Meet Jacob Fagin, pickpocket extraordinaire of 19th-century London. He lives in an abandoned property on Bell Court with a cluster of proteges: children who, with no roof over their heads, no food to eat and no family to turn to, ended up on his doorstep. He is, through one lens, a hero to be admired. Through another, he makes his living breaking the law, harboring and shaping the next generation of criminals. In Fagin the Thief, Allison Epstein’s greatly imaginative retelling of Oliver Twist, it’s left to the reader to wrestle with their verdict.
After losing his beloved mother to illness, 16-year-old Jacob is thrust into thievery as his only method of survival. The orphan has just begun to settle into a ragged routine when he meets Bill Sikes, another young thief. Having fled an abusive home, Bill struggles to find his place in the world, and as he becomes a notorious housebreaker, he develops an increasing anger that scares Jacob and his circle. Eventually, a burglary gone wrong breaks the precarious company into irreparable pieces when, for the first time, Jacob’s exceptional instincts for self-preservation prove insufficient.
In Charles Dickens’ original portrayal, the character of Fagin is a famously anti-Semitic caricature. In Fagin the Thief, Epstein reclaims the character’s Jewish identity, threading his upbringing and customs throughout the book, along with the discrimination he faces. This context adds nuance to her depiction—Jacob’s compassion towards his community is even more meaningful in the face of this adversity, yet he remains a morally ambiguous character. It’s an empowering, humanizing portrayal.
Jacob frequently wonders how to classify his relationships with Bill and all the other members of his makeshift group, but to the reader, it’s clear that what they share are the unconditional bonds of family. Painful as it is to watch each of them make their mistakes, it’s impossible not to love these characters through it all.
