I watched a movie called Fugitive Pieces with my daughter, which we interpreted differently and argued about. I asked for a copy of the book as a Christmas gift, largely to determine whose interpretation was correct. By the time I received it, I forgot the nature of our differing interpretations. There was a time when I read a great deal of fiction, but I stopped about 30 years ago. Since then, I will read a novel every few years (interspersed among many more works of non-fiction). Any interest in fiction is usually instigated by a plot summary or theme I find too compelling to avoid, but not so here. Understandably, and unknown to me because of my reading preferences, the novel on which the film was based was over 20 years old and had met with broad critical acclaim.

The author's writing and vocabulary are rich -- so rich, in fact, that nearly every other page is quotable for concept or turn of phrase. After reading it, one knows the movie version could be interesting, perhaps even very good, but could never fully capture the book's more thoughtful aspects, elegant detail, and careful examination of mind and memory. Although principally set in the mid-Century Greek Islands, one will reject any temptation to compare it to Zorba the Greek or Corelli's Mandolin because, while the setting is often evoked and has its uses, the story being told by a Polish war refugee is deeply introspective. The other venue for the story is Toronto and environs, where the protagonist's experiences and legacy are concluded by an admirer as a reflection. Anyhow, it's a great work of authorship and worth your consideration. More details on the story line are disclosed in the Goodreads summary.