"Insightful, culturally rich blend of short stories"

As someone without prior knowledge of Bulgaria, reading “Rakiya: Stories of Bulgaria” by Ellis Shuman was an insightful experience.

Rakiya, an eponymous chapter, is the first story in this collection of twelve short stories. It begins with an intensity that drives home the importance of Rakiya, especially when homemade, in Bulgarian culture. Unsurprisingly, Rakiya, the alcoholic drink, features throughout the book and is often lauded for its powerful taste and ability to enrich festive celebrations. However, the book delves into many other aspects of Bulgaria’s rich culture beyond the love for Rakiya. These aspects encompass its architecture, tourist attractions, favorable climate for startups, perseverance, hospitality, dark Second World War history, etc.

The first story explains how Rakiya is made while highlighting the importance of communication in preserving and restoring relationships. The second story, “Mother and Daughter,” as well as “The Volcano,” “Sozopol,” and “Forgiveness,” the third, fifth, and eleventh stories, call for introspection. These stories, in particular, present flawed characters doing their best to survive, provide for their loved ones, and acknowledge their mistakes. While it is easy to condemn certain actions they take in this bid to survive, such as pickpocketing, cowardice, and poor judgment, it is undeniable that there is a need for readers to consider what they would do if they were in the exact shoes of these characters during the temporal setting of each story.

Initially, the stories seem to end with the conclusion of each chapter, which can be rather abrupt, leaving the gap of ”What next?”. As the book progresses, however, the interconnectivity of each story unfolds beautifully and surprisingly. It is a pleasant surprise when a character who had a brief and mysterious appearance reappears in another story, shedding more light on his/her role in the earlier story, such as in “The Baker” (the seventh story). The baker helps the mother and her daughter in the second story, but readers only come to understand his character in this seventh story. He is Syrian, but due to the raging war between his country and Israel, he finds himself sheltering in Bulgaria with his family. During this seventh story, he has a brief encounter with an Israeli customer, whose perspective on this encounter isn’t revealed until the twelfth story.

The book’s physical setting revolves around Bulgaria, allowing readers to explore its capital, Sofia, as well as a few other locations like Sozopol, the Rhodope Mountains, and Varna while offering insight into Israeli and Syrian culture through dialogue and reflections from characters.

Indeed, the prose is detailed in drawing to the fore the richness of Bulgaria’s culture through vivid descriptions, such as:

“The squarish structure sat on a foundation of black-and-white striped arches; five golden domes above sparkled in the sunlight. The church’s remarkable architectural style, ornamental in nature, seemed to date not only to another century, but to another mindset as well. I stood in silent reverence, as awestruck as the devout pilgrims. Serenity. Tranquility. Holiness. I wasn’t a religious person, but here I felt something very spiritual.” (Pages 126-127).

“As you may know, in Bulgaria, our religion is Eastern Orthodox Christianity. The monastery is what kept the Bulgarian spirit alive through the centuries of Ottoman rule. During our oppression, the monks safeguarded our language, our culture, our history, even our alphabet. We may not be a religious country today, but Bulgarians regard the Rila Monastery as our most sacred site.” (Page 127).

“Rakiya: Stories of Bulgaria” by Ellis Shuman is an insightful, culturally rich blend of short stories, ranging from humorous to creepy to somber. If you enjoy learning about cultures and history and prefer a diverse mix of characters, then “Rakiya” is definitely worth the read. I particularly enjoyed “Sozopol” because I was pleasantly surprised by its conclusion.

Review posted on Goodreads.

Review of ‘Saving Abigail’ by Liz Hirsh Naftali

When Hamas attacked Israel in the early morning hours of October 7, 2023, one of the hardest hit communities was Kibbutz Kfar Aza. Nukhba Force terrorists smashed through the border fence and launched a murderous rampage, going from house to house and killing, raping, and abducting civilians. Smadar and Roee Mor Idan were murdered in their home. Two of their children survived the attack by hiding inside a closet for 14 hours. Three-year-old Abigail was taken hostage by Hamas.

Spoiler alert: Abigail, the youngest U.S. citizen held by Hamas, was released in November, after 51 days of captivity in Gaza. Another spoiler alert: As of this writing, 97 hostages remain in Gaza, including the bodies of at least 34 confirmed dead by the IDF.

Saving Abigail: The True Story of the Abduction and Rescue of a Three-Year-Old Hostage by Liz Hirsh Naftali (Post Hill Press, September 9, 2024) details the author’s efforts, alongside others, to rescue Abigail and free the remaining hostages.

Hirsh Naftali, Abigail’s great aunt, happened to be in the country on that tragic October morning. The losses in her family hit hard, but she quickly realized there was something she could do. “I could tell people what had happened. I could let people know what Hamas had done to my family in Kfar Aza, and to the entire country,” she writes in the book.

With no prior knowledge or plan how to rescue a hostage from captivity, she set out to share her niece’s face and story, to not only bring awareness of the hostages’ plight, but to encourage American politicians and world leaders to increase diplomatic pressure on Hamas to release their prisoners.

“Practically speaking, I had no idea how to move the entire American federal government in the midst of an unprecedented geopolitical mess,” she writes. But “America still cared about its people, and when it focused its full powers towards a specific objective, it could make big things happen.”

Hirsh Naftali had an advantage over others who lost family members on October 7^th. She had connections with leading American politicians, many of whom she seemingly had on speed dial. She began calling and meeting with congressional and world leaders, including President Joe Biden.

The extensive name dropping on the pages of the book can be overwhelming, especially to those unfamiliar with American politics. However, with all her connections, Hirsh Naftali could not guarantee Abigail’s release.

“Freeing Abigail seemed an insanely ambitious goal most of the time,” Hirsh Naftali writes. “She was part of events far bigger than the kidnapping and captivity of one tiny three-year-old child.”

Abigail was among the group of hostages released back to Israel during a temporary truce. The second half of the book details the author’s continued advocacy for the release of the other hostages. While they remain captive in Gaza at this time, it is important to know that there are those who fight for their release every day, and this book’s author is one of them.

Liz Hirsh Naftali is an investor, philanthropist, and the host and creator of The Capitol Coffee Connection podcast. She is the mother of five children and has lived between Israel and the US since 1992.

Originally posted on The Times of Israel.

Meet the Author Podcast

In September 2024, I had the opportunity to speak about my life, my writing, and my books with Rob & Joan from the Meet the Author Podcast.

You're invited to listen in!

Don't Judge a Book by Its (Tablet) Cover

At 6:30 in the morning on Wednesday, September 25th, sirens went off, warning of an impending rocket attack on Tel Aviv. Along with the other passengers on the train that had departed from Modi’in half an hour earlier, I lay on the floor. The train slowed as it neared the Tel Aviv University Station. When it came to a stop, I rushed off and took shelter in the arrival hall below the tracks.

It was the first time that a missile fired by Hezbollah came close to striking Tel Aviv in the ongoing and escalating conflict. The IDF Army confirmed it had intercepted the surface-to-surface missile after it was launched from Lebanon. There were no reports of casualties or damage.

I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried toward the station’s exit. As I walked, I adjusted my backpack and found that one of the pouches was unzipped. I felt inside and discovered that my tablet was missing. Maybe in my rush to get off the train I had placed it inside another pouch? Had I had left it on the train?

I need my tablet to read

My journey to work on the early morning train lasts 37 minutes, and I utilize the time to read. That morning, I had been just a chapter or two short of finishing Songs for the Brokenhearted by Ayelet Tsabari, an excellent novel by a highly talented writer. I was thoroughly enjoying the book and planning to write a very complimentary review. But when I arrived at my office and checked my backpack, I confirmed the fact that I had lost my tablet.

I opened a ticket on the Israel Railways website reporting the loss. I joined several Facebook groups—Lost and Found, Lost and Found in Tel Aviv, and Lost and Found on the Train. I posted a quick note about losing my tablet and provided a brief description. I checked my Facebook feed every hour to see if anyone reported finding it.

A few words about my tablet. It is a very old, outdated Samsung model, dating back to 2013. I only use the tablet for reading. I don’t watch videos on the tablet; I don’t play games. My tablet serves me solely as a digital book.

The most distinguishing feature of the tablet is its black cover. The cover is as old as the device and shows extensive signs of wear and tear. It’s faded and starting to come apart. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a picture of the tablet to post on Facebook.

One of the first thoughts that went through my head was how would I finish the last pages of Tsabari’s novel? I downloaded the Kindle app to my phone and on my return train journey home, I read the ending of the book on a very small screen.

I order a new tablet and then…

A week and a half passed, and I had given up hope of ever seeing my tablet again. I went online and searched for a new tablet to buy. I didn’t want anything fancy, and I certainly didn’t want an Amazon Kindle, a device that continues to frustrate my wife months after she purchased it. I found an affordable model and made the order. The tablet would be ready for pickup at an electronics store down the street from my office the very next day.

And then I got a phone call from Israel Railways.

“Do you have a white tablet?” someone asked me.

I didn't know the color! I couldn't remember ever seeing the tablet without its fraying cover.

“Does it have a start button at the bottom, like an iPhone 4?”

“I don’t know what an iPhone 4 looks like,” I admitted.

Don't judge a digital book by its cover

After work, I went to the Lost and Found department at the Savidor Center Train Station. The clerk couldn’t find a record of having called me that morning, but he did have my report of a missing tablet listed in his files. “Is this one yours?” he said, holding up a huge device.

“My tablet is smaller.”

“What about this one?”

“No, mine is much smaller”

“And this?”

I immediately recognized the tablet by its old black cover. “That’s it!”

As the clerk wrote up his report, I turned on the device. Amazingly, after having gone missing for a week and a half, the battery was at 75%. And the Kindle app opened to the exact page in Songs for the Brokenhearted that I had been reading when the siren went off.

“You seem surprised,” the clerk said.

“I can’t believe that I found it.”

“There are good people in this world,” the clerk said, referring to the honest anonymous train passenger who had turned my tablet into Lost and Found. “And your tablet is a very old model that no one uses anymore.”

No one uses? My tablet had just survived a missile attack and reappeared after disappearing for a week and a half! Even after all these years, it is still a suitable device for reading, especially when it comes to excellent novels like Songs for the Brokenhearted by Ayelet Tsabari.

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Review of 'Songs for the Brokenhearted' by Ayelet Tsabari

If there’s a soundtrack to Songs for the Brokenhearted by Ayelet Tsabari (Random House, September 10, 2024), it probably sounds very much like Ofra Haza's ‘Yemenite Songs’ album. Like the album, this outstanding novel is a stage for Yemenite women sharing the traditional, sinuous tunes of a culture where singing is a day-to-day activity.

“You know how it is with Yemeni people. Singing is in our blood,” says one of the characters in the book. “We sing when we clean, we sing when we cook. We sing when we’re happy. We sing when we’re sad. In celebrations. Even in death.”

It is a death that brings Zohara, a 31-year-old PhD candidate, back to Israel. Zohara’s mother, Saida, has died. The two hadn’t always gotten along. ‘Only after I moved to New York had we reached a quiet, dignified truce,’ Zohara tells herself. ‘I finally made it home again. and she wasn’t here.’

Along with her sister Lizzie, Zohara sets out to purchase a gravestone and pack up their mother’s home in the Sha’ariya Yemini neighborhood of Petach Tikva. At the grocery store down the street, Zohara meets Nir, with whom she went to elementary school. Nir’s mother, Yael, introduces her to the sisterhood of women who gather at the community center to sing. As women traditionally play secondary roles in Yemeni households, Zohara ‘started thinking of the women’s songs, that insistence to be heard, as subversive, audacious, feminist even. I liked the idea of the women using their creative expression as a form of protest.’

When she discovers a set of old cassette tapes, the music 'brings Zohara closer to her mother, to understand her more after she died than she did when she was alive.' ‘It made me see my mother in a whole new light.’ Zohara is shocked to learn that her mother not only sang but was also a talented poetess. A woman capable of writing explicit lyrics.

‘If I were grapes strung on a vine, I’d squeeze the flesh of my fruit and pour juice into your mouth’.

At its heart of Songs for the Brokenhearted is a love story. It is the tale of Saida and Yaqub, who first met in an immigrant camp in 1950, shortly after their arrival in Israel. “My heart is full of rain. If it bursts, it might flood the whole time,” Saida sings, and the young girl's beautiful voice captivates Yaqub. “Singing is the one thing that keeps me sane in this place,” she tells him. “I miss the way we sang in Yemen, all the women together.”

Zohara’s discovery of her mother’s musical talents makes her reconsider the subject of her dissertation. She also reexamines her connection with Iggy, a former lover and her current best friend. Or maybe her friendship with Nir can advance to the next level, she wonders.

Tsabari, author of the award-winning The Best Place on Earth short story collection, populates her pages with true to life characters. Zohara’s nephew, Yoni, struggles to find meaning during the politically charged weeks leading up to November 1995. Lizzie’s frustrations with her sister are easily understood, and readers will readily connect with Zohara, as she is drawn closer to her mother and learns more about herself in the process.

You can almost hear Saida singing her original lyrics to traditional Yemenite songs as you read this moving, highly recommended novel.

Ayelet Tsabari’s debut collection of short stories, The Best Place on Earth, won the Sami Rohr Prize for Jewish Literature and the Edward Lewis Wallant Award. Her memoir The Art of Leaving was a finalist for the Writer’s Trust Hilary Weston Prize, and the winner of the Canadian Jewish Literary Award for memoir. She’s the co-editor of the anthology Tongues: On Longing and Belonging Through Language and has taught creative writing at Guelph MFA in Creative Writing and The University of King’s College MFA.

 

Originally posted on The Times of Israel.

Related articles:

Review of 'The Art of Leaving' by Ayelet Tsabari

Review of 'The Best Place on Earth' by Ayelet Tsabari