Here I Am - Jonathan Safran Foer

  

To be honest, had it not been for the fact that this was one of the last few novels by authors that I consider readable that were available at the Southwark e-library, I probably wouldn't have read it. But it was there, and very little else was, so I took it out. 

This is not a work of art, not even close. Yet, it's suitably Jewish, humorous, self-deprecating, deep and reflective of our complex web of social relations that it ends up being pleasant company for a few days. Now, if only I could have managed not to constantly think of the Coen brothers' A Serious Man as I read it...

Judas - Amos Oz

  

A fitting end to the career - and life - of the greatest Israeli author (at least to my knowledge, and in my opinion). This was another book that I surprisingly found in our building's lobby, which was rather unexpected considering how few books by Israeli authors I've seen in stock in London bookshops over the years. 

Judas is a novel of secrets, mysteries, incomprehensions and unfulfilled hopes and desires. It oozes maturity and the wisdom of an old man permeates its pages, and I suspect that there is probably quite a bit of Oz in the reclusive Wald. 

A book that I decided to keep on my Billy bookshelf (despite being a rather large hardback), which is now starting to look decrepit itself and would probably deserve to be replaced.

A Tale of Love and Darkness - Amos Oz

  

I like Oz's novels, I like Oz's children books, and I was clearly bound to like his own autobiography. 

It's long, and that's undeniable. It also often repeats itself, but that's to be expected with a non-linear timeline for some 500-odd pages. Yet, it's fabulously written, and the history (both the capitalized version, and the family history) depicted in the book is obviously fascinating. I don't think I could have coped with 100 more finely printed pages, but man I'm glad that I've read this book. 

And perhaps I should watch Natalie Portman's movie version too...

World Cup Wishes - Eshkol Nevo

 

The front cover of the English edition of this book was so profoundly ugly that I had to use the Italian one for the blog (which is ultimately fine, also because I read the book in Italian after all...).

At first I found it funny that this author's first name was actually the surname of the former Israeli Prime Minister, then I realized that his first name is actually the surname of his grandfather, the former Israeli Prime Minister.

I didn't have great expectations from this novel, as I hadn't particularly liked Three Floors Up, but World Cup Wishes was a very pleasant surprise, and so far is without a doubt the best book I've read in 2023 (yes, it's February 7th, but still, it's best book out of the six that I've read).

Why did I like it, you ask? After all, it's a pretty normal story of love and friendship, against the backdrop of Tel Aviv and Haifa. But I like a bildungsroman that tells the story of someone who is still full of flaws in his 30s, and I like a bildungsroman that tells the story of someone in his 30s in the first place (now try to guess my age...). And the decision to present the book as a manuscript marginally edited by its (fictional) author's friend plays nicely with the mind of the reader, who can't take anyone's word and is left wondering about who's right and who's wrong, but most of all develops an interest for the lives of all characterts, despite not really liking all of them.

A Perfect Peace – Amos Oz

A random book I picked up without knowing a thing about it (although knowing fully well how much I like Oz’s writing). A really enjoyable read, despite the fact that it took me a couple of weeks to finish it over the holidays (I’ll blame family and friends’ visits – and the consequent lack of quality “me time” – for that).

I always tell my students to read something by Oz or Yehoshua (in the case of the latter I normally refer to his novels, not his borderline senile newspaper columns) to prepare for classes on the Arab-Israeli conflict – they never listen, but at least I try – and A Perfect Peace, with its comments on the Six Day War and more generally on Israeli politics, will clearly be no exception.

The novel is insightful and ironic, in particular in its first half (which the author wrote much earlier than the second part), the comments on life in the kibbutz are deep and informative, and a number of the characters are particularly interesting (the relatively minor ones often more so than the central triangle of Yonatan, Rimona and Azariah). The second half of the novel, however, has an underlying sentimentally that I struggled with…

Mr Mani – Abraham B. Yehoshua

Probably my favourite Israeli book. It is an epic Jewish family history, but one with a twist. Most family histories are either told in straight chronological order or as a prolonged flash-back, this book looks at the stories of five generations of Mr Mani by taking a step backwards every time and talking about the life of the father of the previous Mr Mani. The book is also Yehoshua’s most innovative work from a stylistic point of view: the five chapters are five dialogues, but the words of one of the two interlocutors are always omitted by the author.

The book is a priceless portrayal of the development of Israeli society and of Hebraism in general. It talks about persecution and the path to a Jewish nation, but also about the Arab-Israeli conflict. And somewhat I’ve managed to forget what is the big secret revealed towards the end of the book, and this upsets me so very badly...

The Lover – Abraham B. Yehoshua

  

With age, Yehoshua might have become a bit senile, saying things about the Arab-Israeli dynamics that his younger self would not have said, but The Lover is one of his best works, and one that offers a deep and balanced portrayal of the Yom Kippur war – at least for an absolute outsider like me.

Once the reader grasps the unique family situation depicted in the book, he is bound to be perplexed to say the least – or sceptical at the idea that an agreement like the one between the married protagonists might actually work in real life. Ultimately, however, it doesn’t matter if the agreement works or not: the book, somehow, does.

Like with some of McEwan’s novels it’s written with such a delicate touch that it almost seems feminine, something I found quite surprising. And the fact that a young Palestinian knows Israeli poems by heart is not surprising, it’s sad, but the fact that he tries to conquer the heart of an Israeli girl with those is incredibly endearing, and maybe – just maybe – gives some hope.