Jewish Literary Links for Shabbat

  • André Aciman writes about Irène Némirovsky.
  • Joan Leegant’s remarkable, Israel-set short story, “Beautiful Souls,” was chosen by Ron Carlson as winner of the 2011 Colorado Review Nelligan Prize. It is extraordinary, as is Leegant’s novel, Wherever You Go, which I finished reading on New Year’s Day. Hope to write more about Leegant’s work soon.
  • The New York Times reviews the Museum of Jewish Heritage’s Emma Lazarus exhibit.
  • More cultural news from NYC: Next week marks the start of the 21st annual New York Jewish Film Festival.
  • Looking for some book-club possibilities? Check out the Jewish Book Council’s themed reading lists.
  • Can you believe that it’s been almost one whole year since my short-story collection, Quiet Americans, was published? To celebrate this anniversary, I’m offering three free copies of my book. There’s no cost to enter this giveaway and the guidelines couldn’t be simpler. Read more here.
  • Shabbat shalom!

    Thursday’s Work-in-Progress: Four Fun Facts About My Year in Jewish Books

    Earlier this week, I wrote about “My Year in Jewish Books” on my “other” blog (which is called “My Machberet” and features news and notes on matters of specifically Jewish literary and cultural interest). But as a practicing writer who knows how significant reading is to the vigor of her writing practice–not to mention as a practicing writer who frequently writes reviews of Jewish-themed books as part of that practice–I’m going to devote this “Work-in-Progress” post on Practicing Writing to some observations based on my analysis of that list of 18 titles.

    1) I’m doing OK–could be better, but could also be much worse–when it comes to reading books in translation. We all know about that unpleasant “three percent” figure, right? Well, four of the 18 titles on my list–that makes about 22 percent–were books in translation. I don’t think that the relatively healthy connection between Jewish literature and literature in translation is incidental. I do think that when you belong to a diaspora culture, and you’re drawn to certain books accordingly, you’re going to be reading books that were written originally in different languages.

    2) I purchased way more books than I thought I had. I live in a New York City apartment, and I receive a lot of free books as review copies. I’m also a regular visitor to the public library. I had begun to believe that I was not, in fact, as conscientious a book-buyer as I should be. I am frankly a bit surprised by the fact that I purchased so many of the titles on this list (basically half of them). Maybe the fact that several were Kindle purchases–and therefore not visible in my office or on my nightstand–has something to do with my surprise here. Keep in mind, again, that these are by no means all the books I bought this year. They’re only all the books on Jewish themes that I bought for myself. That leaves out all the books that I purchased as gifts, and all the books that I didn’t necessary consider to be “Jewish.”

    3) Unsurprisingly, I am still reading quite a lot about the Holocaust. More than half of the books on this list deal with the Holocaust and/or its after-effects in some way. I should have more to say about this–especially given that I’m still thinking about Daphne Merkin’s recent reflections on Holocaust-related films. But for the moment, I’ll just let the fact sit there.

    4) Without additional analysis, I can’t really know the extent to which all of my “Jewish” reading reflects my habits more generally. But here is how the genre distribution works out here: Novels on this list: 10 (56 percent); Memoirs/memoiristic essays: 2 (11 percent). Other nonfiction: 2 (11 percent). Poetry collections: 2 (11 percent). Graphic novels/books for young readers: 1 (5.5 percent). Short-story collections on this list: 1 (5.5 percent–appalling, but I suspect that here, at least, the stats would be better for the “non-Jewish” reading list. I read at least six other collections this year.)

    Have I inspired any of you to review your own reading for the year? If you’re inclined to write up any similar post(s) for yourself, please be sure to share the link(s) in comments. I’d love to come by and read what you have to say.

    My Year in Jewish Books

    Looking back at my reading for 2011 (thank you, Goodreads!), I can see that I do not and would not ever limit my reading to “Jewish books” exclusively. (By the way, I define “Jewish books” as books with substantive Jewish content/themes. In my view, non-Jewish authors can write “Jewish books.” And Jewish authors can write books that don’t strike me as particularly Jewish. I read several of those books this year, too.)

    But this year, as usual, I did read quite a few books that fall within the “Jewish book” category. And, as an advocate for Jewish literature, I’m proud of that. Moreover, although it wasn’t intentional, when I revisit the record of my reading (again, thanks, Goodreads!), I find that there are 18 such titles.

    Below, you will find these books presented in the order in which I read them. Please note that, where appropriate, I have included links to reviews/essays/newsy items I have written; interviews I have conducted; and chat transcripts in which you will see I participated. I have also disclosed how I obtained each book: P (purchase), G (gift), R (complimentary review copy), L (library). NB: Later this week, I’ll publish a “meta-post” with some thoughts and observations based on this one.

    Meantime, maybe you will find a title or two (or 18) for your own reading list. Or for a gift for someone else.  (more…)

    From My Bookshelf: The Last Brother, by Nathacha Appanah

    THE LAST BROTHER
    Nathacha Appanah; Geoffrey Strachan, trans.
    Graywolf Press, 2011. 176 pp. $14.00
    ISBN: 978-1-55597-575-3

    Review by Erika Dreifus

    Nathacha Appanah, whose author bio tells us is “a French-Mauritian of Indian origin,” has thrown extraordinary light on a little-known episode. In 1940, a group of Jewish refugees from Europe landed at Haifa—then still under British Mandate—only to be deported to Mauritius, an island in the Indian Ocean which France had ceded to Britain more than a century earlier. Once arrived in Mauritius, the Jews were detained at the Beau-Bassin prison.

    In Appanah’s novel, a young Mauritian boy (Raj), whose vicious father is employed at the prison, encounters a Jewish orphan about his age (David). Raj, too, has endured unthinkable tragedy and loss. The boys’ life-changing friendship blossoms during their overlapping stays in the prison hospital. It forms the focus of the novel, which is told as Raj’s recollections.

    It is a vivid and heartbreaking story. More than 120 Jews died in exile on Mauritius. At the end of World War II, most of those who survived opted to live in “Eretz”—that land they had sought from the start, that land that David longs for, that land that is utterly unfamiliar to Raj before these strange, pale prisoners enter his awareness.

    “I do not know if I ought to be ashamed to say this,” narrator Raj confesses, “but that was how it was: I did not know there was a world war on that had lasted for four years and when David asked me at the hospital if I was Jewish I did not know what it meant. I said no, being under the vague impression that, because I was in the hospital, being Jewish referred to an illness. I had never heard of Germany, in reality I knew very little. In David I had found an unhoped-for friend, a gift from heaven, and at the start of this year of 1945 that was all that counted for me.”

    I do not know if I ought to be ashamed to say that I had never heard of the Jews interned at Beau-Bassin. But in The Last Brother, I have found an unhoped-for lesson. A gift.

    This review was published initially in Jewish Book World, Fall 5771/2011. My thanks to the publisher for a complimentary review copy.