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A novel of Sephardic life revives the Jewish family saga
(JTA) — The very first Jewish book was a multigenerational Jewish family saga. But while the Bible went on to achieve some commercial and critical success, the genre doesn’t always get much love.
Consider the big best-selling books of the last century. Critics may debate the literary merits of bestsellers like “Exodus” by Leon Uris, “The Source” by James Michener and “The Chosen” by Chaim Potok, but cultural historians generally agree that each was an important indicator of Jewish tastes and preoccupations post-World War II.
But two other popular books of the era, both multigenerational Jewish family sagas, are rarely mentioned these days. Belva Plain’s novel, “Evergreen,” published in 1978, is a rags-to-riches story about a Polish-Jewish immigrant and her offspring. It spent 41 weeks on The New York Times best-seller list in hardcover and another 20 in paperback, and was made into a miniseries by NBC in 1985. Gloria Goldreich’s novel, “Leah’s Journey,” also published in 1978, is also about an Ashkenazi family that experiences most of the upheavals of the previous 100 years.
Although “Leah’s Journey” won the National Jewish Book Award in 1979, I’ve never seen it nor “Evergreen” on a list of the century’s best or “most essential” Jewish novels.
And in truth, the qualities that make a book wildly popular aren’t always the ones that make it literary. A New York Times reviewer once described Plain’s books as “easy, consoling works of generous spirit, fat with plot and sentiment, thin in nearly every other way and almost invisible in character development.”
I brought all this baggage to my review copy of “Kantika,” Elizabeth Graver’s 2023 novel, described by its publisher as a “dazzling Sephardic multigenerational saga.” It’s about a wealthy Turkish Jewish family whose fortunes are reversed by the First World War and whose members are dispersed to Barcelona, Cuba and finally New York. And yet while it has all the drama one might expect from such journeys and the novels about them, it remains both lyrical and literary, and likely, if there is any justice, to stand the test of time.
How Graver pulled it off is something she and I talked about last week, when I reached her in Cape Cod. (Graver, the author of five previous books of fiction, teaches creative and nonfiction writing at Boston College.)
At the center of the novel is Rebecca, a privileged daughter of a Jewish factory owner in Constantinople who must constantly reinvent herself as a daughter, wife, mother, immigrant and businesswoman. The character is based on Graver’s own grandmother, and the story Graver tells is rich in details about the Sephardic heritage of her mother’s side of the family. There are snatches of Ladino dialogue and song lyrics, and organic depictions of Ladino folk and religious culture.
“I had interviewed my grandmother telling stories when I was 21,” said Graver, who is 59. “And I’ve been sort of haunted by but a little scared of telling the story.” Between research and trips to Turkey, Spain and Cuba, the book took her a decade to write.
Between research and trips to Turkey, Spain and Cuba, “Cantina” took Elizabeth Graver a decade to write. (Author photo Adrianne Mathiowetz)
She decided against a nonfiction version of her grandmother’s life, thinking the story would contain too many holes and force her to insert herself into what would then become a sort of literary memoir. Instead, the book is fiction stretched over a real-life scaffolding: Each chapter begins with a photograph of the relatives who inspired the book’s characters.
One of the key relationships in the book is between Rebecca and her step-daughter, Luna, a willful, intelligent girl with a disability that affects her speech and movement. Rebecca dedicates herself to Luna’s education and what we would now call physical therapy, a set-up for shmaltz (or its Sephardic equivalent) if there ever was one. But just when you expect her to cue the string section, Graver often veers to show you how complicated and difficult people — even admirable people — can be.
“Rebecca is beautiful, and has that power and strength but is a bit narcissistic. She kind of relies on surfaces but is really good at passing,” Graver explained. “And then she has this child whose body doesn’t allow her to do any of that, but who is also fiercely determined and passionate and smart. In the interplay, they reveal each other through their different points of view.”
The book arrives at a time of renewed interest in Sephardic culture, and part of its appeal is that it is telling what to many American Jewish readers, fed a steady diet of the Ashkenazi experience, a fresh story.
Kantika” is also a migration story, another genre that is very much of the moment. Graver herself teaches the genre, which includes works by Korean-American author Min Jee Lee, Haitian-American Edwidge Danticat and Vietnamese-American Viet Thanh Nguyen.
I asked Graver if she was conscious of genre when she was writing the book, and wary of the way a sprawling family novel like hers might be received.
“I don’t even like the term ‘family saga,’” said Graver, who, when I asked, wasn’t familiar with Plain or Goldreich. “It makes me wince, even though I suppose I have written one and I’m indebted to them in various ways. But I want the characters to be flawed and complex and for the turns that they take to come out of their intersections with both history and their own very particular circumstances. I think about big novels where there is a big social canvas and it’s not a story of triumph.”
Indeed, “Kantika,” unlike many novels of Jewish migration, is actually a story about a family’s economic decline. Ultimately, said Graver, she wanted to capture the story of her Sephardic family’s journey in all its complexity.
“I have a deep anxiety about being overly sentimental and wrapping things up too much,” said Graver. “I love fiction that gestures towards the complexity of real life.”
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The post A novel of Sephardic life revives the Jewish family saga appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Treasure Trove remembers how Jewish Canadians reached out to rebuild poor neighbourhoods in Israel
Canadian Jewry should be proud of the support it has given to Israel during this very difficult time in its history. The outpouring of love and support is nothing new: it is something we have been doing since long before Israel was born.
To cite one example, this is a street sign in Jaffa that reads that the street is dedicated to the Canadian charities that donated funds to rehabilitate the neighbourhood.
The neighbourhood is Jaffa Dalet, which was built in the 1950s for new immigrants. By the 1970s it was a down-and-out area, one of the poorest in Israel, which had streets with numbers and no names.
Jaffa Dalet was one of 160 distressed neighbourhoods throughout Israel that prime minister Menachem Begin announced in 1978 would be rehabilitated in a joint project between the government of Israel and world Jewry. Named “Project Renewal”, the Jewish Agency joined as a partner, and undertook to twin Jewish communities around the world with specific neighbourhoods in Israel.
Jaffa Dalet was twinned with Vancouver, Edmonton, Calgary, Winnipeg, Regina and Saskatoon, and it is the support from these communities, and donations from other Canadians, that is memorialized in this street sign. Other Canadian Project Renewal twinnings were Montreal with Yerucham, Toronto with Beit Dagan, and unfederated communities in Ontario and the West with Or Yehudah.
Today, Jaffa is a mixed community of Jews and Arabs and includes many Falash Mura who arrived from Ethiopia about 20 years ago. The area is again going through a phase of urban renewal (Pinui Binui in Hebrew, literally “evacuation and construction”) in which old apartment buildings are being demolished and replaced with more modern and larger buildings. The process allows existing residents to enjoy new and more spacious apartments without having to leave their neighbourhood, while the area’s infrastructure is updated and more residential units are built.
Jewish Canadians responded when the call came from Israel in the 1970s to help build the country. There is much rebuilding required now as a result of the wars Israel has fought since Oct. 7, 2023, and no doubt Canadian Jewry will continue to respond to the call. Our actions today will long be remembered, whether in the name of a street or in the knowledge that when help was needed, we were there.
Here’s hoping that 2025 finally brings a quick return of the hostages, safety for Israel’s soldiers, comfort to those who have lost so much, and peace for Israel and the entire region.
The post Treasure Trove remembers how Jewish Canadians reached out to rebuild poor neighbourhoods in Israel appeared first on The Canadian Jewish News.
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Shabbat Mikeytz: The Power of Dreams
A Torah scroll. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
Dreams play a very important part in the Biblical narrative. We have read in recent weeks about Yaakov’s dream of angels going up and down a ladder. Yosef dreamt about his own future — as well as the dreams of the baker and the butcher and those of Pharaoh. The implication is that these dreams were all reliable messages, coming as Yosef says, from God.
The question we have to answer is to what extent dreams should be relied on. To this day, there are people who make a living out of interpreting dreams. Are they charlatans taking advantage of the credulous, or are they onto something?
When it comes to Yosef and Pharaoh, they both had dreams which came true. In the case of Yosef, it’s his turning from a victim in a pit to the ruler of Egypt. In the case of Pharaoh, it’s a premonition of seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine. But later on, when the Torah talks about false prophets, it’s talking about dreamers who should not be relied on (Devarim 13).
It will come as no surprise that the Talmud has pages about how to react to dreams and interpret them. Most take dreams very seriously, but disagree over interpretations and their validity. Others do not. The variety and disagreements that you can find in the Talmud are proof of how controversial dreams were then — and indeed, remain so for many people now.
Rav Chisdah said a dream that’s not interpreted is like a letter that’s not read. So if you ignore it, you’re not going to get any message. He also said that neither a good nor a bad dream is entirely fulfilled. On the cynical side, Rav Yochanan said that there’s no such thing as a dream without idle information — which is about right for most of my dreams.
The Gemara deals with the charlatans who make a living out of interpreting dreams. Rav Akiva said that there were 24 interpreters of dreams in Jerusalem, and each one disagreed as to what the interpretation was. Bar Hadaya, a popular interpreter, would give a good interpretation of a dream to anybody who paid him money and a bad interpretation if they did not. One rabbi who had a bad interpretation because he wouldn’t pay the first time, came back with money and then got a good interpretation. Plenty of those are still around today.
Then you have what I might call the Freudians. Shmuel bar Nachmani said that a person is shown in his dream only the thoughts of his own heart (i.e., mind). In other words, dreams are a reflection of the subconscious, which sounds as though it was written by Sigmund Freud himself. Of course they didn’t use those terms at that time. Rava said that one is neither shown a golden palm tree nor an elephant going through the eye of a needle in a dream. Dreams only contain images that a person has actually seen.
Nevertheless, these pages are full of all kinds of attempts to interpret what one dreams. I have to say that after a year of almost constant nightmares, I’m at last beginning to have sweet dreams. And so I wish you all a very happy Hanukkah and may all your dreams be sweet and amusing.
The author is a writer and rabbi, currently based in New York.
The post Shabbat Mikeytz: The Power of Dreams first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
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How the Media Blamed Israel for Ruining Bethlehem’s Christmas (Again)
Tourists walk in Manger Square outside the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, Dec. 2, 2019. Photo: Reuters / Mussa Qawasma.
Once again, it’s that time of the year. But we won’t repeat the obvious: the media love blaming Israel for ruining Christmas in Bethlehem.
We will, however, point at the strategy they use to achieve this.
Here is the issue: The media need to cover what they see. And in Bethlehem, they see a baby Jesus doll placed in rubble; no foreign tourists; and protests in solidarity with Gaza. It is undoubtedly a somber Christmas in Jesus’ traditional birthplace, and it should be reported.
But the media should and can apply critical thinking in their choice of interviewees and background material. And they are not doing so.
The Only Priest in Bethlehem?
The media star of the season, except for Jesus, was (again) Munther Isaac, a pastor at Bethlehem’s Lutheran Church.
Outlets like Reuters, BBC, ABC News, and NBC News were happy to quote Isaac for a simple reason: His church was responsible for the media stunt showing baby Jesus as a Palestinian child amid Gaza rubble.
Fair enough. But nowhere did these outlets mention that Isaac has also justified the October 7 massacre, and has been described as “the high priest of antisemitic Christianity.”
Respected news outlets should not fall prey to the manipulations of one priest. Professional coverage should have bothered to contrast his view with that of other voices in the local Christian community.
But the problem runs deeper. These media outlets rely on Palestinian producers in Bethlehem who would never undermine — out of fear or bias — this anti-Israeli narrative. And their foreign bosses would not dare question their work, because they need their connections.
Selective Background
More proof of the media’s seasonal bias against Israel can be gleaned from the background information provided in certain stories.
Instead of reminding news consumers about the Palestinian Authority’s responsibility for the dwindling numbers of local Christians, many outlets include lengthy background paragraphs about Israel’s occupation of the West Bank.
In Reuters‘ story, for example, a whole section is dedicated to Israel’s settlement activity. One exceptionally irrelevant passage reads:
Israel has built Jewish settlements, deemed illegal by most countries, across the territory. Israel disputes this, citing historical and biblical ties to the land. Several of its ministers live in settlements and favour their expansion.
Similarly, the AP’s “Christmas in Bethlehem” photo collection includes a picture of the security barrier that partially surrounds the city, as a man just happens to walk past graffiti that reads: “Walls are meant for bombing.” Never mind that this wall stood there when Bethlehem enjoyed crowded and celebratory holiday seasons.
And let’s not forget that this bias is not limited to the Christian holidays. Every holiday celebrated by Palestinians in the region — from Ramadan to Easter — gets automatically evaluated based on Israel’s actions.
It never works the other way around, making it seem that Palestinians bear no responsibility whatsoever. For example, the media never outright blamed Hamas for ruining the Jewish holiday of Simchat Torah, which was deliberately chosen as the date for the October 7 massacre.
For the media, it seems, the “oppressed” Palestinians are granted automatic virtue, while the Israeli “oppressors” are seen as innately evil. The holiday season is just another opportunity to show it.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
The post How the Media Blamed Israel for Ruining Bethlehem’s Christmas (Again) first appeared on Algemeiner.com.