The Books of Jacob by Olga Tokarczuk

A long haul through 18th-century Polish Jewish history

The Books of Jacob is a novel by Polish author Olga Tokarczuk, winner of the 2014 Nobel Prize in Literature. This is a historical novel of deliberately epic proportions (about 1,000 pages), based on real lives and events. The novel opens in the 1750s. The story jumps back and forth quite a bit between Poland (the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth), Turkey (the Ottoman Empire), and Germany (the Habsburg Monarchy). At that time, all of those political units were larger in land area and shared common borders with each other.

Jacob Frank (1726–1791) is Polish-born but seems to have been raised as a Turk within the Ottoman Empire. He is discovered by a group of Polish Jews, including some of his relatives, who think he is a new messiah for the Jewish people—a mantle that Jacob is ready and willing to adopt. His sect of followers—known as Sabbatians, anti-Talmudists, or Frankists—breaks from the orthodox beliefs of Judaism. They practice mysterious rites, some of them sexual, that just about everyone else finds sacrilegious. Jacob has heretical ideas of a holy trinity that includes himself. For their unorthodox views, the Frankists are violently persecuted by orthodox Jews and driven from town to town, country to country. To ensure their own safety, they court the protection of the Catholic Church, essentially striking a deal that they will all convert to Christianity (a big baptism bonanza for the Catholics) in exchange for the ability to settle and live peacefully. This provides a bit of a respite from their troubles, but not an end. (It’s a complicated history, and my summary is unavoidably an oversimplification for brevity’s sake.)

With historical novels, there is such a thing as being too faithful to real life. Tokarczuk goes into far more detail than necessary and drags this story out much longer than called for. She has obviously done much research, and perhaps in doing so she felt the need to cram every name, date, and note of correspondence she encountered into this book, when really some abridgment would have been welcome. Much of the plot is meeting after meeting and meal after meal with these characters, who talk about the same things over and over again, or write letters arguing the same points repeatedly. If ever a novel needed one of those cast-of-characters lists, it’s this one. New characters are constantly introduced who don’t seem to serve much purpose in the story. Other than three or four main characters, everyone else is difficult to tell apart. They all have at least two names, a Jewish name and a Christian name, and it’s hard to keep track of just how everyone is related.

I don’t know Tokarczuk’s religious views, but she is clearly fascinated by the history of this unusual religious sect. As a nonbeliever in any of the big-three theisms, however, I really couldn’t see why anyone considered Jacob a messiah in the first place. He has a natural charisma but doesn’t come across as particularly holy, miraculous, or even good. He reminds one of David Koresh. As messiah, he grants himself the right to take his followers’ wives, daughters, and in some cases sons, for his own pleasure. I kept hoping the congregation would wake up and realize Jacob’s a huckster and a rapist and take their revenge on him.

I do have an interest in Polish history and culture. I’ve read quite a bit of Polish literature and history books on Poland. I would have enjoyed a textbook chapter on Jacob Frank, however, more than I enjoyed Tokarczuk’s tedious rendering of this story. If you read a page at random, you’d find the writing quite adept and beautiful, but as a whole, this novel numbs the mind with hundreds of pages in which not much happens. The last 25% of the book, to be fair, is quite a bit more interesting and eventful than the three quarters that preceded it. In the end, however, I couldn’t help thinking I wasted an inordinate amount of time on a book that kept asking me to sympathize with a self-serving Tartuffe and his gullible disciples. I’ve previously read Tokarczuk’s Flights and Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead; both are better than this. 

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

Hunters are for killing

Polish author Olga Tokarczuk’s novel Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead was first published in 2009. It was published in English in 2018, shortly after Tokarczuk won the Nobel Prize in Literature. The title is a quote from William Blake, a favorite author of two of the characters in the novel. In between buying this book and reading it, I made the mistake of watching a Polish movie called Spoor, which, unbeknownst to me until the closing credits, is an adaptation of this novel. So before I even started reading the book, I knew the ending and all of the secrets behind its murder mysteries. Nevertheless, I enjoy Tokarczuk’s writing and can certainly recognize that this is a worthwhile work of literature, despite the spoilers. The book is far superior to the movie and does a better job of pacing and parceling out its reveals and surprises. The movie adds one ridiculous plot device at the end (involving a hacker) that thankfully is not present in Tokarczuk’s book.

The narrator of the novel is Janina Duszejko, a woman who seems to be in her 60s. She lives in a mountainous region of Southern Poland near the border of the Czech Republic. Her rural village is full of tourists and part-time residents in the summertime, but Duszejko is one of the few who lives there year-round. She lives alone, looks after the vacation homes of absentee landlords, and teaches English courses at the local elementary school. One night, Duszejko (she hates being called by her first name) is awakened by her neighbor Oddball (she assigns personal nicknames to her friends and acquaintances), who informs her that another neighbor, a poacher called Big Foot, is dead in his home. His death seems to have a natural explanation. In the weeks that follow, however, a series of deaths occur in the village that appear to be murders. Duszejko and her friends are not particularly sorry for the victims, who were into some bad activities, but they nonetheless take an interest in the murders and come up with their own theories on the suspicious deaths, with Duszejko’s theory the strangest of all.

The most interesting aspect of this novel is the complex character of its narrator. Duszejko has two obsessions. The first is astrology. She believes everything is governed by the stars, and if she knows a person’s date and exact time of birth, she can pretty much predict the course and outcome of their life. Duszejko’s other defining characteristic is her emphatic belief in animal rights. She abhors all violence and cruelty towards animals, whether from abusive pet owners, hunters for sport, or consumers of meat. This conviction clashes with the community in which she lives, where hunting is a way of life. She lives down the road from a fox farm, and all the men in town are hunters. When she expresses her views on animal rights she is scoffed at as merely a crazy old woman.

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead is not a conventional murder mystery, in that there isn’t much emphasis placed on finding clues and solving the puzzle. It’s more about the people who live in this town, how they deal with the murders, and what it reveals about their characters. The actual identity of the killer is not difficult to guess, neither in the book nor the film. The killings in this hunting community, however, allow Tokarczuk to examine from a new and interesting perspective the ethics of how people relate to animals and nature. This is not a mystery for mystery genre fans, but the unique narrator and setting, along with Tokarczuk’s talent as a storyteller, make this an intriguing and compelling read for just about everyone else.

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Flights by Olga Tokarczuk

A tangled web of wanderlust and mummification
Flights, a work of fiction by 2018 Nobel laureate Olga Tokarczuk, was originally published in 2007 under the Polish title of Bieguni. Though not a novel in the traditional sense of the word, Flights is considered a novel because there really isn’t any better word to describe its narrative structure. The text consists of 116 very loosely connected scenes, some of which are long enough to qualify as short stories, but most only a page or two in length. These vignettes are a mix of contemporary and historical fiction, as well as mini-essays, all jumbled in sequence both chronologically and thematically.

Much of the text is written from the first-person perspective of an unnamed female narrator who is a writer by trade. In the book’s early scenes, this narrator explains that she is essentially addicted to travel and leads a nomadic globe-trotting existence. Of all the wonders the world has to offer, the sites that most fascinate her are “cabinets of curiosities,” particularly those museums and exhibitions focusing on human anatomy. Like an Atlas Obscura junkie, this traveler seeks out the curious and the bizarre, relishing every opportunity to gaze at centuries-old organs preserved in jars, relics of freakish physiological anomalies, or dissected human bodies encapsulated and displayed in blocks of transparent lucite. Thus, two thematic streams flow throughout the book: travel and anatomy. While Tokarczuk expounds very eloquently and creatively on both subjects, the connection between the two is very tenuous at best, which often makes Flights feel like you are reading two separate novels that have been shuffled together like mismatched decks of cards.

In the travel portions of the book, the narrator sometimes relates the stories of fellow travelers she has met in her journeys. Other passages describe the sights, sounds, and customs of exotic locales. Usually the destinations are not named, which can be frustratingly disorienting. Often the shorter entries read like nonfiction asides, consisting of the kind of observational humor on airports, hotels, and the inconveniences of travel that Jerry Seinfeld might come up with if he had a PhD in psychology. Of the fictional vignettes, the most interesting “short story” concerns a Polish family vacationing on a Croatian island. The husband pulls their car over to the side of a road to let his wife and child go to the bathroom in the bushes. They never return to the car and appear to have vanished, leaving him to figure out what happened. Unfortunately, like many of the scenes in Flights, the fragmentary nature of the storytelling proves unsatisfyingly inconclusive.

The anatomical vignettes, in general, are more compelling. In addition to the narrator’s visits to modern medical museums, Tokarczuk delves back in time as far as the 17th century to deliver fictional sketches on pioneering anatomists of the past, including some characters based on actual historical personages. The common thread uniting these flashbacks is the scientists’ search for an ideal method of preserving, embalming, or “plasticizing” human tissue—­a problem ultimately solved by the polymers used in today’s anatomical exhibitions.

Judging from the English translation by Jennifer Croft, Tokarczuk is a very talented writer with an expert command of language, keen insight into human nature, and an acute and amusing wit. Each scene in Flights is captivating in its own way, but the work as a whole feels disjointed, indeterminate, and meandering. Though its parts may be greater than its whole, Flights is nonetheless worth a read, and it makes one want to delve further into Tokarczuk’s body of work.
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