The Orphan's Tale

By Pam Jenoff

The Nightingale meets Water for Elephants in this powerful novel of friendship and sacrifice, set in a traveling circus during World War II, by international bestselling author Pam Jenoff.

Seventeen–year–old Noa has been cast out in disgrace after becoming pregnant by a Nazi soldier during the occupation of her native Holland. Heartbroken over the loss of the baby she was forced to give up for adoption, she lives above a small German rail station, which she cleans in order to earn her keep. 

When Noa discovers a boxcar containing dozens of Jewish infants, unknown children ripped from their parents and headed for a concentration camp, she is reminded of the baby that was taken from her. In a moment that will change the course of her life, she steals one of the babies and flees into the snowy night, where she is rescued by a German circus.

The circus owner offers to teach Noa the flying trapeze act so she can blend in undetected, spurning the resentment of the lead aerialist, Astrid. At first rivals, Noa and Astrid soon forge a powerful bond. But as the facade that protects them proves increasingly tenuous, Noa and Astrid must decide whether their unlikely friendship is enough to save one another – or if the secrets that burn between them will destroy everything.

“Secrets, lies, treachery, and passion…I read this novel in a headlong rush.” – Christina Baker Kline, No.1 New York Times bestselling author of Orphan Train

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Mar 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781489214577

Pam Jenoff

Pam Jenoff is the author of several books of historical fiction, including the NYT bestsellers The Lost Girls of Paris and The Woman with the Blue Star. She holds a degree in international affairs from George Washington University and a degree in history from Cambridge, and she received her J.D. from UPenn. She lives with her husband and three children near Philadelphia, where, in addition to writing, she teaches law school.

Book preview

Prologue

Paris

They will be looking for me by now.

I pause on the granite steps of the museum, reaching for the railing to steady myself. Pain, sharper than ever, creaks through my left hip, not perfectly healed from last year’s break. Across the Avenue Winston Churchill, behind the glass dome of the Grand Palais, the March sky is rosy at dusk.

I peer around the edge of the arched entranceway of the Petit Palais. From the massive stone columns hangs a red banner two stories high: Deux Cents ans de Magie du Cirque—Two Hundred Years of Circus Magic. It is festooned with elephants, a tiger and a clown, their colors so much brighter in my memories.

I should have told someone I was going. They would have only tried to stop me, though. My escape, months in the planning since I’d read about the upcoming exhibit in the Times, had been well orchestrated: I had bribed an aide at the nursing home to take the photo I needed to mail to the passport office, paid for the plane ticket in cash. I’d almost been caught when the taxicab I’d called pulled up in front of the home in the predawn darkness and honked loudly. But the guard at the desk remained asleep.

Summoning my strength now, I begin to climb again, taking each painful step one by one. Inside the lobby, the opening gala is already in full swing, clusters of men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns mingling beneath the elaborately painted dome ceiling. Conversations in French bubble around me like a long-forgotten perfume I am desperate to inhale. Familiar words trickle back, first in a stream then a river, though I’ve scarcely heard them in half a century.

I do not stop at the reception desk to check in; they are not expecting me. Instead, dodging the butlered hors d’oeuvres and champagne, I make my way along the mosaic floors, past walls of murals to the circus exhibit, its entrance marked by a smaller version of the banner outside. There are photos blown up and hung from the ceiling by wire too fine to see, images of a sword swallower and dancing horses and still more clowns. From the labels below each picture, the names come back to me like a song: Lorch, D’Augny, Neuhoff—great European circus dynasties felled by war and time. At the last of these names, my eyes begin to burn.

Beyond the photos hangs a tall, worn placard of a woman suspended from silk ropes by her arms, one leg extended behind her in a midair arabesque. Her youthful face and body are barely recognizable to me. In my mind, the song of the carousel begins to play tinny and faint like a music box. I feel the searing heat of the lights, so hot it could almost peel off my skin. A flying trapeze hangs above the exhibit, fixed as if in midflight. Even now, my almost ninety-year-old legs ache with yearning to climb up there.

But there is no time for memories. Getting here took longer than I thought, like everything else these days, and there isn’t a minute to spare. Pushing down the lump in my throat, I press forward, past the costumes and headdresses, artifacts of a lost civilization. Finally, I reach the railcar. Some of the side panels have been removed to reveal the close, tiny berths inside. I am struck by the compact size, less than half my shared room at the nursing home. It had seemed so much larger in my mind. Had we really lived in there for months on end? I reach out my hand to touch the rotting wood. Though I had known the railcar was the same the minute I had seen it in the paper, some piece of my heart had been too afraid to believe it until now.

Voices grow louder behind me. I glance quickly over my shoulder. The reception is breaking up and the attendees drawing closer to the exhibit. In a few more minutes, it will be too late.

I look back once more, then crouch to slip beneath the roped stanchion. Hide, a voice seems to say, the long-buried instinct rising up in me once more. Instead, I run my hand under the bottom of the railcar. The compartment is there, exactly as I remembered. The door still sticks, but if I press on it just so... It snaps open and I imagine the rush of excitement of a young girl looking for a scribbled invitation to a secret rendezvous.

But as I reach inside, my fingers close around cold, dark space. The compartment is empty and the dream I had that it might hold the answers evaporates like cool mist.

1

Noa

Germany, 1944

The sound comes low like the buzzing of the bees that once chased Papa across the farm and caused him to spend a week swathed in bandages.

I set down the brush I’d been using to scrub the floor, once-elegant marble now cracked beneath boot heels and set with fine lines of mud and ash that will never lift. Listening for the direction of the sound, I cross the station beneath the sign announcing in bold black: Bahnhof Bensheim. A big name for nothing more than a waiting room with two toilets, a ticket window and a wurst stand that operates when there is meat to be had and the weather is not awful. I bend to pick up a coin at the base of one of the benches, pocket it. It amazes me the things that people forget or leave behind.

Outside, my breath rises in puffs in the February night air. The sky is a collage of ivory and gray, more snow threatening. The station sits low in a valley, surrounded by lush hills of pine trees on three sides, their pointed green tips poking out above snow-covered branches. The air has a slightly burnt smell. Before the war, Bensheim had been just another tiny stop that most travelers passed through without noticing. But the Germans make use of everything it seems, and the location is good for parking trains and switching out engines during the night.

I’ve been here almost four months. It hadn’t been so bad in the autumn and I was happy to find shelter after I’d been sent packing with two days’ worth of food, three if I stretched it. The girls’ home where I lived after my parents found out I was expecting and kicked me out had been located far from anywhere in the name of discretion and they could have dropped me off in Mainz, or at least the nearest town. They simply opened the door, though, dismissing me on foot. I’d headed to the train station before realizing that I had nowhere to go. More than once during my months away, I had thought of returning home, begging forgiveness. It was not that I was too proud. I would have gotten down on my knees if I thought it would do any good. But I knew from the fury in my father’s eyes the day he forced me out that his heart was closed. I could not stand rejection twice.

In a moment of luck, though, the station had needed a cleaner. I peer around the back of the building now toward the tiny closet where I sleep on a mattress on the floor. The maternity dress is the same one I wore the day I left the home, except that the full front now hangs limply. It will not always be this way, of course. I will find a real job—one that pays in more than not-quite-moldy bread—and a proper home.

I see myself in the train station window. I have the kind of looks that just fit in, dishwater hair that whitens with the summer sun, pale blue eyes. Once my plainness bothered me; here it is a benefit. The two other station workers, the ticket girl and the man at the kiosk, come and then go home each night, hardly speaking to me. The travelers pass through the station with the daily edition of Der Stürmer tucked under their arms, grinding cigarettes into the floor, not caring who I am or where I came from. Though lonely, I need it that way. I cannot answer questions about the past.

No, they do not notice me. I see them, though, the soldiers on leave and the mothers and wives who come each day to scan the platform hopefully for a son or husband before leaving alone. You can always tell the ones who are trying to flee. They try to look normal, as if just going on vacation. But their clothes are too tight from the layers padded underneath and bags so full they threaten to burst at any second. They do not make eye contact, but hustle their children along with pale, strained faces.

The buzzing noise grows louder and more high-pitched. It is coming from the train I’d heard screech in earlier, now parked on the far track. I start toward it, past the nearly empty coal bins, most of their stores long taken for troops fighting in the east. Perhaps someone has left on an engine or other machinery. I do not want to be blamed, and risk losing my job. Despite the grimness of my situation, I know it could be worse—and that I am lucky to be here.

Lucky. I’d heard it first from an elderly German woman who shared some herring with me on the bus to Den Hague after leaving my parents. You are the Aryan ideal, she told me between fishy lip smacks, as we wound through detours and cratered roads.

I thought she was joking; I had plain blond hair and a little stump of a nose. My body was sturdy—athletic, until it had begun to soften out and grow curvy. Other than when the German had whispered soft words into my ear at night, I had always considered myself unremarkable. But now I’d been told I was just right. I found myself confiding in the woman about my pregnancy and how I had been thrown out. She told me to go to Wiesbaden, and scribbled a note saying I was carrying a child of the Reich. I took it and went. It did not occur to me whether it was dangerous to go to Germany or that I should refuse. Somebody wanted children like mine. My parents would have sooner died than accepted help from the Germans. But the woman said they would give me shelter; how bad could they be? I had nowhere else to go.

I was lucky, they said again when I reached the girls’ home. Though Dutch, I was considered of Aryan race and my child—otherwise shamed as an uneheliches Kind, conceived out of wedlock—might just be accepted into the Lebensborn program and raised by a good German family. I’d spent nearly six months there, reading and helping with the housework until my stomach became too bulky. The facility, if not grand, was modern and clean, designed to deliver babies in good health to the Reich. I’d gotten to know a sturdy girl called Eva who was a few months further along than me, but one night she awoke in blood and they took her to the hospital and I did not see her again. After that, I kept to myself. None of us would be there for long.

My time came on a cold October morning when I stood up from the breakfast table at the girls’ home and my water broke. The next eighteen hours were a blur of awful pain, punctuated by words of command, without encouragement or a soothing touch. At last, the baby had emerged with a wail and my entire body shuddered with emptiness, a machine shutting down. A strange look crossed the nurse’s face.

What is it? I demanded. I was not supposed to see the child. But I struggled against pain to sit upright. What’s wrong?

Everything is fine, the doctor assured. The child is healthy. His voice was perturbed, though, face stormy through thick glasses above the draped cream sheet. I leaned forward and a set of piercing coal eyes met mine.

Those eyes that were not Aryan.

I understood then the doctor’s distress. The child looked nothing like the perfect race. Some hidden gene, on my side or the German’s, had given him dark eyes and olive skin. He would not be accepted into the Lebensborn program.

My baby cried out, shrill and high-pitched, as though he had heard his fate and was protesting. I had reached for him through the pain. I want to hold him.

The doctor and the nurse, who had been recording details about the child on some sort of form, exchanged uneasy looks. We don’t, that is, the Lebensborn program does not allow that.

I struggled to sit up. Then I’ll take him and leave. It had been a bluff; I had nowhere to go. I had signed papers giving up my rights when I arrived in exchange for letting me stay, there were hospital guards... I could barely even walk. Please let me have him for a second.

Nein. The nurse shook her head emphatically, slipping from the room as I continued to plead.

Once she was out of sight, something in my voice forced the doctor to relent. Just for a moment, he said, reluctantly handing me the child. I stared at the red face, inhaled the delicious scent of his head that was pointed from so many hours of struggling to be born and I focused on his eyes. Those beautiful eyes. How could something so perfect not be their ideal?

He was mine, though. A wave of love crested and broke over me. I had not wanted this child, but in that moment, all the regret washed away, replaced by longing. Panic and relief swept me under. They would not want him now. I’d have to take him home because there was no other choice. I would keep him, find a way...

Then the nurse returned and ripped him from my arms.

No, wait, I protested. As I struggled to reach for my baby, something sharp pierced my arm. My head swam. Hands pressed me back on the bed. I faded, still seeing those dark eyes.

I awoke alone in that cold, sterile delivery room, without my child, or a husband or mother or even a nurse, an empty vessel that no one wanted anymore. They said afterward that he went to a good home. I had no way of knowing if they were telling the truth.

I swallow against the dryness of my throat, forcing the memory away. Then I step from the station into the biting cold air, relieved that the Schutzpolizei des Reiches, the leering state police who patrol the station, are nowhere to be seen. Most likely they are fighting the cold in their truck with a flask. I scan the train, trying to pinpoint the buzzing sound. It comes from the last boxcar, adjacent to the caboose—not from the engine. No, the noise comes from something inside the train. Something alive.

I stop. I have made it a point to never go near the trains, to look away when they pass by—because they are carrying Jews.

I was still living at home in our village the first time I had seen the sorry roundup of men, women and children in the market square. I had run to my father, crying. He was a patriot and stood up for everything else—why not this? It’s awful, he conceded through his graying beard, stained yellow from pipe smoke. He had wiped my tear-stained cheeks and given me some vague explanation about how there were ways to handle things. But those ways had not stopped my classmate Steffi Klein from being marched to the train station with her younger brother and parents in the same dress she’d worn to my birthday a month earlier.

The sound continues to grow, almost a keening now, like a wounded animal in the brush. I scan the empty platform and peer around the edge of the station. Can the police hear the noise, too? I stand uncertainly at the platform’s edge, peering down the barren railway tracks that separate me from the boxcar. I should just walk away. Keep your eyes down, that has been the lesson of the years of war. No good ever came from noticing the business of others. If I am caught nosing into parts of the station where I do not belong, I will be let go from my job, left without a place to live, or perhaps even arrested. But I have never been any good at not looking. Too curious, my mother said when I was little. I have always needed to know. I step forward, unable to ignore the sound that, as I draw closer now, sounds like cries.

Or the tiny foot that is visible through the open door of the railcar.

I pull back the door. Oh! My voice echoes dangerously through the darkness, inviting detection. There are babies, tiny bodies too many to count, lying on the hay-covered floor of the railcar, packed close and atop one another. Most do not move and I can’t tell whether they are dead or sleeping. From amid the stillness, piteous cries mix with gasps and moans like the bleating of lambs.

I grasp the side of the railcar, struggling to breathe over the wall of urine and feces and vomit that assaults me. Since coming here, I have dulled myself to the images, like a bad dream or a film that couldn’t possibly be real. This is different, though. So many infants, all alone, ripped from the arms of their mothers. My lower stomach begins to burn.

I stand helplessly in front of the boxcar, frozen in shock. Where had these babies come from? They must have just arrived, for surely they could not last long in the icy temperatures.

I have seen the trains going east for months, people where the cattle and sacks of grain should have been. Despite the awfulness of the transport, I had told myself they were going somewhere like a camp or a village, just being kept in one place. The notion was fuzzy in my mind, but I imagined somewhere maybe with cabins or tents like the seaside campsite south of our village in Holland for those who couldn’t afford a real holiday or preferred something more rustic. Resettlement. In these dead and dying babies, though, I see the wholeness of the lie.

I glance over my shoulder. The trains of people are always guarded. But here there is no one—because there is simply no chance of the infants getting away.

Closest to me lies a baby with gray skin, its lips blue. I try to brush the thin layer of frost from its eyelashes but the child is already stiff and gone. I yank my hand back, scanning the others. Most of the infants are naked or just wrapped in a blanket or cloth, stripped of anything that would have protected them from the harsh cold. But in the center of the car, two perfect pale pink booties stick stiffly up in the air, attached to a baby who is otherwise naked. Someone had cared enough to knit those, stitch by stitch. A sob escapes through my lips.

A head peeks out among the others. Straw and feces cover its heart-shaped face. The child does not look pained or distressed, but wears a puzzled expression, as if to say Now what am I doing here? There is something familiar about it: coal-dark eyes, piercing through me, just as they had the day I had given birth. My heart swells.

The baby’s face crumples suddenly and it squalls. My hands shoot out, and I strain to reach it over the others before anyone else hears. My grasp falls short of the infant, who wails louder. I try to climb into the car, but the children are packed so tightly, I can’t manage for fear of stepping on one. Desperately, I strain my arms once more, just reaching. I pick up the crying child, needing to silence it. Its skin is icy as I pluck it from the car, naked save for a soiled cloth diaper.

The baby in my arms now, only the second I’d ever held, seems to calm in the crook of my elbow. Could this possibly be my child, brought back to me by fate or chance? The child’s eyes close and its head bows forward. Whether it is sleeping or dying, I cannot say. Clutching it, I start away from the train. Then I turn back: if any of those other children are still alive, I am their only chance. I should take more.

But the baby I am holding cries again, the shrill sound cutting through the silence. I cover its mouth and run back into the station.

I walk toward the closet where I sleep. Stopping at the door, I look around desperately. I have nothing. Instead I walk into the women’s toilet, the usually dank smell hardly noticeable after the boxcar. At the sink, I wipe the filth from the infant’s face with one of the rags I use for cleaning. The baby is warmer now, but two of its toes are blue and I wonder if it might lose them. Where did it come from?

I open the filthy diaper. The child is a boy like my own had been. Closer now I can see that his tiny penis looks different from the German’s, or that of the boy at school who had shown me his when I was seven. Circumcised. Steffi had told me the word once, explaining what they had done to her little brother. The child is Jewish. Not mine.

I step back as the reality I had known all along sinks in: I cannot keep a Jewish baby, or a baby at all, by myself and cleaning the station twelve hours a day. What had I been thinking?

The baby begins to roll sideways from the ledge by the sink where I had left him. I leap forward, catching him before he falls to the hard tile floor. I am unfamiliar with infants and I hold him at arm’s length now, like a dangerous animal. But he moves closer, nuzzling against my neck. I clumsily make a diaper out of the other rag, then carry the child from the toilet and out of the station, heading back toward the railcar. I have to put him back on the train, as if none of this ever happened.

At the edge of the platform, I freeze. One of the guards is now walking along the tracks, blocking my way back to the train. I search desperately in all directions. Close to the side of the station sits a milk delivery truck, the rear stacked high with large cans. Impulsively I start toward it. I slide the baby into one of the empty jugs, trying not to think about how icy the metal must be against his bare skin. He does not make a sound but just stares at me helplessly.

I duck behind a bench as the truck door slams. In a second, it will leave, taking the infant with it.

And no one will know what I have done.

2

Astrid

Germany, 1942—fourteen months earlier

I stand at the edge of the withered grounds that had once been our winter quarters. Though there has been no fighting here, the valley looks like a battlefield, broken wagons and scrap metal scattered everywhere. A cold wind blows through the hollow window frames of the deserted cabins, sending tattered fabric curtains wafting upward before they fall deflated. Most of the windows are shattered and I try not to wonder if that had happened with time, or if someone had smashed them in a struggle or rage. The creaking doors are open, properties fallen into disrepair as they surely never would have if Mama been here to care for them. There is a hint of smoke on the air as though someone has been burning brush recently. In the distance, a crow cries out in protest.

Drawing my coat closer around me, I walk away from the wreckage and start up toward the villa that once was my home. The grounds are exactly as they had been when I was a girl, the hill rising before the front door in that way that sent the water rushing haphazardly into the foyer when the spring rains came. But the garden where my mother tended hydrangeas so lovingly each spring is withered and crushed to dirt. I see my brothers wrestling in the front yard before being cowed into practice, scolded for wasting their energy and risking an injury that would jeopardize the show. As children we loved to sleep under the open sky in the yard in summer, fingers intertwined, the sky a canopy of stars above us.

I stop. A large red flag with a black swastika hangs above the door. Someone, a high-ranking SS officer no doubt, has moved into the home that once was ours. I clench my fists, sickened to think of them using our linens and dishes, soiling Mama’s beautiful sofa and rugs with their boots. Then I look away. It is not the material things for which I mourn.

I search the windows of the villa, looking in vain for a familiar face. I had known that my family was no longer here ever since my last letter returned undeliverable. I had come anyway, though, some part of me imagining life unchanged, or at least hoping for a clue as to where they had gone. But wind blows through the desolate grounds. There is nothing left anymore.

I should not be here either, I realize. Anxiety quickly replaces my sadness. I cannot afford to loiter and risk being spotted by whoever lives here now, or face questions about who I am and why I have come. My eyes travel across the hill toward the adjacent estate where the Circus Neuhoff has their winter quarters. Their hulking slate villa stands opposite ours, two sentries guarding the Rheinhessen valley between.

Earlier as the train neared Darmstadt, I saw a poster advertising the Circus Neuhoff. At first, my usual distaste at the name rose. Klemt and Neuhoff were rival circuses and we had competed for years, trying to outdo one another. But the circus, though dysfunctional, was still a family. Our two circuses had grown up alongside one another like siblings in separate bedrooms. We had been rivals on the road. In the off-season, though, we children went to school and played together, sledding down the hill and occasionally sharing meals. Once when Herr Neuhoff had been felled by a bad back and could not serve as ringmaster, we sent my brother Jules to help their show.

I have not seen Herr Neuhoff in years, though. And he is Gentile, so everything has changed. His circus flourishes while ours is gone. No, I cannot expect help from Herr Neuhoff, but perhaps he knows what became of my family.

When I reach the Neuhoff estate, a maidservant I do not recognize opens the door. Guten Abend, I say. Ist Herr Neuhoff hier? I am suddenly shy, embarrassed to arrive unannounced on their doorstep like some sort of beggar. I’m Ingrid Klemt. I use my maiden name. The woman’s face reveals that she already knows who I am, though from the circus or from somewhere else, I cannot tell. My departure years earlier had been remarkable, whispered about for miles around.

One did not leave to marry a German officer as I had—especially if one was Jewish.

Erich had first come to the circus in the spring of 1934. I noticed him from behind the curtains—it is a myth that we cannot see the audience beyond the lights—not only because of his uniform but because he sat alone, without a wife or children. I was not some young girl, easily wooed, but nearly twenty-nine. Busy with the circus and constantly on the road, I had assumed that marriage had passed me by. Erich was impossibly handsome, though, with a strong jaw marred only by a cleft chin, and square features softened by the bluest of eyes. He came a second night and pink roses appeared before my dressing room door. We courted that spring, and he made the long trip down from Berlin every weekend to the cities where we performed to spend time with me between shows and on Sundays.

We should have known even then that our relationship was doomed. Though Hitler had just come to power a year earlier, the Reich had already made clear its hatred for the Jews. But there was passion and intensity in Erich’s eyes that made everything around us cease to exist. When he proposed, I didn’t think twice. We did not see the problems that loomed large, making our future together impossible—we simply looked the other way.

My father had not fought me on leaving with Erich. I expected him to rebuke me for marrying a non-Jew, but he only smiled sadly when I told him. I always thought you would have taken over the show for me, he’d said, his sad chocolate eyes a mirror of my own behind his spectacles. I was surprised. I had three older brothers, four if you counted Isadore, who had been killed at Verdun; there was no reason to think that Papa might have considered me. Especially with Jules taking his own branch of the show to Nice. And the twins... Papa had shaken his head ruefully. Mathias and Markus were strong and graceful, performing acrobatic marvels that made the audience gasp. Their skills were purely physical, though. "It was you, liebchen, with the head for business and the flair of showmanship. But I’m not going to keep you like a caged animal."

I’d never known he saw me that way. Only now I was leaving him. I could have changed my mind and stayed. But Erich and the life I thought I always wanted beckoned. So I left for Berlin, taking Papa’s blessing with me.

Perhaps if I hadn’t, my family might still be here.

The maid ushers me to a sitting room that, though still grand, shows signs of wear. The rugs are a bit frayed and there are some spaces in the silver cabinet that are empty, as though the bigger pieces had been taken or sold. Stale cigar smoke mixes with the scent of lemon polish. I peer out the window, straining to see my family’s estate through the fog that has settled above the valley. I wonder who lives in our villa now and what they see when they look down at the barren deserted winter quarters.

After our wedding, a small ceremony with a justice of the peace, I moved into Erich’s spacious apartment overlooking the Tiergarten. I spent my days strolling the shops along Bergmannstrasse, buying richly colored paintings and rugs and embroidered satin pillows, little things that would make his once-sparse quarters our home. Our biggest dilemma was which café to frequent for Sunday brunch.

I’d been in Berlin for almost five years when the war broke out. Erich received a promotion to something I didn’t understand having to do with munitions and his days became longer. He would come home either dark and moody, or heady with excitement about things he could not share with me. It will all be so different when the Reich is victorious, trust me. But I didn’t want different. I liked our life just as it had been. What was so wrong with the old ways?

Things had not gone back to the way they had been, though.

Reviews for The Orphan's Tale

[nu5bibliophile · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed this very much. The setting was in wwii but it wasn't the usual holocaust story that sets in a concentration camp.

[kamgeb · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The book was OK, not great. It is about a german circus during WWII. The circus is a haven for Jews and other misfits. It didn't seem realistic. None of the characters really moved me. Much of it seemed unrealistic. It wasn't terrible and I did manage to finish the book, but it definitely is not a book I would recommend to a friend.

[heatherlinc · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Set in a circus, "The Orphan's Tale" was the story of two women and their friendship during WWII. I loved both Astrid and Noa, who shared the narration, and following their stories. The bond between them was strong despite their varying backgrounds and age difference. Their relationship was volatile but ultimately unbreakable. However, the insta-romance between Noa and Luc, the mayor's son, was annoying and stretched the boundaries of believability but, thankfully, it didn't detract from the overall story.The circus life was fascinating, especially the way it struggled to survive during Nazi occupation. I had no idea circuses were in existence during WWII. Based on two true events Ms Jenoff discovered when she was researching this period of history, "The Orphan's Tale" was both heart-breaking and heart-warming. A compelling read.

[carlathelibrarian · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed this story about an aspect of WWII that I was not aware of. This book, about a German circus that was hiding Jews who were either performing acts, laborers or children, was interesting. While based loosely on true incidents the author came across in her research, it is a fictional story. I read this book as a monthly read for one of my Goodreads groups and was not disappointed.

There are two main characters who narrate the story. Noa is a young woman who became pregnant by a Nazi soldier and was thrown out of her home. Young and pregnant with no place to go, she is directed to a home for unwed mothers but has to give her baby up as soon as he is born. Afterward she flees to the city and finds a job at a train station. She is shocked and disgusted when she finds a train car full of babies, many of whom are dead. One boy, who she feels is reaching out to her, reminds her of her son, so she rescues him and runs not knowing where she is headed. After falling from exhaustion and hypothermia in the snow she is rescued by someone from a traveling circus.

The other main character is Astrid who is from a circus family and was a well known aerialist. She left her family to marry a German soldier. When the Nazi’s begin their quest to rid Germany of all Jews, Astrid’s husband renounces her and makes her leave their home. With nowhere else to go she heads for home. There is no one there, but the traveling circus is intact and she heads over to talk to the kind owner. He takes her in and she quickly regains her skills as an aerialist. The two women come to depend on each other, they both have secrets, and Astrid is given the job of training Noa to accompany her in the aerialist performance.

There are many other characters that flesh out the story such as Peter the clown, Peter who takes Astrid “under his wing” and falls in love with her as well as the owner, Herr Nuehoff. He protects the performers and is almost like a father to them. There are many others who protect the Astrid and Theo and care for them. This is a very character driven novel but I learned a lot about how important circuses were in Germany before the war and how slowly they were all dismantled by the Nazi’s. Life in a circus is like a large family with the members working together for the circus to be successful, whether it is the performers, the laborers, the cooks or the ringmaster. There was a lot happening throughout the book and it never got boring. The last part of the book moved swiftly, was very intense and emotional. This showed us another side of the war and how not only the circus performers, but regular citizens as well as those who mocked the Nazis were treated. I would recommend this book to lovers of historical fiction, WWII stories, circus stories and anyone who wants to read a great story.

[lilibrarian · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Astrid, from a Jewish circus family, left the circus when she married a German officer. When he is forced to cast her out, she returns to find her family gone. She joins a different circus. When a young girl carrying a Jewish baby is found freezing to death in the forest nearby, they take her in. Noa learns to be an aerialist, and the baby and Astrid are only two of the secrets hidden by the circus from the Germans.

[karenvg3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

AMAZING!!! I'm so glad my book club chose this because I would not have bumped it up on my TBR otherwise. This had everything I love. WWII, the circus, angst, love, heartbreak, happiness... you name it. By far the best book I have read so far this year. Jenoff captured me and didn't let go. I will be thinking about this one for a while. 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 for sure.

[al9g · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An excellent book - very readable with vivid characterizations. Jenoff has researched well, both German practices during WWII as well as circus life. She builds a highly believable fictional world populated by characters that you would really like to meet. It is something of a unique plot: the circus binds together Astrid, a Jewish divorcee without a home, Noa, a Dane who has been exiled from her home, and Theo, the orphan baby Noa rescues from the train. Astrid is a seasoned veteran of the circus and Noa a novice, but they not only need the circus to shelter them from the Reich, they also need each other. Their struggles to survive and even thrive amid the backdrop of Nazi Germany and occupied France make a compelling story. The book will grab you and hold you right up to the end, but it is a tearful ending that catches you off guard - as do the tides of war and oppression.

[silversreviews · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Noa was thrown out of her parents' home because she had become pregnant to a German soldier but needed to leave after the Germans took her baby. As Noa made her way out of town, she came upon a train of Jewish infants left to die (talk about heartbreaking.) Noa took one of the babies, couldn't continue because they both were almost frozen, and then collapsed near the circus. The circus members rescued Noa and the baby, but Noa had to perform on the flying trapeze with Astrid to earn her keep.Even though Noa and Astrid worked together as a team on the flying trapeze, there was tension between them because Noa was terrified of flying especially since she almost fell to her death during practice one day. The tension subsided as Noa tried harder to please Astrid and when Noa found out the reason Astrid hid from the Nazi soldiers.The first time Astrid immediately and very quickly disappeared when the Nazi soldiers burst into the circus building, Noa knew something was going on.How did they know she was Jewish? Did someone tell on her? The circus owner kept up a good front and steered the Nazi soldiers from the Jewish performers he was hiding, but it was stressful for all.THE ORPHAN'S TALE is another beautifully written book by Ms. Jenoff revealing another not well-known fact about WWII. The circus theme was quite interesting. I wasn't aware of traveling circuses during that time, but it seems like the perfect way to help keep some of the Jewish community safe and hidden during the Holocaust.THE ORPHAN'S TALE smoothly flows from Noa's story to Astrid's as we learn about their lives and their secrets that they both are afraid to tell. Despite secrets, their friendship strengthens even though there is a thin line that may destroy it.I truly enjoyed THE ORPHAN'S TALE as I have enjoyed all of Ms. Jenoff's books. Ms. Jenoff has a marvelous way of writing a story based on the unpleasant facts of WWII. THE ORPHAN'S TALE had a different theme, and I always learn new things about the Holocaust when I read Ms. Jenoff's books. Ms. Jenoff always does exquisite research. You would think all has been known and written about WWII, but the circus assisting the Jewish people was interesting, enlightening, and wonderful to know how another group helped the Jewish people. Don't miss reading another heartbreaking but heartwarming book by Ms. Jenoff. 5/5This book was given to me free of charge and without compensation by the publisher in return for an honest review for TLC.

[bostonterrio-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Enjoyable work of historical fiction based on people and stories gathered by the author while researching for this book. Emotionally draining at times but I would expect that from a well written book takes places during such a dismal period in history. Few books bring me to tears but this one did. Exceptional read!

[seeword · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another WW2 novel--this one follows two female aerialists performing in a German circus in occupied France. One is a German Jew being hidden and protected by the circus. The other is a young Dutch woman who is caring for a Jewish baby she rescued. Well told story of a developing friendship, difficult choices, suspense, loss, and a kind of redemption.Advance review copy.

[nyiper · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I appreciated the author's notes---especially helpful when you're reading historical fiction. Writing about a circus when you're sitting at a computer sounds impossible but this was a story that held together for the most part---very fast to read -- you are pulled from one page to the next because things keep happening. Horrible events amid an amazing series of events. Yes, definitely WW II from a different viewpoint. It helped that both women were written as very appealing characters.

[bookdivasreads · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Noa Weil is a sixteen-year-old that was forced from home due to a pregnancy. Her child was taken away from her by the Nazis and she's forced to find the only job she can, cleaning at a small out of the way train station. When Noa comes upon a seemingly abandoned train car filled with infants, she's horrified as most of these babies are dead...all but one. Noa grabs the infant and runs from the only safety she knows, determined to save this child at all costs. Fortunately for Noa, after collapsing in the snow with the infant, she is found and incorporated into a nearby circus. Ingrid Klemt Sorrell aka Astrid Sorrell is a former circus aerialist that was married to a German Nazi officer. Her married life was good until the day her husband came home and stated he was divorcing her because she was Jewish. Unsure of what to do, Ingrid returns to her family's home only to find it abandoned. With nowhere else to turn, Ingrid approaches a neighbor and rival circus owner for advice. She quickly becomes Astrid Sorrell, the lead aerialist and trapeze artist for the Neuhoff circus. Over time, Astrid meets and falls in love with a fellow circus performer, Peter Moskowicz. Astrid and Noa are from very different backgrounds and have had very different lives, but both find refuge in the circus. Constantly on guard against Nazis, collaborators, and the SS, Noa and Astrid do all they can to protect one another and their secrets. Before I go any further, let me just say that I loved The Orphan's Tale by Pam Jenoff. This was an incredibly fast-paced read that kept me enthralled from the first few pages until the very last. The Orphan's Tale is not just a story about two women and their friendship, it's a story about sacrifice, survival, love, and hope. This story was heartwarming as well as heart-wrenching. It takes place during World War II so you know there's going to be drama, tragedy, intrigue, and sadness. Even with all of the despair of the times, Ms. Jenoff imbues this story with an overriding sense of hope. The story is told in the alternating voices and perspectives of Noa and Astrid. The characters are well-developed, the settings are quite realistic, and the story is compelling. If you enjoy reading historical fiction, books about World War II, or just want something a little different to read, then I strongly encourage you to grab a copy of The Orphan's Tale to read. This is another must-read fiction recommendation. I look forward to reading more from Pam Jenoff in the future.

[cherylk_44 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

If you have never read a book by this author, than you don't know what you are missing out on. Most of the books from this author are written in the WWII era. This is how I first came to discover this author as I am a fan of this era. I have yet to find a book that I didn't like from this author.I was drawn to this book because of the storyline, the author, and the fact that this book was referenced to Water for Elephants. Another book that I enjoyed reading. This book does live up to its hype. Everything from the era, to the characters, and the circus was amazing. Herr Neuhoff is the ring master. He is the one that brings everyone together by allowing them to find sanctuary in his circus and become a family. Instantly, I connected with both Astrid and Noa. They may have come from different situations and age differences but they were kindred souls. Although, when I talk about these women, I can't do so without mentioning the men in their lives...Peter, Theo, and Luc. Both women gave their hearts to the men and they accepted them with care. The ending was a wonderful one. The Orphan's Tale will leave you breathless as you are transported back in time with a strong storyline and equally strong characters!

[linda.marsheells · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I liked this book, i really did, I just thought that without much more effort the storyline could have been made deeper, more compelling perhaps? Young Noa has a baby by a German and has it taken away....she runs. In her weary travels she finds an open railway car filled with young Jewish babies and takes/saves one.Long story short she joins a German circus, whose members all have their own secrets. Family is what you make it right? " We cannnot change who we are. Sooner or later we will all have to face ourselves." This IS a heart-touching, somewhat light read. I have to admit ....while reading the last pages of The Orphans Tale I literally had them wet with tears. 3.5 STARS

[dianekeenoy · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I didn't know that there were traveling circuses owned by important Jewish families in Europe before WWII. This fascinating book was based on a true story about a German circus that sheltered a family of Jews during the war. There is a lot going on in this book; once you open it, you're going to want to keep reading it until finished! I will definitely be hunting Pam Jenoff's other books down to read!

[sharn_3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I've meant to read a Pam Jenoff book for many years - this was my first - and she did not disappoint. I will have to bump her other books to the top of my TBR list.Good circus story right here... although, you've been warned, it's sad. I'm not sure how to review this one since the synopsis already covers so much -almost too much, in my opinion (which is why I rarely read them). The characters were well developed (I'll probably think about them for a while) and the story was good. I will definitely recommend this one.

[susan0316 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I just finished this book and I am still crying. I am crying over the lives lost during this horrific time in history but I am also crying because this book was so wonderful and so beautifully written.Noa was kicked out of her house at 16 when she became pregnant by a German soldier and she found a job cleaning a railway station. She hears a strange sound and finds a railway car full of babies, some dead and some alive, and she is so upset that she grabs a baby and runs way into the cold and snowy night. She is found by a performer from a nearby circus and offered refuge. To remain undetected, she needs to become one of the circus performers. She is mentored by Ingrid, an aerialist, who is also being sheltered by the circus because she is Jewish. As the two women train together, they become friends and then sisters as they try to remain hidden from the Nazi regime.The characters in this novel are fantastic and their lives in the circus was very informative. The circus becomes one of the characters and is a microcosm of life during war time in Europe. There are food shortages, frequent identity checks from the local officials and arrests. It's difficult to trust anyone and life is very stressful.This's is a novel about love and friendship during the harshest of times and shows that family is not just who you are related to but true family is made up of those that you love the most.I loved this book and predict that it will be one of the major books of the winter. Thanks to Edelweiss for a copy of this book for a fair and honest review.

[muddyboy · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a holocaust period piece that centers on two young women. Astrid is Jewish who marries a German officer but they must break up due to Nazi rules. She goes back to a town where her family had a circus but finds her relatives are gone, She joins a German owned circus as an aerialist in the same town (undercover). Meanwhile a young Dutch girl (Noa) gets pregnant to a Jew and when the authorities find out the baby is taken away. She comes across a railcar full of Jewish babies and steals one and adopts it. Eventually these two women's lives intersect. A well written book that reads like a movie script.

[mishker-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Noa has been cast out of her parents house at sixteen after becoming pregnant with a Nazi soldier's baby. After the baby is born with a darker complexion than her perfect Aryan features, the baby is taken from her. Noa finds work at a train station where she must watch people come through on their way to concentration camps. One winter's day, a boxcar full of babies comes into the station. Most of them are already gone-except one. Noa risks everything in taking a baby that looks so much like the one taken from her. She escapes into the woods where she is found and taken in by a German circus. Herr Neuhoff's circus is struggling during the war, but still performing. He has already taken in Ingrid-now Astrid- a Jewish circus performer who had been cast out by her Nazi husband. Astrid is a trapeze artist and Herr Neuhoff thinks Noa could learn to perform with her so their act can continue. Astrid and Noa have a rocky start, but Noa has found a safe place for herself and the baby, so she is determined to make things work.I was immediately drawn in by the idea of the circus during World War II. It seems so contradictory, however, was probably a bright spot for many people during this time. Noa and Astrid are both amazing characters that are bases are real stories from the time. Their stories elicited compassion, friendship, joy, and heartbreak as the two women find their places. As Astrid and Noa grow closer, they find more in their similarities than differences and create their own family. Another part of the book that I enjoyed as much as learning about another facet of World War II was the circus lifestyle. I loved learning about the trapeze and Noa's strength made me want to try it out myself. Also, Peter the clown seeming amazing and I wish that I could see his act today. I do wish that the story would have extended more into baby Theo's life, however the epilogue helps the with that. Overall, an engaging, memorable and heartbreaking story about a different aspect of life during World War II. This book was received for free in return for an honest review.

[feeroberts64 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Orphan's Tale by Pam Jenoff follows Noa, a sixteen year old girl, who's father kicks her out of the house for getting pregnant by a Nazi soldier, and we are given the story from Noa's POV. We are later introduced to Astrid, a trapeze performer with the German circus, and we get the story from her POV. The story goes back and forth between the two women's stories, which connect along the way creating a well written, dark and ominous, though thought provoking tale.Jenoff does an excellent job bringing you into this story. She brings the characters to life, and you can't help but let yourself be taken away.This story has quite a bit of darkness, which portrays extremely well how life was for someone in these two women's situations during WWII. Jenoff's research adds to the darkness based on true events, which, for me, was very thought provoking. It is an intricate story of love and hate, resentment and acceptance, betrayal, fear, hope, and so much more . It is, by far, one of the best books that I have ever read.I received this book through NetGalley, and received a copy from Harlequin for an honest review and all opinions are my own.

[wagner5sarah35 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

*I received a copy of this book from the publisher.*Parts of this book seemed fantastical, but the author's research and writing are well-done and the plot has the advantage of being more inspiring than many stories set in Nazi-occupied Europe. After rescuing a Jewish baby from a train, the young Noa finds refuge with a traveling circus, but she has to perfect the flying trapeze act in order to keep her place. The warmth and family atmosphere of the circus juxtaposes with the harsh violence of the Nazis and their surrogates throughout the book. A good read overall and highly recommended for those who enjoy WWII historical fiction.

[whisper1_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I will begin by stating that once I started, I couldn't put this book down. I loved it! The setting is WWII with a cast of characters, each who must make very difficult decisions which impact on their lives and those of others. Different from other books with a WWII setting, this includes a cast of circus characters as they travel through war-torn Germany and France, stopping only where the Nazi regime tells them they can set up tent. The story begins with a young German girl whose family abandons her when they learn of her pregnancy by a Nazi soldier. Ecking out a living at a train station, the lonely girl had her baby but it was immediately taken from her by the German authorities. Longing for her baby and the truth of what happened to him causes her to make a decision to grab a baby in a train car filled with Jewish babies headed East for extermination.Fleeing in the frozen cold of Germany, baby cradled under her coat, she awakens to find that she and the baby are rescued by a traveling circus. Noa must find a way to earn her keep in order to survive with the baby. Astrid is a Jew whose family was killed by the Nazi's. She was married to a German soldier who abandoned her when told by Nazi authorities that all soldiers who have Jewish wives, must put them aside. Heartbroken and stubbornly strong, Astrid hooks up with the traveling circus using her skills on the trapeze 40 feet high above the circus tent. Astird's family lost their circus during the war and she is hired by the lone remaining circus. Teaching Noa to learn acrobatic feats high in the air, both learn to trust each other lest one fall. The backdrop of the circus holds the reader as we learn the cast of different characters trying to keep the circus alive. Bravely, the owner and ring leader, puts his life and those of the circus, by welcoming Astrid and Noa to the family. All too easily the authorities hear of a circus hiding a Jew, Astrid literally takes her life in her hands each time she performs death defying feats in the air while praying that on the ground there are no Nazi's in the crowd waiting to capture her.Because Noa's stolen baby is Jewish, they also are at great risk. This is a story of the hardship of the war, the power of the Nazi's as the wipe out towns and lives, scattering bodies throughout, but mainly, it is a story of risk taking and of the ability to find friendship and trust in a world that spins out of control.Thus far, this is the best book I've read this year! Highly recommended with Five Stars!

[henrog-315853 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This story takes place in Nazi Germany. A young girl, Noa, is cast out of her home after she becomes pregnant with a German officer's baby. He had been stationed in her home.She gives birth and finds her way to a circus where the people end up taking her in. Her life in the circus becomes extremely complicated and she must be very careful and keep her baby safe. It is an emotional tale of bravery, courage, fear and resentment.The characters are so real and the reader can almost feel their emotions. The story is gripping and hard to put down.

[smits_52 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A very interesting story when it comes to a circus travelling during WW2. A circus that harbors Jews which really happened. Also true is the part about the children taken and left in a boxcar bound for a concentration camp which is Theo in this novel. I did find the novel a bit to simple of a love story being a bit Harloquin in style but the redeption comes in the last chapter or two. I am interested in finding out more stories that the archives of Yad Vashem have.

[bookczuk · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Not sure where I picked up this book, but am glad it came into my hands. My reading during the COVID-19 pandemic has been eclectic. This was a well written addition. Interesting actual facts woven into a fictional narrative based on them. (Author's note was quite informative on that.)

[dara85 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The story takes place during World War II. Noa was cast out by her family when she became pregnant at a young age. Her baby was adopted out. As she makes her way through the countryside she rescues a baby from a train car bound for a concentration camp. She raises the boy as her own. She joins a circus touring Europe. She becomes an aerialist. The ringmaster is a kind man hiding several Jews in his employ. The circus in Germany at the time, was the only entertainment that kept the people’s mind off the despair of war. This is an interesting tale with a twist at the end.

[ladyofthelodge · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I read [The Orphan's Tale] for our book discussion group. While it was intriguing enough to make me want to keep reading and not put it down, I had to take it in small doses. The point of view switches between two women who are aerialists in a traveling circus in Europe during the time of the Nazis. There are many heartbreaking instances of fear and cruelty, but the courage of the people in the circus shines in this novel. The ending is somewhat of a twist, not expected, but a satisfying ending nonetheless.

[slevyr26 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Honestly, when will I stop reading historical fiction about the Holocaust and expect to be satisfied? It’s the definition of insanity to expect a different outcome but continuing to do the same thing. This story, while unique, is...hear me out...incredibly melodramatic. So much tell and no show. So much ‘I cannot possibly tell her’ but then the next page whomever it is tells her. ‘Some things are better left unsaid’ but then they become said a few sentences later. Frankly, that seems like basic proofreading gone unchecked. The drama of the Holocaust and the war itself is enough, I don’t need the exasperating social drama that rings of a Hollywood blockbuster to be added to the mix. It’s my fault, WHEN WILL I LEARN????? I’m going to read an actual autobiographical account of Auschwitz next because I need to be reminded of the horrific reality.

[tinkerbellkk · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed the story that was told of a young woman who was cast out due to an unwed pregnancy and finds a second family and home within the circus during WW2. Each person in the circus also has their own set of demons and issues to deal with however they all live together and create a community. It was interesting to read the author's notes of how the circus' of that time helped to hide Jews and sh wove this element into a fictional story. Well written, a quick read and a good twist at the end.

[nwieme-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Loved it. Kept me reading. Interesting "Author's Note" at the end giving a short detail of the "true story of the circuses helping Jews during WWII"... and how she developed a fiction story around some of the details she uncovered in her research.

The characters were a bit hard to engage with early in the story, but I love the way Jenoff ended the story.