Between Friends

I lived for nearly 18 years on a kibbutz. Amos Oz, who passed a way a few weeks ago, also lived for a number of years on a kibbutz. This collection of stories takes place on a fictional kibbutz, with a cast of characters who pop up in each other's stories and lives. One of the striking things about living on a kibbutz was how one knew people as neighbours, friends, co-workers, lovers. No one was just "the guy who repaired the shoes" or "the woman who worked with the chickens". Everyone was three dimensional, and that is clear in these wonderful stories. It is a sensitive, accurate, and somewhat sad account of what used to be called "the experiment that did not fail". The final chapter, "Esperanto" was especially beautiful, and one has show more to wonder if Oz was deliberatedly comparing the twin dreams of a universal language and that of a more equal and more just society. show less

On our kibbutz, Kibbutz Yekhat, there lived a man, Zvi Provizor, a short fifty-five year old bachelor who had a habit of blinking. He loved to transmit bad news: earthquakes, plane crashes, buildings collapsing on their occupants, fires and floods.

With these opening two sentences I am there. I know exactly who Zvi Provizor is, and I know who we're dealing with in the opening story of Amos Oz's latest collection of short stories. These are a series of eight vignettes set in a fictional collective settlement of late '50s or early '60s Israel. It's a place that the reader will come to know surprisingly well for so slim a volume. The tales are above all about humanity.

I lived on a kibbutz once for several years, and no one of those show more communities is quite like another. That said, there are though certain traits and themes and character types that do tend to crop up in every one I ever encountered or heard about. Oz has captured with an amazing economy of words, and a clarity that is so satisfying, precisely who might live there and what preoccupies them.

In "The King of Norway" our blinking bachelor Zvi and Luna Blank, a widow, fall into a new routine - talking every evening. "Two Women" exchange letters - Osnat the launderess has recently become separated, and Ariella, who works in the chicken coop and heads the culture committee, is the tall, slim divorcée to whom Boaz has run. The title story sees Nahum, a widower of about fifty, approaching the subject of his only remaining child, Edna, having moved in with David Dagan, a teacher and one of the kibbutz founders and leaders - a man his own age.

"Father" is a story which I think is the most autobiographical: Sixteen year old Moshe is a 'boarder' newly arrived at Yekhat after his mother has died, and father and now uncle have both fallen ill. With the greatest poignancy we see Moshe finish work early one day and make the difficult trip to visit his ailing father. To anyone who has read Oz's 'A Tale of Love and Darkness' - this is a glimpse of what might have happened next. I was extremely moved.

"Little Boy" is another heartbreaker: The emotional volatility of the shared children's housing hits dad Roni in a way that doesn't quite affect mum Leah the same way. "At Night" sees Yoav the kibbutz general secretary turn night guard for the week. Nina needs his help with a problem that won't wait until morning. In "Deir Ajloun", Yotam the young adult son of another widow, Henia, receives an invitation from Uncle Arthur to study in Milan. Whatever will the general assembly have to say?

The final story, "Esperanto", is about an older member of the kibbutz - Martin, a holocaust survivor who hid from the Nazis in Holland. Martin is the community shoemaker and is a former Esperanto teacher; he has trouble breathing and is dying. He is an anarchist to the very end:

And once, when two brisk nurses came in to change his pyjamas, he grinned suddenly and told them that death itself was an anarchist. 'Death is not awed by status, possessions, power or titles; we are all equal in its eyes.'

All of the characters we've met are present in this final tale, though they crop up here and there in the other stories - maybe on the path, or making a speech in a meeting - just as they do on any kibbutz. Amos Oz has written a first class and moving collection of interwoven stories. The final mosaic is a piece of art to behold. I had to pace myself to read this book as slowly as I could, I wanted to savour its quality for as long as possible. (Perhaps I should have just torn through it and reread it immediately?) Five stars and highly recommended. show less

Bij ieder verhaal wordt het beeld van het leven in de kibboets scherper. Een boeiende manier van samenleven waar individu en groep soms lijnrecht tegenover elkaar staan. Heel mooi geschreven, met stof tot nadenken. Of wat dacht je van deze: een mens is maar een mens, en ook dat maar heel af en toe.
Een aanrader.

Oz is an award-winning Israeli author of both fiction and non-fiction. I've been reading about Israel and Palestine this year and knew this would expand my knowledge further. It is also a book of short stories, something I have never read and wanted to try. The very first story, about a cranky old man who constantly complains about the injustices in the world, touched me deeply, but then I began to drift. I kept thinking I needed an intense thriller type book to hold my attention away from the current sadness in life that I don't want to think about such as my failing mom. But I kept coming back to this book and these stories and found the experience to be similar to my annual trip to the desert. When I go to the desert it takes me show more while to settle in. Everything is the same color. But as I walk daily through the desert the subtleties begin to sink in and I see the multitude of colors, plants, blossoms, skittering critters and footprints. Reading Oz was like that. I began to see the subtleties in the people living in this kibbutz. I saw their strengths and their weaknesses and the way they complemented the whole person. Then I began to see how each person complemented the others living in the kibbutz. This then worked its way into my perception of my own life and it too began to look beautiful. show less

Beautiful prose and characterization, but the stories I read (about 1/2 of the book) all seemed unfinished and lacked resolution, and I felt dissatisfied with them in this regard. Paused at page 83, “Little Boy”

È un romanzo piacevole a leggersi, forse mi è piaciuto più per lo stile che per il contenuto. Fornisce un quadro della vita nei kibbutz negli anni 50, piccoli esperimenti di comunismo in senso letterale. La narrazione è delicata, i personaggi sono gentili e umani anche quando fanno cose riprovevoli. Mi è piaciuto, sì, ma non mi ha entusiasmata.