But instead, she was cleaning. She was wiping the windows, wearing yellow rubber gloves, when the phone rang.
When his mother took the call, Max looked up from his video game. A minute or so later, she came into the living room. Max immediately knew that something was up: he could tell by the look on her face. He put down his paddles and watched as she took off her rubber gloves.
“What?” he asked, with a trace of fear in his voice.
“Come here,” she said gently.
He came over to her. She hugged him.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said, and even before she began, Max knew what it was.
The Great Zabbatini tremendously enjoyed dying. Dr. Arakelian, who realized the end was near, had generously agreed to keep her patient medicated on morphine during his final hours. There was no point in letting him suffer. His heart was too weak—it could give out at any moment. As soon as the morphine flowed through his veins, his mood improved. He felt a sense of calm and warmth. Like a newborn baby. When the nurse came in to check on him, he thought he was seeing Julia Klein again. His eyes widened in surprise. He feebly raised his hand and gave a short moan. The nurse bent over him, and Zabbatini felt as if it was his Persian princess. His mind tumbled back in time, to the moment when he had bent over her and kissed her mouth. Now it was she who bent over him. He closed his eyes, and her lips touched his, and nothing was ever softer or sweeter.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry?” said the nurse. She looked at him. Was he talking about her or someone else? She shook her head. Dying patients said the darnedest things.
In actuality, the patient was already somewhere else by now. It was all so easy. All he had to do was let go.
He could still feel Julia’s hand on his old, withered cheek. Her eyes looked deep into his, and she said, “All is forgiven.”
So that, he realized, was dying. To forgive life. To forgive the living. No more yesterdays, no more todays, no more tomorrows.
All he heard was silence. All he felt was peace.
Standing next to Julia were his father and mother. And, to his surprise, the Locksmith from upstairs.
His parents had come to say good-bye. All three of them.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he held out his hand. “You’re here . . .” he said.
Laibl, who in death had fully recovered from the wounds of life, took his son’s hand into his own, a gesture of tenderness he had rarely afforded him when he was among the living. The Locksmith was looking at him, touched. His mother was smiling at her son. She was humming a song. A simple melody, the same one she had sung to him when he was a newborn in his crib.
Far above in the distant sky
The wind carried a lonely cry
Far above, where eagles fly
And now, at the end of a very long journey, little Moshe Goldenhirsch of Prague, who had crossed an ocean and a century, had finally reached home.
THE WAY THINGS ARE
Moshe Goldenhirsch didn’t have any relatives. There were no heirs. His life insurance was barely able to cover the hospital bills and the cost of the funeral. Deborah and Harry decided that it would be the decent thing to do to arrange his funeral.
Mom bought Max a dark suit jacket and insisted he wear it. Max felt ridiculous in that thing. The funeral was held at Forest Lawn. A yellow decal with the word FUNERAL had been placed on the windshield of Mom’s car. It was a warm sunny day in Southern California, a harsh contrast to the coldness in Max’s heart.
When they reached the shady, treelined cemetery, Max could see that there were very few mourners present. Throughout his life, the Great Zabbatini had collected and discarded friends and lovers with callous ease. There was hardly anyone who remembered him, and even fewer who wished to bid him farewell. Max saw Ronnie, the manager of the King David, and next to him was Luis from the magic shop. Plus a few colleagues and staff members from the Magic Castle who Max didn’t know.
Mom parked the car and together they walked to a small nondenominational chapel. Dad and Grandma were already waiting. Dad was dressed in his best suit, and Grandma was wearing her dark blue dress. Max was surprised to see Myriam Hyung and her parents. He was even more surprised that seeing her made him happy.
The ceremony was simple and short. The rabbi was a small Orthodox man with a bushy beard and watery eyes. He shook everyone’s hand except Mom’s and Grandma’s. He was not allowed to touch women. Mom was miffed and withdrew her outstretched hand.
Everyone sat down. The wooden benches were cool and uncomfortable.
“We are here today,” the rabbi began, “to bid farewell to. . .” He paused and looked at a piece of paper.
“Goldenhirsch,” Dad interjected. “Moses Goldenhirsch.”
“Right,” the rabbi said. “Moses Goldenhirsch.” He murmured a few perfunctory words in Hebrew.
Then, an assistant in a workman’s blue overalls wheeled out the coffin, a simple, small pine box on a metal stretcher.
“There he is!” said the rabbi cheerfully, as if a long-awaited guest had finally arrived. Then he loudly proclaimed, “In death, we are all the same. Prince or pauper.”
The coffin seemed too small to hold an entire life, Max felt. He was surprised that the Great Zabbatini and all that he ever was could fit into such a small box.
There’s not much left at the end, he realized.
The rabbi asked who would push the stretcher outside. Dad looked at Max, and they got up.
They both put their hands on the cool metal and started pushing the coffin out the double doors and onto a tar path leading into the cemetery. It was heavier than Max had expected.
It’s hard work, he thought, burying the dead.
An employee in a neon-yellow outfit, like that of a traffic cop, walked slowly and somberly in front of them, guiding the way.
Soon, they reached an empty grave. Next to it was a pile of earth. A huge excavator stood by the gravesite. Two workers were leaning against the giant machine, watching the procedure with disinterest.
When the funeral procession had gathered around, the workers picked up the coffin, using two straps, which they placed underneath the wooden box. They slowly lowered it into the ground, his final resting place.
There goes Zabbatini, Max thought darkly. It was hard for him to say good-bye. Although he had only known the old man for a brief time, it was like saying farewell to an old friend.
When the coffin was in the grave, the workers drew the straps out and rolled them up. The rabbi took out his prayer book and began to chant in Hebrew.
“And so we bid farewell,” he finally proclaimed in English, “to Moses Goldenhirsch, a good soul, and a true son of Israel.”
Dad took a shovelful of earth and dropped it onto the coffin. It sounded like a gust of rain against a window. Max did the same. Then Mom, then Grandma, and then the others.
The rabbi asked, “Who will say Kaddish?”
Dad cleared his throat and stepped forward. He nodded at the rabbi and wrapped a prayer shawl around his head—the only other time he had ever worn it was at his bar mitzvah, to which Zabbatini of course hadn’t come. He began to tentatively sing in Hebrew. Gradually, Dad’s voice became stronger, more assured. Then Grandma joined in. Then Mom did. Then Uncle Bernie. Then Aunt Heidi and her kids, his cousins. And at last, Max joined in as well.
When he looked at Mom and Dad he saw, to his surprise, that they were holding hands, something he hadn’t seen in many months.
What’s going on? he thought.
Mom glanced at him and reached out to him. Max took her hand. On his left side stood Myriam Hyung, who also held out her hand. Max hesitated—Myriam was a girl, after all—but then he touched her hand and held it. The longer he listened to the Hebrew words, the calmer he became. Max hadn’t felt this peaceful in a long
time. He had no idea what the future held, but he knew now that his parents loved him, and somehow, they were going to get through it all.
He stared into the dirt and darkness of the grave, as if he were waiting for Zabbatini to appear, as if the coffin had been empty all along and the old man’s death had been an illusion.
And so their voices rose up together, the voices of the living, who never would have been alive had it not been for Moshe Goldenhirsch and his trick.
When Max looked up and saw the sunlight streaming through the trees, he understood, with sudden clarity, that he owed this man more than just his life. The Great Zabbatini had given him a glimpse of the wonders and beauty of the world.
This wasn’t a trick, Max realized.
It was a miracle.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Before you put the book aside, I’d like to offer a few words of gratitude. Most of all, I want to thank you, dear reader. You never know what you’re going to get when you pick up a book. If you made it this far, I’m hoping it was worth it, and so I wanted to thank you for your trust.
I also would like to thank my parents, who divorced when I was a child, which inspired this story in the first place. They are otherwise wonderful and loving parents, which is a pity, because an unhappy childhood is probably the greatest gift that parents can give their children. (At least if you want to be a writer.) I also want to thank my brothers, Gabriel and Gideon. Just because they’re always there for me and because I’m proud of them.
In addition, I’d like to thank the teachers who have inspired me along the way. Especially Mrs. Schorr, my German teacher in Saarbrücken, Germany, who treated her students as if they were her own children, and who showed me that grammar can be fun. At the time, it seemed like a wasted effort. I’d also like to thank Professor Julio Torres for teaching me the categorical imperative, which changed my life, and Professor Rhonda Guess at Los Angeles City College, who was an incredible inspiration in my life, and who taught me so much about journalism and the craft of writing.
I’d like to thank Elke Corsmeyer, a bookstore owner in Gütersloh, Germany, who, by a strange coincidence, came across the original English-language manuscript and submitted it to Diogenes Verlag in Switzerland. Without her help, the manuscript might never have found a home. A great big thank-you to my fearless editor in Berlin, Margaux de Weck, who helped turn the manuscript into an actual book. And my heartfelt thanks to Philipp Keel, the publisher at Diogenes, who wasn’t afraid to risk everything for this story, and who took it all the way to America and the rest of the world. And of course, I’d like to thank Marc Koralnik, my agent and my good friend.
I wrote the first draft of this book in Los Angeles in 2007, in about six weeks, working mainly at night and encouraged by my friend Brian Forbes. At the time, I was broke and underemployed, and working on this story kept me sane. And after so many years of polite rejection letters, it’s still amazing to me that it was actually published. The fact that you can now hold it in your hands is owed to Judith Curr and the incredible Johanna Castillo at Atria Books. Thank you, Johanna, for your faith in this story, and a great big thank-you to Elaine Colchie for her incredible work editing the final English draft. I’d also like to thank Melanie Iglesias Pérez at Atria for her support.
And of course, I want to thank the magicians: Andrew Goldenhersh in Los Angeles, who permitted me to use his name; Ashley Springer in Brooklyn, who helped me with my questions; and of course Dr. Oliver Erens in Stuttgart, Germany, who was my advisor in all things magical. He taught me the history of stage magic, and he helped me design the tricks in this book. To that end, I’d also like to point out the incredible book Hiding the Elephant by Jim Steinmeyer, which was a great help and inspiration.
And from the bottom of my heart, I’d like to thank my beloved Lily. You are a blessing in my life.
An Atria Reading Club Guide
The Trick
Emanuel Bergmann
This reading group guide for The Trick includes an introduction, discussion questions, and ideas for enhancing your book club. The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion. We hope that these ideas will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book.
Introduction
When the son of a rabbi walks into the tent of a traveling circus, his life is changed forever. Mesmerized by the Half-Moon Man and his beautiful assistant, he decides to leave home and train as a magician, eventually rising to fame under the stage name the Great Zabbatini. As Europe descends into World War II, Zabbatini is discovered to be a Jew, and his battered trunk full of magic tricks becomes his only hope for survival.
Seventy years later in Los Angeles, ten-year-old Max finds a scratched-up LP that captured Zabbatini performing his greatest illusions. But the track in which Zabbatini performs the spell of eternal love—which Max believes will keep his parents from getting divorced—is damaged beyond repair. Desperate for a solution, Max seeks out the Great Zabbatini. What he finds instead is an elderly cynical magician in need of redemption who no longer believes in anything.
Topics & Questions for Discussion
1. From the beginning of The Trick, Moshe Goldenhirsch’s story is woven like a fairy tale—a stark contrast to his reality when Max finds him at the King David Home for the Elderly in Los Angeles. How did this affect your perception of the magician? How did meeting Moshe Goldenhirsch affect Max’s belief in the Great Zabbatini?
2. How does Dr. Ginsky’s reaction to Rifka reflect the sociopolitical environment of that time period? How did his demeanor change when she mentioned that her husband was Laibl Goldenhirsch? Consider how this scenario might have played out today. How would you have reacted?
3. At the core of The Trick are themes of fathers and sons, identity, and coming of age. How did Rifka’s secret affect Moshe’s relationship with Laibl, the Locksmith, and the Half-Moon Man? Compare this to Harry and Max’s relationship. How did Moshe and Max’s relationship affect each of them?
4. On page 53, “Max realized for the first time that people had wounds you couldn’t see.” What are the invisible wounds each of the characters carry with them? (Moshe’s parents, Max’s parents, the Great Zabbatini, Max’s grandmother, etc.) How does it affect their beliefs, the way they see the world, and how they interact with one another?
5. On page 77, Deborah shouts at her son: “I should have had that abortion—then I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this!” What do you think of Max’s reaction to his mother’s outburst? How would you have reacted in that moment?
6. How is grief handled in The Trick? How do the characters mourn when Rifka passes away, when Max’s grandmother survives the death camp, and when Max’s parents announce they’re getting divorced? How does this parallel the invisible wounds they carry and impact their ability to move on?
7. Moshe has an emotional reaction to seeing the Statue of Liberty when he first arrives in the United States. The Statue of Liberty has become a powerful symbol for incoming humanitarian refugees. How was seeing the Statue of Liberty upon arrival different for refugees than the airports that receive them now? What happens when those ports aren’t as welcoming as they had hoped?
8. Compare the challenges that young Moshe struggled with in Europe versus the problems Max faces in Los Angeles. Can they be compared? Despite the difference in gravity, do they weigh equally on each boy?
9. Disappearing is a common theme in The Trick, whether literally or metaphorically. Discuss its effect in each instance.
10. Max believes with his whole heart that the Great Zabbatini’s eternal love spell will keep his parents together, but the magical whimsy of a child can only go so far. What would have actually saved their marriage? What caused Deborah and Harry’s relationship to fall apart?
11. Piles of suitcases are often shown in pictures of the Holocaust as symbols of death. How, in The Trick, do they represent life?
12. For Max’s grandmother, it’s important to share her past and the story of how she survived the Holocaust. Have you heard similar stories from your grandparents? Do you think it’s important to preserve our family history and continue to pass it down from generation to generation?
Enhance Your Book Club
1. The Trick recalls the melancholy humor of Isaac Bashevis Singer’s stories and Jonathan Safran Foer’s Everything is Illuminated, and the heartbreaking pathos of the film Life is Beautiful. Read those titles and watch the film with your book club for comparison. What are the similar themes that occur? Compare and contrast how each work approaches them.
2. The Great Zabbatini’s actions during the war create a ripple effect that trickles down to Max Cohn’s very existence. Do you know of any such event in your family history? Follow up on the lives of refugees and survivors that have been mentioned in the news. How have their lives been impacted by an act of kindness of this magnitude? How many more weren’t as lucky?
3. To learn more about Emanuel Bergmann, read reviews of The Trick, find him on tour, and become a fan of his Simon & Schuster author page at http://www.simonandschuster.com/authors/Emanuel-Bergmann/2115017483.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Emanuel Bergmann was born in Germany and is a journalist and translator. He has been living in Los Angeles since 1990. A bestseller throughout Europe, The Trick is now being published in several countries.
MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT
SimonandSchuster.com
Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Emanuel-Bergmann
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