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Dancing Arabs
A story born out of the tensions between Jewish and Arab Israelis, the debut novel by twenty-eight-year-old Arab-Israeli Sayed Kashua has been praised around the world for its honesty, irony, humor, and its uniquely human portrayal of a young man who moves between two societies, becoming a stranger to both.
Kashua’s nameless antihero has big shoes to fill, having grown up with the myth of a grandfather who died fighting the Zionists in 1948, and with a father who was jailed for blowing up a school cafeteria in the name of freedom. When he is granted a scholarship to an elite Jewish boarding school, his family rejoices, dreaming that he will grow up to be the first Arab to build an atom bomb. But to their dismay, he turns out to be a coward devoid of any national pride; his only ambition is to fit in with his Jewish peers who reject him. He changes his clothes, his accent, his eating habits, and becomes an expert at faking identities, sliding between different cultures, different schools, different languages, and eventually a Jewish lover and an Arab wife.
With refreshing candor and self-deprecating wit, Kashua brings us a protagonist whose greatest accomplishment is his ability to disappear. In a land where personal and national identities are synonymous, Dancing Arabs brilliantly maps one man’s struggle to disentangle the two, only to tragically and inevitably forfeit both.
Kashua’s nameless antihero has big shoes to fill, having grown up with the myth of a grandfather who died fighting the Zionists in 1948, and with a father who was jailed for blowing up a school cafeteria in the name of freedom. When he is granted a scholarship to an elite Jewish boarding school, his family rejoices, dreaming that he will grow up to be the first Arab to build an atom bomb. But to their dismay, he turns out to be a coward devoid of any national pride; his only ambition is to fit in with his Jewish peers who reject him. He changes his clothes, his accent, his eating habits, and becomes an expert at faking identities, sliding between different cultures, different schools, different languages, and eventually a Jewish lover and an Arab wife.
With refreshing candor and self-deprecating wit, Kashua brings us a protagonist whose greatest accomplishment is his ability to disappear. In a land where personal and national identities are synonymous, Dancing Arabs brilliantly maps one man’s struggle to disentangle the two, only to tragically and inevitably forfeit both.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
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About the author
Sayed Kashua
6 books172 followersCzech name version: Sajjid Kašua.
Slovak name version: Said Kašua
Sayed Kashua (Arabic: سيد قشوع, Hebrew: סייד קשוע; b. 1975) is an Israeli-Arab author and journalist born in Tira, Israel, known for his books and humoristic columns in Hebrew.
هو كاتب وصحفي فلسطيني إسرائيلي يعيش في القدس ويكتب بالعبرية. ولد سيد قشوع في مدينة الطيرة، مدينة عربية وسط إسرائيل، لأب يعمل موظفا في البنك ولأم تعمل معلمة. هو الثاني من بين أربعة أبناء. حين كان في ال15 من عمره تم قبوله لمدرسة العلوم والفنون في القدس، وهي مدرسة مرموقة، تعمل باللغة العبرية ومعظم تلاميذها من اليهود. بعد انهائه تعليمه الثانوي تعلم في الجامعة العبرية في القدس موضوع الفلسفة والعلوم الاجتماعية. بعد انهائه تعليمه عمل مراسلا للصحيفة العبرية المقدسية "كول هاعير" ("כל העיר") وبعد ذلك تحول أيضا إلى ناقد تلفزيوني وصاحب عمود شخصي في صحيفة هآرتس. كتب قشوع بالعبرية فقط، على عكس غيره من الكتاب العرب في إسرائيل الذين كتبوا بالعربية.
Slovak name version: Said Kašua
Sayed Kashua (Arabic: سيد قشوع, Hebrew: סייד קשוע; b. 1975) is an Israeli-Arab author and journalist born in Tira, Israel, known for his books and humoristic columns in Hebrew.
هو كاتب وصحفي فلسطيني إسرائيلي يعيش في القدس ويكتب بالعبرية. ولد سيد قشوع في مدينة الطيرة، مدينة عربية وسط إسرائيل، لأب يعمل موظفا في البنك ولأم تعمل معلمة. هو الثاني من بين أربعة أبناء. حين كان في ال15 من عمره تم قبوله لمدرسة العلوم والفنون في القدس، وهي مدرسة مرموقة، تعمل باللغة العبرية ومعظم تلاميذها من اليهود. بعد انهائه تعليمه الثانوي تعلم في الجامعة العبرية في القدس موضوع الفلسفة والعلوم الاجتماعية. بعد انهائه تعليمه عمل مراسلا للصحيفة العبرية المقدسية "كول هاعير" ("כל העיר") وبعد ذلك تحول أيضا إلى ناقد تلفزيوني وصاحب عمود شخصي في صحيفة هآرتس. كتب قشوع بالعبرية فقط، على عكس غيره من الكتاب العرب في إسرائيل الذين كتبوا بالعربية.
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October 2, 2024
IDENTITÀ IN PRESTITO
Larry Towell fotografo dell’immagine in copertina, qui in altri scatti del suo reportage sulla Palestina.
Un altro di quei libri dalla tematica estremamente interessante (un bambino palestinese che cresce con la voglia di essere considerato ebreo, o forse, più che altro, di mimetizzarsi, essere arabo per e con gli arabi, ebreo per e con gli ebrei), di scrittore interessante in sé (arabo israeliano che scrive in lingua ebraica), con trama in odore di autobiografia, ma del libro però non si sottolinea mai la scrittura.
Secondo me, è scritto malino.
È del 2002, l’esordio di Kashua, che spero abbia presto abbandonato questo stile e abbia trovato una voce più autentica, un po’ meno rozza.
Qui lo stile è quello che mi viene da definire “i pensierini”: frasi brevi, autoconclusive, che saltano di palo in frasca, col soggetto ripetuto in modo semi-ossessivo. Come si faceva alle scuole elementari. Già alla media, i temi erano più articolati e sviluppati.
Anche i capitoli sono tanti e brevi, divisi in ben cinque parti, per un totale di circa cinquanta mini sezioni. Una frantumazione che la scrittura sotto forma di “pensierini” non aiuta affatto.
È probabile che Kashua cercasse la voce di un bambino: perché nella prima parte il suo io narrante è un bambino di pochi anni, al massimo in età da scuola elementare.
Però, quando il protagonista cresce, e Kashua lo accompagna per circa un quarto di secolo, ci si aspetterebbe un’evoluzione del linguaggio, una crescita verso l’età adulta, magari addirittura la maturità.
Invece lo stile rimane identico, piatto come se fosse piallato, noioso, monotono, privo di ritmo, di una qualsiasi forma di musicalità. Non per niente, leggere queste scarse centottanta pagine mi ha richiesto un tempo, e un impegno, maggiore del solito.
Ci sono salti e a volte sembra perfino contraddizioni che fanno pensare a una mente in delirio: ma così non è – se il matrimonio del protagonista sembra esaurito con l’arrivo della primogenita, al punto che lui vorrebbe trovarsi un’amante e perfino la moglie lo consiglia in quella direzione, e però dieci o venti pagine dopo il matrimonio sembra funzionare, con sana e robusta attrazione fisica, e di amante non si parla più, è il lettore che deve trovare il bandolo, Kashua non lo fornisce.
Scarso editing? Scritto in fasi e periodi diversi? Progettato sotto forma di racconti? Non è dato sapere. La sensazione di voce qui e là delirante rimane, io me la sono dovuta tenere.
La storia è molto interessante, l’ho già detto. La voglia di integrazione, ma forse ancor più di mimetismo, del protagonista sembra dettata da vergogna: vergogna per l’appartenenza a un mondo vecchio, anacronistico, fuori dal tempo, una società immobile, corrotta e rovinata dalle faide, arretrata, che s’aggrappa all’indottrinamento ideologico e religioso.
Di fronte a questa società arabo palestinese, per quanto cittadino con carta d’identità blu (possibilità di votare per eleggere il parlamento, esenzione dal servizio militare, ma comunque cittadino israeliano di serie B), quella israeliano appare moderna, dinamica, con uno stile di vita, valori, tecnologia, parità tra i sessi da invidiare più che ammirare. Pur se società contaminata da identici pregiudizi razzisti.
Eppure i palestinesi sono ben il 20% della popolazione nazionale.
Il protagonista adolescente del film con la fidanzata ebrea.
Ma è una storia costruita in modo bizzarro: il protagonista sembra portato per lo studio, e sembra diligente, poi all’improvviso molla e dello studio non gli interessa più nulla. Perché, come mai?
L’amore di una vita, una ragazza ebrea, che gli permetterebbe di coronare il sogno della sua vita, essere scambiato per ebreo e non più riconosciuto quale arabo, diventa la sua fidanzata, ma poi lei esce di scena in modo frettoloso e senza un vero perché.
Come altrettanto frettoloso è il modo in cui entra in scena la moglie, con la quale si sposa, ma forse no, poi invece sì. Cerimonia riuscita, fallita, da dimenticare? Dovessi rispondere, non saprei che dire, ora vince una sensazione, ora vince quella opposta.
Sconclusionato. Ecco, direi che è un esordio sconclusionato, dove il protagonista piange una pagina sì e l’altra pure, e se il padre lo chiama ‘femminuccia’ e ‘mammone’ mica ci si stupisce più di tanto.
Tawfeek Barhom, il protagonista, qui con Yaël Abecassis, la madre del ragazzo paraplegico.
Ma alcune citazioni vanno fatte perché meritano:
Il giorno in cui per la prima volta in vita mia vidi gli ebrei da vicino mi feci la pipì addosso.
Sembro più israeliano di un israeliano calzato e vestito. Sono sempre contento quando gli ebrei me lo fanno notare: Non sembri affatto arabo, dicono. Alcuni sostengono che questo sia razzismo, ma io lo considero sempre un complimento. Un successo. Del resto era questo che volevo diventare: ebreo. Ho lavorato sodo per farcela, e alla fine ci sono riuscito.
Il protagonista da bambino nella prima parte del film.
Poco dopo l’inizio:
Mio papà dice che un arabo resta sempre un arabo. E ha ragione. Dice che gli ebrei possono darti la sensazione che tu sia uno di loro, e tu puoi pure volergli bene, pensare che sono le persone migliori che conosci, ma un certo punto capisci che non hai vie di uscita, che per loro resterai sempre un arabo.
Mentre avvicinandosi alla fine:
Mio padre dice che i nostri cugini di Tulkarem, Ramallah, Nablus e Bakht Al Khattab prendessero come noi la cittadinanza israeliana. Per diventare cittadini di serie B in uno stato sionista. Dice che è meglio che essere cittadini di serie A in uno stato arabo. Mio papà odia gli arabi, dice che è meglio essere servi di un nemico che servi di un leader del tuo popolo.
Laëtitia Eïdo e Ali Suliman, i genitori del protagonista.
Come si capisce, Kashua mena fendenti su suoi fratelli arabi. Ma non risparmia neppure gli ebrei israeliani, l’ironia è un’arma che maneggia bene: quando il protagonista accompagna la moglie al pronto soccorso si crea una situazione esilarante che ricorda molto Woody Allen in questa scena da Bananas (1971):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdkBW...
Il film conserva lo stesso titolo, è sceneggiato da solo dallo stesso Kashua, ed è diretto da Eran Riklis (il regista di La sposa siriana, Il giardino dei limoni, Il responsabile delle risorse umane, In fuga con il nemico tra altri).
È molto diverso dal libro perché la storia è molto più compatta e lineare: poche scene col protagonista bambino, e poi invece adolescente, lungo gli anni di liceo (privato, prestigioso, ebraico) e poi quelli d’università.
La storia d’amore con la ragazza ebrea è molto più robusta e costruita, dura più a lungo e la fine è spiegata.
C’è l’amicizia con un altro ebreo, paraplegico, che occupa uno spazio molto importante, soprattutto più ci si approssima al finale.
Nel cast spiccano alcuni attori visti e apprezzati più volte nel cinema di quella parte di mondo: Yaël Abecassis, Laëtitia Eïdo, Ali Suliman.
Ma la messa in scena è piatta come il romanzo, se lì erano pensierini, qui è compitino (al pari di una fiction da TV generalista). Vince la didascalia e mette un po’ tutti contenti, soprattutto tranquilli: ci sono ebrei israeliani sia razzisti che aperti, e arabi israeliani sia simpatizzanti per il terrorismo che per l’integrazione. Toni bassi, sorrisi sparsi, film carino che non incide.
La famiglia ebraica che accoglie il giovane palestinese.
PS
A Borrowed Identity è il titolo inglese alternativo, il cui senso si spiega solo a fine film.
Larry Towell fotografo dell’immagine in copertina, qui in altri scatti del suo reportage sulla Palestina.
Un altro di quei libri dalla tematica estremamente interessante (un bambino palestinese che cresce con la voglia di essere considerato ebreo, o forse, più che altro, di mimetizzarsi, essere arabo per e con gli arabi, ebreo per e con gli ebrei), di scrittore interessante in sé (arabo israeliano che scrive in lingua ebraica), con trama in odore di autobiografia, ma del libro però non si sottolinea mai la scrittura.
Secondo me, è scritto malino.
È del 2002, l’esordio di Kashua, che spero abbia presto abbandonato questo stile e abbia trovato una voce più autentica, un po’ meno rozza.
Qui lo stile è quello che mi viene da definire “i pensierini”: frasi brevi, autoconclusive, che saltano di palo in frasca, col soggetto ripetuto in modo semi-ossessivo. Come si faceva alle scuole elementari. Già alla media, i temi erano più articolati e sviluppati.
Anche i capitoli sono tanti e brevi, divisi in ben cinque parti, per un totale di circa cinquanta mini sezioni. Una frantumazione che la scrittura sotto forma di “pensierini” non aiuta affatto.
È probabile che Kashua cercasse la voce di un bambino: perché nella prima parte il suo io narrante è un bambino di pochi anni, al massimo in età da scuola elementare.
Però, quando il protagonista cresce, e Kashua lo accompagna per circa un quarto di secolo, ci si aspetterebbe un’evoluzione del linguaggio, una crescita verso l’età adulta, magari addirittura la maturità.
Invece lo stile rimane identico, piatto come se fosse piallato, noioso, monotono, privo di ritmo, di una qualsiasi forma di musicalità. Non per niente, leggere queste scarse centottanta pagine mi ha richiesto un tempo, e un impegno, maggiore del solito.
Ci sono salti e a volte sembra perfino contraddizioni che fanno pensare a una mente in delirio: ma così non è – se il matrimonio del protagonista sembra esaurito con l’arrivo della primogenita, al punto che lui vorrebbe trovarsi un’amante e perfino la moglie lo consiglia in quella direzione, e però dieci o venti pagine dopo il matrimonio sembra funzionare, con sana e robusta attrazione fisica, e di amante non si parla più, è il lettore che deve trovare il bandolo, Kashua non lo fornisce.
Scarso editing? Scritto in fasi e periodi diversi? Progettato sotto forma di racconti? Non è dato sapere. La sensazione di voce qui e là delirante rimane, io me la sono dovuta tenere.
La storia è molto interessante, l’ho già detto. La voglia di integrazione, ma forse ancor più di mimetismo, del protagonista sembra dettata da vergogna: vergogna per l’appartenenza a un mondo vecchio, anacronistico, fuori dal tempo, una società immobile, corrotta e rovinata dalle faide, arretrata, che s’aggrappa all’indottrinamento ideologico e religioso.
Di fronte a questa società arabo palestinese, per quanto cittadino con carta d’identità blu (possibilità di votare per eleggere il parlamento, esenzione dal servizio militare, ma comunque cittadino israeliano di serie B), quella israeliano appare moderna, dinamica, con uno stile di vita, valori, tecnologia, parità tra i sessi da invidiare più che ammirare. Pur se società contaminata da identici pregiudizi razzisti.
Eppure i palestinesi sono ben il 20% della popolazione nazionale.
Il protagonista adolescente del film con la fidanzata ebrea.
Ma è una storia costruita in modo bizzarro: il protagonista sembra portato per lo studio, e sembra diligente, poi all’improvviso molla e dello studio non gli interessa più nulla. Perché, come mai?
L’amore di una vita, una ragazza ebrea, che gli permetterebbe di coronare il sogno della sua vita, essere scambiato per ebreo e non più riconosciuto quale arabo, diventa la sua fidanzata, ma poi lei esce di scena in modo frettoloso e senza un vero perché.
Come altrettanto frettoloso è il modo in cui entra in scena la moglie, con la quale si sposa, ma forse no, poi invece sì. Cerimonia riuscita, fallita, da dimenticare? Dovessi rispondere, non saprei che dire, ora vince una sensazione, ora vince quella opposta.
Sconclusionato. Ecco, direi che è un esordio sconclusionato, dove il protagonista piange una pagina sì e l’altra pure, e se il padre lo chiama ‘femminuccia’ e ‘mammone’ mica ci si stupisce più di tanto.
Tawfeek Barhom, il protagonista, qui con Yaël Abecassis, la madre del ragazzo paraplegico.
Ma alcune citazioni vanno fatte perché meritano:
Il giorno in cui per la prima volta in vita mia vidi gli ebrei da vicino mi feci la pipì addosso.
Sembro più israeliano di un israeliano calzato e vestito. Sono sempre contento quando gli ebrei me lo fanno notare: Non sembri affatto arabo, dicono. Alcuni sostengono che questo sia razzismo, ma io lo considero sempre un complimento. Un successo. Del resto era questo che volevo diventare: ebreo. Ho lavorato sodo per farcela, e alla fine ci sono riuscito.
Il protagonista da bambino nella prima parte del film.
Poco dopo l’inizio:
Mio papà dice che un arabo resta sempre un arabo. E ha ragione. Dice che gli ebrei possono darti la sensazione che tu sia uno di loro, e tu puoi pure volergli bene, pensare che sono le persone migliori che conosci, ma un certo punto capisci che non hai vie di uscita, che per loro resterai sempre un arabo.
Mentre avvicinandosi alla fine:
Mio padre dice che i nostri cugini di Tulkarem, Ramallah, Nablus e Bakht Al Khattab prendessero come noi la cittadinanza israeliana. Per diventare cittadini di serie B in uno stato sionista. Dice che è meglio che essere cittadini di serie A in uno stato arabo. Mio papà odia gli arabi, dice che è meglio essere servi di un nemico che servi di un leader del tuo popolo.
Laëtitia Eïdo e Ali Suliman, i genitori del protagonista.
Come si capisce, Kashua mena fendenti su suoi fratelli arabi. Ma non risparmia neppure gli ebrei israeliani, l’ironia è un’arma che maneggia bene: quando il protagonista accompagna la moglie al pronto soccorso si crea una situazione esilarante che ricorda molto Woody Allen in questa scena da Bananas (1971):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdkBW...
Il film conserva lo stesso titolo, è sceneggiato da solo dallo stesso Kashua, ed è diretto da Eran Riklis (il regista di La sposa siriana, Il giardino dei limoni, Il responsabile delle risorse umane, In fuga con il nemico tra altri).
È molto diverso dal libro perché la storia è molto più compatta e lineare: poche scene col protagonista bambino, e poi invece adolescente, lungo gli anni di liceo (privato, prestigioso, ebraico) e poi quelli d’università.
La storia d’amore con la ragazza ebrea è molto più robusta e costruita, dura più a lungo e la fine è spiegata.
C’è l’amicizia con un altro ebreo, paraplegico, che occupa uno spazio molto importante, soprattutto più ci si approssima al finale.
Nel cast spiccano alcuni attori visti e apprezzati più volte nel cinema di quella parte di mondo: Yaël Abecassis, Laëtitia Eïdo, Ali Suliman.
Ma la messa in scena è piatta come il romanzo, se lì erano pensierini, qui è compitino (al pari di una fiction da TV generalista). Vince la didascalia e mette un po’ tutti contenti, soprattutto tranquilli: ci sono ebrei israeliani sia razzisti che aperti, e arabi israeliani sia simpatizzanti per il terrorismo che per l’integrazione. Toni bassi, sorrisi sparsi, film carino che non incide.
La famiglia ebraica che accoglie il giovane palestinese.
PS
A Borrowed Identity è il titolo inglese alternativo, il cui senso si spiega solo a fine film.
February 1, 2013
I hardly know where to begin with this review. It feels as if I read more than one book within these pages but as I consider that thought, it makes complete sense. The young Arab-Israeli boy, who grows to adulthood within these pages, lives in multiple worlds, a deeply dysfunctional world, which has in some ways caused him to lead a somewhat schizophrenic existence (mentally, physically, occupationally, maritally, in just about every way).
How does an Arab citizen of Israel exist? Who is he? What does he believe? What language does he speak? What jokes does he laugh at? Nothing at all is simple. And it's not just this one boy who is affected. We can see the river going back generations in his family and others.
That's enough of the background. This is not an easy book. At times it's quite uncomfortable. In the end it is powerful. For that I've given it the 4 rating.
2/1/13 Addendum: This book is classified as a novel and its protagonist has no name. It's very difficult to read it, however, without wondering how much of it, if any, might be autobiographical.
How does an Arab citizen of Israel exist? Who is he? What does he believe? What language does he speak? What jokes does he laugh at? Nothing at all is simple. And it's not just this one boy who is affected. We can see the river going back generations in his family and others.
That's enough of the background. This is not an easy book. At times it's quite uncomfortable. In the end it is powerful. For that I've given it the 4 rating.
2/1/13 Addendum: This book is classified as a novel and its protagonist has no name. It's very difficult to read it, however, without wondering how much of it, if any, might be autobiographical.
November 30, 2013
Sayed Kashua, an Arab writing in Hebrew, is like Ralph Ellison without the anger, Woody Allen without the arrogance, Sherman Alexie without the pride, Louis CK without the privilege. This semi-autobiographical first novel of vignettes depicts the life of Palestinian citizens of Israel living, grumbling, stumbling, and disappointing each other in the Israeli village of Tira. Regret and frustration abound. The unnamed protagonist—delicate and withdrawn—is chosen to attend a prestigious boarding school in Jerusalem, one of the few Arabs there. What begins as a potentially charming coming-of-age story quickly confounds expectations as the promising wunderkind drifts into mediocrity, unfinished degrees, unhappy marriage, and drink. Kashua’s voice is tremendously important for Israeli Jews to hear: an Arab citizen expert in explaining the daily alienations of life as a despised minority in a Jewish state and a modern self habitually alienated from politicized traditional Palestinian society.
August 28, 2019
This was immensely funny, but also bittersweet. It is also funny that the author was born and raised in Tira, just like the main protagonist of the story. Writing from experience often equates with writing from the heart, and despite the book's humorous style, it feels like this couldn't be truer.
The pains of a boy tormented by the weight of his father's and his people's demands on him are palpable. Both because of his temperament and because of his exposure to a world he desperately wants to belong to (Jewish society), he wallows in passive escapism at every turn. He doesn't quite have the courage to leave home and move to a major Jewish city, but he rejects and abhors the Arab lifestyle while resenting his father for making him stay with his crushing expectations. At the same time, he also resents his Jewish colleagues for never quite seeing him as a peer.
His grandmother and her preparations for death or her attitudes to life are fascinating, endearing, and form much of the backbone for the antihero's entire emotional life. While the book is funny at every turn, the grandma's presence makes it more than a funny book.
The pains of a boy tormented by the weight of his father's and his people's demands on him are palpable. Both because of his temperament and because of his exposure to a world he desperately wants to belong to (Jewish society), he wallows in passive escapism at every turn. He doesn't quite have the courage to leave home and move to a major Jewish city, but he rejects and abhors the Arab lifestyle while resenting his father for making him stay with his crushing expectations. At the same time, he also resents his Jewish colleagues for never quite seeing him as a peer.
His grandmother and her preparations for death or her attitudes to life are fascinating, endearing, and form much of the backbone for the antihero's entire emotional life. While the book is funny at every turn, the grandma's presence makes it more than a funny book.
November 5, 2013
I read this book in a few hours this afternoon.
When Paul, my husband came home about an hour ago --I started to read him 'parts' of this book --and was laughing sooooooooooooooooo hard --I was rolling on the floor!
Paul said...."I should write a review saying...
"Its a toilet reading book for 'peeing'....
Laugh-Pee-
Laugh-pee-
Really? Am I suppose to be taking some serious message from this book? Hm???
I'll have my Jewish book club meeting Sunday morning -Nov. 17th. I curious what others in the group will say.
Me: I was on the floor LAUGHING --(dying laughing to the point I was going 'insane') -- to be able to take anything very serious from this 'satire'.
Many 'other' reviews will tell you what the story is about: (Jews & Arabs in the middle east) Dark humor -
A man coming of age between two cultures!
The FUNNY parts are HILARIOUS!!!: (as for taking 'anything' else serious, can't do it!) --
The humor 'UP-STAGES' all complex issues.
Read ANOTHER book --if you want to read about 'tensions' in the Middle East.
My favorite Chapter in this book was called: "Not Made For Love"
Here is a small sample of the reading:
"My father always says I have no love in my heart, and that I am not made for love. My wife agrees with him. She's never met anyone as indifferent and inconsiderate as I am." .....
Call me sick if you must, but I'm STILL laughing at the line and the rest of the chapter which follows!!!!
Final words: FUNNY FAST READ!
BEST to READ outloud --'laughing' with a friend --or with your partner in bed!
When Paul, my husband came home about an hour ago --I started to read him 'parts' of this book --and was laughing sooooooooooooooooo hard --I was rolling on the floor!
Paul said...."I should write a review saying...
"Its a toilet reading book for 'peeing'....
Laugh-Pee-
Laugh-pee-
Really? Am I suppose to be taking some serious message from this book? Hm???
I'll have my Jewish book club meeting Sunday morning -Nov. 17th. I curious what others in the group will say.
Me: I was on the floor LAUGHING --(dying laughing to the point I was going 'insane') -- to be able to take anything very serious from this 'satire'.
Many 'other' reviews will tell you what the story is about: (Jews & Arabs in the middle east) Dark humor -
A man coming of age between two cultures!
The FUNNY parts are HILARIOUS!!!: (as for taking 'anything' else serious, can't do it!) --
The humor 'UP-STAGES' all complex issues.
Read ANOTHER book --if you want to read about 'tensions' in the Middle East.
My favorite Chapter in this book was called: "Not Made For Love"
Here is a small sample of the reading:
"My father always says I have no love in my heart, and that I am not made for love. My wife agrees with him. She's never met anyone as indifferent and inconsiderate as I am." .....
Call me sick if you must, but I'm STILL laughing at the line and the rest of the chapter which follows!!!!
Final words: FUNNY FAST READ!
BEST to READ outloud --'laughing' with a friend --or with your partner in bed!
January 14, 2013
I was confused while I read this--about his use of time and tense, how well connected all his stories were, where his narrative was taking the reader, and how the heck was he going to end it? I fully expected to be giving the book three stars and fully expected to feel a bit meh about the whole thing, despite numerous highlighted passages, which I highlighted for his insight, his humor, his ability to suddenly tap directly into what life as a non-Jewish Israeli citizen is like. I just felt like he was a little all over the place with his story, but then I got to the last sentence and I said "oooh. I think I get it. I think I get what he did here with the structure of his story." But since this is a group read, my four stars may not hold OR I might get an even deeper appreciation for what he was doing. But for the moment, I was surprised (and pleasantly at that) enough at the ending to give it four stars rather than three (not that three is bad!). I think I'll be thinking about this book for awhile and may revisit this review.
June 13, 2018
Short story snippets of a young Palestinian boy, a scholarship boy, a promising young Arab whose parents send him to a Jewish school so he can get ahead.To an American ear this will sound very much like the stories of black folk, African Americans trying to pass as white in the 1970's. Think race in the USA, and you'll get the flavor.
So, it expresses the plight of Palestinians, 20 percent of Israel's population, Arab citizens of Israel trying to pass as Jewish because, in a religious state, it means access to decent jobs, housing and so on. Pretty sad. But true, and very complicated, even more than race in the USA.
So, it expresses the plight of Palestinians, 20 percent of Israel's population, Arab citizens of Israel trying to pass as Jewish because, in a religious state, it means access to decent jobs, housing and so on. Pretty sad. But true, and very complicated, even more than race in the USA.
December 6, 2014
I'm not sure what precisely inspired this choice, if it's the class on Middle East or the recent season of Homeland. It's good to read different things, gain different perspectives. This is a seemingly autobiographical(ish) story of a young Arab man torn between two ways of life and two clashing cultures in a forever unsettled settlements between Palestine and Israel. As far as perspectives go, it's certainly interesting, especially depending on where you stand on the Zionist question. As far as books go, it was considerably less impressive. The narrative was choppy, the narrator went from sympathetic to not and back again with regularity of a metronome. It wasn't particularly exciting or moving or engaging or any of those things that make books memorable, good or great. It was just ok. At least it was a very quick read.
July 14, 2017
I enjoyed reading a novel from an Arab boy's point of view growing up in Israel. It wasn't particularly political but gave a realistic impression of life in that country.
January 16, 2021
I read this book thinking it might give me an insight into the ‘Arab Israeli’ experience (ahead of a move later this year I’m trying to read as many books from that region as I can). While reading though I couldn’t help but think that if I was an Arab Israeli, I would be at pains to point out that the author should not be seen as a symbol of anything but himself. Because frankly, the guy is a dick. His dad is a dick, his friends are dicks, his teachers are dicks.. you’re hard pressed to find a single redeeming quality to anyone in this book. Even his baby seems like a bit of a dick.
Some kinder readers might do the legwork to connect the general dick-ittude with the social, political, cultural context etc. But the author certainly isn’t going to help you with that if you’re not so inclined. The writing is all over the place and while it’s darkly funny at times, there’s only so much reading about people lying, cheating, and generally failing to relate to each other with any sense of humanity, that you can do before you also just stop caring enough about the characters to give them the benefit of the doubt.
But! I think there are plenty of insightful books out there that paint a more insightful view. This just wasn’t that book for me.
Some kinder readers might do the legwork to connect the general dick-ittude with the social, political, cultural context etc. But the author certainly isn’t going to help you with that if you’re not so inclined. The writing is all over the place and while it’s darkly funny at times, there’s only so much reading about people lying, cheating, and generally failing to relate to each other with any sense of humanity, that you can do before you also just stop caring enough about the characters to give them the benefit of the doubt.
But! I think there are plenty of insightful books out there that paint a more insightful view. This just wasn’t that book for me.
October 12, 2019
It’s a warts-and-all look at growing up Arab in Israel. The daily life under a crushing military presence, the appeal of the richer and more glamourised occupier community, the shaming recognition that your own community (and family) feels so much more backward in comparison, the universal reality of the fading dreams of boyhood...and above all, the feeling of loss. It’s a depressing tale, but an important one.
June 29, 2022
Just met with my synagogue’s book club for our final Zoom of the season! We’re taking a summer hiatus and should be back sometime after the High Holidays. FYI, I use my GoodReads shelves in a self-facing manner, centering on broad subjects of personal interest, which is why I’m classifying Kashua’s book as “Jewish fiction.”
Kashua’s novel is an example of “auto-fiction,” if that term was in use back in 2004. His unnamed protagonist shares a lot in common with himself—born in an Arab village in the Galilee, attended a private boarding school, etc. One of the members of my book club works with Palestinian organizations; he met Kashua once, and he confirmed the author’s reputation in Israel as a humorist (though Kashua currently lives in the United States.)
The question of humor in this book, I see, has been debated, even in some of the popular GoodReads reviews. The members in my group also debated whether this was funny—I think it comes down to the kind of humor on display, which is dry and ironic, playing off, if not a sense of complete hopelessness, then certainly dissociation and negativity. I chuckled at a couple of parts, especially with the protagonist’s wife (apparently one of the more fictional elements) grousing on what an asshole her husband is, and her husband implicitly agreeing with her. He also leans into absurdism about the conflict by highlighting minute details in his vignette chapters. In this way, he reminds me a little bit of the satire of THE HILLTOP by Assaf Gavron, though he focuses on the bureaucratic and ideological land mine of a fictional illegal settlement in the Occupied Territories.
The vignette style of chapters, jumping from time period to time period, specific situation to specific situation in the character’s life, isn’t really my favorite. It’s more difficult for me to get a foothold into characters. Though, on the flip side with such a loaded political conflict, it also eschews melodrama.
Like with SECOND PERSON SINGULAR, which I read back in 2015, what struck me, and indeed my book club, most about the novel is the feeling of a minority group’s sense of isolation, even futility, against a majority culture. It’s not the way I’m used to looking at Israeli Jewish culture. I’m used to seeing such culture as a haven, as a way to practice pride, particularly in the face of our own long history of persecution and erasure. But one thing I’ve been thinking about a lot in this book club is the false homogeneousness of nationalism. Not even all Jews would feel included in aspects of Israeli culture, to say nothing of Palestinian citizens. No nation state “belongs” solely to one group of people, so there will always be groups who feel on the outside of any proclaimed national identity. To take the argument further, by dint of diverse experiences, there is no homogeneous national identity. Of course, this applies far more broadly than Israel (and Palestine, even.)
Kashua’s character spends time wanting to be a Jew, and even deriding fellow Arabs, because of that false narrative. And also because of the reality it engenders, that people who “belong” have an easier time, both externally and psychologically. Nobody likes feeling like an outsider, unless there’s a countercultural aspect to it, which I would argue is just another sort of cultural identity. Kashua’s work definitely embodied living between two realities. It’s an uncomfortable perspective for many to read, but it engenders an aspect of complication and nuance. I hope more people can be that open about the tenuous spaces in personal and political life.
Kashua’s novel is an example of “auto-fiction,” if that term was in use back in 2004. His unnamed protagonist shares a lot in common with himself—born in an Arab village in the Galilee, attended a private boarding school, etc. One of the members of my book club works with Palestinian organizations; he met Kashua once, and he confirmed the author’s reputation in Israel as a humorist (though Kashua currently lives in the United States.)
The question of humor in this book, I see, has been debated, even in some of the popular GoodReads reviews. The members in my group also debated whether this was funny—I think it comes down to the kind of humor on display, which is dry and ironic, playing off, if not a sense of complete hopelessness, then certainly dissociation and negativity. I chuckled at a couple of parts, especially with the protagonist’s wife (apparently one of the more fictional elements) grousing on what an asshole her husband is, and her husband implicitly agreeing with her. He also leans into absurdism about the conflict by highlighting minute details in his vignette chapters. In this way, he reminds me a little bit of the satire of THE HILLTOP by Assaf Gavron, though he focuses on the bureaucratic and ideological land mine of a fictional illegal settlement in the Occupied Territories.
The vignette style of chapters, jumping from time period to time period, specific situation to specific situation in the character’s life, isn’t really my favorite. It’s more difficult for me to get a foothold into characters. Though, on the flip side with such a loaded political conflict, it also eschews melodrama.
Like with SECOND PERSON SINGULAR, which I read back in 2015, what struck me, and indeed my book club, most about the novel is the feeling of a minority group’s sense of isolation, even futility, against a majority culture. It’s not the way I’m used to looking at Israeli Jewish culture. I’m used to seeing such culture as a haven, as a way to practice pride, particularly in the face of our own long history of persecution and erasure. But one thing I’ve been thinking about a lot in this book club is the false homogeneousness of nationalism. Not even all Jews would feel included in aspects of Israeli culture, to say nothing of Palestinian citizens. No nation state “belongs” solely to one group of people, so there will always be groups who feel on the outside of any proclaimed national identity. To take the argument further, by dint of diverse experiences, there is no homogeneous national identity. Of course, this applies far more broadly than Israel (and Palestine, even.)
Kashua’s character spends time wanting to be a Jew, and even deriding fellow Arabs, because of that false narrative. And also because of the reality it engenders, that people who “belong” have an easier time, both externally and psychologically. Nobody likes feeling like an outsider, unless there’s a countercultural aspect to it, which I would argue is just another sort of cultural identity. Kashua’s work definitely embodied living between two realities. It’s an uncomfortable perspective for many to read, but it engenders an aspect of complication and nuance. I hope more people can be that open about the tenuous spaces in personal and political life.
May 12, 2022
العرب يرقصون أيضا...عرب راقصون
رواية سيد قشوع، لا اعلم على وجه التحديد إن كانت روايته الأولى أم كان له ما يسبقها وعلى الأرجح أنّها الأولى...قرأت الرواية ثم رأيتها فلما مدمجا مع رواية أخرى للكاتب ذاته، هاتين المقدمتين مهمتين في نظري لسبب بسيط هو ان الرواية الأولى لها نكهتها الخاصة دائما تشعر وأنت تقرأ بتخبط كاتبها، بين اختياراته وما لا يقوله وما يسرع إلى البوح به فيستعجل كثيرا وربّما يشعر بالعكس فيتباطئ ويماطل كثيرا...وأمّا لماذا تحولها إلى فيلم قد يبدو مهما فلأن الصورة تمنح فضاء لم تمنحه الرواية على الرغم ما تتيحه الكتابة من حرية في خلق الصور الذاتية غير المفروضة من سلطة خارجية كالمخرج وغيره...
الرواية حكاية طفل من قرية عربية في اسرائيل، قرية طيبة، الصغيرة المترامية وسط حقول صغيرة هي الأخرى، حكاية ثلاثة أجيال متداخلة لا نكاد نفرق فيها بين الجيل الأول ممثلا بالجدة وكل ما تحمله من ذكريات وحياة سابقة تخبؤها بحرص كبير، والجيل الثاني، الأب يعيش خيبة سياسية انهيار الشعارات الكبرى عن استرداد الأرض وترسيخ الهوية العربية كونه سجين سياسي سابق لا يمل من لوك تلك السنوات الماضية واسقاط مختلف أوهام البطولات على فترة عاش وقتا طويلا منها مغيبا كليا في نشاط سياسي لم يؤدي إلى أي نتيجة، وكأنه مصر على التكرار، تكرار فشله الشخصي مقترنا بفشل أعم، فشل امة كاملة، حيث الخط الفاصل بين الفردي والجماعي ينمحي تماما ويغرق في زاوية عمياء...أمّا الطفل فجيل جديد لم يعش أيّا من الوهمين لا وهم المجد العربي الذي ترويه الجدة ولا الثورة المتخيلة للأب، إنما هو جيل واقعي. تتجسد واقعيته في رغبة الطفل بأن يندمج في مجتمع آخر غير عربي. مجمتع اسرائيل بكل ما فيه...تفوق الطفل وحصل على منحة للدراسة في ثانوية مختلطة بين العرب واليهود في القدس الغربية...هناك يكتشف أنه مختلف وبعيد ومنفي بطريقة لم يستطع استيعابها، مختلف بثقافته، باعتقاداته، بلغته، بعرقه ودينه وحتى بطريقة نطقه لحرف P ...تتعقد القصة أكثر عندما يقع في حب زميلته من الثانوي...يحاول التأقلم، تشكيل علاقات صداقة ولكن حتى هذه ليست متاحة ولا سهلة.
يضع سيد قشوع الهويتين العربية والعبرية تحت المجهر، صراعهما المرير من خلال المحاولات الفاشلة لهذا الجيل الجديد، هذا الشاب في الاخير لا يتمكن من أن يصبح اسرائيليا تماما ولا يبقى كما كان عربيا تاما...التشتت بين ما تريد وما يُنْتَظَرُ منك وما يجب أن يكون هو ما حاول قشوع تبيينه واظهار استمراره في مختلف المراحل العمرية لشخص يعيش في مجتمع يهمشه تلقائيا وليس لسبب خاص وواض��. يهمش فقط لأنه مختلف عن الآخرين مختلف بأي شيء كان...بينما الرواية نفسها فاجأت المجتمع الاسرائيلي، وكأنها توريه لأول مرة مخلوقا مجهولا يعيش بينها ويحاول أن يكون مواطنا عاديا يحصل على ما يحصل عليه غيره إلّا أنه في الظل...هذه الرواية عن الهويات التي تعيش في الظل...بامتياز إنّها روايتهم...
حصل السيد قشوع على جائزة رئيس الدولة (في اسرائيل). قرأت الكتاب مترجما إلى الفرنسية وهو العنوان الأول الذي ترجمته أوّلا وأما العنوان الثاني فهو للترجمة العربية...
رواية سيد قشوع، لا اعلم على وجه التحديد إن كانت روايته الأولى أم كان له ما يسبقها وعلى الأرجح أنّها الأولى...قرأت الرواية ثم رأيتها فلما مدمجا مع رواية أخرى للكاتب ذاته، هاتين المقدمتين مهمتين في نظري لسبب بسيط هو ان الرواية الأولى لها نكهتها الخاصة دائما تشعر وأنت تقرأ بتخبط كاتبها، بين اختياراته وما لا يقوله وما يسرع إلى البوح به فيستعجل كثيرا وربّما يشعر بالعكس فيتباطئ ويماطل كثيرا...وأمّا لماذا تحولها إلى فيلم قد يبدو مهما فلأن الصورة تمنح فضاء لم تمنحه الرواية على الرغم ما تتيحه الكتابة من حرية في خلق الصور الذاتية غير المفروضة من سلطة خارجية كالمخرج وغيره...
الرواية حكاية طفل من قرية عربية في اسرائيل، قرية طيبة، الصغيرة المترامية وسط حقول صغيرة هي الأخرى، حكاية ثلاثة أجيال متداخلة لا نكاد نفرق فيها بين الجيل الأول ممثلا بالجدة وكل ما تحمله من ذكريات وحياة سابقة تخبؤها بحرص كبير، والجيل الثاني، الأب يعيش خيبة سياسية انهيار الشعارات الكبرى عن استرداد الأرض وترسيخ الهوية العربية كونه سجين سياسي سابق لا يمل من لوك تلك السنوات الماضية واسقاط مختلف أوهام البطولات على فترة عاش وقتا طويلا منها مغيبا كليا في نشاط سياسي لم يؤدي إلى أي نتيجة، وكأنه مصر على التكرار، تكرار فشله الشخصي مقترنا بفشل أعم، فشل امة كاملة، حيث الخط الفاصل بين الفردي والجماعي ينمحي تماما ويغرق في زاوية عمياء...أمّا الطفل فجيل جديد لم يعش أيّا من الوهمين لا وهم المجد العربي الذي ترويه الجدة ولا الثورة المتخيلة للأب، إنما هو جيل واقعي. تتجسد واقعيته في رغبة الطفل بأن يندمج في مجتمع آخر غير عربي. مجمتع اسرائيل بكل ما فيه...تفوق الطفل وحصل على منحة للدراسة في ثانوية مختلطة بين العرب واليهود في القدس الغربية...هناك يكتشف أنه مختلف وبعيد ومنفي بطريقة لم يستطع استيعابها، مختلف بثقافته، باعتقاداته، بلغته، بعرقه ودينه وحتى بطريقة نطقه لحرف P ...تتعقد القصة أكثر عندما يقع في حب زميلته من الثانوي...يحاول التأقلم، تشكيل علاقات صداقة ولكن حتى هذه ليست متاحة ولا سهلة.
يضع سيد قشوع الهويتين العربية والعبرية تحت المجهر، صراعهما المرير من خلال المحاولات الفاشلة لهذا الجيل الجديد، هذا الشاب في الاخير لا يتمكن من أن يصبح اسرائيليا تماما ولا يبقى كما كان عربيا تاما...التشتت بين ما تريد وما يُنْتَظَرُ منك وما يجب أن يكون هو ما حاول قشوع تبيينه واظهار استمراره في مختلف المراحل العمرية لشخص يعيش في مجتمع يهمشه تلقائيا وليس لسبب خاص وواض��. يهمش فقط لأنه مختلف عن الآخرين مختلف بأي شيء كان...بينما الرواية نفسها فاجأت المجتمع الاسرائيلي، وكأنها توريه لأول مرة مخلوقا مجهولا يعيش بينها ويحاول أن يكون مواطنا عاديا يحصل على ما يحصل عليه غيره إلّا أنه في الظل...هذه الرواية عن الهويات التي تعيش في الظل...بامتياز إنّها روايتهم...
حصل السيد قشوع على جائزة رئيس الدولة (في اسرائيل). قرأت الكتاب مترجما إلى الفرنسية وهو العنوان الأول الذي ترجمته أوّلا وأما العنوان الثاني فهو للترجمة العربية...
October 22, 2019
هذه الرواية، وحسب التعريف الذي كتبته دار النشر أسفل عنوان الرواية، "ر��اية فلسطينية مترجمة من العبرية"، وللتوضيح فأن المؤلف لم يكتب هذه الرواية بالعبرية لأنه يريد بها أن يخاطب يهود إسرائيل، ولكن ولأنه من مواليد عرب الداخل الفلسطيني، أو عرب 48، فليس بوسعه القراءة أو الكتابة بالعربية، بعد هجرانه الطويل للغة، وبسبب التغريب الثقافي الذي تمارسه إسرائيل تجاه عرب الداخل، أو مثلما قال المؤلف إنه، حتى، بات يقرأ الأعمال العربية الأدبية عن طريق الترجمة العبرية لها! وليس عن طريق قراءتها مباشرة بالعربية، وذلك لضعف صلته بهذه اللغة.
وهذه الرواية بمثابة سيرته الذاتية، بل إنها روايته الأولى أيضًا! وتحولت إلى فيلم، ويقصد بالعرب الراقصين، في العنوان هو ما قاله على لسان إحدى الشخصيات من أن العرب لا يحسنون الرقص في ساحات الرقص بالحانات، كما أن نوعية هذا الرقص "الغربي" لا تناسبهم أبدًا، ومن ثم: "يجب أن يمنع العرب من الرقص"، أو حسب ما قالته إحدى الشخصيات في الرواية.
ولكن لأن المؤلف المتقمص للشخصية الرئيسية التي يجري الحديث من خلالها بلسان الأنا، يحاول منذ صباه أن يبرأ من وصمة العروبة الملتصقة به، فنراه يكره اسمه العربي، ويحتقر تقاليده العربية والإسلامية، ويتناساها، ويفكر كثيرًا في أن يتهوّد، ويعمل بجهد من أجل أن يتقن اللغة العبرية ويتحدث بها دون لكنة، ويتشاجر مع زوجته لأنها تستخدم اللغة العربية دون داع أمام الآخرين وفي الحديث مع ابنته الرضيعة التي لا تفهم الكلام بعد، بل ويقرر أن يسمى ابنه الوليد الجديد، باسم: "داني"، لكيلا يعاني ابنه ما عاناه من سهولة التعرّف على قوميته من خلال اسمه العربي، ويحمد الله على أنه يبدو في لون بشرته الفاتح أقرب إلى يهودي إشكنازي، ويكره في سرّه لون زوجته الأسمر، وإن كان يرجو أن يحسبها الناس حوله من يهود المغرب أو شيء هكذا!
فكان إذن بهذه الرغبة الحارقة في الانسلاخ من عروبته يعدّ نفسه من فصيلة: "العرب الراقصين"، على خلاف سائر العرب الذين لا يحسنون الرقص الغربي عامة، وهذا كان أقصى مناه، إلا أن هذه الرواية، أو السيرة الذاتية، يكمن عيبها في أن الشخصية الرئيسية فيها لم يطرأ عليها تطويرًا في الفكر، وفي حالة العيش الانفصامية بين شخصيته التي وُلد بها، وبين تواجده في بيئة لا تسمح لهذه الشخصية بالنمو، وتنظر بشذر لكل من يتسم بها، ولحساسية البطل الشديدة كنا نرى أنه منذ صباه، في بداية الرواية، لا يريد أن يحسّ أنه تحت هذه النظرات التي تنظر إليه شذرًا، حتى لو أدى به ذلك إلى إنكار عروبته ودينه إنكارًا تامًا وسط زملائه في المدرسة الداخلية مثلاً، وكذلك في نهاية الرواية بعد أن تخرّج وعمل وتزوّج وأنجب، فما زال يتصرف نحو عروبته بنفس النظرة القديمة، فلم يطرأ شيء أو حادث يزعزع من هذه القناعات الدونية في نفسه، كما أن خاتمة الرواية نفسها جاءت بشكل مباغت، دون أن يحدث فيها أي تغيير في الشخصية، أو إشارة ولو خافتة إلى إمكانية أن يحدث مثل هذا التغيير أو التطوير، لذلك أصدق أنها حقًا سيرة المؤلف الذاتية، وأعني بها سيرة عادية دون منعطفات ملحوظة.
والترجمة طيبة.
وهذه الرواية بمثابة سيرته الذاتية، بل إنها روايته الأولى أيضًا! وتحولت إلى فيلم، ويقصد بالعرب الراقصين، في العنوان هو ما قاله على لسان إحدى الشخصيات من أن العرب لا يحسنون الرقص في ساحات الرقص بالحانات، كما أن نوعية هذا الرقص "الغربي" لا تناسبهم أبدًا، ومن ثم: "يجب أن يمنع العرب من الرقص"، أو حسب ما قالته إحدى الشخصيات في الرواية.
ولكن لأن المؤلف المتقمص للشخصية الرئيسية التي يجري الحديث من خلالها بلسان الأنا، يحاول منذ صباه أن يبرأ من وصمة العروبة الملتصقة به، فنراه يكره اسمه العربي، ويحتقر تقاليده العربية والإسلامية، ويتناساها، ويفكر كثيرًا في أن يتهوّد، ويعمل بجهد من أجل أن يتقن اللغة العبرية ويتحدث بها دون لكنة، ويتشاجر مع زوجته لأنها تستخدم اللغة العربية دون داع أمام الآخرين وفي الحديث مع ابنته الرضيعة التي لا تفهم الكلام بعد، بل ويقرر أن يسمى ابنه الوليد الجديد، باسم: "داني"، لكيلا يعاني ابنه ما عاناه من سهولة التعرّف على قوميته من خلال اسمه العربي، ويحمد الله على أنه يبدو في لون بشرته الفاتح أقرب إلى يهودي إشكنازي، ويكره في سرّه لون زوجته الأسمر، وإن كان يرجو أن يحسبها الناس حوله من يهود المغرب أو شيء هكذا!
فكان إذن بهذه الرغبة الحارقة في الانسلاخ من عروبته يعدّ نفسه من فصيلة: "العرب الراقصين"، على خلاف سائر العرب الذين لا يحسنون الرقص الغربي عامة، وهذا كان أقصى مناه، إلا أن هذه الرواية، أو السيرة الذاتية، يكمن عيبها في أن الشخصية الرئيسية فيها لم يطرأ عليها تطويرًا في الفكر، وفي حالة العيش الانفصامية بين شخصيته التي وُلد بها، وبين تواجده في بيئة لا تسمح لهذه الشخصية بالنمو، وتنظر بشذر لكل من يتسم بها، ولحساسية البطل الشديدة كنا نرى أنه منذ صباه، في بداية الرواية، لا يريد أن يحسّ أنه تحت هذه النظرات التي تنظر إليه شذرًا، حتى لو أدى به ذلك إلى إنكار عروبته ودينه إنكارًا تامًا وسط زملائه في المدرسة الداخلية مثلاً، وكذلك في نهاية الرواية بعد أن تخرّج وعمل وتزوّج وأنجب، فما زال يتصرف نحو عروبته بنفس النظرة القديمة، فلم يطرأ شيء أو حادث يزعزع من هذه القناعات الدونية في نفسه، كما أن خاتمة الرواية نفسها جاءت بشكل مباغت، دون أن يحدث فيها أي تغيير في الشخصية، أو إشارة ولو خافتة إلى إمكانية أن يحدث مثل هذا التغيير أو التطوير، لذلك أصدق أنها حقًا سيرة المؤلف الذاتية، وأعني بها سيرة عادية دون منعطفات ملحوظة.
والترجمة طيبة.
July 23, 2014
Ich habe Sayed Kashuas Erstling heute fertig gelesen. Ein Buch, an das ich hohe Erwartungen hatten, weil ich Sayeds Sicht auf die Dinge in seiner wöchentlichen Kolumne in der Tageszeitung Haaretz sehr schätzen gelernt habe. Er ist für mich eine authentische Stimme der israelischen Araber geworden, sein Humor, der auch in seinen schwärzesten Schilderungen durchbricht ist unglaublich, und seine erfolgreiche Sitcom "Avoda Aravit" hilft mir in letzter Zeit paradoxerweise inmitten der aktuellen Nahostkrise nicht völlig durchzudrehen.
Sein Romandebüt ist dann aber doch ziemlich anders, als ich dachte.
Die Geschichte eines arabischen Jungen in Israel, der so sehr mit dem Schicksal seiner Herkunft hadert, dass er als junger Erwachsener versucht sich zu verstellen, um unter den Juden nicht aufzufallen ist stellenweise sehr schwermütig. Sie schildert einen quälenden Drahtseilakt zwischen Israels Parallelwelten - der arabischen Minderheit auf der einen und der, scheinbar in allen Bereichen überlegenen Juden, auf der anderen Seite. Er nennt die Dinge beim Namen und beschönigt nichts und ich habe mich öfter dabei ertappt, mich zu fragen, wo genau hier die Grenzen zwischen Autobiographie und Fiktion verlaufen. Stellenweise ein nicht einfaches Buch, gerade weil es so authentisch ist.
Endgültig überzeugt hat es mich aber letztlich doch nicht. Eventuell lag es an der Übersetzung, aber ich hatte mitunter inhaltliche Verständnisprobleme. Außerdem fehlte mit ein roter Faden, der die einzelnen Schilderungen etwas besser zusammengehalten hätte. So wirkte das Buch auf mich ein wenig wie ein Flickwerk, eine Aneinanderreihung von Kindheits- und Jugenderinnerungen, die mich ohne Frage sehr berührt haben, jede einzelne davon, aber kein richtig rundes Gesamtbild ergeben. So blieb ich zwar aufgewühlt, aber mit einem nagenden Unterton zurück. Der wird mich sicher noch eine Weile begleiten.
Dennoch denke ich, dass ich Sayed beim nächsten Mal auf Hebräisch lesen werde.
Sein Romandebüt ist dann aber doch ziemlich anders, als ich dachte.
Die Geschichte eines arabischen Jungen in Israel, der so sehr mit dem Schicksal seiner Herkunft hadert, dass er als junger Erwachsener versucht sich zu verstellen, um unter den Juden nicht aufzufallen ist stellenweise sehr schwermütig. Sie schildert einen quälenden Drahtseilakt zwischen Israels Parallelwelten - der arabischen Minderheit auf der einen und der, scheinbar in allen Bereichen überlegenen Juden, auf der anderen Seite. Er nennt die Dinge beim Namen und beschönigt nichts und ich habe mich öfter dabei ertappt, mich zu fragen, wo genau hier die Grenzen zwischen Autobiographie und Fiktion verlaufen. Stellenweise ein nicht einfaches Buch, gerade weil es so authentisch ist.
Endgültig überzeugt hat es mich aber letztlich doch nicht. Eventuell lag es an der Übersetzung, aber ich hatte mitunter inhaltliche Verständnisprobleme. Außerdem fehlte mit ein roter Faden, der die einzelnen Schilderungen etwas besser zusammengehalten hätte. So wirkte das Buch auf mich ein wenig wie ein Flickwerk, eine Aneinanderreihung von Kindheits- und Jugenderinnerungen, die mich ohne Frage sehr berührt haben, jede einzelne davon, aber kein richtig rundes Gesamtbild ergeben. So blieb ich zwar aufgewühlt, aber mit einem nagenden Unterton zurück. Der wird mich sicher noch eine Weile begleiten.
Dennoch denke ich, dass ich Sayed beim nächsten Mal auf Hebräisch lesen werde.
October 27, 2017
Satire tentang kehidupan masyarakat Arab Israel. Buku ini menghibur namun juga mengungkapkan kepedihan atas kehidupan dengan kondisi konflik yang mereka hadapi.
Kashua mengungkapkan semua dengan cara yang terlihat jujur dan terbuka bahkan konyol, situasi dan pandangan bukan hanya dari sisi arab tapi juga yahudi. Kashua meramu dari hal-hal sederhana tentang kehidupan sehari-hari, politik hingga situasi dunia muslim.
Cerita dimulai ketika sang nenek memberikan kepercayaan dengan menyerahkan kunci lemari kepada Kashua kecil. Lemari yang hanya akan dibuka saat kematiannya menjemput, lemari yang berisi perlengkapan untuk pemakaman. Cerita ditutup dengan tangisan nenek yang bersedih bukan karena kematian tapi karena mengira akan di kubur di tanah airnya sendiri. Mematahkan hati.
Kashua mengungkapkan semua dengan cara yang terlihat jujur dan terbuka bahkan konyol, situasi dan pandangan bukan hanya dari sisi arab tapi juga yahudi. Kashua meramu dari hal-hal sederhana tentang kehidupan sehari-hari, politik hingga situasi dunia muslim.
Cerita dimulai ketika sang nenek memberikan kepercayaan dengan menyerahkan kunci lemari kepada Kashua kecil. Lemari yang hanya akan dibuka saat kematiannya menjemput, lemari yang berisi perlengkapan untuk pemakaman. Cerita ditutup dengan tangisan nenek yang bersedih bukan karena kematian tapi karena mengira akan di kubur di tanah airnya sendiri. Mematahkan hati.
June 14, 2025
Много у меня мыслей по поводу этой книги.
Самое главное — книга очень важная, но нужно понимать, что написана она для внутренней аудитории.
Я сильно не уверена, что человек не из Израиля поймет все, что пытается донести автор. Слишком много нюансов, которые упоминаются, но никак не поясняются. Мне кажется, это тот случай, когда читатель должен быть сильно в контексте (и под контекстом я имею в виду не прочитать пару статей на Википедии или построить свою точку зрения на пропагандистских роликах и лозунгах).
Меня тронула, местами прям до слез, основная тема — попытка автора слиться с окружающими, понять, кто он вообще, его периоды ненависти к «своим».
Он описывает ощущение, когда ты не «свой» нигде и ни с кем, но дико хочешь быть «как все», с иронией, однако честно, правдиво, открыто и довольно жестко. Душераздирающе знакомая история.
Кстати, за прямолинейность, полагаю, автор много хейта отхватил со всех сторон.
Когда читала, много думала о том, как евреи и арабы на самом деле похожи, про коммуникацию, про тупик, про предрассудки, про скрепы, про прогресс, про регресс.
Думала про то, почему и когда люди сдаются (автор уехал из Израиля в 2014-м) или не сдаются (потому что в целом своих взглядов и своей надежде на светлое будущее, судя по совсем недавним видео, он с переездом не изменил).
Язык и стиль оценить не могу, тк читала в английском переводе, а не на иврите, но структура (наброски историй из жизни не всегда в хронологическом порядке) местами смущала. Ну и есть пара моментов, которые режут глаз — когда, например, занятие палестинских территорий Израилем называется «оккупацией», а такое же занятие территорий Иорданией в то же самое время — «контролем территории».
Еще интересно, конечно, что в Израиле Саед Кашуа вроде как считается в основном автором юмористических историй, хотя я бы не сказала, что он прям такой уж смешной. Скорее пишет с горькой иронией. Но в целом юмор в Израиле, он такой, да)
Самое главное — книга очень важная, но нужно понимать, что написана она для внутренней аудитории.
Я сильно не уверена, что человек не из Израиля поймет все, что пытается донести автор. Слишком много нюансов, которые упоминаются, но никак не поясняются. Мне кажется, это тот случай, когда читатель должен быть сильно в контексте (и под контекстом я имею в виду не прочитать пару статей на Википедии или построить свою точку зрения на пропагандистских роликах и лозунгах).
Меня тронула, местами прям до слез, основная тема — попытка автора слиться с окружающими, понять, кто он вообще, его периоды ненависти к «своим».
Он описывает ощущение, когда ты не «свой» нигде и ни с кем, но дико хочешь быть «как все», с иронией, однако честно, правдиво, открыто и довольно жестко. Душераздирающе знакомая история.
Кстати, за прямолинейность, полагаю, автор много хейта отхватил со всех сторон.
Когда читала, много думала о том, как евреи и арабы на самом деле похожи, про коммуникацию, про тупик, про предрассудки, про скрепы, про прогресс, про регресс.
Думала про то, почему и когда люди сдаются (автор уехал из Израиля в 2014-м) или не сдаются (потому что в целом своих взглядов и своей надежде на светлое будущее, судя по совсем недавним видео, он с переездом не изменил).
Язык и стиль оценить не могу, тк читала в английском переводе, а не на иврите, но структура (наброски историй из жизни не всегда в хронологическом порядке) местами смущала. Ну и есть пара моментов, которые режут глаз — когда, например, занятие палестинских территорий Израилем называется «оккупацией», а такое же занятие территорий Иорданией в то же самое время — «контролем территории».
Еще интересно, конечно, что в Израиле Саед Кашуа вроде как считается в основном автором юмористических историй, хотя я бы не сказала, что он прям такой уж смешной. Скорее пишет с горькой иронией. Но в целом юмор в Израиле, он такой, да)
January 20, 2019
Life under occupation.
I wasn't quite sure where this book was going, it kind of lacked direction. What it did give though, was a feel for the divided life of an Arab citizen living in lands that once belonged to his Grandparents' generation, yet were now under Israeli rule.
The unnamed narrator gets a lucky break as a youngster, when his school grades mark him out for special education in a Jewish boarding school. Yet this is not without its inherent problems. He learns to imitate the Jews in language, behaviour, appearance and habits and he is actually insulted when he is recognised as an Arab. This pretense takes its toll though, and he does not become the builder of the first Arab atom bomb, as his parents expect. I cannot help but wonder if he might have done better by remaining in his home school, amongst his own. How much of his downfall is due to the stresses of trying to become someone that he is not.
What came across clearly, was the position of the Arabs as second class citizens, even third or fourth class citizens. How this impacted on their lives and aspirations. Even having the blue card that allowed them to work within Israeli borders, their options were limited.
It's quite a depressing book, but profound in its message and well worth reading for an understanding of the situation that we hear biased reports of from the media.
I wasn't quite sure where this book was going, it kind of lacked direction. What it did give though, was a feel for the divided life of an Arab citizen living in lands that once belonged to his Grandparents' generation, yet were now under Israeli rule.
The unnamed narrator gets a lucky break as a youngster, when his school grades mark him out for special education in a Jewish boarding school. Yet this is not without its inherent problems. He learns to imitate the Jews in language, behaviour, appearance and habits and he is actually insulted when he is recognised as an Arab. This pretense takes its toll though, and he does not become the builder of the first Arab atom bomb, as his parents expect. I cannot help but wonder if he might have done better by remaining in his home school, amongst his own. How much of his downfall is due to the stresses of trying to become someone that he is not.
What came across clearly, was the position of the Arabs as second class citizens, even third or fourth class citizens. How this impacted on their lives and aspirations. Even having the blue card that allowed them to work within Israeli borders, their options were limited.
It's quite a depressing book, but profound in its message and well worth reading for an understanding of the situation that we hear biased reports of from the media.
October 26, 2023
Ich lese die Bücher dieses Autors sehr gerne.
Als Araber in Israel geboren, um Anerkennung und Integration kämpfend und doch gescheitert, hat das Buch im Oktober 2023 große Bedeutung!
Kashua schildert sein Leben in einer Parallelwelt.
Als arabischstämmiger Schüler darf er aufgrund seiner Intelligenz auf eine israelische Schule gehen.
Doch dieses Vorhaben scheitert.
Hin- und Hergerissen zwischen beiden Welten, verweigert er sich, bricht die Schule ab, überwirft sich mit seinem Vater und vernachlässigt auch seine Ehe.
Kashua schreibt teilweise humorvoll, immer selbstkritisch und sehr unterhaltsam!
Extrem empfehlenswert, wie auch seine anderen Bücher!
Als Araber in Israel geboren, um Anerkennung und Integration kämpfend und doch gescheitert, hat das Buch im Oktober 2023 große Bedeutung!
Kashua schildert sein Leben in einer Parallelwelt.
Als arabischstämmiger Schüler darf er aufgrund seiner Intelligenz auf eine israelische Schule gehen.
Doch dieses Vorhaben scheitert.
Hin- und Hergerissen zwischen beiden Welten, verweigert er sich, bricht die Schule ab, überwirft sich mit seinem Vater und vernachlässigt auch seine Ehe.
Kashua schreibt teilweise humorvoll, immer selbstkritisch und sehr unterhaltsam!
Extrem empfehlenswert, wie auch seine anderen Bücher!
May 1, 2012
This is a well-written, sometimes entertaining, and finally dispiriting book about identity loss. While the international news media may characterize Palestinians as either oppressed or villainous, depending on the political agendas of others, Kashua's portrayal of this novel's Palestinian-Israeli protagonist forgoes the usual stereotypes. His central character is both sympathetic and pathetic by turns.
Carrying a blue identity card, which makes him an Israeli citizen, the novel's narrator tells of his childhood in a village, Tira, which lies north of Tel Aviv, where he learns early a kind of self-contempt that sets him on a path of disillusionment with nearly everything. Given the opportunity to get an education at a Jewish boarding school, which would then open doors into a comfortable professional life, he blames himself for losing the courage to follow that path - though the seeds of his failure had already been planted long ago in his rejection of his ethnicity and his desire to pass for Jewish. Marrying a Muslim girl he meets in Jerusalem, he finds his miseries compounded. Meanwhile, hostilities and tensions mount around him, as wars and rebellion break out again - the Lebanese War, the Gulf War, and the Intafada.
There is dignity left only in clinging to the land, as his aging grandmother has done from the beginning of the novel, refusing to relinquish the patch of it left to her by her dead husband. Given the futility of forging an identity for himself, the narrator can still claim this one consistency in his life, that he has remained devoted to this old woman and is still tenderly caring for her in the closing scene. It permits what has been a comic-gloomy vision to end on a note that is not without a slender thread of hope.
Carrying a blue identity card, which makes him an Israeli citizen, the novel's narrator tells of his childhood in a village, Tira, which lies north of Tel Aviv, where he learns early a kind of self-contempt that sets him on a path of disillusionment with nearly everything. Given the opportunity to get an education at a Jewish boarding school, which would then open doors into a comfortable professional life, he blames himself for losing the courage to follow that path - though the seeds of his failure had already been planted long ago in his rejection of his ethnicity and his desire to pass for Jewish. Marrying a Muslim girl he meets in Jerusalem, he finds his miseries compounded. Meanwhile, hostilities and tensions mount around him, as wars and rebellion break out again - the Lebanese War, the Gulf War, and the Intafada.
There is dignity left only in clinging to the land, as his aging grandmother has done from the beginning of the novel, refusing to relinquish the patch of it left to her by her dead husband. Given the futility of forging an identity for himself, the narrator can still claim this one consistency in his life, that he has remained devoted to this old woman and is still tenderly caring for her in the closing scene. It permits what has been a comic-gloomy vision to end on a note that is not without a slender thread of hope.
November 23, 2015
Great book. Coming of age story where the protagonist's struggle with his identities: cultural, ethnic and national is a painful process that manifests in significant self-loathing.
As a fan of the author, Sayed Kashua's sit-com Arab Labor, I find that a coming of age novel is a richer and deeper place to deal with the issue of self-loathing. In Arab Labor, we meet a self-hating bafoonish Jew-wannabee adult, Amjad, who is a successful journalist. He's balanced by his wife who feels perfectly comfortable in her own Arab Palestinian skin. It does work as a sit-com and there are even deeply moving scenes. But too few of them and Amjad is too often insufferable. Dancing Arabs conversely can hold the self-love and self hate inside the same person and deal with that struggle more deeply and intelligently. Also appropriate in the Dancing Arabs is that we know the narrator from a child through to his mid twenties. The issues of identity work well in a coming-of-age novel.
The novel reminded me some of Catcher in the Rye. The wry cynicism, disgust, and longing are shared by both books. As an adult at least, I find it a lot easier to feel compassion for Dancing Arabs' unnamed narrator than for Holden Caulfield.
My emotional response to Kashua's narrator is to want to reassure him that "everything will be okay." But then I fall into my own despair that to tell him so would be a lie.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel in Dancing Arabs. But you certainly feel like you've been enriched by a truly human whose perspective and difficult situation you werer unawares of before you read it.
As a fan of the author, Sayed Kashua's sit-com Arab Labor, I find that a coming of age novel is a richer and deeper place to deal with the issue of self-loathing. In Arab Labor, we meet a self-hating bafoonish Jew-wannabee adult, Amjad, who is a successful journalist. He's balanced by his wife who feels perfectly comfortable in her own Arab Palestinian skin. It does work as a sit-com and there are even deeply moving scenes. But too few of them and Amjad is too often insufferable. Dancing Arabs conversely can hold the self-love and self hate inside the same person and deal with that struggle more deeply and intelligently. Also appropriate in the Dancing Arabs is that we know the narrator from a child through to his mid twenties. The issues of identity work well in a coming-of-age novel.
The novel reminded me some of Catcher in the Rye. The wry cynicism, disgust, and longing are shared by both books. As an adult at least, I find it a lot easier to feel compassion for Dancing Arabs' unnamed narrator than for Holden Caulfield.
My emotional response to Kashua's narrator is to want to reassure him that "everything will be okay." But then I fall into my own despair that to tell him so would be a lie.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel in Dancing Arabs. But you certainly feel like you've been enriched by a truly human whose perspective and difficult situation you werer unawares of before you read it.
August 11, 2017
سيرة ذاتية للكاتب سيد قشوع يروي فيها حكاية الهوية الضائعة لفلسطينيو ال48.. تبدأ من إختيار الكاتب للغة العبرية لكتابة النص الأصلي !
اما قراءاتي له فكانت بالنسخة الألمانية .. وكان الهدف الأساسي قراءة نص باللغة الألمانية، وهذا ما وجدته في بيتنا .. قبل أعوام كنتُ قد شاهدتُ الفلم في السينما (والصراحة عدا نهاية الفلم وقصة صديقه اليهودي المريض الذي لا أساس له في الرواية، وأبعد ما يكون عن الواقع.. لقد أعجبني - على غير عادة - الفلم أكثر من الرواية !!!
فلعل أجمل ما فيها وفيه هي تلك التفاصيل الصغيرة من الحياة اليومية التي يعيشها الفلسطيني في دولة الإحتلال الصهيوني (كركوب الحافلة والذهاب للمدرسة أو الجامعة المختلطة .. حيث يتجلى الإضطراب في أصغر التفاصيل) وهذا ما أحسن الفلم (بناءًا على الرواية) وصفها وتشكيلها بشكل سينمائي !
بالبداية شعرتُ بملل شديد اثناء القراءة وكذلك في نهاية الكتاب .. لعل الفصول الأجمل هي تلك التي تحدث فيها عن ذهابه للمدرسة الداخلية في القدس ومن ثم العمل ..
لستُ بصدد الحكم على الكاتب (قشوع) فإن كنت اغتاظ احيانا منه وانا اقرأ .. كيف ينسلخ عن هويته الفلسطينية أحيانا ويؤثر على الا يظهر كـ"عربي" ولا يتكلم العربية في اماكن معينة ! وغيرها من علامات التيه ... إلا ان ما يغيظني أكثر الوضع المأسوى لفئة من فلسطينيو ال48 نعايشهم أو نسمع عنهم في المحيطات القريبة - هويتهم المفككة (رغم عدم انخراطهم العميق أو معرفتهم الحقيقية بالمجتمع الصهيوني)- تشكل مصدر إزعاج أكبر !
وبالطبع فإن المؤسسات الحكومية (وعلى رأسها المدارس) تخدم هذا الضياع والجهل ! والخوف الغير مُبرر كذلك !!
ما لم يرق لي أيضا تركيزه على مشاكل هامشيا نوعا ما كمشكلة اتخاذ عشيقة في المجتمع العربي .. وتجاهله لمشكلة العنف مثلاً !
أخيرًا قد لا يكون الكتاب (ولا الفلم) أفضل ما يكون ولكن يكفي بأنه يلقي الضوء على إشكالية الهوية الفلسطينية الضائعة !
اما قراءاتي له فكانت بالنسخة الألمانية .. وكان الهدف الأساسي قراءة نص باللغة الألمانية، وهذا ما وجدته في بيتنا .. قبل أعوام كنتُ قد شاهدتُ الفلم في السينما (والصراحة عدا نهاية الفلم وقصة صديقه اليهودي المريض الذي لا أساس له في الرواية، وأبعد ما يكون عن الواقع.. لقد أعجبني - على غير عادة - الفلم أكثر من الرواية !!!
فلعل أجمل ما فيها وفيه هي تلك التفاصيل الصغيرة من الحياة اليومية التي يعيشها الفلسطيني في دولة الإحتلال الصهيوني (كركوب الحافلة والذهاب للمدرسة أو الجامعة المختلطة .. حيث يتجلى الإضطراب في أصغر التفاصيل) وهذا ما أحسن الفلم (بناءًا على الرواية) وصفها وتشكيلها بشكل سينمائي !
بالبداية شعرتُ بملل شديد اثناء القراءة وكذلك في نهاية الكتاب .. لعل الفصول الأجمل هي تلك التي تحدث فيها عن ذهابه للمدرسة الداخلية في القدس ومن ثم العمل ..
لستُ بصدد الحكم على الكاتب (قشوع) فإن كنت اغتاظ احيانا منه وانا اقرأ .. كيف ينسلخ عن هويته الفلسطينية أحيانا ويؤثر على الا يظهر كـ"عربي" ولا يتكلم العربية في اماكن معينة ! وغيرها من علامات التيه ... إلا ان ما يغيظني أكثر الوضع المأسوى لفئة من فلسطينيو ال48 نعايشهم أو نسمع عنهم في المحيطات القريبة - هويتهم المفككة (رغم عدم انخراطهم العميق أو معرفتهم الحقيقية بالمجتمع الصهيوني)- تشكل مصدر إزعاج أكبر !
وبالطبع فإن المؤسسات الحكومية (وعلى رأسها المدارس) تخدم هذا الضياع والجهل ! والخوف الغير مُبرر كذلك !!
ما لم يرق لي أيضا تركيزه على مشاكل هامشيا نوعا ما كمشكلة اتخاذ عشيقة في المجتمع العربي .. وتجاهله لمشكلة العنف مثلاً !
أخيرًا قد لا يكون الكتاب (ولا الفلم) أفضل ما يكون ولكن يكفي بأنه يلقي الضوء على إشكالية الهوية الفلسطينية الضائعة !
November 14, 2015
First novels these days often follow a similar form. Narrated in the first person and appearing to be vaguely autobiographical, they consist of a string of fairly brief episodes extending across a childhood and early adulthood, terminating close to the young novelist’s age at the time of writing. “Dancing Arabs,” although written by a young Arab-Israeli seemingly distant from American creative writing classes and workshops where the easier novelistic forms are disseminated, follows precisely this pattern. One might brush the novel aside with little notice were it not that the subject is of such current interest and serves as a sharp example of an increasingly relevant general cultural problem. Kashua’s novel depicts the growing tension and frustration of Arabs and Jews in Israel and the West Bank settlements. The vision in “Dancing Arabs” of this growing conflict is that of a young Arab who was educated among Jews. Not only that, but he actually tried to assimilate into Israeli society and culture. Which leads us to the general issue: the impossibility to really cross deep cultural divides. While we should be free, at least some of us think, to redefine ourselves—to escape the rather arbitrary categories into which we have been born—it so often proves impossible to do so, in part because our surrounding society just won’t allow it. In this case, and it is probably true of many others, an Arab who wishes to assimilate into Jewish Israel is accepted neither by Jews nor by his fellow Arabs.
March 30, 2016
Чудова трагікомедія про палестинського юнака з багатою родинною історією (дідусь загинув у війні 1948 року, батько арештований за організацію теракту), якого приймають до ізраїльської школи для обдарованої молоді, і вся його родина радісно потирає руки в надії, що він стане першим палестинцем, який зуміє склепати ядерну бомбу. А йому, як на те, хочеться лише водити козу барами, і якось йому не до всіх тих історичних травм. Купа розпачливо смішних моментів про маскування під титульну націю, потребу постійно враховувати, як тебе "зчитують" інші (герой старається не говорити арабською неподалік від міліції, а на випадки, коли треба буде сидіти в черзі у офіційних закладах, у героя припасена модна книжка івритом, щоб усі зауважили, який він інтелектуал, і були вражені, і тд). Ну і про сливе неминуче змаління колонізованого, який може жити, лише зігнувшись (останнє покоління, якому в описах не відмовлено у праві на свою гідність - це покоління дідусів-бабусів головного героя, які виросли до війни 1948 року; і саме сцени з ними винесено у найбільш семантично навантажені, закільцьовані початок і кінець роману).
З мінусів: книжка якась дуже рвана, для мене уривчаста побудова сюжету не спрацювала.
З мінусів: книжка якась дуже рвана, для мене уривчаста побудова сюжету не спрацювала.
December 9, 2007
This book, a fast read that can be cranked out in one or two sittings, turned out to be different from what I expected. It's about a Arab boy/man who is educated with Jews and his perspective on himself, his family, and the people around him (and as expected, his struggle with his identity and sense of belonging). I was struck by how honest and raw I thought the narrator was. Perhaps that's why to me this book read more like someone's journal, rather than a book per se, and at times I forgot this is a piece of fiction. Kashua, or rather the narrator, gives snippets from his life so there isn't much of a plot really. This is something I would generally consider a weakness, but not so much in this case. What I found lacking was more in-depth exploration of the issues and conflicts raised in the book. In the end, this book is more like a sampler tray of appetizers...it teases one with great flavors with the first bite or two and just as you are starting to really want to explore the dish, it's already finished.
December 10, 2020
One of the films--maybe my favorite of the ones viewed in my Ohio State University class on Israeli society and film--was titled Dancing Arabs or Borrowed Identity. That 2014 film was a reflection on what it means to be a Palestinian Arab living in Israel today. I found the film so fascinating (it is available on Amazon Prime Video) that I decided to read the novel upon which it was based.
The novel, which is quite different from the film, is highly readable, enjoyable, and thought-provoking but I do want to reread it since my attention suffered during the pandemic.
Today, there are close to two million Palestinian citizens of Israel but almost five million more not granted citizenship because they live in the Israeli occupied/annexed areas of the West Bank and Gaza, territory brought under Israel’s control in the 1967 War.
Then, there are another one and a half million more Palestinians living in refugee camps in those occupied/annexed areas or the countries of Jordan, Syria, or Lebanon. According to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics, there are now almost equal numbers of Jews and Palestinian Arabs. Obviously, this raises many questions that have an impact on the Palestinian-Israeli conflict.
Many Israeli citizens wonder about the morality of holding the territory while others wonder how long democracy can last under such conditions. Within just a few years, if not already, there will be more Palestinians than Israelis thus creating minority rule.
Even when considering only those Palestinians who have Israeli citizenship the questions are grave. In 1948, when Israel became a nation, there were 150,000 Palestinian citizens in the new country. By 2019, however, that number had grown to almost two million or 21% of the total population of Israel minus the occupied territories.
However, many Palestinians fear the possibility of their having a recognized and legal state are dimmed the longer Israel holds the territory. Furthermore, the growth of Jewish settlements in the West Bank and Gaza make it even less likely Israel will cede the territory. Finally, Donald Trump’s decision to move the United States embassy to Jerusalem dealt a major blow to the possibility of a two-state solution in the region.
Then, the problem is made even more dire as other nations in the region refuse to grant citizenship. Consequently, millions of Palestinians have no citizenship in any country and are forced into being little more than pawns in a tense region of the world.
In a series of short chapters detailing the narrator’s experiences, Sayed Kashua’s novel, Dancing Arabs, tells of the story of a nameless Israeli-Palestinian teenager from the small town of Tira located adjacent to the line between the West Bank and Israel proper. Granted a scholarship to an elite school in Jerusalem, he finds himself dancing between his Palestinian heritage and his desire to be part of the Israeli society. (For a more personal account read the author’s essay, “Why I Have to Leave Israel,” or the New Yorker’s article, “An Exile in the Corn Belt,” or listen to the NPR interview to learn why Kashua recently emigrated to the United States.)
Because Tira became part of the new state of Israel in 1948, the protagonist is a citizen of the state but holds a blue ID card that identifies him as a Palestinian with Israeli citizenship. A fearful child, he often sneaks into his grandmother’s room at night to sleep in her bed. She, one day, shares with him the location of a key to a suitcase in the closet that she does not want opened until her death.
Curious, the narrator investigates the suitcase one afternoon when his grandmother is at a funeral. There he finds an assortment of objects including a burial cloth for her own body, and newspaper clippings in which he reads that years earlier, his father, a college student, was suspected of blowing up a cafeteria at the Hebrew University in the call for freedom and was held without trial for several years. This incarceration broke the heart of the young boy’s grandmother who is the widow of a man killed while fighting the Zionists in 1948; she had great expectations for her son, the brightest student in his high school class.
In subsequent chapters, readers learn that the protagonist’s family has high expectations for him. When he is offered the opportunity to attend an elite Jewish school in Jerusalem, his family practically pushes him into the school. They hope he will be the first Arab to build an atom bomb. However, their dreams are dashed as he struggles to pass as a Jew.
In a series of vignettes, we watch as the narrator is exposed to Israeli Jewish life and culture and eventually fins himself able to pass as a Jew. Soon he perfects his Hebrew pronunciation, listens only to Israeli music, and carries books written in Hebrew. Despite his success at passing, he is not a Jew. He is not even viewed as a first-class citizen of the state. He is still a Palestinian living in the Jewish state of Israel.
In subsequent chapters, Kushua makes clear the pain of living a dual identity as he places his character into a series of situations including job hunting, riding on the bus, and dating, and marrying an Arab woman and taking a Jewish lover.
Though I enjoyed the novel, the last part did seem to lose focus and I found myself wishing the story had ended before the protagonist married. Interestingly, the film does cut this last part of the book so seems to hold together tighter.
This is not a comfortable book to read, one with clear winners and losers, heroes and “bad people.” It is, however, a powerful debut novel about dual identity, passing, occupation, oppression, and the resulting self-alienation and self-hatred. I highly recommend both the novel and the film.
The novel, which is quite different from the film, is highly readable, enjoyable, and thought-provoking but I do want to reread it since my attention suffered during the pandemic.
Today, there are close to two million Palestinian citizens of Israel but almost five million more not granted citizenship because they live in the Israeli occupied/annexed areas of the West Bank and Gaza, territory brought under Israel’s control in the 1967 War.
Then, there are another one and a half million more Palestinians living in refugee camps in those occupied/annexed areas or the countries of Jordan, Syria, or Lebanon. According to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics, there are now almost equal numbers of Jews and Palestinian Arabs. Obviously, this raises many questions that have an impact on the Palestinian-Israeli conflict.
Many Israeli citizens wonder about the morality of holding the territory while others wonder how long democracy can last under such conditions. Within just a few years, if not already, there will be more Palestinians than Israelis thus creating minority rule.
Even when considering only those Palestinians who have Israeli citizenship the questions are grave. In 1948, when Israel became a nation, there were 150,000 Palestinian citizens in the new country. By 2019, however, that number had grown to almost two million or 21% of the total population of Israel minus the occupied territories.
However, many Palestinians fear the possibility of their having a recognized and legal state are dimmed the longer Israel holds the territory. Furthermore, the growth of Jewish settlements in the West Bank and Gaza make it even less likely Israel will cede the territory. Finally, Donald Trump’s decision to move the United States embassy to Jerusalem dealt a major blow to the possibility of a two-state solution in the region.
Then, the problem is made even more dire as other nations in the region refuse to grant citizenship. Consequently, millions of Palestinians have no citizenship in any country and are forced into being little more than pawns in a tense region of the world.
In a series of short chapters detailing the narrator’s experiences, Sayed Kashua’s novel, Dancing Arabs, tells of the story of a nameless Israeli-Palestinian teenager from the small town of Tira located adjacent to the line between the West Bank and Israel proper. Granted a scholarship to an elite school in Jerusalem, he finds himself dancing between his Palestinian heritage and his desire to be part of the Israeli society. (For a more personal account read the author’s essay, “Why I Have to Leave Israel,” or the New Yorker’s article, “An Exile in the Corn Belt,” or listen to the NPR interview to learn why Kashua recently emigrated to the United States.)
Because Tira became part of the new state of Israel in 1948, the protagonist is a citizen of the state but holds a blue ID card that identifies him as a Palestinian with Israeli citizenship. A fearful child, he often sneaks into his grandmother’s room at night to sleep in her bed. She, one day, shares with him the location of a key to a suitcase in the closet that she does not want opened until her death.
Curious, the narrator investigates the suitcase one afternoon when his grandmother is at a funeral. There he finds an assortment of objects including a burial cloth for her own body, and newspaper clippings in which he reads that years earlier, his father, a college student, was suspected of blowing up a cafeteria at the Hebrew University in the call for freedom and was held without trial for several years. This incarceration broke the heart of the young boy’s grandmother who is the widow of a man killed while fighting the Zionists in 1948; she had great expectations for her son, the brightest student in his high school class.
In subsequent chapters, readers learn that the protagonist’s family has high expectations for him. When he is offered the opportunity to attend an elite Jewish school in Jerusalem, his family practically pushes him into the school. They hope he will be the first Arab to build an atom bomb. However, their dreams are dashed as he struggles to pass as a Jew.
In a series of vignettes, we watch as the narrator is exposed to Israeli Jewish life and culture and eventually fins himself able to pass as a Jew. Soon he perfects his Hebrew pronunciation, listens only to Israeli music, and carries books written in Hebrew. Despite his success at passing, he is not a Jew. He is not even viewed as a first-class citizen of the state. He is still a Palestinian living in the Jewish state of Israel.
In subsequent chapters, Kushua makes clear the pain of living a dual identity as he places his character into a series of situations including job hunting, riding on the bus, and dating, and marrying an Arab woman and taking a Jewish lover.
Though I enjoyed the novel, the last part did seem to lose focus and I found myself wishing the story had ended before the protagonist married. Interestingly, the film does cut this last part of the book so seems to hold together tighter.
This is not a comfortable book to read, one with clear winners and losers, heroes and “bad people.” It is, however, a powerful debut novel about dual identity, passing, occupation, oppression, and the resulting self-alienation and self-hatred. I highly recommend both the novel and the film.
December 30, 2015
After reading the profile of Kashua in the New Yorker a few months ago, I really wanted to read one of his books. The storytelling is witty and dry and really brings the characters and neighborhoods to life — so many discussions about Israel/Palestine seem focused either on politics or theology and it's hard to get through that to imagine people's everyday lives in the midst of conflict.
The chapters are sort of like anecdotes, I don't know that there's really an overall story arc other than growing up, coming of age, and the ending fell a little flat for me. But worth reading - I may try another of his books.
The chapters are sort of like anecdotes, I don't know that there's really an overall story arc other than growing up, coming of age, and the ending fell a little flat for me. But worth reading - I may try another of his books.
August 19, 2016
This one is hard to describe. Primarily, it is a coming of age story of a Palestinian kid who goes to a Jewish school and learns to hate who he is and where he comes from. His MC does remind me a lot of some of Sherman Alexie's characters, in the honest and jaded way that the MC viewed and judged himself, his family and his people. Not a very likable MC but the really good passages made up for a lot of it and the ending managed to pull the disparate parts together.
December 9, 2017
I have read this book for four times. Each time I read it, I have deeper understanding of the Palestine-Israel conflict. For the third and fourth generations of Palestinians who live in the State of Israel, the root of identity is in constant doubt. This book presents such ongoing question of the protagonist’s identity. Shifting narrative temporality, humorous tone of narration, autobiagraphical stories combined with Grandma’s stories and his father’s stories. Thought-provoking and insightful!
May 31, 2013
I didn't like this novel quite as much as Second Person Singular by the same author, but it is still a fascinating book. The author explores the subject of Arab Israelis and their attempt to navigate both worlds. This book is a little harder to follow than his later work and is a bit vague, but still highly readable.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 124 reviews