I was enthused about reading this book based on the premise. By the time I put it down I felt like it was a missed opportunity to write something truly significant about an important historical event that is largely ignored.
Where do I start?
Yes, the story is told from the perspective of two twelve-year-old girls separated by 75 years. The first girl we meet is a Jewish girl that passes for pure German in pre-war Berlin. She's a rich girl, and her mother used to move in aristocratic circles and, when we meet her, she is in the depths of despair, on the brink of despondency because she cannot resign herself to her reduced social circumstances brought about by the fact that the Nazis are in power.
The second twelve-year-old we meet is the great-niece of the first, and her mother is in the depths of despair because she is a 9/11 widow who never got to tell her husband that she was pregnant. She, too, is locked in her apartment being cared for by her minor daughter who has had to accept responsibility for a parent before her time.
In the case of the first girl, Hannah, she wants to kill her parents, end it all, she can't take this attitude anymore. In the case of the second girl, why hasn't anyone called Social Services, for crying out loud??? How come she gets to find out that her father died on 9/11 during a memorial reading-of-the-names at school????
The troubling thing is this: the mothers in this book are both spineless, manic depressive people who have clear bipolar tendencies. If they are not completely destroyed by a crisis, they are bouncing around with the peppiest, chirpiest, most enthusiastic will to forge ahead and live, live, LIVE!!!!!!!
Hannah and her family escape Germany in a doomed ship. They are intended to travel to Cuba, where they will wait until they can leave for the US, and -while they are in transit- events make this impossible; Cuba doesn't want these Jewish refugees, and neither do the States nor Canada. Hannah's father, who had been arrested and held prisoner before their exit from Germany, has become a shell of his former self; he barely talks, except to the Captain and another passenger (Hannah's boyfriend's father), and agonizes about their future. He basically knows they're doomed from the get-go, but since his wife is happy (and -surprisingly- suddenly pregnant) he just plods along with whatever is necessary.
Hannah's mother doesn't want to go to Cuba anyway; she hates Cuba, Cubans, Cuban culture... When she and Hannah have to get off the boat (two among the lucky very few who do), she does so reluctantly, haughtily, angrily, and full of the worst bile against Cuba, Cubans and Cuban culture. Hannah's father goes off into the sunset in the doomed ship, sent -like many others- to France (doomed, of course, because we all know what happened to Jews in France during the war). Hannah and her mother settle down in Cuba, but Hannah's mother finds the resources to go to NY to have her baby, hating Cuba, Cubans, and Cuban culture every single second of their lives. Hannah's mother hates Cuba, Cubans, and Cuban culture so much that she wants to die there, be buried there, and for Hannah to do the same regardless of how long she lives.
Anna, Hannah's great-niece, travels from NY to Cuba to meet her aunt. Her mother, after a sudden and almost fatal health crisis, is enthusiastic about this because they will get to learn about her dead husband...who, apparently, is remembered as being the kind of guy who likes going to the movies, but didn't really tell her much else while they were married. She knew he had a trust fund, a nice apartment, and belonged to a club where he got a haircut once a month, but that's about the gist of it...
Anna and Hannah share the despondent mothers, the exhilarating and not-of-their-class boyfriends, and a liking for photography. Hopefully, and I say this with very little faith that out there in fiction world this will develop, Anna will break out of the despondency that seems to permeate this family's character. They are attracted to doom; they "let themselves die"... Hannah never did much with her life; she took care of her mother (who was just dripping with bile and anger against Cuba, Cubans, and Cuban culture for her entire living days), her brother (was he the product of a liaison with a Nazi official who greased the wheels of emigration for Hannah's family????), and her nephew (Anna's father) who all basically were depressed, colorless people who beat their heads against the thick wall of destiny only to succumb to it...
I am guessing Mr. Correa's intentions were pure, and he had a good story to tell, but having two twelve-year-olds narrate a story from their perspectives is one thing and having an 87-year-old still narrate like a twelve-year-old is another. None of the main characters in this story are likable; not a single solitary one. Not Hannah, not Alma (her mother...her bitter, angry, vindictive, arrogant mother), not Hannah's father, not Anna's mother (who has let herself be cared for by her daughter because, apparently, the only person who suffered massive loss on 9/11 was HER,) not Hannah's brother, or Anna's father for that matter. The minor characters are somewhat better, but...they're all caricatures: the nannies all have ample bosoms, loving hearts, maternal instincts. The boyfriends are all absolutely sure of the future they want with the girl they love at the tender age of twelve. And all these people, by the way, come across as doomed...
The words Jewish or Jew never come up. Hannah is completely and utterly disconnected from her heritage, her faith, her culture...because the Nazis treat them as undesirables, they decide that, hey, just let it go. Hannah lives in Havana for decades before she even happens to walk past the synagogue...this is such a traumatic event that she never again EVER walks down that street.
Sigh...
Wasted opportunity. A deluge of words that doesn't do more than introduce us superficially to these people we're supposed to be invested in... As I told my husband last night, after carefully closing the book and putting it back on the shelf to prevent myself from throwing it across the room, this is as frustrating as James Cameron's Titanic...so many compelling, heartbreaking, factual stories about passengers on a doomed ship, and the author chooses to make up this narrative quagmire that, quite honestly, leaves you feeling like you need a shower after every scene in which Hannah's mother is described...
I hope someday, somewhere, someone does justice to the passengers of the St. Louis, and to the many Jewish refugees who were turned away from safety. People can wax poetic about this book, but...it's depressing, and not one bit life-affirming.