The past is very much alive

CYNTHIA RAMSAY

Every work of fiction reviewed by the Independent this Rosh Hashanah does what a good novel is supposed to do: transport readers to a different time or place, offering an experience beyond their day-to-day existence, which provides an escape from reality and, perhaps, a broader perspective on life.

Two page turners

Kate Taylor’s A Man in Uniform (Doubleday Canada) is a fascinating fictional account of efforts to free French Capt. Alfred Dreyfus, who was wrongfully imprisoned for spying for Germany in 1894, mainly, if not only, because he was Jewish. Soon after his conviction, evidence became public that another officer was the actual traitor but France’s military held fast to its judgment and attempted to cover up its error. It was only after several years that Dreyfus was finally released from prison.

Leading the search for truth in Taylor’s novel is lawyer François Dubon, an unlikely hero who enjoys the predictability he has managed to achieve in his life. After a brief prologue, in which we are introduced to Dreyfus and the horrible conditions in which he is being held captive, we meet Dubon and his mistress, Madeleine, in a moment of intimacy that ends quickly, as he lets “his eye come to rest, ever so casually, on the ornate gilt clock that sat atop the dresser.” It’s time to head home, as “Maître Dubon’s day was a well-ordered thing. It’s final goal, which the lawyer achieved without fail, was a seven-thirty dinner hour during which he shared a light meal with his wife, Geneviève, and his son, André. He also breakfasted with them at seven, and most days joined them for a large lunch at eleven, for he thought of himself as a family man, and considered it his duty to eat three meals a day in the company of his wife and son, a duty he executed with affection.”

It’s wonderfully fun then, when a mysterious woman shows up at Dubon’s office and convinces him – his attraction to her outweighing his complacency – to take on Dreyfus’ case, i.e. to find the real spy. In order to do this, he must take risks he normally wouldn’t think twice about avoiding and his excitement and fear are tangible. In his youth, he was an activist and his Dreyfus investigations connect him once more with those emotions and values. And this is the aspect that makes Taylor’s novel more than just a thriller.

In the press material for A Man in Uniform, Taylor says that she never intended on writing a political novel but, as she was writing it, “stories began to appear in the newspapers about the plight of terrorism suspects held without charges at Guantanamo or deported to countries that practise torture.” She concludes, “The lessons in human rights and political responsibility that the Dreyfus Affair can still teach proved inescapable. I discovered that I was writing a contemporary novel despite myself.”

Similar themes of political responsibility run through Noah S. Friedland’s fast-paced A House Divided (CreateSpace). Friedland takes on the Israel Defence Forces, but the disturbing scenes he so vividly describes could have occurred in any country’s military, with the result that the book is more a critique of military life, rather than of Israel’s army in particular. Overwhelming any political commentary, however, is the complex and intriguing storyline, which seems like it could be reflective of Friedland’s own experiences, as his author description bears a resemblance to the description of his protagonist, Jonathan Geller.

In A House Divided, Geller is an America-born Jew who made aliyah with his family as a child, but left Israel after a horrific incident that happened when he was a soldier. After living in Seattle for some 10 years and working as an assistant professor of computer science at the University of Washington, Geller must return to Israel for the funeral of his younger brother, who was killed in an “accident” while on duty. There, Geller must not only confront his dysfunctional family, but discover the truth about what happened to his brother – and risk his life doing so.

At times, there is so much going on in A House Divided that it’s difficult to follow, and the descriptions are sometimes overwritten, thereby slowing down the plot development. In the latter case, for example, does it really matter what brand of sunglasses people wear or what types of cars are passing others on the road or what an alleyway that Geller never enters looks like? In the former case, while some of the confusion is purposeful, since Friedland doesn’t want to reveal who the good and bad guys are till the end, it is a little too confusing on occasion. During Geller’s climactic run for his life, for example, who’s shooting at whom and from where the shooters are coming is often not clear; then again, this could add to the anticipation for some readers as to whether Geller will prevail, and perhaps serves to reflect Geller’s state of mind, as he himself doesn’t know who’s after him or from where the next bullet will come.

Minor criticisms aside, Friedland has written a great book that manages to entertain – and would adapt well to film – while also alerting readers to some of the challenging issues that Israel is facing, and the divisions that exist in the country among people who truly believe that what they want for Israel is best for Israel.

Novels about living

Girl Unwrapped (Arsenal Pulp Press) is a coming-of-age story by Gabriella Goliger. Adding complexity, emotional depth and interest to a common theme is that Goliger’s book focuses on the daughter of Holocaust survivors as she tries to accept the fact that she’s a lesbian, and that the novel takes place in 1960s Montreal.

In an interview that appears on Rob McClennan’s blog, Goliger explains that the main question in Girl Unwrapped is “how does one maintain a healthy tie to family, community and tradition, while growing into one’s independent self?” And that really does sum it up.

Girl Unwrapped is divided into five parts, each section following Toni Goldblatt’s evolution, from her first crush in elementary school, upon which she never really acts, to an attraction that she follows through to its conclusion, with cringingly disastrous results, to her eventual self-acceptance. Along the way, Toni’s relationship with her parents, especially her mother, is developed with sensitivity and honesty.

Some clichés make their way into Goliger’s first novel, such as Toni being a tomboy, but overall, Goliger has written a book well worth reading.

Into the Wilderness (White River Press) by Deborah Lee Luskin is a less complex and lighter read, but also enjoyable, and it introduces readers to an under-explored topic: older people in love.

“In 1964, Rose Mayer buries her second husband and wonders what she is going to do with the rest of her life,” begins the synopsis. Rose’s son, Manny, invites her to his home in Vermont, where he lives with his wife and kids, and it’s obvious he wants Rose there mainly as a babysitter. Nonetheless, after some cajoling, Rose accepts Manny’s invitation and, to her surprise – and that of her son – she meets and falls in love with Percy Mendell, described as “a born and bred Vermonter who has never married, never voted for a Democrat and never left the state.”

The couple’s differing views allows Luskin to highlight Rose’s spunk, and the fact that Rose is far from dead yet, and is able to adapt, for example, to living in a community where she’s the only Jew, after spending most of her life in New York and Florida. Luskin also develops the character of

Percy, tenderly explaining why he was a bachelor for so long and how Rose’s entry into his life changes him.

While the political themes are treated with little or no nuance, and the opposites attract concept isn’t unique, Luskin creates characters about whom readers care, masterfully discusses music and brings to life a vivid small Vermont town. On her website, Luskin writes that nearly 30 agents turned down Into the Wilderness, although “almost always with high praise.” It’s hard to believe how unimaginative and blind publishers can be at times. Despite its flaws, Into the Wilderness is a very pleasant read that has something to say about life, and how we should live it.

More of a risk for publishers had to be Kay Mupetson’s Penguin Luck (iUniverse Inc.). It is an odd bird, indeed, mixing humor and horror in a manner that could be considered unique, a “modern twist to the impact of World War II on future generations,” as the promotional material states, or bewildering verging on insulting, a view reflected in some of the comments online. Whatever the opinion, it certainly isn’t average chick lit, as the book cover and blurb imply – it has much more to offer.

In Penguin Luck, Doreen Lowe is a junior associate in a Manhattan law firm. She literally carries the tragedies of her family with her, in the form of three ghosts of relatives who died in the Holocaust. In addition to her father, Max, these ghosts serve to remind Doreen about what previous generations have sacrificed for her to be able to live in peace and safety as a Jew, and the importance of Jewish continuity. The conflict between the responsibilities of children of survivors and their contemporary North American lifestyles is the book’s central theme, which is brought to the fore by Doreen’s choice of profession and the hours it demands, but mainly by her choosing to marry a non-Jewish man.

For the most part, the laugh-cry formula works well. As with many first novels, it seems, there are contrived situations and instances of overly descriptive language, but overall, it’s written well and Mupetson, who is the daughter of Holocaust survivors, really captures – in the character of Max – the fears of many Jewish parents and the harshness with which they can react out of concern. She brings up several issues with which the contemporary Jewish community must deal.

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