A Late Divorce – Abraham B. Yehoshua

Ah, the joy of Israeli literature! Well, actually it’s not as if I loved all Israeli writers, but I do have a soft spot for Yehoshua and Oz (not to mention the fact that this was another book that I got from my grandma’s “collection”…).

Much like most of Yehoshua’s works, this book is magisterially written. The clash between the expat patriarch and pretty much all his family members is both intriguing and ironic, and the confused (and at times confusing) sexuality of one of his sons is so well and carefully presented. I must say I was happy the book wasn’t just a 250-page long stream of consciousness from a young boy, as it looked like at the beginning – I felt like I had read one The Sound and the Fury too many already. And it’s just wonderful to read about fairly normal but fairly unlikable people constantly bickering and gossiping about each other.

The ending is very much clear from the start of the last chapter – I was really hoping that the imposing presence of the man who reminded me so much of Big Chief from One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest was just a red herring, but it wasn’t…

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.