Perma-Bound Edition ©2008 | -- |
Holocaust, Jewish (1939-1945). Juvenile fiction.
Jews. Europe. Juvenile fiction.
Dybbuk. Juvenile fiction.
Spirit possession. Juvenile fiction.
Ghosts. Juvenile fiction.
Ventriloquism. Fiction.
Holocaust, Jewish (1939-1945). Fiction.
Jews. Europe. Fiction.
Dybbuk. Fiction.
Spirit possession. Fiction.
Ghosts. Fiction.
Gr 6-9-In 1948 Europe, former American bomber pilot Freddie Birch is making a precarious living as a ventriloquist when he encounters young Avrom Amos. The boy is a dybbuk, the spirit of a Jewish youth murdered by the Nazis. He was one of the resistance fighters who helped Freddie escape from a POW camp. The ghost has "unfinished business" with the SS colonel who killed him, and he needs a living body-Freddie's-to accomplish it. With Avrom's spirit sharing his space, The Great Freddie finds that his act improves. The dybbuk's snappy commentary is wildly popular with audiences, and the two begin to get bookings in fancier clubs. However, the spirit refuses to work on shabbes, and he insists that Freddie stand in for him at his bar mitzvah ceremony. Then Avrom begins to change the script, inserting information about his murder and the man who killed him. Since he is incorporeal, his character is revealed almost exclusively through dialogue-a remarkable juxtaposition of sharp, sometimes bitter humor with graphic descriptions of appalling wartime atrocities. Fleischman explores the sensitive topic of anti-Semitism-not just the overt evil of the Nazi system, but also the casual, pervasive bigotry of the period. Even Freddie has to deal with his own deep-seated prejudice. There is a strong emphasis on friendship and justice, and an ultimate affirmation of life and hope. This exciting and thought-provoking book belongs in every collection.-Elaine E. Knight, Lincoln Elementary Schools, IL Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information.
ALA Booklist (Sat Sep 01 00:00:00 CDT 2007)Motivated, as he explains in his afterword, to create a personal remembrance of the 1.5 million Jewish children killed in the Holocaust, Fleischman pairs Freddie, a struggling, ex-GI ventriloquist, with Avrom, the ghost of one such victim, in a short, provocative tale that leavens the tears with laughter. Freddie's career isn't exactly taking off as he wanders postwar Europe til he opens a closet and discovers smart-mouthed Avrom, who offers to put a better line of patter into Freddie's mouth in exchange for help finding a certain murderous SS officer. Countering Freddie's understandable reluctance with both gags and gut-wrenching war stories, Avrom moves in, and Freddie begins to display stunning vocal tricks to ever-larger audiences. Avrom then cajoles his host into keeping kosher, and even undergoing an ersatz (or is it?) bar mitzvah. Ultimately, the search takes the two to America, where in a satisfying (if credulity-straining) climax, they find their quarry standing trial for a new crime, and Avrom exacts a triumphant revenge for the old ones. The narrative voice here sounds adult, but the talented Fleischman is still both entertaining and thoughtful. Avrom's wisecracking will counterbalance matter-of-fact accounts of Nazi cruelty for young readers, but it's likely to be older ones who will best appreciate the novel's eloquent "inner voice" of conscience, which takes on a definite symbolic cast, and the way in which Freddie's public and private identities shift as the story progresses.
Kirkus ReviewsAmidst the plethora of mostly depressing Holocaust children's and YA literature, Fleischman introduces an ingenious approach to the topic and issues. In post-WWII Europe, The Great Freddie, an American gentile who is a mediocre ventriloquist, performs in clubs around the continent. Freddie becomes possessed by a dybbuk (the Jewish ghost of a boy, Avrom Amos, with an unfinished mission). Avrom, not yet 13, was brutally murdered by a Nazi bounty hunter. Sweet revenge is the mission and Avrom intends on achieving it through Freddie's body and voice as he takes over the puppet act in order to publicly search for his murderer in each new city they play. Freddie's refusal, then reluctance, soon turns to dependence as the dybbuk's voices for the act make Freddie appear as a magical ventriloquist, never moving his lips and even drinking water during the act. Great success leads to better clubs and eventually back to America, where both Freddie and the dybbuk come to a mutual understanding upon finding the ex-Nazi in question. While the story incorporates a continual humorous banter between Freddie and the dybbuk, it is precisely their relationship that brings out themes of the Holocaust, anti-Semitism and, in particular, the senseless methodical killing of children in hiding by bounty hunters for the price of a few coins each. Quick, creative, clever and thoroughly entertaining. (author's note) (Fiction. 10-15)
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)Traveling into territory more commonly associated with Isaac Bashevis Singer, Newbery Medalist Fleischman (<EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">The Whipping Boy) draws attention to the especially cruel treatment of Jewish children during the Holocaust. The “Great Freddie” is a decorated GI, an orphan who has stayed in Europe and, by 1948, has found a toehold as a ventriloquist. And then Avrom Amos Poliakov shows up—rather, takes over. Avrom Amos is a dybbuk, a wandering soul or ghost, and, by demonstrating how he might speak for Freddie's wooden dummy, Avrom Amos convinces Freddie to let him lodge within Freddie. The dybbuk makes good on his promise, and Freddie's act becomes the toast of Paris. But Avrom Amos has his own agenda, as Freddie knows. He wants to track down the infamous SS colonel who not only killed him but also tortured children, including his sister, and before long, the dybbuk co-opts Freddie's act and his interviews to spread the word about the SS colonel. The dybbuk's voice will shock some readers; he speaks in embittered, Yiddish-inflected English that drives home his point. Here is Avrom Amos giving Freddie a history lesson: “You didn't hear [that Hitler] told his Nazi <EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">meshuggeners, those lunatics, 'Soldiers of Germany, have some fun and go murder a million and a half Jewish kids? All ages! Babies, fine. Girls with ribbons in their hair, why not?' ” Fleischman inserts horrific factual details of Nazi brutality, and yet his message about bearing witness may be submerged beneath the sensational story line. Ages 9-14. <EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">(Sept.)
Voice of Youth AdvocatesFleischman writes in his afterword, "It has taken me a long lifetime of novel writing to feel prepared to grapple with the Holocaust." Now, twenty years after he won a Newbery, this book is worth the wait. Freddie the Great is a not-so-great ventriloquist, a former American soldier traveling around Europe in the wake of World War II with his wooden dummy as stage partner. One night in Vienna, he finds a boy in his room who introduces himself as "Avrom Amos Poliakov . . . a dybbuk in short pants, not yet thirteen but older'n God." Freddie and the reader soon learn that a dybbuk is a Jewish spirit. Avrom enters Freddie's body and becomes his partner on stage, speaking for the dummy while Freddie tapes his mouth, drinks Perrier, and performs other remarkable tricks. But the dybbuk has unfinished business that he needs Freddie to help him complete-coming of age and achieving revenge. This short, beautiful book is a unique take on just one of the horrible aspects of war, the hunting of children. It is brutally honest, and yet the reader feels at least one soul is vindicated. In the end, Avrom gets his revenge in a surprisingly humorous chapter. As the dybbuk leaves, Freddie is left richer in money, career, and experience. It is a quick read that will remain in the reader's consciousness. It will enthrall historical fiction readers, Fleischman fans, and anyone else who picks it up.-Beth Karpas.
School Library Journal Starred Review
ALA Booklist (Sat Sep 01 00:00:00 CDT 2007)
ALA/YALSA Best Book For Young Adults
Kirkus Reviews
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)
Voice of Youth Advocates
Wilson's Children's Catalog
Wilson's Junior High Catalog
Chapter One
In the gray, bombed-out city of Vienna, Austria, an American ventriloquist opened the closet door of his hotel. Still in his tuxedo and overcoat, The Great Freddie intended to put away the battered suitcase in which he carried his silent wooden dummy. But there on the floor sat a gaunt man with arms folded across his knees, waiting. After a second glance, The Great Freddie realized it was a child, a long-legged child with the hungry look of a street kid. In the deep shadows the intruder glowed faintly, as if sprayed with moonlight.
"Well, well, howdy," said the ventriloquist, startled. "Waiting for a bus?"
"Waiting for you, Mr. Yankee Doodle, sir."
The entertainer, thin as a cornstalk from his native Nebraska, grinned and shucked his overcoat. Someone's idea of a prank, was this? "If you're under the notion that all Yanks are millionaires and an easy touch, you may go through my pockets. I'm just about broke. Tapped out. Down to bedrock."
"Feh! Who needs your money?" asked the intruder. "I once saved your life."
"You don't say."
"Would I lie to you?"
"You're a mouthy kid," the lanky American remarked. "I've never laid eyes on you."
"Want to bet, Sergeant?"
Sergeant? The Great Freddie's cat-green eyes narrowed as he peered into the closet. Confound this pest. How had he known that Freddie T. Birch, second-rate ventriloquist, had been in uniform? The big war in Europe had ended three years before. It was now 1948. Freddie's army haircut had long ago grown out. Now in his early twenties, he parted his hair in the middle and slicked it back, shiny as glass. What had tipped off this kid?
"Lucky guess," the entertainer said finally. What was it with the boy's eyes? They were unnaturally bright, as if lit from within. "Who are you, a kid actor from one of the theaters? I know makeup when I see it. You're painted up white as Caesar's ghost."
"I am a ghost," replied the intruder.
"Don't make me laugh."
"Am I cracking jokes, Mr. Yank?"
The Great Freddie, growing impatient, wanted to brush his teeth and tumble into bed. "Go haunt someone else. I can see your sharp elbows. Ghosts are wisps of fog."
"Sorry to disappoint you," said the intruder.
"Anyway, pal, I've never heard of a ghost in short pants."
"Excuse me, there are lots of us. Did they keep it a secret from you in the army? The Holocaust? Adolf Hitlerâmay he choke forever on herring bones! You didn't hear he told his Nazi meshuggeners, those lunatics, âSoldiers of Germany, have some fun and go murder a million and a half Jewish kids? All ages! Babies, fine. Girls with ribbons in their hair, why not? Boys in short pants, like Avrom Amos Poliakov? That's me, and how do you do? No, I wasn't old enough for long pants. Me, not yet a bar mitzvah boy when the long-nosed German SS officer shot me and left me in the street to bleed to death. So, behold, you see a dybbuk in short pants, not yet thirteen but older'n God."
The Great Freddie took a deep breath. He was dimly aware that Hitler, the sputtering dictator with the fungus of a mustache, had sent children to his slaughterhouses. But so many?
Ugly vote by vote, the Germans had elected a lunatic to run their country. Freddie wasted no pity on the once-proud survivors who had voted him into power. They had drowned democracy like a kitten, invaded Poland and France and ignited World War II. Now Germany lay bombed into a rubble of fallen roofs and shattered lives. Freddie had volunteered to do his part.
The former bombardier cleared his mind of the war. "So you're a ghost in short pants."
"A dybbuk."
"A what?"
"I said, a dybbuk. A spirit. With tsuris. That means trouble in my native language, Mr. Far-Away America. Think of me as a Jewish imp. I need to possess someone's body for a while, rent free. You're kind of tall and skinny, but I won't complain."
The ventriloquist cocked an eye. "Has anyone told you you're a sassy kid or dybbuk or whatever you are?"
"When you dodge Nazi soldiers for years, why not? When you hide in sewers and then knock around with dybbuks for more years, your tongue sharpens like an ice pick. You'd prefer baby talk?"
"I'd prefer you attach yourself to someone else," said the ventriloquist. "I've got no time for a snotty spirit hanging on to me like a leech. I have enough trouble of my own."
"And no wonder, Mr. Entertainer," said the dybbuk. "I caught your act. You move your lips like a carp."
"And I'll bet you snuck in the theater."
"Why not?" replied the dybbuk. "Don't I come from a family of actors?"
The ventriloquist wondered if the glass of dinner wine he'd had after his last performance had gone to his head. "Why am I talking to you?" he asked aloud. "I don't believe in ghosts."
"You want to know the truth," replied the dybbuk, "neither do I. but here I am, fit as a fiddle."
The Great Freddie kicked the closet door shut. He was hallucinating, wasn't he? Dreaming on his feet?
The ventriloquist pulled off his jacket and patent-leather shoes. Early the next morning he had a train to catch. He had been booked for a week across the border in Italy. He brushed his teeth, checked the sheets for postwar bedbugs, and fell into bed.
"Sleep tight," said the dybbuk through the closet door.
The Entertainer and the Dybbuk. Copyright © by Sid Fleischman . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Excerpted from The Entertainer and the Dybbuk by Sid Fleischman
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
"Why am I talking to you?" he asked aloud.
"I don't believe in ghosts."
"You want to know the truth," replied the dybbuk,
"Neither do I. But here I am."
Avrom Amos likes to crack jokes. He loves the spotlight. And if he wants something, he knows how to get it. He's just like any other boy, except for one thing: He's a ghost—a dybbuk. During World War Two he'd been murdered by the Nazis, right after he saved the life of a young ventriloquist named Freddie.
Freddie doesn't know it yet, but he's about to return the favor. Because the dybbuk wants revenge, and he knows exactly how to get it.