Mekimi brings forth the story of Alma, a sharp-tounged TV hostess that loathes her occupation, her success and her wild, hedonistic lifestyle. She's slowly, step after step, approaching religion, and disconnecting herself from her previous life: lively Tel-Aviv, her best friends from the media world, and even her family.
Howeveer, her new journey is not smooth and clear of doubts. On the contrary, there's pain and wondrings, brain-beating and constant self-examination that will wake appreciation even in the heart of an irreligious person, who is convinced of the rightness of their ways.
Noah-Yaron's honest and direct speech has a very unique, personal, wild, funny, undecided voice, presenting her hero's inner journey that in all of its glowing landscapes is a constant anticipition for what's beyond...
It's an all right book, that tries to touch on the process of becoming newly religious with some amount of candour and insight. The problem, for me, is that as a person brought up religious, I see quite clearly all the gaps in logic and jumping around for reasons that don't really ever make any sense which the author chooses not to address, or cannot address, or something.
For example, there is a very long, quite frustrating to read, to me, dialogue, between the newly-religious protagonist and an ex-Torah scholar, non-religious now man, who claims she stonewalls him. The chapter ends with her parents being unwittingly impressed, and the man she's arguing with presented in the worst possible light, but the truth is that to me, as a reader, she absolutely does stonewall him, she doesn't make a single cogent argument and, as a straw man for her cause, neither does he. It's all quite ridiculous and sad.
In fact, this lack of insight and obvious writer's bias do permeate any and all things written in the book. It's clearly a record of personal experience, and while the author makes the protagonist's disgust with the life she leads comprehensible and clear to us, she fails to do so with the process of return.
It's all right, though, reads fast, actually has a story, and the language isn't grating, so I don't regret the time I spent on it.
I've always liked books about "born-again Jews", as a part of my general curiosity about somebody going through something so foreign to me (me being an atheist). This one is well-written and kept me intrigued, though I think it falls short in the one place that really matters - explaining the process. How come she suddenly wanted to observe the Sabbath? What took place in those Judaism classes that convinced her to switch camps? She shares her original cynicism with the reader, then shares the eventual joys of becoming orthodox, but the missing link is still missing.
This book is slow moving but it tells a compelling story about a woman that is a TV and radio host, feels a void in her life, and gravitates toward becoming a religious Jew. The plot explores some of the strains of exploring this change and the family dynamics around it. It has a little language and mentions drugs but it is mostly family-friendly.
I guess you could describe this book as "" meets 鈥淎 Time to Rend, A Time to Sew.鈥� Mekimi is an autobiographical novel about an Israeli radio/television star who discovers Breslover Hassidism and turns her life around. It鈥檚 unique in that it鈥檚 written for a secular audience, so that it doesn鈥檛 read like a simplistic, proselytizing Targum-Feldheim novel. Most of the time, anyway.
Alma, an Israeli celebrity leading a self-involved, decadent life that feels increasingly empty to her, meets Ben, who starts out as a housemate and eventually morphs into a boyfriend. The two of them attempt to palliate their disillusionment with drugs, parties, and travel, until Ben鈥檚 good friend drags him to a Breslover lecture. Ben becomes enamored of the Breslover philosophy and its charismatic emissary, Daniel, and eventually succeeds in convincing a reluctant Alma to join him in attending lectures and reading Breslover literature. Ben and Alma gradually embrace the Breslover lifestyle, to the chagrin of Alma鈥檚 friends and parents. Alma鈥檚 parents drag her to meet with an individual who renounced Orthodoxy and now gets paid to deprogram vulnerable individuals who are threatening to adopt that lifestyle, but Alma is not convinced and even manages to impress her parents with her resoluteness. Her parents remain reluctant, but Alma continues down this path, eventually (as we learn at the beginning of the book) marrying and becoming a mother of six.
I had a lot of different reactions to this book. On the most surface level, it鈥檚 easily the most enjoyable Hebrew book I鈥檝e read so far. Reading in Hebrew is usually a chore for me, but this book flowed effortlessly for me and I was actually happy to pick it up. I found myself caught up in Alma鈥檚 story and in her world, and curious about the next steps she would take at different turns. I liked the self-deprecating humor, the interesting characters, the authentic descriptions, the events. I also liked the fact that things were multifaceted and that finding religion and remaining religious were not presented as a simple process but as a complicated back-and-forth.
On the other hand, sometimes it did feel a bit too simplistic for me. In the words of one blogger:
鈥淵aron-Dayan is trying to convince us (that is, the secular among us) that if we become religious we will be happier. The recurring theme in this book is: Judaism is the key to personal happiness. If you feel a void in your life, Judaism will fill it. I do not believe this to be true, neither in practice nor on a theological level. In practice, this is a dangerous approach; although for some people finding Judaism may mean finding happiness, this feeling might be temporary and then the question is, what happens next? If Judaism loses its initial lustre, does that mean we go back, or try a new approach?鈥�
These words expressed what I felt at times as I was reading.
For example, Alma spends a Shabbos with a friend of hers who became a Breslover several years before she did and now has five children. She writes about the peaceful, calm erev Shabbos atmosphere and the idyllic Shabbos table. I鈥檓 not saying that can鈥檛 happen, but the one-dimensionality of that description scared me (and that was where the book crossed over into Targum-Feldheim land for me). Believe it or not, religious people yell at their kids too, even 鈥� especially! 鈥� at the Shabbos table. I was also wondering about this calm couple鈥檚 apparent financial solvency 鈥� having rejected the secular world, how did they earn enough money to support five children and serve meat at the Shabbos table? Didn鈥檛 that question ever occur to Alma? And what about, uh, feminist questions? Hello?
Naturally, issues like this went unaddressed in the book so that while, on the one hand, it was a lot more multidimensional and honest than a Targum-Feldheim book would have been, on the other, many things that could have been developed were glossed over in the apparent interest of presenting the Breslover lifestyle as a panacea. Having said that, I enjoyed reading the book despite these misgivings which is saying a lot.
Reading this book also made me appreciate my ability to read in Hebrew in a new way. It鈥檚 hard to find well-written books I can relate to that address both my Orthodox outlook and my secular experience. For the first time, I realized that having access to Israeli literature increases my opportunities to find books like this. This book was actually a big hit in Israel, and it was fun to be able to talk books with my Hebrew-speaking friends for a change!
This book has great parts which provide a very deep and insightful look at religion, and specifically about Judaism and its practices. This mostly appears in the middle parts of the book. The beginning and the end are what makes this book less than what it could be, as they are a much flatter description of secular / religious lives.