The Invisible Bridge (book review)

I love indulging in a long, dramatic and multigenerational story but sometimes it’s hard to find one that doesn’t try to rewrite history for its own benefit, that doesn’t slack on character development or impart some ridiculous twist of events. “The Invisible Bridge” suffers from two of these things but manages to be saved by an exceptional author who no doubt has some fantastic novels ahead of her that I can well imagine and am eager to read.

“The Invisible Bridge” presents itself as a sweeping and maudlin romance in its first half, a poignant and heartrending Holocaust survival story in its latter half. It all begins with Andras Lévi, a young and naïve Jewish architecture student who travels from his native Budapest to Paris, France to attend college at the École Spéciale in 1937. The world is on the cusp of war; there are glimmerings of it in the rising Anti-Semitic views of French citizens and though it will be on the verge of collapse within a few years, love blooms redolently before it. While knee-deep in his studies and the dalliances of his friends, Andras unexpectedly falls in love with Claire Morgenstern, a dance teacher 11 years his senior with a teenage daughter and a secret past (a letter that Andras offers to send in the beginning of the book is the kismet of Orringer’s story). It is this past that will eventually take them back to their homeland of Hungary, evading the horrors of war for a time on luck and connections before German occupation in 1944, the deaths of several friends and family members soon to follow.

First off, my praises: Orringer is an incredibly talented writer, full of beautiful and somewhat antiquated prose with a gift for metaphor. Her book contains many poignant passages and delightful articulations with some wonderful descriptions of the environment. The reader becomes a willing and eager mental traveler; Hungary and Paris are painted with so many words that a canvas could never hold their majesty, and it is painful when those canvases are torn apart by the ravages of warfare. The history and ethos contained within are also admirable and they are due to painstaking and tireless research. Orringer throws so many names of people and locations, customs and languages into her story that one feels more cultured after reading it.

Now the demerits: Orringer was saved by choosing such an entrancing setting and time period; if this had been just a character study, it would’ve fallen flat. Most of the characters are one-dimensional and the protagonist (Andras) seems to be without fault or inner conflict, as do most of the others. The only character I saw make some sort of transformation was József Hász, someone who started out as a rich snob and then did some profound self-reflection after he realized his money and privilege meant nothing in the face of disaster as well as observing the damage his small betrayals cost him and his family.

I also felt Andras was just too darned lucky – Orringer tries to justify this constant suspension of disbelief by taking the time to tell a story about Andras’s father and the irony of his nickname (Lucky Béla), thereby explaining that luck just happens to run in the Lévi family. I’m not buying it. In fact, I thought it bordered at times on deus ex machina and it made me lose respect for the author. Fortunately, the second half of her book helped to make up for it.

Most, if not all, novels come from a personal place within the author and it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that this was inspired by Orringer’s family history. Many of the characters take small and large detail from Orringer’s extended family; in fact, the character of Tibor takes her grandparents’ and great aunt and uncle’s surname. After knowing that much of what is written here comes from true and often painful personal accounts as well as the indisputable annals of world history, the story becomes that much more powerful to those who believe in remembering and preserving the past.

Bottom line: An enjoyable read, despite its flaws. As I stated before, Orringer is a wonderful writer but her storytelling needs some work and I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt since this is her first novel (her previous publication was a collection of short stories). I enjoy a good romance but if you’re not a fan of that sort of thing, it will probably get on your nerves. If you don’t like underdeveloped characters, stay away. If you don’t think you can forgive several lucky (and unlikely) coincidences, skip this one.