Items related to Free World
2011 Governor General’s Literary Awards Finalist - Fiction
Shortlisted for the 2011 Scotiabank Giller Prize
Summer, 1978. Brezhnev sits like a stone in the Kremlin,Israel and Egypt are inching toward peace, and in the bustling,polyglot streets of Rome, strange new creatures have appeared:thousands of Soviet Jews who have escaped to freedom through a crack in the Iron Curtain. Among the thousands who have landed in Italy to secure visas for new lives in the West are the members of the Krasnansky family -- three generations of Russian Jews.
There is Samuil, an old communist and Red Army veteran,who reluctantly leaves the country to which he has dedicatedhimself body and soul; Karl, his eldest son, a man eager to embrace the opportunities emigration affords; his younger son,Alec, a carefree playboy for whom life has always been a game;and Polina, Alec’s new wife, who has risked the most by breaking with her old family to join this new one. Together, they will spend six months in Rome -- their way station and purgatory. They will immerse themselves in the carnival of emigration, an Italy rife with love affairs and ruthless hustles, with dislocation and nostalgia, with the promise and peril of a better life. In the unforgettable Krasnansky family, Bezmozgis has created an intimate portrait of a tumultuous era.
Written in precise, musical prose, The Free World is a stunning debut novel, a heartfelt multigenerational saga of great historical scope and even greater human depth. Enlarging on the themes of aspiration and exile that infused his first collection, Natasha and Other Stories, The Free World establishes Bezmozgis as one of our most mature and accomplished storytellers.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
About the Author:
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
David Bezmozgis is an award-winning writer and filmmaker. He is the author of Natasha and Other Stories, The Free World, and The Betrayers. His writing has appeared in many publications, including The New Yorker, Harper's, Zoetrope: All-Story, and Best American Short Stories. He has been twice nominated for the Scotiabank Giller Prize and the Governor General's Literary Award, and his debut story collection, Natasha and Other Stories, won the Toronto Book Award and the Commonwealth Writer's Prize for First Book. David has been a Guggenheim Fellow, a MacDowell Fellow, a Dorothy and Lewis B. Cullman Fellow at the New York Public Library, and a Radcliffe Fellow. He is the Director of the Humber School for Writers. Born in Riga, Latvia, David lives in Toronto.
Free World
JULY1Alec Krasnansky stood on the platform of Vienna's Southern Terminal while, all around him, the representatives of Soviet Jewry--from Tallinn to Tashkent--roiled, snarled, and elbowed to deposit their belongings onto the waiting train. His own family roiled among them: his parents, his wife, his nephews, his sister-in-law, and particularly his brother, Karl, worked furiously with the suitcases and duffel bags. He should have been helping them but his attention was drawn farther down the platform by two pretty tourists. One was a brunette, Mediterranean and voluptuous; the other petite and blond--in combination they attested, as though by design, to the scope of the world's beauty and plenitude. Both girls were barefoot, their leather sandals arranged in tidy pairs beside them. Alec traced a line of smooth, tanned skin from heel to calf to thigh, interrupted ultimately by the frayed edge of cutoff blue jeans. Above the cutoff jeans the girls wore thin sleeveless shirts. They sat on their backpacks and leaned casually against each other. Their faces were lovely and vacant. They seemed beyond train schedules and obligations. People sped past them, the Russian circus performed its ludicrous act several meters away, but they paid no attention. Alec assumed they were Americans. He guessed they were intheir early twenties. He was twenty-six, but he could pass for younger. In school and university he had run track and had retained a trim runner's build. He also had his father's dark, wavy hair. From the time Alec was a boy he had been aware of his effect on women. In his presence, they often became exaggerated versions of themselves. The maternal ones became more maternal, the crude ones became cruder, the shy ones shyer. They wanted only that he not make them feel foolish and were grateful when he did not. In his experience, much of what was good in life could be traced to a woman's gratitude.Looking at the two girls, Alec had to resist the urge to approach them. It could be the simplest thing in the world. He had studied English. He needed only to walk over and say, Hello, are you Americans? And they needed only to respond, Yes.--Where in America do you live?--Chicago. And where are you from?--Riga, Latvia. The Soviet Union.--How interesting. We have never met anyone from the Soviet Union before. Where are you traveling to?--Chicago.--No. Is this true?--Yes, it is true. I am traveling to Chicago.--Will this be your first time in Chicago?--Yes, it will be my first time in Chicago. Can you tell me about Chicago?--Yes, we can tell you about it. Please sit down with us. We will tell you everything about Chicago.--Thank you.--You are welcome.Alec felt Karl's hand on his shoulder.--What's the matter with you?--Nothing.--We have seven minutes to finish loading everything onto the train.He followed Karl back to where their parents were arranging thesuitcases so that Karl and Alec could continue forcing them through the window of the compartment. Near them, an elderly couple sat dejectedly on their bags. Others worked around them, avoiding not only helping them but also looking them in the face. Old people sitting piteously on luggage had become a familiar spectacle.--I see them, Karl said. Move your ass and if there's time we'll help them.Alec bent into the remaining pile of suitcases and duffel bags on the platform. Each seemed heavier than the last. For six adults they had twenty articles of luggage crammed with goods destined for the bazaars of Rome: linens, toys, samovars, ballet shoes, nesting dolls, leather Latvian handicrafts, nylon stockings, lacquer boxes, pocketknives, camera equipment, picture books, and opera glasses. One particularly heavy suitcase held Alec's big commercial investment, dozens of symphonic records.First hefting the bags onto his shoulder and then sliding them along the outside of the train, Alec managed to pass them up to the compartment and into the arms of Polina and Rosa, his and Karl's wives.Karl turned to the old couple.--All right, citizens, can we offer you a hand?The old man rose from his suitcase, stood erect, and answered with the formality of a Party official or university lecturer.--We would be very obliged to you. If you will allow, my wife has with her a box of chocolates.--It's not necessary.--Not even a little something for the children?Karl's two boys had poked their heads out the compartment window.--Do as you like. But they're like animals at the zoo. I suggest you mind your fingers.Alec and Karl shouldered the old people's suitcases and passed them into their compartment. Alec noticed the way the old man looked at Polina.--This is your wife?--Yes.--A true Russian beauty.--I appreciate the compliment. Though she might disagree. Emigration is not exactly cosmetic.--Absolutely false. The Russian woman blossoms under toil. The Russian man can drink and fight, but our former country was built on the back of the Russian woman.--What country wasn't?--That may be so, but I don't know about other countries. I was a Soviet citizen. To my generation this meant something. We sacrificed our youth, our most productive years, our faith. And in the end they robbed us of everything. This is why it does my heart proud to see your wife. Every Jew should have taken with him a Russian bride. If only to deny them to the alcoholics. I'm an old man, but if the law had allowed, I would have taken ten wives myself. Real Russian women. Because that country couldn't survive five minutes without them.The old man's wife, the incontrovertible product of shtetl breeding, listened to her husband's speech with spousal indifference. There was nothing, her expression declared, that she hadn't heard him say a hundred times.--To women, Alec said. When we get to Rome we should drink to it.Alec helped the old couple onto the car and scrambled up as it began to edge forward. He squeezed past people in the narrow passageway and found his family crammed in with their belongings. Perched on a pile of duffel bags, his father frowned in Alec's direction.--What were you talking about with that old rooster?--The greatness of the Russian woman.--Your favorite subject. You almost missed the train.Samuil Krasnansky turned his head and considered their circumstances.--The compartments are half the size.This was true, Alec thought. Say what you want about the Soviet Union, but the sleeping compartments were bigger.--You want to go back because of the bigger compartments? Karl asked.--What do you care about what I want? Samuil said.Samuil Krasnansky said nothing else between Vienna and Rome. He sat in silence beside his wife and eventually fell asleep.THE FREE WORLD. Copyright © 2011 by Nada Films, Inc. All rights reserved.
JULY1Alec Krasnansky stood on the platform of Vienna's Southern Terminal while, all around him, the representatives of Soviet Jewry--from Tallinn to Tashkent--roiled, snarled, and elbowed to deposit their belongings onto the waiting train. His own family roiled among them: his parents, his wife, his nephews, his sister-in-law, and particularly his brother, Karl, worked furiously with the suitcases and duffel bags. He should have been helping them but his attention was drawn farther down the platform by two pretty tourists. One was a brunette, Mediterranean and voluptuous; the other petite and blond--in combination they attested, as though by design, to the scope of the world's beauty and plenitude. Both girls were barefoot, their leather sandals arranged in tidy pairs beside them. Alec traced a line of smooth, tanned skin from heel to calf to thigh, interrupted ultimately by the frayed edge of cutoff blue jeans. Above the cutoff jeans the girls wore thin sleeveless shirts. They sat on their backpacks and leaned casually against each other. Their faces were lovely and vacant. They seemed beyond train schedules and obligations. People sped past them, the Russian circus performed its ludicrous act several meters away, but they paid no attention. Alec assumed they were Americans. He guessed they were intheir early twenties. He was twenty-six, but he could pass for younger. In school and university he had run track and had retained a trim runner's build. He also had his father's dark, wavy hair. From the time Alec was a boy he had been aware of his effect on women. In his presence, they often became exaggerated versions of themselves. The maternal ones became more maternal, the crude ones became cruder, the shy ones shyer. They wanted only that he not make them feel foolish and were grateful when he did not. In his experience, much of what was good in life could be traced to a woman's gratitude.Looking at the two girls, Alec had to resist the urge to approach them. It could be the simplest thing in the world. He had studied English. He needed only to walk over and say, Hello, are you Americans? And they needed only to respond, Yes.--Where in America do you live?--Chicago. And where are you from?--Riga, Latvia. The Soviet Union.--How interesting. We have never met anyone from the Soviet Union before. Where are you traveling to?--Chicago.--No. Is this true?--Yes, it is true. I am traveling to Chicago.--Will this be your first time in Chicago?--Yes, it will be my first time in Chicago. Can you tell me about Chicago?--Yes, we can tell you about it. Please sit down with us. We will tell you everything about Chicago.--Thank you.--You are welcome.Alec felt Karl's hand on his shoulder.--What's the matter with you?--Nothing.--We have seven minutes to finish loading everything onto the train.He followed Karl back to where their parents were arranging thesuitcases so that Karl and Alec could continue forcing them through the window of the compartment. Near them, an elderly couple sat dejectedly on their bags. Others worked around them, avoiding not only helping them but also looking them in the face. Old people sitting piteously on luggage had become a familiar spectacle.--I see them, Karl said. Move your ass and if there's time we'll help them.Alec bent into the remaining pile of suitcases and duffel bags on the platform. Each seemed heavier than the last. For six adults they had twenty articles of luggage crammed with goods destined for the bazaars of Rome: linens, toys, samovars, ballet shoes, nesting dolls, leather Latvian handicrafts, nylon stockings, lacquer boxes, pocketknives, camera equipment, picture books, and opera glasses. One particularly heavy suitcase held Alec's big commercial investment, dozens of symphonic records.First hefting the bags onto his shoulder and then sliding them along the outside of the train, Alec managed to pass them up to the compartment and into the arms of Polina and Rosa, his and Karl's wives.Karl turned to the old couple.--All right, citizens, can we offer you a hand?The old man rose from his suitcase, stood erect, and answered with the formality of a Party official or university lecturer.--We would be very obliged to you. If you will allow, my wife has with her a box of chocolates.--It's not necessary.--Not even a little something for the children?Karl's two boys had poked their heads out the compartment window.--Do as you like. But they're like animals at the zoo. I suggest you mind your fingers.Alec and Karl shouldered the old people's suitcases and passed them into their compartment. Alec noticed the way the old man looked at Polina.--This is your wife?--Yes.--A true Russian beauty.--I appreciate the compliment. Though she might disagree. Emigration is not exactly cosmetic.--Absolutely false. The Russian woman blossoms under toil. The Russian man can drink and fight, but our former country was built on the back of the Russian woman.--What country wasn't?--That may be so, but I don't know about other countries. I was a Soviet citizen. To my generation this meant something. We sacrificed our youth, our most productive years, our faith. And in the end they robbed us of everything. This is why it does my heart proud to see your wife. Every Jew should have taken with him a Russian bride. If only to deny them to the alcoholics. I'm an old man, but if the law had allowed, I would have taken ten wives myself. Real Russian women. Because that country couldn't survive five minutes without them.The old man's wife, the incontrovertible product of shtetl breeding, listened to her husband's speech with spousal indifference. There was nothing, her expression declared, that she hadn't heard him say a hundred times.--To women, Alec said. When we get to Rome we should drink to it.Alec helped the old couple onto the car and scrambled up as it began to edge forward. He squeezed past people in the narrow passageway and found his family crammed in with their belongings. Perched on a pile of duffel bags, his father frowned in Alec's direction.--What were you talking about with that old rooster?--The greatness of the Russian woman.--Your favorite subject. You almost missed the train.Samuil Krasnansky turned his head and considered their circumstances.--The compartments are half the size.This was true, Alec thought. Say what you want about the Soviet Union, but the sleeping compartments were bigger.--You want to go back because of the bigger compartments? Karl asked.--What do you care about what I want? Samuil said.Samuil Krasnansky said nothing else between Vienna and Rome. He sat in silence beside his wife and eventually fell asleep.THE FREE WORLD. Copyright © 2011 by Nada Films, Inc. All rights reserved.
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
- PublisherHarperCollins Publishers
- Publication date2011
- ISBN 10 1443403997
- ISBN 13 9781443403993
- BindingHardcover
- Edition number1
- Number of pages368
- Rating
Buy New
Learn more about this copy
US$ 50.00
Shipping:
US$ 7.00
From Canada to U.S.A.
Other Popular Editions of the Same Title
Top Search Results from the AbeBooks Marketplace
Stock Image
The Free World [Hardcover]
Published by
Harper Collins Canada
(2011)
ISBN 10: 1443403997
ISBN 13: 9781443403993
New
Hardcover
First Edition
Signed
Quantity: 1
Seller:
Rating
Book Description Hardcover. Condition: New. Dust Jacket Condition: New. First Edition; First Printing. A Good Read ships from Toronto and Niagara Falls, NY - customers outside of North America please allow two to three weeks for delivery. First impression. Flat-signed by author on title page, . ; 1.3 x 9.3 x 6.3 Inches; 400 pages; Signed by Author. Seller Inventory # 57056
Buy New
US$ 50.00
Convert currency