Abraham B. Yehoshua (1936–2022)

I must confess that I think this novel went over my head because I do not know what it is like to be Israeli . There are rich layers in this novel.we are responsible for caring for our fellow man regardless of who they are even if we don’t know who they are. The Human Resources Manager made to handle the “ situation “ of a dead employee learns about humanity and what it means to be human. In the climate today close to Jerusalem , in the Gaza Strip, we all need to but aside our differences and care for our fellow man.
Maybe I got more out of this than I thought,… (more)

"A Woman in Jerusalem" is the second book I've read by this author: I read "The Lover" a while ago. I may not read another, but this is still a solid effort, and reading it made the author's preoccupations and habits a bit clearer to me. A few recurring elements: marriages in distress, a society under constant stress, and a mystery that slowly comes to obsess the novel's protagonist. In this case, it's the identity, employment status, and, in the end, the basic humanity of an Russian woman who emigrated to Israel only to die in a terrorist bombing. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the author was a fan of detective fiction: as I read, I could feel the bones of a whodunit -- as it were -- poking through the text. But, as in "The Lover, Yehoshua also writes a few dreams into the narrative: he may have wanted to remind his readers that his characters do more than just move his narrative along.

In "A Woman in Jerusalem", as in "The Lover", simple tasks stretch out into lengthy projects and easy questions slowly become complex, emotionally trying mysteries. An effort to limit the fallout of some bad publicity, leads the main character to investigate whether the titular woman was, in fact, employed the bakery that the book's main character works for. "A Woman in Jerusalem" slowly becomes a meditation on what we owe -- and what we can really know about -- the strangers that live among us. I also suspect that the curious quest that our main character has been assigned functions as way to cope with widespread and unrelenting horror by making sure that at least one problem -- the final resting place of a non-Israeli victim -- has been resolved as far as is humanly possible. It'd be easy to write an essay on this topic, or to address them directly in the text, but I was rather impressed by the fact that most of these themes are addressed through the book's plot. I'm sure that some readers may feel that this book would be improved by a slightly faster pace, but I rather enjoyed the fact that events in "A Woman in Jerusalem" unfolded at a speed that felt natural and human. Similarly, the novel's themes revealed themselves as the plot inched forward. This doesn't make for a thrilling read -- which, I suppose, is another thing that would set it apart from detective fiction -- but it's a good of example of an author knowing to show rather than tell. I may not be Yehoshua's ideal reader, but this one is still worth checking out.… (more)

A.B. Yehoshua's The Only Daughter is what I think of as a "stealth read." A good stealth read has two characteristics:
1. The reader understands more than the narrator does due to historical or cultural knowledge.
2. The narrator recounts difficulties that have depths the she herself doesn't recognize.

Our narrator, Rachele Luzzato, is growing up Jewish in post-WWII Italy. Her family is diverse in its approaches to faith, to whether Judaism is a cultural of religious identity, to whether or not there is a G-d, to the extent to which one should be limited by conventional morality. Her paternal grandparents, the Jewish side of the family, were separated during WWII. Her grandfather survived by passing as Catholic. Her grandmother fled to Austria, where she gave birth to Rachele's father.

Rachele's father's is shaped in many ways by a war he is too young to remember, and he can't or won't explain to Rachele why she isn't allowed, for example, to participate in her school's nativity play. Rachele, knows she's Jewish, not Christian, but doesn't understand why this fact would prevent her from taking on a role as part of a dramatic production. Pretending to be someone won't change who she really is.

Rachele's father is also ill with a potentially terminal condition that he refuses to speak of—at least to her.

In a way, Rachele is wise beyond her years: she's asking and attempting to answer questions about identity and faith and mortality that have become lifetime quests for some very remarkable thinkers. She doesn't realize that her questions are remarkable. She just knows that she not being told everything and can't understand why what seems like basic information should be withheld from her.

Because we know more about the history of World War II and Italy's role in it and know more about about processes of illness and death, we understand her dilemma in ways she doesn't. He telling of her story is straight forward, occurring along the timeline of her own life. We see the complex web underlying that apparent simplicity, so we both share Rachele's journey and can see with some clarity what has come before it and what is apt to come after it.

The Only Daughter is an oddly gentle book despite all that it deals with. It's a book that demands readers deal with historical forces, but does this without cruelty. It's a book one can read in a single sitting, but because we both see what Rachele sees and see well beyond her own range of vision, that brief reading will leave lots to mull over afterward. I strongly recommend this title for anyone of a reflective bent. If you ask questions about the why and the how of our world, The Only Daughter will help you understand those questions in a variety of ways.

I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via NetGalley; the opinions are my own.… (more)