A Pigeon and a Boy

29. A Pigeon and a Boy by Meir Shalev (2006, 311 pages, Read May 9-17, Paperback)
translated from Hebrew by Evan Fallenberg, 2007

A beautifully written book that explores many themes, using homing pigeons, the Israeli War of Independence, homes and the building of a home in the present day to explore the idea of home, longing, creation, Zionism and more, and not all easily decipherable. Shalev calls it a love story.

The book opens when Yair Mendolson, giving a tour to a an official government group from the United States, is stunned by one of the group who starts talking in Hebrew about a pigeon in the Israeli War of Independence. The American turns out to be a Palmach veteran. The Palmach was the Israeli army during the war of show more Independence. There are two interwoven stories in the novel whose connection is hinted about throughout, but not actually revealed until the end. Yet both are brought together in this opening.

The pigeon leads to a story about the Baby, who is not a baby, but an orphan on a pre-Independence kibbutz in Israel. He becomes a homing pigeon handler and falls in love with another pigeon handler in Tel Aviv. They converse through the few words carried by homing pigeons inside an ostrich quill.

Poor Yair, on the other hand, is a mess. He is wasting his life as tour guide and looking for some kind of center. He has thoroughly irritated his American wife, who he works for, and his younger successful brother. He also has an Israeli mistress. Yair uses his inheritance from his mother to build a home for himself, develop his relationship with his mistress and in an effort at a statement of something complicated and unclear – maybe independence, maybe redemption, or something entirely different.

Biblical themes and references are scattered throughout, and one is also tempted to interpret everything in terms of the history and current state of Israel. There are so many interwoven themes, I found it difficult to figure out what might be intended or to know what was meant by a couple odd plot points. There is quite a lot to think about.

2014
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Having read Shalev's beautiful novel, The Blue Mountain, I was eager to see if A Pigeon and a Boy was as gorgeously rendered as that one was. I have to say that I still find the other more enticing but this has an appealing dream-like cast to it. Two different stories that converge in the narrative, the story opens with a rich American, former member of the Palmach telling of the death of a boy and his symbolic release of a final homing pigeon as he dies in battle to the other tour members and Yair, their Israeli tour guide. From this point onward, the narrative splits into the stories of Yair's life and that of Baby, the young homing pigeon handler who died so many years ago in the fighting. But as the stories diverge, so they must, in show more the end, converge again. Both stories center on love and its loss: man-woman, mother-son, and friend-friend. Shalev draws Israel before Independence with minute strokes, describing the place and everything in it with a detailed richness that sometimes threatens to overwhelm the reader. His characters are lost and found again in love drawing understanding sympathies from the reader. The tragedies and betrayals, both physical and emotional, that play out in the novel are piercing and yet there is still ultimately a redemptive feel to the novel as a whole: the past melts seamlessly into the present and the present can be made right. I found it initially hard to sink into the book fully but once I made that effort, I was rewarded by a stunning book; one that will stay with me for a long time. show less

This is an absolutely marvelous love-story, which brings the readers on a magic ride through real life with all its innate turbulence. With the slight (almost imperceptible) hints of magic realism, Shalev keeps the readers on their toes as this wondrous tale develops. The two tales, one about homing pigeons and one about Yair's urge for a home of his own, are seamlessly woven together. Even before the revelation at the end (which explains the two stories' actual connection), their mutual themes are evident - the love of one's home and, indeed, the love and acceptance of oneself is at the very core here. One can of course draw various parallels to the political climate of the country and the Israeli people, but the story doesn't need show more such obvious links - it works well on its own. It's well worth pointing out that thanks to Evan Fallenberg's amazing talent as a translator, Shalev's poetic language transfers very well into English. show less

I hesitate to write about this novel. This author, a favorite of mine, who so aptly describes Israeli characters created a flawed book. I felt let down at the end of the book, not only by the actions of Yair Mendelsohn, a married man building his own house far from his wife, but also because I didn't find the critical part of the story believable and could not understand why the author chose to end his book as he did.

Going back to the very beginning of the story (an odd way to relive a novel, I suppose), I was overcome with sadness to learn that Baby, a character I did love, was going to die. He died over and over again for me, not in reality, but in the author presenting his imminent death every so often in the story. That was so show more painful.

There was, however, a lyrical and beautiful part to this book. As always in stories by Meir Shalev, it’s the land, its animals, and the entire environment as only he describes them that fill me with ecstasy. In this case, I was intrigued by pigeons. These were the homing pigeons used by the Palmach (an early version of the Israeli Defense Force) to bring messages from soldiers in distant outposts. Baby and the Girl, two young people beginning to feel the yearnings of love but living quite a distance from each other, were responsible for raising and training those pigeons. Through those birds, I found the part of Shalev’s book I was seeking. “A pigeon has to love her home otherwise she won't want to return to it”. I will be back for more. show less

A Pigeon and a Boy, by Meir Shalev, is a deeply moving, multi-layered novel which interweaves two stories and two time periods flawlessly. Like Haruku Murakami, Shalev deals with themes of alienation, the cruelties and indignities of war, and the dark side of humans that can ruin even a paradise. Although the War of Independence is the war depicted in this novel, the enemy is never mentioned by name. The enemy here is man himself, and the cruelties exacted are by the strong against the weak, regardless of the side.
The first love story occurs in the years prior to and during the 1948 Israeli War of Independence. “The Girl” and “the Boy,” who have been friends since age 11, are now adolescents in love. They are both members of show more the Palmach—the unofficial Jewish army established to fight the British in the war. Both are trained to dispatch and care for homing pigeons, used to carry messages back and forth. But the Boy, shot during the last siege, in a final act of love, dispatches the Girl’s pigion to carry an unusual gift to his beloved.
A parallel love story is between Yair, a tour guide for bird-watching groups, and Tirza, “a contractor who is a woman.” As Yair pieces together the story of the Girl and the Boy, his relationship with Tirza becomes more complicated.
Shalev is both a spiritual and metaphorical writer. The pigeon, or dove, is an international symbol of peace--peace for a nation and peace for the individual. The tragedy in this book is that few of its characters find inner tranquility. Yair is especially tormented by a past he does not understand and a present he does not appreciate.
Shalev was born in 1948, the year the Jewish homeland became an independent state. The Law of Return, passed in 1950, allows Jews in the Diaspora to return to their ancestral home much as homing pigeons return to the place they were raised. The law was passed to provide a safe haven following the Holocaust.
Consequently, “home” is an important metaphor in this book. Yair’s mother tells him that a person requires only two things: a story and a home of one’s own. Part of Yair’s unhappiness stems from the fact that he believes his story climaxed before he was even born. The home Yair shares with his American-born wife feels foreign to him; even the locks conspire to not give him easy access. By contrast, the home he builds for himself and shares with Tirza reminds one of Paradise, an Eden desecrated by a senseless act of violence.
Shalev uses magical realism in different ways, one of which is to convey the transmigration of the soul. A beautiful image of the soul of the Boy rising to become a bird, a homing pigeon, is created. “I am the flesh and the soul,” says a pigeon that has come to Meir’s new home seeking a night’s rest. “I am the breeze of the body and the burden of love. I am wind and strength.”
How man treats this gentle creature, as depicted in the book, gives insight into his state of mind and into his fate. A Pigeon and a Boy won the Brenner Prize for Literature, Israel’s highest literary award. Indeed, a country forced into a state of perpetual war would especially value the grace of Shalev’s writing and the implications of this work of magical prose. Its themes resonate long after the last chapter ends. show less

loved loved loved this beautiful double love story. i can't believe it took me so long to pull this one off the TBR piles but so glad it survived all the purges of the past few years. set in israel and covering two timelines, it's the story of two pigeon handlers, and of a young man, his parents and another family linked to his through an act of love and compassion. the twist was somewhat predictable but that didn't make it any less of a revelation.

If you are Israeli, there is a lot here to chew on. He hits on some of the reoccurring issues Israelis have faced since before the establishment of the state. I suppose if you have ever been an immigrant this could resonate with you. Don't read this thinking you'll understand Israel afterwards. This is the insider's view.

I could have done without the epilog or last chapter or whatever it is at the end. It spoiled it for me.

The translation is excellent. It is smooth and fluent and I never felt it getting in the way of understanding or enjoying the book.