"Nocturnal Animals" - short story

“They were here last night!”

“After all the work you’ve done. What did they do this time?”

“They dug up the grass! Again!”

I led my wife to the backyard where the damage was plain to see. Mounds of overturned soil, piles of kicked-up earth where a lawn of thick green grass used to be.

“It’s worse than last time,” she noted.

“Much worse.”

What more could I do? I had installed a chain-link fence around the perimeter, but this hadn’t served as a strong enough barrier. I had reinforced the fence, added additional metal stakes at regular intervals. This did not stop them. I weighted down the fencing and secured the stakes with solid bases.This effort had failed as well.

Boars. Wild boars determined to go on a rampage in my garden.

“Strange that they’re only trampling the grass. They never eat the flowers or the bushes.”

“They’re going for water,” I explained. The upturned earth ran in nearly parallel lines above the buried irrigation tubing. Grass destroyed in a surprisingly neat pattern.

“How many are there?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I have never actually seen them.”

Read the rest of the story on Across the Margin.

Stuffed boar as seen at the Steinhardt Museum of Natural History.

Hiking in Israel: Overlooking Jericho

I had never heard of the Dok Fortress until a few weeks ago. Dok (the name used in the Book of Maccabees, while Josephus called it Dagon) was the first Hasmonean fortress. According to tradition, Dok is where Simeon, the last of the Maccabean brothers, together with his wife and two sons, was murdered in 135 BCE by his son-in-law.

Centuries later, a Byzantine church was built inside the fortress, and much later, a medieval church. Nothing remains of that church except for an outline of its stone walls, and nothing at all remains of the fortress itself.

I joined a group including Ami, a good friend, for the hike. We travelled in a convoy of some 20 cars through a Border Police training base (everything we did was with IDF permission) and then several kilometers further into the desert. Finally, we parked and set off on foot for about 2 kilometers before climbing to a lookout point where we could see Dok. Then we made our way up to the fortress itself for an amazing view over the Palestinian city of Jericho – a very green oasis just north of the Dead Sea.

Coming down the mountain I was in for some unexpected surprises. First was seeing the Monastery of the Temptation built precariously on the opposite cliff walls. The temptation mentioned refers to Jesus spending forty days and forty nights fasting and meditating and fighting off the call of Satan. Qurantal, another name for the mountain, can be translated as 40, referring to those days and nights.

As we continued our descent, we reached a network of caves called ‘ma’arat ha’meraglim’ – Cave of the Spies. This is where traditionally Rahab from Jericho hid the two men sent to scout out the land before the arrival of the Israelites in the Book of Joshua. We walked through the caves including one where bats flew noisily over our heads.

We reached the bottom of the mountain and then followed the rocky path up a wadi until we reached the road where we had parked our cars.

Quite an amazing hike through unfamiliar territory, with many sites connected to Israel’s Biblical past.

"Applesauce" - short story

My wife makes the best chocolate cake.

Moist. Rich. So chocolaty. I stood there daydreaming about the cake, my mouth watering, and then my phone buzzed.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in line.”

“At the front of the line, or at the back of the line?”

“Um, somewhere in the middle of the line.”

“Did you get applesauce?”

“Applesauce?”

“I need it for the cake. You forgot! You’re always forgetting things!”

Chocolate cake—applesauce was one of the ingredients.

“Of course, I remember,” I said.

“Well, make sure to get it. I want to bake before dinner.”

“Okay.”

I apologized to the others waiting in line at the cash register and spun my shopping cart around. With one hand holding down the toilet paper resting precariously atop a mountain of groceries, I set off in search of canned goods.

“Michael!”

My tennis partner was lingering by the dairy refrigerators. Like me, Bill was pushing an overfilled cart. Like me, he didn’t seem pleased with the task.

“How are you?” I asked him. “We haven’t played in weeks.”

“My shoulder—it’s still bugging me. What’s up with you?”

“Oh, you know. The same.”

“We should get together, even if it’s not on the courts. Why don’t you come over on Saturday and we’ll watch the game? Have some beer?”

“Beer? Sounds good!” I said.

“You know what? Bring Janet as well. I can fire up the grill and we’ll make a meal out of it.”

“I don’t know what Janet’s planning,” I said. “If she’s up to it, what should we bring?”

“Why don’t you bring the beer?”

“Sure, I’ll bring the beer.”

“Well, I’ll see you then. Meanwhile, I need to find muesli. I won’t be allowed back in the house if I don’t buy muesli.”

“I hear you,” I said. I patted him on the shoulder and continued through the store.

Daily special! Marked-down prices. The red-bordered notices on the shelves drew my attention to discounted products, many of which I had missed on my first circuit. Onward through the store. Baking goods, dry goods, pet food. Frozen goods, fruits and vegetables. Finally, I arrived at the beverage aisle.

Beer, he said, but what kind? Pale amber, stout, or Belgian-style ale? Local beer, or the more expensive imported variety? If I get a cheap six-pack, I’ll appear to be stingy. But imported beer? I’m neither a regular drinker nor a beer connoisseur, but I didn’t want to be judged on what I would bring to Bill’s table. Okay, let’s just go with what’s on sale—American-style lager.

I waited at the checkout counter, smiling at the other customers. But wait! Janet had asked me to pick up something. What was it?

Applesauce for the chocolate cake!

“Excuse me,” I said, spinning my cart around to begin another trip around the store. Up one crowded aisle and down the next. Paper goods, cleaning supplies. I turned around the next corner and found myself back at the beverage aisle.

“Did you get the beer?”

“Bill! I thought you would be out of here by now.”

“I’m still looking for muesli. What is muesli anyway? Some kind of fancy granola? What’s wrong with good old cornflakes?”

“It’s probably with the other breakfast products,” I said, pointing toward the back of the store.

“Hmm. I see you got lager,” Michael said, regarding the pack balancing next to the toilet paper on top of my cart.

“You don’t like lager?”

“Oh, I do! I assumed you to be an ale guy. A pale ale guy,” he said with a laugh. I didn’t find his joke funny.

“Anything else you want me to get?” I asked, trying to humor him with a display of generosity.

“Let me see. We could use salted nuts to go with the beer. Cashews, almonds. I really like cashews, don’t you?”

“Nuts?”

“Listen, I’m just suggesting it. It’s not a problem if you can’t get any.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll find something,” I assured him.

“Great! I really have to find that muesli and get the hell out of here. I hate grocery shopping!”

“Me, too!” I replied, but he had already wheeled his cart away.

I passed the bread and baked goods section, bypassed the coffees and tea, and headed to the candy and snack shelves. I hoped cashews were on sale.

Back in line at the cash register, I tried to think if there was anything else I was supposed to buy. Janet may have mentioned something, but it must not have been all that important. She would be pleased to hear we had been invited out. I knew she didn’t mind the occasional beer. We’d probably eat outside—the weather was certainly good enough. I wondered what Michael would be grilling. Hot dogs and burgers, or something more expensive?

“Will that be all, sir?” the cashier asked after the last of my goods had passed in front of her.

“Yes, that’s everything,” I said, pulling out my wallet. I handed her my credit card and arranged the shopping bags in the cart. “Thank you,” I said when she handed back the card along with my receipt.

 A short while later, I parked the car out front and made two trips carrying the groceries into the house. “I’m home,” I shouted, and Janet joined me in the kitchen.

“Did you get the applesauce?”

“Applesauce?”

“For the cake. The chocolate cake you love so much!”

“Uh, no. I was at the supermarket, and...”

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t forget! They were all out! I even asked the stock clerk!”

She shook her head, not believing a word I said.

“What’s that smell? Is there something in the oven?”

“Yes. Devil’s Food Cake. I knew you’d forget the applesauce. You’re hopeless!”

My wife makes the best Devil’s Food Cake.

Originally published on Bright Flash Literary Review. Photo by pure julia on Unsplash

Review of ‘Jerusalem Beach’ by Iddo Gefen

In the opening story of Jerusalem Beach by Iddo Gefen, translated by Daniella Zamir (Astra House, August 2021), an eighty-year-old man enlists in the Golani infantry brigade. His son is sure he has “lost his marbles.” Serving in the army at that age would “help death along.” The old man replies that he is “trying to outrun death.”

In this story, “The Geriatric Platoon,” the IDF has established “a unit for the elderly, mainly for show” and their service on the border is “just a game everyone’s playing.” But for the wayward, elderly soldier, service in the army is much more than a game. His worried son and grandson go into action to bring the old man home, and an incident on the border makes their mission more urgent than ever.

In the story’s subplot, the narrator is receiving a series of emails from his estranged mother. Will connections between family members be repaired by story’s end, or will tragedy drive them apart? This well-constructed story, partially epistolary in format, leaves readers eager to dive into the rest of the collection.

Thicket of dreams

Many of Gefen’s stories are otherworldly, although you wouldn’t classify them exactly as science fiction but rather narratives focused on memories and dreams. There is an interplanetary coming-of-age tale in “The Girl Who Lived Near the Sun”; dreams are monitored and built in “Debby’s Dream House”; and memories are shared in “How to Remember a Desert”; but two tender, very emotional stories make this collection a tour de force of new Israeli literature.

In “Exit,” a young girl wanders into the desert and “disappear[s] into the thicket of her dreams,” leading her mother to say, ‘’Something in her eyes has changed since we moved south."

The family’s move to the Negev has given the mother a chance to advance her career, while the father is stuck, working alone on developing an app for his start-up. Seeing how his wife was not relating to “her little girl falling apart before her very eyes,” the father realizes “she [had] shifted the responsibility for our daughter’s care over to me.”

As the young girl grows distant, withdrawing from the waking world while walking a fine line between memories and dreams, her anxious parents think that if they just understood what she was dreaming about, they could find a solution to her mysterious medical condition. Readers will sympathize with these helpless parents, hoping that the young girl will find a way out of her dreams and back into the arms of her caring family.

First memories

The dream-like title story, “The Jerusalem Beach,” is the most touching in the entire collection. An elderly woman is suffering from Alzheimer’s. Along with her caring husband, “they went looking for her first memory, snow on the beach in Jerusalem.” Her husband knows the memory, and the beach itself, are probably imaginary, but what wouldn’t one do to in hopes to help the woman you love?

The two arrive at the central bus station in Jerusalem, board the “miraculous” light rail train, and travel to the Machane Yehuda market. Jerusalem has changed immensely since his last visit decades before. Just like his wife, he, too, finds himself “lost in time and space.” Readers will be eager to learn if the snowy beach is a dream or a true memory “too precious to place in the hands of another, even of a loved one.”

When you read Gefen’s stories, with their diverse characters, and cross-genre themes of memories and dreams, you never know what you’re going to get. But one thing you do know. Each story is going to be very enjoyable to read.

Iddo Gefen is an author and neurocognitive researcher at the Virtual and Augmented Reality Lab at the Sagol Brain Institute. He leads an innovative study to diagnose aspects of Parkinson’s disease using storytelling and augmented reality. Jerusalem Beach, his first book, received the Israeli Minister of Culture’s Award in 2017, and he won the National Library of Israel “Pardes” Scholarship for young writers in 2019.

 

Originally published on The Times of Israel.

From the Archive: What Reviewers Said About “The Virtual Kibbutz”

“The Virtual Kibbutz – a collection of short stories – has been selected as a finalist in the Fiction – Short Stories category of the ForeWord Magazine 2003 Book of the Year Awards, honoring excellence in independent publishing.”

That press release was from April 2004, and while the book did not win the award, its nomination was yet another example of the positive response it received from readers, reviewers, and independent publishers.

Here is a small selection of what reviewers said about The Virtual Kibbutz, shortly after its publication:

 

“It is a lively collection of readable, imaginative short stories descriptive of kibbutz life … Shuman conveys both warmth and sadness in his stories, along with a sense of intimacy and a feeling of regret for the possible passing of a history of which he was a part. The stories are simple, but rich and informative, as they describe ordinary, individual, everyday living in a kibbutz.”  -- Akron Jewish News

 

“Shuman captures the realities of today’s kibbutz as members struggle to stay in sight of a rapidly changing society. What makes the book so engaging is that he treats it all with the language and imagery of an inspired storyteller.”  -- Hamilton Jewish News

 

“The Virtual Kibbutz is … a must read for anyone interested in understanding the issues facing this uniquely Israeli institution. The underlying theme of the collection is change – as Israel evolves into a high tech capitalist economy, kibbutzim are struggling to stay true to their ideology while making social and economic changes to maintain their viability.” -- The Source, Israel Info-Access Magazine

 

“I recommend the book to anyone who has spent time on a kibbutz, anyone interested in learning more about the very unique society of the kibbutz, or anyone who enjoys reading about Israel in general. I found the stories fun and enlightening.” -- About.com Judaism site

 

“The Virtual Kibbutz gives one an insider’s look into the most personal aspects of kibbutz life. And one is left kvelling at the accomplishments of our fellow Jews in the face of nearly insurmountable odds … Each narrative is a distinct unit, with each story just the right length to read on a commute or before bedtime. If you like reading true yet Hamish stories which leave you with a smile in your heart, then this book should be on your ‘must read’ list.” – JewishIndy

Buy The Virtual Kibbutz here.

Not all Israeli Netflix dramas are good. Case in point: Hit & Run

Israel has been very successful exporting television shows in recent years. Two shows that enjoyed huge success in their American adaptations are the HBO psychotherapy drama “In Treatment” (based on the Israeli series BeTipul); and the Showtime counterterrorism thriller “Homeland” (based on the Israeli series Hatufim).

In the age of streaming services, Israel has seen trans-Atlantic transports of original content in Hebrew. The most surprisingly successful show has been “Shtisel”. The third season about a Haredi family living in an ultra-Orthodox neighborhood of Jerusalem is now available on Netflix.

Another Netflix success story is “Fauda”, which very realistically tells the story of “a top Israeli agent [who] comes out of retirement to hunt for a Palestinian fighter he thought he'd killed, setting a chaotic chain of events into motion.” In Israel, this series is possibly too close to home for comfort, but it has attracted a huge international audience.

One could assume that the creators of “Fauda”—Avi Issacharoff (Middle East commentator for The Times of Israel) and Lior Raz (who also stars in the series)—have a Midas touch, and anything with their name in the credits would be golden.

Unfortunately, this is not the case.

“Hit & Run” premiered recently on Netflix and the 9-episode series is listed as one of the top 10 shows in Israel today. The show relates the story of a “man searching for the truth behind his wife's death” only to be “caught up in a dangerous web of secrets and intrigue stretching from New York to Tel Aviv.”

There are many problems with this show. Although Israeli viewers will enjoy identifying local Tel Aviv scenery, the plot has so many holes that one can’t help but be amazed that someone dared to write a script like this. (While Issacharoff and Raz are listed as creators, they only wrote the first episode).

The main problem with “Hit & Run” though, is its main character. Lior Raz may have been good, and believable, as the star of “Fauda” but here is grotesquely out of place. Looking like a terrorist on the hunt, we can’t help but cringe every time he appears. A man we are supposed to have sympathy for goes on a killing rage and seems to enjoy it. When this travel agent-turned-avenger gets locked up and beaten to the core, we can’t help but cheer. Keep him in jail and out of our living rooms!

No spoilers here. I won’t give away the ending because after a few episodes, you’ll wonder what’s the point? You might make it to end of the ninth episode, but this could be in hopes that the main character will be killed off, thereby preventing a second season.

 

Originally published on The Times of Israel

Photo credit: Netflix official site

Review of ‘Isaac's Beacon’ by David L. Robbins

The novel Isaac's Beacon by David L. Robbins (Wicked Son, August 2021) is a sweeping historical epic based on the actual events of Israel’s founding, but it doesn’t sugarcoat the tale in the tradition of Exodus and Cast a Giant Shadow. There are no striking, blue-eyed movie stars here, but rather complex, flawed protagonists forced to find their way amidst the challenges and struggles of pre-state Israel’s most tumultuous years.

Eva escapes wartime Vienna and crosses the Mediterranean on a refugee ship only to be interned in the Atlit detention camp, before rebuilding her life as Rivkah in Gush Etzion. Hugo lingers between living and dying in Buchenwald, where he is rescued by an American reporter named Vince. Upon their arrival in Palestine, Vince discovers it is more important to play a role in the historic events occurring around him than to report their story.

Told from the perspective of Irgun fighters, this is a candid account of bombings and hangings, of sitting on death row in a British prison, and navigating one’s way through minefields. The events are portrayed with careful adherence to historical accuracy, a sign of the author’s meticulous research.

While the bombing of the King David Hotel is well known, not everyone is familiar with the failed attempt to blow up British military headquarters at Citrus House in Tel Aviv. The sinking of the Patria refugee ship was a real, tragic event, as were the fierce attacks on convoys supplying the settlements of Gush Etzion. It will surprise readers to learn that American conductor and composer Leonard Bernstein performed with the Palestine Philharmonic at Ein Harod; this concert took place in May 1947.

Most troubling to read are the pages depicting the events at Deir Yassin in April 1948. Fighters from the Irgun and Lehi killed at least 100 Palestinian Arabs in what can be rightfully be called a massacre. The horror of what transpired in that village is described in precise, painful detail.

The title of the book is a bit strange. The Gush Etzion kibbutz where Rivkah makes her home, where Vince takes up arms in defense of the Jewish cause, and where Hugo finds refuge from Irgun violence, is Masu'ot Yitzhak, an actual kibbutz destroyed in the War of Independence (and later established as a moshav shitufi near Ashkelon). The name’s literal translation is Isaac’s Beacon, but that hardly sounds like something that would appear on a map of Israel.

“There is going to be a Jewish state,” says one of the Irgun leaders in the last days of the British Mandate. “It will be born in bitterness and battle.” The novel Isaac’s Beacon relates the tale of Israel’s birth in bitterness and battle without sparing the reader any of the blood, sweat, and tears of the brave fighters who made it possible.

New York Times best-selling author David L. Robbins is the author of 15 novels and four professionally produced plays. Many of his books are historical, depicting the battles and conflicts of World War Two. In 2018, Robbins was named one of two most influential literary artists in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

Originally published on The Times of Israel.

"After the War" - a short story in 101 words

The recent flare up of hostilities between Israel and Gaza in May saddened me. Actually it was more than a flare up - it was a war. More than 4,000 rockets fired into Israel, Israeli airstrikes at military targets in Gaza. At least 243 Palestinians were killed, including 66 children and 39 women. Twelve people in Israel, including a 5-year-old boy and 16-year-old girl, were killed. And there was extensive property damage on both sides. All this in 11 days.

I imagined what the Gaza border looked like in the days after the fighting, the latest round in a never-ending conflict. I wrote about my feelings in a very short story totaling 101 words. The story was submitted to the 101 Words website, but it was rejected (as was a previous submission). 

"It would benefit from some action - apart from the bird soaring - some conflict - a problem," the rejection said.

I feel my very short story describes a very painful conflict, an ongoing problem. You be the judge.

After the War

The white bird rose from the rubble and caught the wind. It lifted above the debris, the widespread destruction. What was once a home was now fragments of cement, pulverized tiles, severed wires. Broken furniture, charred books, abandoned toys. From above, the ruins appeared miniature, unreal. The bird flew across open fields, dusty trails, and barbed wire. And then more wreckage, further devastation. Far below lay the remains of another family's house, their scattered possessions and damaged furnishings. Their shattered dreams. No lives were lost in these two homes, not this time, but painful memories would last forever on both sides.

Photo by sun hx on Unsplash.