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Sholem Aleichem, Philip Roth and Kisufim

   

Last week, I took a day off from writing my thesis on Sholem Aleichem and Philip Roth to attend the Jerusalem Conference of Jewish Writers and Poets, called in Hebrew Kisufim. Of course, when you are writing a thesis, suddenly the whole world is connected to your subject, but in this case, it was true, since the theme of the day happened to be Jewish writers.

The conference prompted me to reflect on how I came to be writing about Sholem Aleichem and Philip Roth in the first place. A bizarre pairing, it might seem. So, I started contemplating what was the missing link between Tevye and Portnoy, the main characters of Aleichem's A Fiddler on the Roof and Roth's Portnoy's Complaint. By the end of the last discussion, having spent the last hour sitting less than two feet away from the author and critic Nessa Rapoport, I finally got it. She was the missing link, or not exactly her, but rather the fictional heroine in her 1980 novel Preparing for Sabbath. Apparently a critic once referred to this heroine as "unremarkable." Not very flattering. I think I would have either sublimated such a comment or spent the entire rest of my career in Philip Roth mode, making it the subject of every book hence.

But by the end of the panel discussion, I realized that this "unremarkable" heroine was actually, remarkably, the missing link in the chain extending from Sholem Aleichem to Philip Roth. And, I also realized that though chains are usually thought of as extending chronologically from past to future, in this case, the chain went backwards.

See, I was born into the world of Portnoy, not Tevye: English speaking, secular, assimilated, all-American suburbia. Though fiddlers on roofs resonated with some deep cultural memory, I myself lacked any firsthand knowledge of Yiddish, Hebrew, Yiddishkeit, Jewish ritual or the shtetl. Portnoy, on the other hand, was familiar. I thought he was just another self-absorbed kid who might have gone to my high school.

Then one day, in the local public library, I spotted Preparing for Sabbath. Having exhausted just about the entire literature section, I took it home, and within a matter of hours, the book took me home. Home to a tradition that I sensed was mine. And all because the heroine in the book was nothing special. She was like me - unremarkable! And yet, she was remarkable, because she had a connection to a tradition that went beyond "Sunrise, Sunset."

Preparing for Sabbath was not really the first American-Jewish literature that I had read. Apart from Portnoy's Complaint, I had read other books by well-known Jewish-American writers. But Preparing for Sabbath was the first Jewish novel. It is what ultimately transported me from the world of Philip Roth to the world of Sholem Aleichem. Suddenly, those rituals that I knew only from Fiddler on the Roof, were being enacted by this unremarkable character who spoke English and with whom, frankly, I had more in common than Portnoy.

When Rivka Miriam spoke at the conference about seeing herself as part of a story that started before her and will continue after her, I understood her, literally and metaphorically. Many years before, I would have found her Hebrew and her communal consciousness foreign. But reading Rapoport's novel had prepared me. The moment I finished that book, I felt transformed. I, too, was a "bat melech," heir to a rich legacy. I wanted in.

Years later, when I already had an MA in Jewish literature, I read an essay by Nessa Rapoport entitled "Text, Language, and the Hope of Redemption," in which she said, "To be a Jewish writer is to do what Jews have always done: Fashion text and language in the hope of redemption." I thought hard about that claim.

Is it unrealistic to hope that Jewish literature can redeem the world? Maybe. But in Ethics of the Fathers, we find the notion that to redeem one life is to redeem the entire world. As someone who personally began her journey home with a Jewish novel as my compass, I believe in the redemptive power of Jewish literature.

 
 
 
 

Writers debate what's a Jewish writer

Dina Kraft

Dozens of writers from Israel and the Diaspora gathered to debate what it means to be a Jewish writer

 

 
 

JERUSALEM (JTA) Among those jostling for room in crowded conference halls in downtown Jerusalem were a Serbian novelist, a Russian short story writer, an Israeli poet and a German playwright.

They were among some 100 writers who gathered from across the world to begin a conversation on what it means to be a Jewish writer.

Polish-born writer Eva Hoffman spoke of how Jewish identity intertwines with her writing life.

"I started writing out of the Diaspora [experience] -- the great rupture of emigration, the loss of my first language and finding a second language," she said during a panel discussion. "Being inside and outside … this is the classic Jewish and writer's position."

Kissufim, the Jerusalem Conference of Jewish Writers, was the first gathering of its kind in Israel. The four-day event, which ended April 19, featured readings and roundtable discussions on topics ranging from memory and the Holocaust to Nobel winner S.Y. Agnon to the variety of languages in Jewish literature. It was hosted by Beit Morasha of Jerusalem, The Academic Center for Jewish Studies and Leadership.

Central to the gathering's goals was to expose Israeli Jewish writers and Diapora Jewish writers to each other.

At a panel discussion on what defines a Jewish writer, Israeli author Aharon Megged said using Hebrew was central to his writing experience.

"In Hebrew, every letter has meaning," he said. "It is the language of the Bible, a language with layers of history … there is something Jewish deep inside it that you cannot distance yourself from."

Melvin Jules Bukiet, a New York novelist and literary critic, asked if the glorification of Hebrew was not in some ways an attempt to disenfranchise other languages.

Prize-winning writer Maya Kaganskaya, who immigrated to Israel from Kiev and writes exclusively in Russian, said that despite many years in Israel it's still the Russian language and its great authors with whom she connects most deeply.

Such debate was among the aims of the conference, organizers said. The idea was not that participants should agree on every topic but rather -- because this was a unique encounter between Diaspora and Israeli Jewish writers -- they would start debating the same themes and topics.

"There is sometimes a sense that there is a Diaspora-Israel break, that some Israelis have a very strong sense that Israel is the center of the Jewish world and some people in the Diapsora feel very uncomfortable with that, as if it is some sort of denigration of their own lives," said Michael Kramer, a conference organizer and director of the graduate creative writing program in Bar-Ilan University's English Department.

"One of the things we were trying to do was get beyond that sense of a break," Kramer said. "We invited people to speak and read in their own languages, trying to get things translated not just in the linguistic sense, but also the larger sense to get a sense of their world translated."

Jonathan Rosen, a New York author and editor, said the conference provided important insights.

"It's unusual to have a conference like this in Israel, where Jewish identity plays a different role in the cultural imagination than it does in the United States," he told JTA.

Rosen said the conference dealt with those differences but also underscored the emerging understanding among Israeli writers that there's a vibrant Diaspora, just as it allows Diaspora writers a chance to contemplate the vital role Israel plays in Jewish life.

"We all need each other," Rosen said.

Another theme that emerged was a return by some American Jewish writers to the role of religion in their lives. Rosen himself wrote a novel, "Joy Comes in the Morning," that features a woman rabbi as its main character.

Rosen said that stands in contrast to the older generation of Jewish writers, who wrote of moving away from their religious and immigrant origins to embrace American culture, even viewing Ellis Island as the new Mount Sinai.

Now, he said, there's a "journey back toward Jewish identity and consciousness rather than self-consciousness. It is a journey that is equally heroic, fruitful and exhilarating and is even quintessentially American, because without an individual identity one cannot have an American identity."

Rosen traces the trend to the 1960s, when Jewish studies began to make inroads at American universities, the Six-Day War boosted Jewish self-confidence and genteel American anti-Semitism went into eclipse.

Nessa Rapoport, a Canadian-born memoirist and writer who now lives in New York City and long has dealt with Jewish themes, also sees Jewish writing taking a turn toward its religious roots.

"Once I felt considerable solitude as a writer in my passion for the Jewish literary tradition," she said. "Now I see an increasing number of Jewish American writers as engaged as I am by the eloquence of our shared literary inheritance."

Rapoport said she sometimes is overwhelmed by how much writing there is on Jewish themes.

"I used to be able to read most of what was published in American Jewish writing," she said. "Now I cannot possibly keep up."

The conference was an opportunity for the writers to network and begin to create a kind of community. Plans are under way for another gathering in two years.

Carolyn Hessel, head of the Jewish Book Council, was among those attending the conference. Considered among the most powerful voices in North American Jewish literature, she has been delighted by the recent surge of high-quality literary fiction produced by the younger generation.

"It's like a Renaissance of Jewish literature," she said.

 
 
 
 

Agnon in Jerusalem
Literary conference evokes his meaning

an article by Toby Klein Greenwald