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June 15, 2007
Escape with a good book
Some stories are full of sorrow, but all will entertain readers.
CYNTHIA RAMSAY
There are several books that the Jewish Independent can
recommend for your summer vacation reading this year. They all offer
a light – or not so light – break from your day-to-day
routine and would provide some interesting dinner conversation.
Despite the diversity of these recent publications, a few common
themes run through them. Memory and remembering figure prominently,
as does anti-Semitism. All deal with loss and the rebuilding of
lives after it. Almost every protagonist seeks that elusive thing
for which most of us are looking: security. There is humor, but
some of it is very, very bitter. All in all, the following six books
are definitely representative of literature that is particularly
Jewish.
Experienced writers
Elie Wiesel's The Time of the Uprooted reads like a Chassidic
tale. It tackles almost every issue you can imagine: exile, aging,
belonging, love and hate, God and faith, happiness. It does so through
the story of Gamaliel Friedman, a child survivor of the Holocaust.
Fleeing from Czechoslovakia with his parents, Gamaliel is harbored
temporarily with a Hungarian woman named Ilonka, before he escapes
to Vienna. From there, he goes to Paris and, finally, he ends up
in New York, working as a ghostwriter. It is as an older man that
readers meet Gamaliel, as he looks back at his life – his family,
his experiences during the war, his failed marriage, his poor relationship
with his daughters, the women he has loved. We are also given a
glimpse of the book that Gamaliel is attempting to write, supposedly
for someone else, but it's his story.
Time of the Uprooted is full of thought-provoking ideas and
is a good read. However, the "lessons" that we are to
take away from the book are not delicately presented – the
discussions about language and the use or value of words, for example,
seem out of place, too academic for the rest of the work. A little
more storytelling and a little less teaching would have made Time
of the Uprooted a more fulfilling read.
Another master writer also falls victim – albeit much less
so – to making obvious parallels between his fictional story
and real world events or issues. In the novel All Whom I Have
Loved, Aharon Appelfeld relates the tragedy of nine-year-old
Paul Rosenfeld's life. In the years before the Holocaust, the young
boy's parents get divorced, his mother remarries a non-Jew and then
falls ill with typhus, his father becomes an alcoholic and then
gets shot in a burglary. Paul ends up in an orphanage on June 16,
1938, still hoping that his father will return for him. As Paul
has no idea of the horrible future that awaits him, despite his
prior hardships, neither did the Jews of the time, despite prevalent
anti-Semitism.
There are many references in Appelfeld's book to the Jews of that
era losing their connection to God and forgetting who they are,
as well as to the fact there is "no purity in the world."
It is a moving account and it touches upon a number of compelling
issues, such as Jews' chosenness and the forces that influence an
artist. But, most importantly, it succeeds in telling a story and
you will feel sadness as you read its final pages.
Your feeling when you put down A Pigeon and a Boy by Meir
Shalev will be more ambiguous. A healthy dose of the absurd
makes makes A Pigeon and a Boy a dramedy of sorts, but it
doesn't completely satisfy as either a drama or a comedy.
Centred around two love stories, Shalev's writing style is sometimes
hard to follow, as the main character, Yair, often addresses his
words to his dead mother, in the first person, while other chapters
simply relate what is happening, in the third person. Also, neither
Yair's or his mother's tales of love are particularly endearing
– Yair has an affair with a former childhood friend with whom
he reconnects when she comes to work on his new home, and his mother's
relationship with a pigeon-handler/soldier pushes the boundaries
of belief. That said, the story is original, so, if you're looking
for something different, pick up A Pigeon and a Boy.
Newer author
Another original story is a scathing satire of American society.
A Disorder Peculiar to the Country by Ken Kalfus focuses
on Joyce and Marshall, who are going through an antagonistic and
vindictive divorce. When the World Trade Centre is destroyed and
United Flight 93 crashes on Sept. 11, both think that the other
has been killed – a thought that causes each to smile. Imagine
their disappointment when each manages to escape death.
The rest of Disorder is as disturbingly humorous. Anthrax,
suicide bombers and war in the Middle East provide the backdrop
for the hateful attacks that Joyce and Marshall make on each other,
which also affect their children and the people with whom they are
ostensibly friends. There are the odd moments of human compassion,
but Kalfus pretty much just lets us have it. This book is not for
the easily offended or the faint of heart.
For younger readers
While not specifically targeted for younger readers, Baldwin
Street by Alvin Rakoff reads like it is intended for
kids in their upper teens and, since it's a coming-of-age story,
it would appeal to them more than it would to most adults.
Baldwin Street is a tribute to Toronto's Kensington Market,
a place where Canada's multiculturalism is, even today, fully evident.
Fruit and vegetable stands and other businesses run by recent immigrants
give the area a unique flavor, and Rakoff captures both the good
and the bad that can occur when diverse cultures come together.
Leonard Abelson is the young man whose desire to be a writer allows
him to witness the struggles and dreams of his neighbors in the
1930s. Among others, there is a cross-dressing widow, who keeps
his wife's memory alive by wearing her clothes; a Catholic who wants
the market's businesses to close when he dies, just as they do on
Yom Kippur; and Italian hoodlums who come to Kensington Market to
cause trouble and end up causing a tragedy. Baldwin Street
is full of eclectic characters and situations, and it is a pleasant,
easy read.
More difficult to get through, but better written and more weighty
in tone and topic, is Kanada by Eva Wiseman. It is
for readers aged 10-plus and follows the Hungarian girl Jutka Weltner
from the happy days before the Holocaust, through internment at
Auschwitz, to freedom, where Jews were still not safe from pogroms
and other racism, and many people suffered homelessness, disease
and hunger.
The progression from intermittent anti-Semitic comments, to increasingly
harsh laws against Jews, to life in the concentration camps and
beyond is masterfully portrayed by Wiseman. When Jutka's mother
shrugs off a warning about the horrific treatment that awaits Jews,
it brings a shiver. When, after the war, Jutka is conflicted about
making aliyah with the boy she loves or finding safe haven in Canada
with her only remaining family, the difficulty of the decision is
palpable.
Wiseman doesn't spare young readers the details of what happens
to Jutka, her friends and her family during the Holocaust. This
makes Jutka's survival all the more heart-rending. Kanada
is a powerful novel that truly explores the human spirit.
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