I finally finished! Too many work commitments kept me from reading it sooner. I really, really liked this book. I have had the good fortune to work with Israelis - and the amazing opportunity to travel there several times - in the last decade. Therefore, I am always on the lookout for books to learn more about the people, culture, and history. This book was on my TBR list for awhile, and I'm glad it was selected by the club.
I liked the way the book shifted forward and backwards through time, slowly adding more details through repetition, because you knew ultimately he was circumnavigating the painful event of his mother's death. Even when he finally makes the statement at the end of the book "My mother ended her life..." it's immediately followed by several paragraphs of history before he returns to discussing its emotional impact. The picture of the family inserted in the text unexpectedly was very impactful and haunting to me.
I was surprised at the honest and open intimacy in which the author shares his cathartic journey with the reader. I have found it difficult to get to know Israelis and develop friendships. You meet a few of the younger generation who quickly open up to you but the majority do not. It is a slow development to unpeel the layers but definitely worth it. We were told in cultural training that Israelis were symbolically like sabras (or what we call a prickly pear in the US), a desert plant that is thick and thorny on the outside but sweet and soft on the inside once you broke through the skin. Sabra is also the term used for Israelis that were born in Israel (or Mandatory Palestine). I don't recall that he ever used this word in the book. However, I recommend the Wikipedia article on this term because it relates to several themes of the book.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sabra_(person)
I really enjoyed the interweaving of personal stories and history. It seems everyone in Israel has a story. The tour guides that I've experienced were all born in Israel and told you stories of their parents & grandparents - how they left Europe, what they experienced there and once they arrived to their new home. When I toured the Old City we entered through the Zion gate into the Jewish and Armenian quarters. I vividly remember staring at the wall pockmarked with bullets from the 6 Day War in 1967 and feeling overwhelmed by history. One of my trips coincided with Independence Day. Blue and white flags were hung everywhere from apartment balconies. Cars on the roads were flying flags just like Americans would attach flags of our favorite sport teams when tailgating. It was midweek so we had the day off work. We asked them what families did to celebrate the day. They said we like to barbecue in parks and on the beach. So we did the closest thing and had lunch on the patio of a cafe on the beach boardwalk (one that was a bombing target in the early 2000s and then subsequently rebuilt because life must go on). I always enjoyed that within Tel Aviv was the palpable feeling of energy and vibrancy of life - sort of a heightened, electrified feeling in the air that is difficult to describe.
I also liked the stories of intellectual debates in the novel. One of the most defining characteristics to me of Israeli personalities is their passion to argue about everything. They will break out in a heated tirade of Hebrew back and forth and the next minute be best friends. And they love for you to debate with them because otherwise how do they have confidence that you stand behind and believe what you are saying unless you are willing to defend it.