This was a perfect 3-star book -- didn't love it, didn't hate it. The Hebrew was pleasant and relatively quick and painless to read, for the most partThis was a perfect 3-star book -- didn't love it, didn't hate it. The Hebrew was pleasant and relatively quick and painless to read, for the most part. The story itself was not particularly gripping, but it was interesting for its historical value.
The narrator of this apparently autobiographical novel is a boy who emigrates from Egypt to Israel with his family in the early 1950s. He is unaware of the Holocaust and its ramifications until he befriends an adult, Yisrael Moshe Farkash, a Hungarian Holocaust survivor. Farkash describes his experiences to the narrator and finally entrusts him with the prayer book and gemara which stayed with him throughout his difficult passages -- as an orphan in the beginning of the war, apprenticed to an abusive baker, then during his brief experience in the camps, and finally during his harrowing illegal journey to Israel before the War of Independence. The book ends on a sweet, touching note.
Although the story itself wasn't anything amazing, it was interesting to get a feel for 1950s Israel and the motley crew of immigrants and Holocaust survivors who made up Jerusalem's population then. This book is also a good choice for someone who wants to begin reading in Hebrew and feels intimidated. The Hebrew is clear and simple, but the story can be appreciated by an adult....more
Hebrew is not my native language, and reading in Hebrew is usually more of a personal project for me than an act of pleasure. Eshkol Nevo is a possiblHebrew is not my native language, and reading in Hebrew is usually more of a personal project for me than an act of pleasure. Eshkol Nevo is a possible exception. I find his writing pleasant, his stories engaging, and his characters well-developed.
In this book, which reminded me a little of The Death of Vishnu, we read three narratives of characters confessing to deeply personal secrets. These characters are apartment dwellers in the same building whose paths cross occasionally but whose stories are largely separate, connected instead by the gradually evident theme of id, ego, and superego.
This book is provocative on many levels. The confessionals create a great deal of suspense. The characters are flawed but sympathetic notwithstanding. Repeatedly we see how these neighbors are only superficially acquainted with each other and each carries shocking secrets the others would never guess, illustrating the message that you can never really know who someone is or what may be happening in their life.
After enjoying a book in Hebrew, I always have to ask myself -- would I have appreciated this as much in English? How much of my enjoyment is about the book itself, and how much of it is about my excitement that I successfully read a Hebrew book without finding the process overly burdensome? I can't really answer that, but I will definitely be interested in other opinions of this book written by native Hebrew speakers or by those who read it in translation....more
I'm giving this book four stars because it was a 500+ page book in Hebrew, and it managed to maintain my interest despite these two strikes against itI'm giving this book four stars because it was a 500+ page book in Hebrew, and it managed to maintain my interest despite these two strikes against it. With that said, there were some draggy parts and I did start to tire of it at times in the middle and toward the end. On the other hand, the story's themes were interesting and well-executed. So, four stars.
Several story lines converge with multiple viewpoints and timelines, a device about which I tend to be ambivalent. Sometimes it felt as if Nevo was copping out, creating an additional viewpoint here and there as a lazy way of telling us about a character as opposed to simply making the character sufficiently vivid for the reader to draw their own conclusions. But mostly I was able to forgive the many viewpoints.
Basically, this is the story of three individuals. Dori, a man in a loveless marriage with a troubled child who is on a quest to find his aging widowed father, last heard from in South America. Inbar, a young woman who is emotional and impulsive and has trouble keeping jobs and relationships, who also finds herself in South America and ends up helping Dori on his quest. And third, Lili, Inbar's grandmother who came to Israel illegally in prewar times, intending to meet up with her boyfriend but captivated by a charismatic figure she meets on the ship.
The main question of the book is, what do you do if you feel trapped in an imperfect situation? Do you make the best of it? Or do you leave and try to start over with something that seems more promising? That question is explored in two parallel spheres -- relationships, and leaving one homeland to try to create another, better one. Nevo did a great job of balancing storytelling with unpacking this theme.
On the other hand, as I said, the book was long and occasionally draggy. I don't know how much of that to blame on the fact that I was reading it in Hebrew.
Overall, though, this book was a decent choice for someone who, like me, wants to keep up their Hebrew reading. Despite the book's length, the story moved, the characters and relationships were interesting, and the themes were provocative. So far, after three books, Nevo is keeping his position as my favorite Israeli author....more
This was a challenging Hebrew read for me, and I suspect I would have appreciated it more in English. There were moments where I was able to appreciatThis was a challenging Hebrew read for me, and I suspect I would have appreciated it more in English. There were moments where I was able to appreciate the beautiful writing, but more often I felt like I was struggling to get through it. This was a long, highly detailed, circuitous memoir, and perhaps not the best choice for reading in my second language.
With that said, I certainly couldn't give this fewer than three stars. Aside from the beauty of the writing, the wealth of detail offered a real sense of place, a plus for someone like me who loves reading about Israel. Oz makes you feel like you actually know the characters populating his memoir, and know what people were thinking about and talking about and doing in pre-independence and newly independent Israel. You get a sense of who his parents were, and although I don't know if anyone could truly understand what led up to Oz's mother's suicide when Oz was 12, Oz gives you enough description to make you feel as if you're living it and watching it alongside him.
Unfortunately, as a rather anal reader I tend to have trouble with non-linear books and this book was particularly disjointed for me. Oz goes back and forth in time a lot, including a great deal of space devoted to the minute details of his grandparents' pre-Israel existence, going so far as to digress lengthily into the lives of the grandparents' neighbors in Europe and leaving me wondering who or what this book was actually about. 400 pages later I no longer had that problem, but at the time it felt like a long and perhaps unnecessary detour. There were other distracting detours along the way, all the harder for me because I was reading in Hebrew. One of the challenges of reading Hebrew for me is that it's harder for me to skim, and whereas in English I could kind of blow off sections of a book that seem unimportant and still enjoy the book overall, in Hebrew it's easy for me to feel bogged down and frustrated. That's not Oz's fault, of course, but it did detract from my reading experience.
So overall, I can't really tell you whether I would recommend reading this book in English but I wouldn't suggest reading it in Hebrew unless your Hebrew reading level and/or patience for a detailed, circuitous narrative exceeds mine. While I appreciated many aspects of this book, I must admit I'm happy to be done with it....more
I actually think I would have enjoyed this book even if I'd read it in English, although in Hebrew there's always that added factor of yay, me! I readI actually think I would have enjoyed this book even if I'd read it in English, although in Hebrew there's always that added factor of yay, me! I read a full-length book in Hebrew and enjoyed it! That must mean it's a great book!
Yair Lapid writes this biography of his father, Tomi Lapid, as if it is actually Tomi himself writing his memoir. It's gimmicky but the gimmick works here. I kept forgetting that it was Yair writing, not Tomi. I was amazed at the level of detail and the apparent authenticity of the voice. The book was also written in a very engaging manner, opening practically every chapter with an attention-grabbing anecdote or provocative musing.
In a sense, the story of Tomi's life is entwined with that of Israeli Jewry. The book describes Tomi's innocent childhood in prewar Europe, his harrowing Holocaust experiences, and his ending up in the new state of Israel in 1948. Seventeen-year-old Tomi goes to the army, learns the language, becomes a journalist, works with Rudolph Kastner, follows the Eichmann trial, and eventually gets involved in politics. As Tomi's career develops, so does the state of Israel. Every relevant historical event in Israel impacts on Tomi, and eventually Tomi's political involvement reciprocates in kind.
Tomi was a very interesting character -- larger than life, hedonistic but also cultured, strongly Jewish and just as strongly anti-religious, with his own strong opinions and no fear of defending them. His story occasionally dragged but almost always remained interesting, and he was rendered as someone I might have enjoyed meeting despite some very different life philosophies. Definitely recommended to anyone who enjoys reading books about Israel....more
I barely remember this, which is only partially a function of moving distractions. It was hard to get through, as there was no narrative arc. It felt I barely remember this, which is only partially a function of moving distractions. It was hard to get through, as there was no narrative arc. It felt like a stream of rambling about the author's experience fighting in the Independence War, and his current bitterness and cynicism about the whole thing. I don't know if I would have enjoyed it in English, but in Hebrew it was torture....more
This apparently autobiographical novel stars Inbal, a young mother whose second child exhibits mysterious developmental delays. Inbal is initially in This apparently autobiographical novel stars Inbal, a young mother whose second child exhibits mysterious developmental delays. Inbal is initially in denial, followed by a brief period of the child's apparent remission from the symptoms, followed by deterioration in the child and the desperate search for a diagnosis and the right therapy. The novel chronicles the resulting stress on Inbal's relationship with her husband, gross mismanagement of the case by professionals (which I didn't find entirely believable), Inbal's efforts amidst all this to start a business, Inbal's feisty mother's interventions, , etc., etc.
As usual, I'm not sure how I would have felt about this novel if Hebrew were my native language or if I had read it in English. As someone reading in their second language, though, I can say that I found the book surprisingly readable. For once I actually found myself pushing off my English reading so I could finish the installments in this book, a complete reversal of my usual pattern. Although I felt ambivalent about Inbal as a character I was continually curious about what was going to happen to her next.
There were a few plot holes, which may simply be a function of my skimming over difficult Hebrew words. I didn't always understand or empathize with Inbal's choices, and some of the other events were hard for me to believe. Despite this, and despite the length, and despite my reading it in Hebrew, my interest was maintained pretty much throughout. I don't know if I'd recommend it as a first book for someone who wants to try reading in Hebrew, but it might work as a third or fourth. ...more
In all fairness, I probably would have given this a higher rating had I read it in English. And I feel pretty bad giving it just one star -- a soldierIn all fairness, I probably would have given this a higher rating had I read it in English. And I feel pretty bad giving it just one star -- a soldier fights in the Yom Kippur War and loses his best friend to enemy fire but not his religious faith. It should be inspiring and close to my heart, right?
Alas, I found the story (such as it was) extremely hard to follow, jumping back and forth around the timeline, mixing various narratives of various soldiers, interspersing things that happened to the author as they were happening during the war with experiences told in flashback from before the war, with a home visit during one of his leaves, with things the author told to a team of soldiers debriefing him after the fact as well as things the author's fellow soldiers told to this team about their own experiences, etc. It seemed less a story than a loose, not particularly organized collection of stream-of-consciousness memories and religious musings from the front lines. Call me anal, but I really needed a beginning, middle, and end.
So even though this was rather short and should have been inspiring, I found reading it to be a chore and couldn't wait to be done. I love my Hebrew book club; I just wish I liked the books more....more
I remember when I saw "Life is Beautiful" in a small movie theater in upstate New York. The film was in Italian with subtitles which I always find a bI remember when I saw "Life is Beautiful" in a small movie theater in upstate New York. The film was in Italian with subtitles which I always find a bit distancing, especially when it comes to humorous moments. That didn't stop the audience from laughing uproariously, though, even when some of the jokes seemed a bit lame, and my cynical side wondered how much of the audience's laughter resulted from the actual humor quotient vs. how much of it came from the sense of superiority that might come from being able to say you enjoyed a foreign film. That speculation comes back to me on those rare occasions when I actually enjoy a book in Hebrew -- was it really a great book, or was I simply excited about my ability to read something in a foreign language and not find it arduous?
Be that as it may, I actually enjoyed reading this book. Some of my enjoyment was curiosity. Living in Jerusalem, I experience a great deal of discussion about the Arab-Israeli conflict but know next to nothing about the day-to-day experience of Arabs living in Israel. This was a novel, of course, and merely reflects an invented experience of imaginary people, but it was still interesting to get Sayed Kashua's perspective.
What's more, the story actually moved and kept my interest. One subplot was much more engaging and believable than the other, but I never minded picking up the book. "Guf Sheni Yahid" is about two Arabs living in Jerusalem; a lawyer who suspects his wife is cheating on him and becomes obsessed with unmasking the alleged culprit, and a caregiver for an incapacitated Israeli boy who ends up stealing his identity and reinventing himself. The two plots end up coming together in an interesting way, although I didn't quite get the ending.
I don't know whether I would have enjoyed this as much in English, but it certainly felt good to move easily through a book in Hebrew. Sayed Kashua must be a pretty interesting guy -- I would love to learn more about his life....more
In Parshat Gavriel Tirosh, a historical novel of pre-independence Israel, Gavriel Tirosh is a larger-than-life young history teacher for a class of elIn Parshat Gavriel Tirosh, a historical novel of pre-independence Israel, Gavriel Tirosh is a larger-than-life young history teacher for a class of eleventh graders. Gavriel recruits a select few of his eleventh grade students to join the cause of winning Israel’s independence by fighting the local Arabs and making life difficult for the ruling British. The story’s nameless narrator is one of these recruits, a bit less war-like and more reluctant than his cohorts. His reluctance is shared by the only female recruit, Ayah, on whom the narrator has a deep and abiding unrequited crush. Ayah, for her part, has a deep and abiding unrequited crush on Gavriel which is what keeps her in the group despite her own misgivings.
The historical context of the story was quite interesting to me. Unfortunately, the story itself fell flat. I don’t know how much of this to blame on the Hebrew (which was a bit more difficult than in some of the other Hebrew books I’ve been reading) as opposed to the actual quality of the writing, but I felt distanced from the characters and their conflicts. While I understood intellectually what the narrator was going through and how hard it was, I had difficulty feeling it and empathizing with it.
I couldn’t really understand Ayah’s appeal to the narrator other than her apparent beauty, and why he would continue loving her so deeply when it becomes increasingly obvious that she views him as a friend and nothing more. My friends in the Hebrew book club claimed that this was developmentally consistent with being 16 years old and maybe it was. That might be why I’m really not a YA reader. My patience for this kind of dead-end, unrequited hopeless love as a major plot point is limited, especially when the relationship itself just doesn’t seem all that deep or complex.
While I did feel more empathetic with the narrator’s reluctance about participating in the group’s guerilla warfare activities, I still didn’t find that this dilemma touched me as deeply as it might have. I also thought that the character of Gavriel and the students� relationship with him could have been fleshed out more fully and complexly. The concept of the charismatic teacher dazzling his students and having a disproportionate influence on them can be fascinating; in the story, though, it just kind of happened and everyone went along with it. The issue remained more or less unexamined; the focus was mainly on the group’s activities and on the narrator’s undying love for Ayah.
I will say that this was definitely an improvement over many of the other plotless wonders we’ve had to read for the Hebrew book club in that there was actually a story here, even if the story wasn’t particularly compelling in its own right. ...more
Amazing how Mira Magen could take such an interesting premise and turn it into something so incredibly boring. The book opens with an answering machinAmazing how Mira Magen could take such an interesting premise and turn it into something so incredibly boring. The book opens with an answering machine message left for Dr. Uriah Adam. His mother, Eva, who abandoned Uriah 25 years ago when he was 10 and disappeared without a trace, is arriving at the airport in three days and would like to see him.
Well, here’s a story with potential. Alas, the potential is largely unrealized because instead of focusing on the actual meeting, Mira Magen spends 250 out of 290 pages trying unsuccessfully to build up to this meeting. This might have worked in the hands of a better author, but Mira’s attempts at raising the tension are sorely misguided. We are treated to a variety of scenes from Uriah’s life, past and present, none of which are particularly interesting or enhance the story in any way.
Uriah remembers Eva’s inconsistency and self-centeredness as a mother. Big surprise. How many anecdotes from Uriah’s childhood do we need to tell us she’s unreliable? Doesn’t her abandoning her ten-year-old tell us that, loudly and clearly? Yeah, and she promised him a “krembo� (like an Israeli éclair) and she forgot. Yeah, and she left him unsupervised in the street to be beaten up by some older boys as she went to sleep with her guy of the moment. Yeah, and she gave him a broken glass butterfly and told him that if he wanted it badly enough, it would fix itself. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We got the picture. Actually, we already had the picture and didn’t need pages upon pages of these tales.
In the present, Uriah is dating Eliana, a successful neurosurgeon, but is having difficulty committing to her and finds himself oddly attracted to Iris, a would-be singer who works at her father’s hardware store. Iris is clearly Betty to Eliana’s Veronica, and that’s about all I can say. Neither woman appears to have much personality outside of fulfilling her stereotypical role. But that doesn’t stop Mira from having Uriah interact repeatedly with each woman (amazing how he managed to have all these interactions with them in the course of three working days). And more than the interactions themselves, we are treated to Uriah’s stream-of-consciousness musings about his feelings toward Eliana and his reluctance to give her the commitment she wants. Enough thinking � do something already!
More of the 250 pages before the actual meeting are taken up with Uriah’s past and present interactions with Mama Ruth, the grandmother who raised him and is now ailing in a nursing home, unable to speak. There’s also Uriah’s first cousin Dafi, a woman two years his junior, married with kids, who appears to have some kind of sexual tension with Uriah but nothing really happens. And finally, there’s Uriah’s patient, Yonatan, a teenage boy with a brain tumor, in case we needed more pathos.
Once again, this is a situation � not a story. Way too much banal detail, way too much backstory, way too much exposition, not nearly enough dialogue or movement or actual delivery on the promise of the first page. The story finally began on page 250, when he met his mother, and ended on p. 294, but even that section didn’t offer much in the way of surprises or action. Not worth reading, in my opinion, and definitely not worth reading in a foreign language. ...more
Note to Israeli authors (or at least the ones my Hebrew book club leader keeps choosing): A premise, no matter how strange or far-reaching, does not eNote to Israeli authors (or at least the ones my Hebrew book club leader keeps choosing): A premise, no matter how strange or far-reaching, does not equal a plot. And while I’d love to be one of those lofty, intellectual, postmodern readers who truly believe that novels don’t need plots, I’m just not.
I appreciate great writing. I appreciate characterization. I can even appreciate occasional mini-digressions into charming anecdotes that don’t necessarily move the story along. But at the end of the day, this reader needs a plot. It doesn’t have to be Grisham, but I just don’t do these slice-of-life, nothing-really-happens-but-isn’t-it-meaningful-for-hundreds-of-pages things. Especially not in Hebrew.
Keyamim Achadim indeed has an odd premise: Zaideh (Yiddish for grandfather) is the unfortunate name of the young son of the now-deceased Yehudit. Zaideh’s actual father is unknown, but three candidates all claim parentage, just as they once vied for Yehudit’s affections. Bachelor #1 is Moshe Rabinovich, the tragic Kibbutz farmer who lost his beloved wife early in life and hires Yehudit to help him on the farm and care for his two young children. Bachelor #2, Globerman, is a coarse meat merchant who pursues Yehudit craftily and doggedly. Finally, bachelor #3 is Yaakov Sheinfeld, an idiot canary-raiser so wholly besotted by Yehudit that he immediately forgets he’s married and pursues Yehudit shamelessly, in a series of exhibitionistic antics worthy of a third grader in the throes of a major crush.
And that’s the premise. Plot? There is none! The book is structured in four sections, meals to which Yaakov invites the now motherless (and father-heavy) Zaideh. During these meals, Yaakov talks Zaideh’s ear off (consecutive uninterrupted paragraphs of dialogue, or should I say monologue, seem to be another Israeli literary trademark), sharing information about his love for Yehudit as well as detailed and often trivial episodes in the lives of Zaideh’s three fathers and other characters in their village, and waxing philosophical about love and life in general. For 334 freakin� pages. In Hebrew.
I know, I have to stop whining. No one forces me to participate in this book club and read these Hebrew books. And I believe my Hebrew is improving, even if my attitude isn't. But I've learned two things from this experience: 1) reading books in the original language (if it's not your language) is highly overrated; 2) if you insist on reading in a foreign language, make sure the book has a fast-paced plot. ...more
Boy -- the Hebrew book club is such a good idea in theory. Why are so many of the books so awful? At least this time, even our book club leader agreedBoy -- the Hebrew book club is such a good idea in theory. Why are so many of the books so awful? At least this time, even our book club leader agreed that this one wasn't worth the time. The only good thing I have to say is that the short story format made pacing my reading easier so that the effort was slightly less torturous than it otherwise would have been....more
Note: We deliberately refrained from using the word “guidelines� because that would constitute an arbitraThinking Questions for Post-Modern Novelists:
Note: We deliberately refrained from using the word “guidelines� because that would constitute an arbitrary imposition of our reality on that of the author.
1. Why write a story with a beginning, middle, and end when you can write a story with 10,000 middles instead?
2. Why choose one viewpoint or switch viewpoints in a structured manner when you can randomly float out of one character’s head and into another’s and really confuse your reader about whose story this is?
3. Why organize the events in your story chronologically or logically when you can organize them thematically according to a structure that makes sense only to you?
4. Can there ever be too many coincidences? After all, reality is what we make it.
5. Since reality is what we make it, why tell the reader what’s really going on when you can keep them guessing instead about whether what they’re reading is the actual story or whether it’s just some character’s speculation/fantasy?
6. Why the heck would anyone want to read a book like this?
Okay, maybe I’m being a bit harsh in taking all my postmodernism wrath out on this one poor book, which doesn't entirely deserve all of this. And in fact, some of the things that got on my nerves about the book weren’t even its postmodern qualities necessarily.
But first I’ll backtrack with a short summary.
Zizi (a really stupid nickname if you ask me; the kid’s actual name is Raz), a ten-year-old Israeli boy, is living in Boston for the year as his mother engages in some kind of postdoctoral law research at Harvard. With the obvious exception of Zizi’s self-involved mother, Shuli/Susie, who seems to wish she could just leave them all behind and pursue her academic dreams, none of them seems particularly happy to be there � not his long-suffering father, Yaaki, who continually tries to accommodate “Shuzi� (as he jokingly calls her in mockery of her pretenses) but can’t help being too much of a politically incorrect Israeli for her; not his little sister Shai, perpetually glued to the television in the absence of parents who might try to engage her or stimulate her; and certainly not Zizi himself, who cultivates an active fantasy life as a means of coping with his loneliness and his difficult adjustment.
In Zizi’s fantasy life, which comprises a great deal of the first half of the book, there’s actually a meaning and purpose to his being uprooted from all he knows and loves and having to adjust to freezing winters and “food that tastes like plastic� (if you’ve ever tasted spicy Israeli cuisine and the fresh produce here, I think you’ll have to admit that Zizi has a point) as his parents become increasingly estranged from each other and detached from their children. Zizi’s fantasy involves his upstairs neighbor, Mr. Freund, who remains closeted in his house. Several ambiguous clues suggest, at least to Zizi’s mind, that Mr. Freund is actually an Israeli spy and that Zizi has a secret mission to assist him � to the point where Zizi actually knocks on this eccentric neighbor’s door and offers his services.
Of course, Mr. Freund’s real secret eventually unfolds (after he slams the door on Zizi’s garbled attempt to express his knowledge of Mr. Freund’s hidden activities) and turns out to be rather different, though no less dramatic in its own way. Unfortunately, this gradual revelation is preceded by an extremely slow and only marginally interesting build-up. And as the pieces of the mystery begin to come together, the narrative becomes increasingly post-modern and disjointed which, in case you haven’t guessed, is really not my thing.
This book did have some good points, and was readable despite its being in Hebrew which is already saying something. I felt Zizi’s pain at both his own difficulty adjusting socially and his parents� marital tension and benign neglect of their children; yet with all this pain there was some comic relief. I also give Tolub credit for getting the mind of a ten-year-old down pretty well, at least in terms of imagining oneself as part of a melodrama of grand proportions as opposed to simply an everyday kid. If I remember correctly, that’s very much the age where you’re convinced that you were switched at birth with some royal figure or, as in Zizi’s case, that your mysterious neighbor is really a spy. I also think, though, that even at ten, there’s a part of you that knows when your fantasies are really just fantasies no matter how badly you want to believe them. I’m not sure why that didn’t happen for Zizi, who is otherwise depicted as quite bright. It’s one thing to convince yourself that your neighbor is really a spy. It’s another thing to knock on his door and actually offer your services to him as an assistant spy when the entire body of evidence for his secret career exists inside your head, and surely some part of you knows that even if you’re dying to believe otherwise.
Then, there were some other things that got on my nerves.
First of all, this book used that same old postmodern device which is starting to become a cliché � a curious (and often bored and/or emotionally neglected) child uncovers what might be half-clues of some drama and totally misconstrues them, but eventually the pieces come together and what started out as a child trying to make mountains out of several random molehills proves to be a far-reaching, dramatic, and poignant story with a life of its own. Yeah, yeah. I read "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close," I read "History of Love," didn’t love either of them and wasn’t interested in revisiting the theme.
And really, who wants to read about a ten-year-old anyway? Even though (or maybe because) Tolub did a better job than most of depicting a developmentally authentic ten-year-old, I’d still rather read a story written from an adult perspective (with a few notable exceptions like “To Kill a Mockingbird� or “Catcher in the Rye,� but this book wasn’t one of them). Of course, there were those times when Tolub suddenly shifted briefly to the perspective of one of Zizi’s parents. Rather than enhancing the book for me, though, those moments detracted by confusing me and making me feel less emotionally involved with Zizi. I’m really not into multiple perspectives as a rule.
I also got annoyed with the constant Hebrew transliteration of English/English transliteration of Hebrew shifting. I understood what Tolub was trying to do by showing us how the main character was hearing the Americans� English as well as their attempts to speak Hebrew, and it was actually pretty clever and creative (when he used English transliteration to depict Americans speaking in Hebrew, for example, you could actually hear the accent in your head), but after a while it was overdone and irritating.
What’s more, I don’t need a pageturner necessarily, but I do need a more balanced contemplation:action ratio than this book offered. I really don’t like it when authors feel they need to have us follow every detail of every single train of thought in their characters� heads, no matter how trivial. I honestly don’t think that every single one of anyone’s thoughts are interesting, even my own (my lengthy goodreads reviews notwithstanding!), and if someone were writing Khaya: The Novel, I hope they would be far more selective about including only the streams of consciousness served plot/characterization purposes and omitting those which were just plain boring.
Finally, I totally didn’t get the ending. How the heck did that happen? I actually e-mailed my Hebrew book club members to request an explanation, since I’ll be missing our meeting. Which, to tell the truth, does speak well for the book in spite of all my other complaints � the fact that I bothered to finish it even though I’ll be missing the meeting in the end, and my actual interest in understanding the ending as opposed to simply slamming the book shut and wishing it good riddance. Hence the two stars. ...more
I guess you could describe this book as "Eat Pray Love" meets “A Time to Rend, A Time to Sew.� Mekimi is an autobiographical novel about an Israeli raI guess you could describe this book as "Eat Pray Love" meets “A Time to Rend, A Time to Sew.� Mekimi is an autobiographical novel about an Israeli radio/television star who discovers Breslover Hassidism and turns her life around. It’s unique in that it’s written for a secular audience, so that it doesn’t 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’s 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’s friends and parents. Alma’s 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’s easily the most enjoyable Hebrew book I’ve 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’s 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:
“Yaron-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?�
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’m not saying that can’t 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 � especially! � at the Shabbos table. I was also wondering about this calm couple’s apparent financial solvency � having rejected the secular world, how did they earn enough money to support five children and serve meat at the Shabbos table? Didn’t 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’s 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! ...more
As I keep saying, reading in Hebrew tends to skew my ratings. If I enjoy the book at all, I tend to rate it higher because I'm excited that I liked a As I keep saying, reading in Hebrew tends to skew my ratings. If I enjoy the book at all, I tend to rate it higher because I'm excited that I liked a book in a foreign language. If I didn't like the book, I feel angry and resentful at having had to slog through it in a foreign language and probably rate it lower than I otherwise would. Here, this book probably deserved a 3.5-star rating, but I rounded up.
Some of the earlier stories in the book seemed more facile and obvious. A mother visiting her son overseas is disappointed to realize (finally) that he won't be fulfilling her dreams for him, but is won over by his adorable stepson. How touching. I don't mean to be so cynical, but I just felt that it was Disney movieish and unsophisticated. On the other hand, some of the stories were fascinatingly complex and multi-layered which redeemed the book for me, even though I actually wasn't crazy about one of the more complicated stories.
The stories did pull me in, though. I guess with short stories, there isn't enough time to get all elaborate and detailed about setting the stage which is what some of the Hebrew novels were like. In that sense, short stories were a good choice for reading in a foreign language -- the action had to start right away, and the author got to the point quickly. I didn't mind reading the book, which is saying a lot for Hebrew -- hence the generous rating....more
In Isha Borachat mi-Besorah, a story in the present is used as an excuse to tell a related story about the past. Unfortunately, neither story is partiIn Isha Borachat mi-Besorah, a story in the present is used as an excuse to tell a related story about the past. Unfortunately, neither story is particularly interesting and both are overloaded with superfluous details that make you feel like you’re wading through mud. Although I probably resented the excess detail all the more because I was reading this in Hebrew, I doubt I would have felt more positively had I read this in English.
Present story: Ora’s younger son, Ofer, has just been released from the Israeli army and she was looking forward to spending some time with him. Unfortunately, war has broken out in Israel and, without consulting Ora or taking her feelings into account, Ofer has reenlisted in the army with a callous “Sorry, Mom!� kind of attitude. Ora, overcome with hysteria, decides to run away from home lest she receive bad news about Ofer. She figures, if she’s not home, she won’t get the news. Yeah. Fifty-year-old woman here. I hate to minimize the real pain and fear for the mother of a soldier, but I think this reaction is a little, uh, random, considering she’s already had two sons in the army. But okay. So Ora hires her Palestinian cab-driver (her license has been revoked; further evidence of a little mental instability, hmm?), first to drive her and her son to the army base (great move, Ora) and then to pick up her longtime friend, Avram, so she can drag him on an endless hike, destination unknown. Avram, who has issues of his own, somehow agrees to accompany Ora on this spontaneous many-day jaunt down the length of Israel during which Ora regales him (and us) endlessly with heavily detailed stories of her married life with Ilan and the childhoods of her older son Adam and of Ofer in particular (Ofer is actually Avram’s son � we’ll get to that). Ora figures, as long as I’m telling Avram about Ofer, I’m keeping Ofer alive. Yeah. Whatever. I guess Grossman felt, as long as I’m adding even more details about Ofer’s toilet training, I’m making money.
Past story: Ora, Avram, and Ora’s estranged husband Ilan first met in a hospital at sixteen during the Six Day War, when all three of them were deathly ill. A very intense friendship formed between Ora and Avram with some romantic overtones, although Ora was admittedly put off by Avram’s short stature and apparently not-so-great looks. Avram also began a close friendship with Ilan, whom Ora found far more attractive although Avram was clearly more attentive to Ora’s emotional needs. A few years later, when Ora, Ilan, and Avram were all doing their army service, the three-way friendship became extremely intense with Ora becoming Ilan’s lover, then switching to be Avram’s lover, and finally choosing Ilan over Avram. And this seems to be okay with both Ilan and Avram, who are the deepest of friends in their own right. O-kay. Then, Ilan and Avram called Ora and asked her to perform some kind of a lottery between them for an unknown purpose. Ora drew Avram’s name, and thus unwittingly chose Avram as the one to participate in a dangerous Israeli intelligence operation in Egypt during the Yom Kippur War. Avram is captured and tortured and eventually returned to Israel, physically and emotionally damaged. Avram has no family, and Ora and Ilan (who are married by this time) assume full responsibility for nursing him back to health. During this time, Ora conceives and gives birth to Adam, and Ilan, overcome with survivor’s guilt re. Avram, leaves Ora and Adam for a few years. After his release from the hospital, Avram lives a broken life but finally returns to some semblance of normalcy when Ora seduces him. Yup. Sure enough, Ora conceives Ofer during this encounter and Avram refuses to acknowledge having fathered a child. Ilan then returns to pregnant Ora and toddler Adam with the full knowledge of what happened, so that he can raise Ofer as his own. Avram makes Ora and Ilan swear not to reveal the truth of Ofer’s parentage to anyone, including Ofer, and then disappears from their lives for many years. He eventually reconnects with Ora but wants to hear nothing about Ofer. Until they take this bizarre trip together, where Ora basically talks ad nauseum about Ofer and about her family life in general up to that point and Avram has no choice but to listen.
Now take this really weird premise that’s hard to connect to (and characters who are really hard to understand or empathize with) and overload it with tons of boring, irrelevant details. This is how Ofer learned to crawl (full-blown description). This is how Ofer reacted when he discovered where meat comes from as a kid (full-blown description). This is what happened when Ofer broke up with his girlfriend (full-blown description). And the present story too � Ora and Avram are hiking. They meet a pack of dogs (whole anecdote with the dogs, and one who gets attached to them, and then gets lost, and then somehow finds them again). They meet a fringe religious leader and his constituents (whole boring adventure with the religious leader which doesn’t move the plot along on any level). Ora writes the following in her notebook (more detailed passages about Ofer’s childhood, all spelled out for us). Ora loses her notebook. Someone else finds it, and starts writing his own detailed crap in there (again, all written out in the book for us to read, even though this character is completely marginal). Then Ora finds the notebook again. Yawn. Sigh. How many pages left?
This book, if it had to happen at all (and I question that, seeing as I personally was not grabbed by any aspect of the story), certainly did not need to be 630 pages long. We could have been spared many of the detailed descriptions, particularly in Ora’s monologue. Just because she loves her son and is enamored of sharing every detail of his existence doesn’t mean the reader wants to read about all of it. I was reminded of “A Death in the Family� by James Agee, where an entire dialogue is repeated for the deaf grandmother, and we are treated to the full repetition. Why couldn’t Agee just write, “So they repeated everything for the deaf grandmother� and move on with the story? Here’s a term I got from another goodreads review (a popular review of “Twilight,� incidentally) � summary narrative. A good author knows when to supply details, and when to simply summarize what happened and move on. I felt this way here too. Okay, I get it � Ora loves her son and talking about him to poor, long-suffering Avram (who basically just listens the whole time) is therapeutic for her, and makes her feel like she’s keeping him alive in some cosmic way. So just say that, and move on! If I were in the presence of someone who talked endlessly and in full detail about trivial episodes in her child’s life, I would be incredibly bored and irritated (unless the context were professional, of course). So why would I want to read a whole incredibly long book like that? In difficult Hebrew? ...more
This was definitely my least painful Hebrew reading experience since I joined my Hebrew book club about a year ago. I actually didn't mind picking thiThis was definitely my least painful Hebrew reading experience since I joined my Hebrew book club about a year ago. I actually didn't mind picking this one up, and might even go so far as to say that I enjoyed reading it. I still have my same old questions about whether reading in my second language is making me more critical or less critical of my experience than I would be in English. But if you want to try reading in a second language, a mystery is an excellent choice....more
It's always difficult to separate the actual experience of reading a book from the experience of reading it in a foreign language. When we read "Sho'aIt's always difficult to separate the actual experience of reading a book from the experience of reading it in a foreign language. When we read "Sho'ah Shelanu," I kept wondering whether I would have liked it better in English. In this case, I had the opposite question -- would I have been able to rate it more objectively, and therefore more critically, had I read it in English?
The premise was interesting -- a 36-year-old single woman decides to have a child, and later becomes romantically involved with a man and has to decide whether or not to let him into her life and to divide her emotions between him and her child. In certain ways it read like your basic romance novel, but the scenario wasn't exactly typical and the conflict was thought-provoking.
I gave this book four stars mainly because this is the first book I've read in Hebrew that I actually found readable and didn't dread picking up. The story moved, and the reading was easy without being facile or stupid. On the other hand, I can't honestly say whether the quality of this book was much better than your average romance novel. Parts of it were pretty undeveloped, and had I been reading it in English, I might have found it superficial and been able to critique it more.
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