Features
A Way With Words
Set in Israel in the 1970s, our just-published summer thriller The Debba evokes memories and feelings in me that I had long forgotten. I was just starting university in Brussels when the Six Day War exploded, literally causing a cultural revolution in our midst. Being a Jew in the diaspora became ‘cool’ for the first time in history. People came out of the woodwork with a newly discovered Jewish grandfather or cousin. We all danced in the streets and the boys among us stood in line in front of the Israeli embassy in hopes of joining the army. The war was so short-lived that many of them ended up picking lemons in one kibbutz or another instead. I wanted to go too, but my father, fearing for “my virtue” in the post-war frenzy, admonished me to stay home. I broke up with my boyfriend of the time because – to my horror – he expressed sympathy for the Palestinian people and encouraged me to demonstrate on their behalf. Little did I know then that twenty-five years later I would end up doing just that, by publishing books like Shattered Dreams by Charles Enderlin and Walled by Sylvain Cypel.
Back then Israel was mainly the locus for romantic projections: we wanted to be “them.” However, they saw us merely as tourists without muscles, too bookish and talkative. They were the tough guys and couldn’t even begin to understand what their country meant to us at a distance. We have learned a lot since then about the Middle East conflict, to the point where we have sadly become almost oblivious to it. We can’t imagine how it feels to live and think as a first or second generation Israeli. This is where fiction can do what the best reportage can’t. It can venture inside people’s minds and reveal how they make sense of the world they live in, and how they can or cannot cope in a society that is much more diverse and complex than usually portrayed.
The Debba does that and more. It spares us nothing of the conflicted and tortured nature of the Israeli mind. We know so little over here of how Ashkenazim and Sephardim are forced to share a national identity with so little common cultural background. We know nothing of the particular “ethics” of the Mossad, nor the way their “dirty work” affects the souls of the young perpetrators on duty, caught between their love of country and their complex family heritage. We know even less about the rich literary life of Israel’s pre-history in 1947, when Arabs and Jews wrote poetry and performed theater together even as they were plotting to assassinate each other. Avner Mandelman opens his heart to us. It is no surprise that this book took him thirty years to write. To inscribe his own misgivings, anxieties and conflicted allegiances on a riveting thriller–an authentic whodunit–was a challenge that few ex-Israeli Air Force officers could have comfortably tackled.
That is what sticks with me in The Debba. I came away from it with an understanding of Israeli society that I would have never guessed, either as a young girl or even now, despite being a seasoned publisher of non-fiction books on the Middle East conflict. Others may simply be smitten by the story and its extraordinary denouement. In either case, it is a propulsive and moving read, full of surprises, insights and dramatic and colorful scenes. One last thing: there is no doubt that Israelis have a real way with words. After reading the book you may find yourself quietly mumbling “Shit in Yogurt” when something does not go as planned.
–Judith Gurewich
This article first appeared in the July 2010 issue of the Other Press newsletter. Click here to subscribe.
Tags: Israel, Judith Gurewich
