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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 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 So Ora hires her Palestinian cab-driver (her license has been revoked; further evidence of a little mental instability, hmm?), first to drive her and her son to the army base (great move, Ora) and then to pick up her longtime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?