Who’s Lost Their Marbles?
Francis and his sister Sophie are growing up in Prague. Their mother’s career as an actress, their father’s academic lifestyle, and the children’s own dreams, ambitions, and plans for the future all play a significant role in shaping their lives.
The story—more accurately, the chain of events, each one leading to the next—culminates in the premiere of a play in which their mother has the lead role. The book is written in the first person, with twelve-year-old Francis as the narrator. His witty comments on family and school life reveal his perspective on himself and the people around him. He describes emotions that resonate with young readers all over the world.
The streetlights were already on in our square, and a bunch of people were shopping. They were pushing in and out of stores, kids were screaming and leaning out of their strollers, and I was just enjoying that nice feeling of a Friday evening, smiling a little stupidly like I always do when I feel good. Zofie was jumping next to me. “How much money do you have?” she asked. “We could buy some snakes.” So we went to the candy store and each picked out a snake. The lady weighed them for us, and when I handed her the money, she said, “You two are on your own again, right? I bet you’re going to stuff your stomachs again!” “Not at all. We’re not stuffing ourselves. Right now, we’re going to buy something proper to eat, aren’t we?” I nudged Zofie. She eagerly nodded and was about to shove the snake in her mouth. I took it from her and tucked it under my jacket. “After dinner,” I said seriously, so the lady could see I meant it. We ate the snakes on the street. “And then?” I asked. We were standing at the corner in front of the milk bar, and through the glass panels, we could see people stuffing their faces with treats. “Should we check it out?” Zofie quickly nodded. After the candy shop incident, she probably thought I was going to buy potatoes for dinner. We went inside, and as we moved along the counter, all those smells mixed in our noses, it was almost unbearable. “Ten decagrams of fish salad,” Zofie suggested. “And pancakes. No, better yet, doughnuts.” We both immediately ruled out milk because we have enough of that during the week, and Zofie thinks it would make her grown-up too soon. Every day, she checks her chest in the mirror to see if it's bigger than the other girls in her class, and she hides from her dad so he doesn’t see her naked.