Twenty years earlier, Leora and her toddler, Levi, relocated to Canada when Dave extended the young widow (of Arik) an offer of marriage. As the novel opens, readers learn Leora is now obliged by law to decide whether Levi will serve high-risk active duty -- as his father tragically had -- in the Israeli air force. Torn between sparing Levi and serving her country, Leora undertakes a fact-finding pilgrimage of sorts, a quest both political and personal that will slowly transform her views on the Middle East as well as her understanding of the way war takes its devastating toll on the individual, the collective and the human race.

"I am going to Sinai to reclaim the woman buried in the rubble of widowhood," she declares. Whether she does is best left for readers to discover; however, along the way, she will gain entry to "the forbidden tents" of a remote Bedouin tribe before returning to Jerusalem and environs. Several unforgettable characters -- Abu Salim and his pair of wise and delightful wives (Tammam and Azzizah), the chivalrous loner Tal (an Israeli kibbutznik and major in a prestigious unit) and cagey Canadian professor and Arabic specialist, El Bofessa -- represent but a few who spring vividly from Sulha's pages in that part of the world where "life takes time out for the national obsession to be on top of news events."

In the novel's latter half, when the remarkably strong protagonist similarly explores Jerusalem, both the intricacies of Middle East conflicts and Leora's subtle apprehensions and changes in perception dominate. Here, she identifies the opposing nature of Israeli and Bedouin approaches to silence: "Badu silence serves as a sort of shelter to cool down. Yahodi silence is like a cave of warring demonds and angels: Sometimes you are uplifted to heaven, sometimes you are plunged to hell, and more often you are hovering at the mid-point, waiting for the rope to snap."

By the time the rope snaps in what will surely become one of the surprise hits of this literary season, Leora observes: "So, this is my longed for my dream land, and for this I am expected to sacrifice my son, leave my marriage, and move up to The Land... I don't know why I return year after year, like a ball rolling back to the feet that kicked it.. Will I be moving up by making a soldier of my son?...Is it necessary to make soldiers here -- or is it just running in place?...Can't we preserve one tribe while still preserving another -- or is annihilation of one or the other an inevitability...and then they go on with their lives in a paradise fertilised with bones."

Go back