Smuggled

Shea's second novel (after Moira's Crossing) begins strongly enough in 1943, when precocious five-year-old %C3%89va is smuggled out of Hungary. To save %C3%89va's life, her Jewish mother and gentile father drug her, tie her into a flour sack, and ship her by train to Romania. There, her father's sister takes her in, rechristening her Anca Balaj and speaking to her only in Romanian. Shea then forces Anca into situations to make political points about Ceausescu, communism, loyalty, and brutality. The once-willful child becomes a passive adult, and the story charges ahead, dragging her along with it. Emphasizing %C3%89va/Anca's role as a victim is a carousel of unsavory lovers, including an abusive coach who breaks her jaw and a concentration camp survivor who supplements his dentist's income with "post-mortem extractions" of golden teeth. Though Shea writes vividly and has clearly done her homework, the story serves history better than fiction. %C3%89va's eventual return to Hungary is marked by overwrought imagery and labored plotting, the opposite of what is needed: a glimpse into this woman's soul. (July)