often fall flat for me. This one, however, is by far my favourite!

The concept instantly intrigued me: a descendant of a Holocaust survivor encounters a former (and reformed) Nazi soldier. Both the modern day situation and the flashbacks to the war era present the characters with difficult moral decisions, and the flashbacks also reveal the slippery slope that can lead a person to commit such atrocities show more against other human beings. In addition to the present day and historical stories that are playing out, there is another story being told: a fictional tale being composed by a young girl as her world is turned upside down, a tale that parallels her reality and gives it the possibility of a happy ending.

Picoult’s books always reveal a twist near the end, and I can often make a pretty close guess as to what it will be before I get there, or at least have a general idea. Not this time. This one genuinely surprised me! I did not see it coming at all, and I thought it was very well done!

Overall, I really enjoyed this book! The various perspectives were very interesting to read and think about. This is something I will read again someday! show less

Good read but be warned: this is a holocaust book. Much of the story is told in flashback, with many details of mass murder and starvation, death and loss. A main character describes being in the Warsaw ghetto, Auschwitz, and the forced march of women before the liberation.

Are some people just evil and will always be that way, or can they be made that way because of upbringing or circumstance? Good questions, and thoughtfully laid out in this novel. But to get there, you'll have to go through hell.