Warning: Plot elements revealed in this review. Also known as Spoiler Alert!
It's time to write a review of Anna and the Swallow Man (swallow as in the kind of bird) and this isn't going to be easy. For one thing, I didn't like the book and it makes me a little nervous to say so publicly, especially when there are many things the writer does very well. And also because I don't fully grasp all the reasons I found the book to be troubling and dissatisfying. Hopefully as I write this, these things will make themselves more clear. (Isn't writing a review, after all, a living conversation with a book, a community, and a self?)
It's possible, even probable that the book is well-written. Well-crafted prose is a promising start. Or is it? Maybe, it is a questionable start. Because how does one talk about the quality of prose outside of what a writer is doing with it?
There is, however, a quality to the prose, a fine silk between thumb and forefinger feeling, and maybe it's even too nice. It seems to want to lean against a wall somewhere in a James Dean kind of way, and smoke a cigarette -- to appear attractive and smart about the world. But what's underneath this posturing? What kind of meaningful connection is fostered between the content and the form of this book?
Then again, maybe that is part of the horror here. The quiet prettiness and evasiveness. Maybe Savit is trying to rhyme an evasive and restricted style of writing with the masquerade of the Swallow Man. But then, why doesn't the style break down when the Swallow Man does?
But the book never does open up and tell us its secrets. It doesn't go digging in the soil to show us broken artifacts. It works to stay tidy and pared down. I've read these kinds of paired down books. There are many of them out there. And sometimes I appreciate that quality, when it's bringing me somewhere I couldn't otherwise imagine. But this book ruffles my feathers, and not in a way that feels instructive. For one, it is a novel that doesn't feel quite like a novel. What kind of text does it, then, feel like? A short story? At 225 pages? Can there be a 225 page piece of short fiction? And if so, why? Not that I am making an argument that it is a piece of short fiction, but if it were, that would make a little more sense.
Here I will mention one of the many things "Anna and the Swallow Man" does well (prettiness of prose aside). First of all, it leads me to question the form of the novel and wonder at its basic elements. I don't mean character, plot, setting, and that kind of thing. This novel has characters, namely: Anna and the Swallow man. And also Reb Herschel who journeys with them for a time, though he barely seems real even in the context of this fiction.
And there is a plot in here, sort of. Anna is 7 years old and her father, a linguistics professor, is taken away during the Sonderaktion Krakau. (In the fall of 1939 nearly two hundred academics and others affiliated with universities in German occupied Krakow were arrested and taken from prison to prison on the way to Buchenwald, which, at the time, was over capacity. Eventually those who didn't die of exposure, illness and violence wound up in Dachau. Most surviving prisoners were released from Dachau in Jan 1941 because of international outrage and intervention. The book leads us to believe that Anna's father will not return after being arrested, but I could be wrong about that. The book doesn't take us to the end of the war and when we leave off, Anna is on her way, well, somewhere in a boat with a stranger.
But, we're at the beginning of the novel and Anna's father is arrested and disappears. Anna has no one to take care of her. Her mother has been dead and out of the picture for some time and apparently Anna has no other family to contact, and the other adults in her immediate vicinity want nothing to do with her. It isn't clear why, but my guess is, either they are worried they will then become a target, or they are worried they are already a target and she will make them more of a target. But it doesn't really make sense to me that no one is looking out for Anna in the slightest. She's not Jewish as far as I know. She's seven years old. She's alone.
In any case, Anna winds up wandering the streets near her apartment confused until, a day or two after her father is taken away, by chance, she meets the Swallow Man. Like her, he speaks many languages quite fluently (according to the logic of the book, Anna, because she is the daughter of a linguistics professor, would naturally be fluent in many languages. Anna speaks and understands German, Polish, Russian, Yiddish and French.) The Swallow Man takes notice of Anna and when he comes to understand her predicament after a brief conversation in five languages, he tells her to follow him into the woods (well, actually he tells her to "remain out of sight for as long as possible" which Anna understands is the same as an invitation to follow him.)
For reasons we don't know in the beginning of the novel, the Swallow Man is on the run, wandering directionless though Poland and Russia. Why his reason for hiding is kept a secret I don't know, and it is one of the thing that bothers me. It is kept secret and then revealed to no effect at all. He's a scientist. He's in some way capable of being involved in research of atomic weapons for Germany. He doesn't want that. If he is recognized, trouble will be a-brewing. So, his destination is survival without capture. I would have been very happy to know that from the start and to have more of a sense of the stakes. But that is not what this novel is about. What is this novel about? Well, I just told you. A girl losing her caretaker and following the Swallow Man into the woods. Maybe this novel is about people hiding from themselves and each other? The Swallow Man's super power is, after all, blending in wherever he goes or being seen in whatever way he wants to be seen, which is also a form of invisibility. And forming small moments of camaraderie with people whenever it is of use for procuring food and other needful things. And wandering for months through countrysides without running into other humans. And sleeping outdoors in Poland and Russia in the dead of winter without even losing any toes?!
So, the girl formerly known as Anna follows the Swallow Man into the woods and becomes "sweetie" and learns from him how to survive as war rages around them. They must not, first of all, call each other by name, because remaining nameless is part of staying safe according to the Swallow Man's rules of the road. He teaches Anna to speak "Road." Meaning, how to be evasive and get what they want and need without 1) getting noticed more than is needful 2) getting caught by anyone. Of course, it isn't clear why Anna should be in danger aside from the fact her father is gone. The Swallow Man might just as easily have brought her to a church or an orphanage. But that is not how this book rolls. The Swallow Man, instead of finding a place for her to stay, leads her into the woods and they wander from place to place and stay alive, which is, in itself a feat. We learn that the Swallow Man carries around a young girl's shoe wherever he goes. Again, we are not told why. I don't know why we aren't told why. It's a bit distracting knowing there's this shoe and he's carrying it around everywhere and there's likely a kid to go with it. Savit or the narrator or whoever intentionally leaves this unexplained. And why? All these the "tiny m" mysteries don't do anything but distract. Okay. So the swallow man is some kind of scientist. He's a father who's lost his kid or kids, as represented by a shoe that he eventually eats the rhinestones off. Also, the narrator at a certain point announces that the Swallow Man laughs three times in the course of time that Anna knows him. Another "small m" mystery (when did he laugh, why did he laugh) and a gimmicky way of foreshadowing his disappearance. Also, it's pretty hard to believe. It is much easier to believe he eats rhinestones off of shoes and survives sleeping outside in winter than that he laughs three times in as many years.
Anna and the Swallow Man become a team somewhat in the tradition of Paper Moon, though in war time with horrors abounding. At some point they meet Reb Herschel and Anna wants him to join their team and the Swallow Man doesn't, but then the Swallow Man realizes (a curious intersection) how unhappy his strict rules of the road have made Anna. He comprehends that some people can't survive on physical sustenance alone, but need emotional sustenance as well, which Hershel provides for Anna, though he is to the Swallow Man's rules of the road what a moose is to a pool party. Or, let's just say the Swallow Man and Herschel are a bit of a classic odd couple. But the potential for humor here isn't much addressed. What is shown is that people can be indiscreet and joyful and not necessarily get shot when they're in the middle of nowhere, though I must admit I wasn't really with Savit at this point in the novel. Though I appreciated the joyfulness, it was hard to believe that the trio was able to go for such long stretches without running into other people or mines or anything of the sort.
The book sets up a situation with a young girl and two father figures, one tall and thin, the other shorter and stout. One cold and calculating but clearly protective of Anna, the other neither cold nor calculating, but also protective of Anna, and perhaps not as equipped to protect her.
Reb Herschel provides much needed comic relief, but not enough of it and not, perhaps, in the right way. He is meant to, I think, provide air in an airless environment. But he seems more symbolic than real, and it is strange, the comparison that must arise between Anna, Solomon and Herschel as characters. There is a bit of a flatness to Anna and Solomon, and I can sort of make sense of that because war flattens people out, when it's not sharpening them and bringing out the rawness of experience. But if the war flattens Anna and Solomon, it turns Herschel into a Jewish stereotype. He is Tevya and Mottel and the fiddler with a broken violin, walking out of a Sholem Aleichem novel, but without the depth of human wisdom and suffering and the humorous and fantastic conversations with God and everyone else. This is not to say I don't like Reb Herschel. I don't know if I like him. Mostly I find it distracting the way he arrives, the things he says, the way he leaves, and the rest of his story after that seems too predictable and hard to make sense of. Once he's gone he's gone, and I wonder, why was he here in the first place?
Which calls to mind another question. Does one have to buy something in a novel in order to enjoy the novel? What does it even mean, to trust that something is real in a work of fiction? Of course, this particular book is working on many levels. The level of allegory, but with attempts at realism, and a touch of magical realism thrown in. In my understanding, a think has to make sense only within the world of the book. Even if the world of the book is nonsensical.
This book is in the realm of the theater of the absurd but it is standing outside the door (leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.) It doesn't really go anywhere. One might say that is the point of this book. A journey to nowhere. But no, I won't let the book off the hook in that way.
When Herschel walks into the story, the story wants to become an existential comedy and to some degree it already is. Or, it has some elements of Becket a pinch of Sholem Aleichem. This aimlessness, failure of event, and evasion of humor is all too much though, given the way it ends. I greatly appreciate existential comedy, but this has all the elements of existential comedy without the comedy.
What ends up happening is I don't know how to read it because it doesn't know quite where it's going. People wandering aimlessly, book wandering aimlessly. What this is, I think, is a work of fiction that has not been edited well. In which someone, writer or editor, wasn't willing to take some kind of risk. I don't know what that risk is, because I am reading what made it to print. I have the feeling that somewhere in here is a much better book. But this one is too careful and not careful enough. It hints at existential comedy, but won't go there. It takes itself very seriously but shows a troubling immaturity. It is a coming of age story but with very little attention paid to Anna's inner experiences. There comes toward the end a series of events that leave Anna "older" and alone. She is in some sense going from innocence to experience, but again, really?
There is a spareness in this book that for me doesn't work. I found myself thinking of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. It is a similar premise. A few people wandering in a hideous war-torn world and trying to retain some of their humanity. But the spareness in McCarthy's book is used to offer wild moments of relief (the discovery of jars of food for example, that sets the colors and brightness of the food against the overall sooty gray concision of the world.) Savit's book is not set against a gray, sooty landscape, though. There is much color, a lot of natural beauty, the landscapes are vast and peppered with woods and villages and rivers. We are not deprived of something and then offered it in a way that is like holding one's breath without realizing it and then suddenly taking a breath. In McCarthy's book there is also an element of morality that is, well, I don't know that I bought it. There was something a little too self-rightous about the heroism. But there is also a fullness to the exploration. In Savit's book there is a similar question -- how far we will go to survive during war time, and at what point it is better to risk dying than to kill? But it is not fully realized in Savit's book. I am not on board for either the murder the Swallow Man commits in order to protect Anna, or of Herschel's reaction to it. Neither seem well-founded.
On one hand, I get that Anna and the Swallow Man have had to lose their human definitions in order to stay alive in the wilderness. On the other hand, I left the book with little sensation other than "huh?" Perhaps I needed to understand how they managed to not freeze to death in the winter. I certainly needed a better understanding as to why the scene in the pharmacy toward the end of the novel happened. I needed that scene to be doing work other than to show Anna going from "innocence" to "experience". And moving from one who is taken care of to one who takes care of. Does the exploitative behavior of the pharmacist really have to serve as a coming of experiential moment? Savit cooly posits this scene as part of her unsentimental education, but there is so little of her in it, it feels like she's a sock puppet and some sexual harassment was just thrown in there for a shitty time.
Do we need to have to guess during the whole book what the Swallow Man does, where he's from, who's shoe he's carrying around, and why he's on the run? Do we need him to visit an old colleague in one of the more clunky scenes of the book, in the final chapters, after he's recovered some from his radiation madness? Do we need the pills to be a big secret the whole time? Do we need the Swallow Man to go totally bonkers because he's not taking his radiation meds (when it's finally revealed that's what they are?) Anyway, at the end of the book, the Swallow Man does some wheeling and dealing and sends Anna off in a boat with a stranger. And then the book ends.
So, what are the elements of a novel that this book is missing? I think most of all a sense of its own borders and the courage and/or vulnerability to really explore the questions it is exploring.