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For more reviews go to The Thomas Fisher Rare Books Library.
Bedouin story stunningby Michael Sainsbury,
Vancouver Courier
Malka Marom’s first novel is a monumental work that ranges across 2,000 years
of war and bigotry in the Middle East. To judge by the acknowledgments in the
back of the book, it was based on a great deal of scholarly research. Its proportions
are epic and its theme is ambitious. In other words, it could have been a great
big flop. Instead it is a towering novel that not only encompasses grand themes
and lost tribes, it also contains a mother’s love, a widow’s loss, and
a child’s wonder.
Born and raised in Israel, Marom moved to Canada and was part of the 1960s folk
singing duo Malka and Joso—inevitably referred to as the Canadian Sonny and
Cher. She subsequently made radio documentaries about Jewish history and culture,
but it was her prize-winning documentary on the Bedouins that took her to the
Sinai Desert and inspired her to write Sulha.
This spellbinding book chronicles less than a year in the life of Leora, an Israeli-Canadian
women whose first husband was killed in the Sinai War. Eleven years later, during
the Israel-Egypt peace talks, she is invited to stay in the Sinai Desert with
two Bedouin women. In that brief timeframe, Marom weaves a rich and compelling
story of cross-cultural understanding (or misunderstanding), social history, and
the power of love.
Faced with Leora’s ignorance of Bedouin customs, her hostesses delight in
having the upper hand. “When you came here you knew nothing,” they remind
her. But Leora—a young widow, an unhappy wife, a wayward daughter, an apprehensive
mother, and a frustrated intellectual—knew perhaps too much about herself,
her relationships, and the world around her before she arrived at the Bedouins’
camp. It is only in the desert, however, that her search for sulha—peace,
forgiveness, reconciliation—can begin.
In the desert, Leora learns about the Bedouin way of life. She sees similarities
between their culture and the ancient tribes of Israel, and she ends up in the
middle of what threatens to become a blood feud. By itself, the plot is engaging.
But in Marom’s capable hands, all elements of the novel—plot, language,
characters, and themes—are wonderfully accomplished.
The language is rich and allusive. Bedouin words are seamlessly translated throughout
the book and remain in the reader’s mind long after Leora leaves the desert.
Her way of seeing the world, disoriented and refreshed by her time in the camp,
is retained when she returns to “modern-day” Israel. Air conditioned
stores and taxi cab rides become as strange to her—and the reader—as
veiled women, goat-dung fires, and muddy water holes.
Certainly the most compelling sections of the book are those set in the desert.
But an early part in which Leora recalls her late husband and imagines his death
is poignant and moving. Her childhood distinction between There (Hitler’s
death camps) and Here (Israel) is a brief but shuddering testament to Evil. Her
sharp sense of irony is a refreshing contrast to the earnestness of Bedouin tribesmen,
UN patrolmen, and Jewish peaceniks.
Ultimately, Marom’s stunning novel is a timely tale as we begin the International
Year of Peace. Not only does it encompass an age-old crisis that seems irreconcilable,
it also sets that dilemma in the often surprising context of Bedouin history and
culture. In turn, these elements are further reflected in the life of a woman
searching for meaning and closure. In all of this, Marom has created something
much more powerful and daring than yet another war novel. She has created an original
and unforgettable novel of peace.
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