4.5 stars rounded up.
Scrolls of Deborah tells the story of the nursemaid to Rebekah from the Book of Genesis. Deborah is a relative, a servant, and a dear auntie, which allows for the stories of biblical patriarchs and matriarchs to be shared with both an insider and an outsider perspective. Deborah’s quiet strength and deep connections to the women in her life define her existence and her story. Her story is remarkable, of course, but also is a certain homage to the unremarkable lives of so many women whose names are lost to time and more male-oriented tellings of tales.
Goldenberg has picked up the baton of biblical fiction and proves she deserves it. She challenges herself to tell a story rooted in the everyday lives of women in the Middle Bronze Age—lives of service, heartache, and not a great amount of agency. But what is there? Sisterhood. Add to this Deborah’s connection with God, and Goldenberg gives us a beautifully crafted character study, told exquisitely.
In addition to a few physical journeys to new homes and new roles, Deborah’s journey is largely one through life with many of the expected pit stops: puberty, adulthood, birth, parenting, celebration, and mourning. Biblical fiction or any early stories expanded into novels run the risk of dwelling on the never-ending, the tedium punctuated occasionally by seasons of life, seasons of harvest/hunting, and the occasional natural disasters and wars. But Goldenberg has us considering the daily bonds of womanhood, dwelling not on the tedium but on a sort of sacred sisterhood and its quiet strength.
Yes, she addresses the horrors, big and small, of life then (and, to an extent, now). Life was just hard back then. Given all that happens and what we know/believe of this time, perhaps the greatest gift for characters is a peaceful death after a full life.
Goldenberg breathes life into this landscape, this dust, and into a character who has but a brief mention in Genesis. All the secondary and tertiary characters are humanized. All the moments of struggle, loss, connection, agency, and surrender, lead back to the one tie that binds – love: its presence, its lack, its face, and its back. The Scrolls of Deborah addresses some hefty questions: What makes for a sister, a wife, a mother? When so much is taken, and so little is expected, how can a woman craft a life of love? How are we connected and how much does the method of connection matter? Goldenberg explores those questions in a narrative voice that is strong, gentle, of the time, at times melancholic, other times joyful, and always beautiful.
I received an Advanced Reader Copy in exchange for my review. All opinions are my own.