What do you think?
Rate this book
The Liars' Gospel
This is the 2013 Granta Best Young British Novelist.
"A visceral retelling of the events surrounding the life of Jesus". (Hilary Mantel, Guardian, Books of the Year).
'He was a traitor, a rabble-leader, a rebel, a liar and a pretender to the throne. We have tried to forget him here.'
Now, a year after Yehoshuah's death, four people tell their stories. His mother flashes between grief and rage while trouble brews between her village and the occupying soldiers. Iehuda, who was once Yehoshuah's friend, recalls how he came to lose his faith and find a place among the Romans. Caiaphas, the High Priest at the great Temple in Jerusalem, tries to hold the peace between Rome and Judea. Bar-Avo, a rebel, strives to bring that peace tumbling down.
Viscerally powerful in its depictions of the realities of the period: massacres and riots, animal sacrifice and human betrayal, The Liars' Gospel finds echoes of the present in the past.
It was a time of political power-play and brutal tyranny and occupation. Young men and women took to the streets to protest. Dictators put them down with iron force. Rumours spread from mouth to mouth. Rebels attacked the greatest Empire the world has ever known. The Empire gathered its forces to make those rebels pay.
And in the midst of all of that, one inconsequential preacher died. And either something miraculous happened, or someone lied.
Naomi Alderman grew up in the Orthodox Jewish community in northwest London. Her first novel, Disobedience, was published in 10 languages and won the Orange Award for New Writers and the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year prize. Like her second novel, The Lessons, it was broadcast as Radio 4's Book at Bedtime. She is a frequent radio broadcaster and a regular contributor to the Guardian and Prospect. She lives in London.
"A visceral retelling of the events surrounding the life of Jesus". (Hilary Mantel, Guardian, Books of the Year).
'He was a traitor, a rabble-leader, a rebel, a liar and a pretender to the throne. We have tried to forget him here.'
Now, a year after Yehoshuah's death, four people tell their stories. His mother flashes between grief and rage while trouble brews between her village and the occupying soldiers. Iehuda, who was once Yehoshuah's friend, recalls how he came to lose his faith and find a place among the Romans. Caiaphas, the High Priest at the great Temple in Jerusalem, tries to hold the peace between Rome and Judea. Bar-Avo, a rebel, strives to bring that peace tumbling down.
Viscerally powerful in its depictions of the realities of the period: massacres and riots, animal sacrifice and human betrayal, The Liars' Gospel finds echoes of the present in the past.
It was a time of political power-play and brutal tyranny and occupation. Young men and women took to the streets to protest. Dictators put them down with iron force. Rumours spread from mouth to mouth. Rebels attacked the greatest Empire the world has ever known. The Empire gathered its forces to make those rebels pay.
And in the midst of all of that, one inconsequential preacher died. And either something miraculous happened, or someone lied.
Naomi Alderman grew up in the Orthodox Jewish community in northwest London. Her first novel, Disobedience, was published in 10 languages and won the Orange Award for New Writers and the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year prize. Like her second novel, The Lessons, it was broadcast as Radio 4's Book at Bedtime. She is a frequent radio broadcaster and a regular contributor to the Guardian and Prospect. She lives in London.
272 pages, Paperback
First published August 30, 2012
177 people are currently reading
3386 people want to read
About the author
Naomi Alderman
41 books4,516 followersNaomi Alderman (born 1974 in London) is a British author and novelist.
Alderman was educated at South Hampstead High School and Lincoln College, Oxford where she read Philosophy, Politics and Economics. She then went on to study creative writing at the University of East Anglia before becoming a novelist.
She was the lead writer for Perplex City, an Alternate reality game, at Mind Candy from 2004 through June, 2007.[1]
Her father is Geoffrey Alderman, an academic who has specialised in Anglo-Jewish history. She and her father were interviewed in The Sunday Times "Relative Values" feature on 11 February 2007.[2]
Her literary debut came in 2006 with Disobedience, a well-received (if controversial) novel about a rabbi's daughter from North London who becomes a lesbian, which won her the 2006 Orange Award for New Writers.
Since its publication in the United Kingdom, it has been issued in the USA, Germany, Israel, Holland, Poland and France and is due to be published in Italy, Hungary and Croatia.
She wrote the narrative for The Winter House, an online, interactive yet linear short story visualized by Jey Biddulph. The project was commissioned by Booktrust as part of the Story campaign, supported by Arts Council England. [3]
Alderman was educated at South Hampstead High School and Lincoln College, Oxford where she read Philosophy, Politics and Economics. She then went on to study creative writing at the University of East Anglia before becoming a novelist.
She was the lead writer for Perplex City, an Alternate reality game, at Mind Candy from 2004 through June, 2007.[1]
Her father is Geoffrey Alderman, an academic who has specialised in Anglo-Jewish history. She and her father were interviewed in The Sunday Times "Relative Values" feature on 11 February 2007.[2]
Her literary debut came in 2006 with Disobedience, a well-received (if controversial) novel about a rabbi's daughter from North London who becomes a lesbian, which won her the 2006 Orange Award for New Writers.
Since its publication in the United Kingdom, it has been issued in the USA, Germany, Israel, Holland, Poland and France and is due to be published in Italy, Hungary and Croatia.
She wrote the narrative for The Winter House, an online, interactive yet linear short story visualized by Jey Biddulph. The project was commissioned by Booktrust as part of the Story campaign, supported by Arts Council England. [3]
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 345 reviews
July 25, 2014
I am tempted to give this five stars to help balance many of the one-star reviews by people who somehow accidentally found themselves reading a book by a non-Christian for the first time and were traumatized and enraged by the unfamiliar experience. Honestly, read the one-star reviews just for laughs.
Naomi Alderman retells the story of Israel under Roman occupation and beset by false messiahs, both religious and military. Being Jewish, Alderman does not believe that Jesus was a god and this novel is short on magic and miracles (although the Jews are desperately waiting for such and the early Christians believe they have found them.) If those are what you're looking to read about there are many more suitable books for you!
As always, Alderman is brilliant with language and characterization. She uses characters from the Christian Gospels but treats them as complicated human beings living in the last days of the Second Temple, as Israel rebels again and again against the mightiest power on earth and is finally utterly destroyed and the Jews exiled for almost two thousand years. No character is left as a two dimensional hero or villain, and once again Alderman is Jewish and does not believe that Jesus was the Messiah, so if that sounds infuriating to you don't read this book: try The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis instead, or maybe Heaven Is Real by that six-year-old. If you are Jewish, or not allergic to a Jewish perspective on Jewish history, it is a gripping and tragic read, a powerful novel of historical fiction about a nation that looked for a savior in the face of annihilation and found none.
And everyone should read Alderman's "Disobedience: A Novel."
Naomi Alderman retells the story of Israel under Roman occupation and beset by false messiahs, both religious and military. Being Jewish, Alderman does not believe that Jesus was a god and this novel is short on magic and miracles (although the Jews are desperately waiting for such and the early Christians believe they have found them.) If those are what you're looking to read about there are many more suitable books for you!
As always, Alderman is brilliant with language and characterization. She uses characters from the Christian Gospels but treats them as complicated human beings living in the last days of the Second Temple, as Israel rebels again and again against the mightiest power on earth and is finally utterly destroyed and the Jews exiled for almost two thousand years. No character is left as a two dimensional hero or villain, and once again Alderman is Jewish and does not believe that Jesus was the Messiah, so if that sounds infuriating to you don't read this book: try The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis instead, or maybe Heaven Is Real by that six-year-old. If you are Jewish, or not allergic to a Jewish perspective on Jewish history, it is a gripping and tragic read, a powerful novel of historical fiction about a nation that looked for a savior in the face of annihilation and found none.
And everyone should read Alderman's "Disobedience: A Novel."
March 15, 2013
A historical novel depicting Yehoshuah (the historical Jesus) through the eyes of four different people who encountered him: his mother Mary, Judas Iscariot, the high priest Caiaphas, and the criminal/revolutionary Barrabas, whom the crowd demanded be set free in place of Yehoshuah prior to Yehoshuah's crucifixion. (In this book, one can't speak of "The" Crucifixion with a capital C, since there are crucifixions left and right.)
This book was artfully constructed and very competently written. Religiously conservative Christian believers may find some elements of it offensive - the author Naomi Alderman, writing fairly conspicuously from a Jewish perspective, begins from the viewpoint that Jesus is a man of the period, a traveling preacher of which there were many, teaching doctrines little removed from those of other rabbis. Historically, of course, with millennia of faith subtracted from the equation, her version of the story makes perfect sense.
My reaction to this book is a little complicated ... on the one hand, I admired the artistry of how she structured it, and her bravery in telling her straightforward view about who might have lied and how and why in the process of constructing the Jesus of Christianity. Of course, I'm an unbeliever myself, so I found the realism of her approach very refreshing.
There were a few things I didn't like, though. If she had confined herself to the notion of the humanity of the people who lied, and the way in which even the lies circle around people who were still very interesting figures, all would have been well. But instead, halfway or three quarters of the way through the story I started to feel she was getting into the age old question of who was to blame for Jesus being crucified. The anti-Semites' answer, of course, has always been "The Jews." Alderman's answer is the traditional Jewish rebuttal - no, it was the Romans. There are few or no good Romans in her book. Granted, she is writing from the standpoint of Jewish characters, but still ... by dehumanizing the Romans and leaving out their viewpoint, she really introduces a fatal philosophical and aesthetic flaw ... they become an army of mostly two-dimensional monsters. And the book's aesthetic purpose becomes subordinate to a kind of anti-defamation subtext that cheapens the enterprise. That was a disappointing choice to me.
The book also follows the tradition of many past historical novels about Jesus in being stone-cold sober with a somber atmosphere (cf. Jose Saramago, Phillip Pullman), if it at least has the virtue of avoiding any syrupy inspirational tone. None of the characters were very likeable or sympathetic (again, cf Saramago, Pullman). And it was all a little depressing. So if you are looking for something a little more upbeat, stick with Christopher Moore's Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal.
As for her treatment of the historical aspects of the period, it will probably sound strange for me to say this, but I felt like Alderman's Judaea was, well, a little too Jewish. All the characters have Hebrew names. Well, great, right, didn't they speak Hebrew? Actually, probably not - but rather Aramaic or Greek. Hebrew was little enough used that Targumim, or Aramaic translations of the scriptures, had to be used in most synagogues. Alderman lets us know right up there in the book's dedication that she's studied Hebrew and Latin, lest we doubt her chops, and she does indeed do wonderfully well at giving us the flavor of Hebrew in the character names and the occasional cultural tidbit - but there is hardly any flavor of Aramaic in the book, and less of Greek.
In fact, my impression from reading into the history of the period is that the culture was not so monolithically Hebrew, let alone so monolithically Rabbinic Jewish. "Judaism" as such did not exist during the time of Jesus, any more than Christianity did - the system of rabbinic rulings was in its infancy and there is no conclusive evidence that rabbinic norms were practised widely before the temple's destruction. Hellenization was a powerful force, there were a lot of pagan cities and pagan inhabitants throughout the region, Greek and Syrian and Aramaic and Nabataean-Arabic cultural elements all had their own peculiarities. The Idumaeans in the south were not all that Jewish, having only relatively recently been forcibly converted to the Israelite religion under the Hasmoneans, and Galilee too had been converted and had not long before been pagan. It was viewed as kind of a backwoods area, is my impression, and the rabbis sometimes called it "Gallilee of the Gentiles."
That's why I say Naomi Alderman's Judaea is a little too Jewish, because I think the real Judaea was a much more religiously and culturally fragmented place than she depicts. Now, that said, every writer about this period has to interpret the historical evidence as best he or she can - usually none of us are full-time scholars in the field - and I think by emphasizing the Hebrew and normative rabbinic culture in her depiction, she has illuminated very important aspects of the historical Jesus. So even if it might not be a full or perfect picture, it's still an important one, and this is a valuable work.
This book was artfully constructed and very competently written. Religiously conservative Christian believers may find some elements of it offensive - the author Naomi Alderman, writing fairly conspicuously from a Jewish perspective, begins from the viewpoint that Jesus is a man of the period, a traveling preacher of which there were many, teaching doctrines little removed from those of other rabbis. Historically, of course, with millennia of faith subtracted from the equation, her version of the story makes perfect sense.
My reaction to this book is a little complicated ... on the one hand, I admired the artistry of how she structured it, and her bravery in telling her straightforward view about who might have lied and how and why in the process of constructing the Jesus of Christianity. Of course, I'm an unbeliever myself, so I found the realism of her approach very refreshing.
There were a few things I didn't like, though. If she had confined herself to the notion of the humanity of the people who lied, and the way in which even the lies circle around people who were still very interesting figures, all would have been well. But instead, halfway or three quarters of the way through the story I started to feel she was getting into the age old question of who was to blame for Jesus being crucified. The anti-Semites' answer, of course, has always been "The Jews." Alderman's answer is the traditional Jewish rebuttal - no, it was the Romans. There are few or no good Romans in her book. Granted, she is writing from the standpoint of Jewish characters, but still ... by dehumanizing the Romans and leaving out their viewpoint, she really introduces a fatal philosophical and aesthetic flaw ... they become an army of mostly two-dimensional monsters. And the book's aesthetic purpose becomes subordinate to a kind of anti-defamation subtext that cheapens the enterprise. That was a disappointing choice to me.
The book also follows the tradition of many past historical novels about Jesus in being stone-cold sober with a somber atmosphere (cf. Jose Saramago, Phillip Pullman), if it at least has the virtue of avoiding any syrupy inspirational tone. None of the characters were very likeable or sympathetic (again, cf Saramago, Pullman). And it was all a little depressing. So if you are looking for something a little more upbeat, stick with Christopher Moore's Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal.
As for her treatment of the historical aspects of the period, it will probably sound strange for me to say this, but I felt like Alderman's Judaea was, well, a little too Jewish. All the characters have Hebrew names. Well, great, right, didn't they speak Hebrew? Actually, probably not - but rather Aramaic or Greek. Hebrew was little enough used that Targumim, or Aramaic translations of the scriptures, had to be used in most synagogues. Alderman lets us know right up there in the book's dedication that she's studied Hebrew and Latin, lest we doubt her chops, and she does indeed do wonderfully well at giving us the flavor of Hebrew in the character names and the occasional cultural tidbit - but there is hardly any flavor of Aramaic in the book, and less of Greek.
In fact, my impression from reading into the history of the period is that the culture was not so monolithically Hebrew, let alone so monolithically Rabbinic Jewish. "Judaism" as such did not exist during the time of Jesus, any more than Christianity did - the system of rabbinic rulings was in its infancy and there is no conclusive evidence that rabbinic norms were practised widely before the temple's destruction. Hellenization was a powerful force, there were a lot of pagan cities and pagan inhabitants throughout the region, Greek and Syrian and Aramaic and Nabataean-Arabic cultural elements all had their own peculiarities. The Idumaeans in the south were not all that Jewish, having only relatively recently been forcibly converted to the Israelite religion under the Hasmoneans, and Galilee too had been converted and had not long before been pagan. It was viewed as kind of a backwoods area, is my impression, and the rabbis sometimes called it "Gallilee of the Gentiles."
That's why I say Naomi Alderman's Judaea is a little too Jewish, because I think the real Judaea was a much more religiously and culturally fragmented place than she depicts. Now, that said, every writer about this period has to interpret the historical evidence as best he or she can - usually none of us are full-time scholars in the field - and I think by emphasizing the Hebrew and normative rabbinic culture in her depiction, she has illuminated very important aspects of the historical Jesus. So even if it might not be a full or perfect picture, it's still an important one, and this is a valuable work.
June 4, 2013
The Liars' Gospel by Naomi Alderman is a "creative" retelling of life in Israel under Roman occupation and early on centers on Jesus. Alderman's crafting of words is superb so it's quite disappointing that she put her talent to work slandering a public figure in such an offensive manner.
In the novel we are exposed to the viewpoints of Mary, Barabbas, and Judas as imagined by Alderman. I can get behind historical fiction wherein we take a real place or course of events to set the scene and slide in imaginary characters to build a plot. Likewise I enjoy a twist on a known public figure that shows another side of them that is faithful to their overall historical presence but adds a new dimension of storytelling. But I really have a problem with a convenient retelling that absolutely butchers the essence of a character we've come to know through history. Jesus punching his father in the face and the other nonsense that goes on in The Liars' Gospel is disgusting and the character sketch of Jesus as depicted by Alderman is very offensive to not only Christians but to the record of history. What's next, a historical novel about Ghandi detailing his secret role as a fascist, working undercover for the state to stir up insurrection and justification for his friends in power to destroy the people? Perhaps a creative retelling of the civil rights movement with Martin Luther King recast as a drunkard and adulterer whose main focus was becoming famous and having a movie made about himself? Or we could approach it from the other direction and spin a moving story of Hitler and how he was deeply misunderstood?
I've read other reviews in a similar vein (thus my voice ads to the chorus) and so I know what's next: cue the godless hoards to leave argumentative comments on this review and attack my coverage of the novel.
In the novel we are exposed to the viewpoints of Mary, Barabbas, and Judas as imagined by Alderman. I can get behind historical fiction wherein we take a real place or course of events to set the scene and slide in imaginary characters to build a plot. Likewise I enjoy a twist on a known public figure that shows another side of them that is faithful to their overall historical presence but adds a new dimension of storytelling. But I really have a problem with a convenient retelling that absolutely butchers the essence of a character we've come to know through history. Jesus punching his father in the face and the other nonsense that goes on in The Liars' Gospel is disgusting and the character sketch of Jesus as depicted by Alderman is very offensive to not only Christians but to the record of history. What's next, a historical novel about Ghandi detailing his secret role as a fascist, working undercover for the state to stir up insurrection and justification for his friends in power to destroy the people? Perhaps a creative retelling of the civil rights movement with Martin Luther King recast as a drunkard and adulterer whose main focus was becoming famous and having a movie made about himself? Or we could approach it from the other direction and spin a moving story of Hitler and how he was deeply misunderstood?
I've read other reviews in a similar vein (thus my voice ads to the chorus) and so I know what's next: cue the godless hoards to leave argumentative comments on this review and attack my coverage of the novel.
May 21, 2013
Naomi Alderman's new novel, The Liars' Gospel is defintely not a book for everyone. The book is set in the first century and centered around the life of a Jewish prophet, Yehoshuah (Jesus to us). Although it is ostensibly a retelling of the story of Jesus, I found Alderman's detailing of the political climate in Jerusalem during the rise and fall of Jesus much more interesting. The story is told from four viewpoints. That of Marym,Yehoshuah's mother, His friend and follower Ieudah of Queriot, the Roman High Priest of Jerusalem, Caiaphas, and the rebel Bar-Avo. As you read, it is easy to see that Marym is Mary, Ieudah is Judas Iscariot, and Bar-Avo is Barrabas.
I thought that Alderman's decision to tell this tale from 4 vary different viewpoints was a brilliant idea. Each character had a different relationship with Jesus and none of them alone could have told the tale completely by themselves. The switching of voice throughout the book allows the author to cover, not only the different times periods of Jesus' life, but also the different facets of his life. Of the four tellings (or gospels, per the title) I feel the best one was the telling by Judas. It is here that we first get to see what political forces are at work in Israel between the occupying Romans and the Jews. This political background was the most interesting part of the book to my thinking. Since I am not very well versed in the history of Israel, the Jewish faith, or the Roman empire during the time of Tiberius, I found this part of the book illuminating. The idea that the political forces at work during this time period could play such a major role in allowing Jesus to gather a following, and therefore, to become both who he was and who he wasn't, was what I liked best about the book.
One reason that I see this book as more than just the retelling of Jesus story, is that the second two "gospels" those of Caiaphas and Barrabas do not seem to have much to do with Jesus at all. Although Caiaphas was the High Priest of Jerusalem during this time, he never really came in contact with Jesus in a large way. His focus was more in the arena of the political strife between the occupiers and the native populations, and his efforts to reconcile the two. In the case of Barrabas, he went on to continue to lead the rebellion of the Jews against the Romans long after Jesus was dead. In fact, his story began with the death of Jesus and continued on with the focus on the political. For me this was the second best section of the book.
All in all, I found Alderman to present a thought provoking work that captivated me. Both her excellent prose and her development of the characters in the books were definite pluses. Not only was she adept at fleshing out the four characters telling the stories, but her attention to the supporting cast of characters was also well done. In addition, her ability to tell the story of Jesus from and alternate perspective and make it both believable, and more importantly, not disrespectful or preachy, was appreciated. As much as I enjoyed the book, at no time did the writing make me question my faith, or give me the idea that Ms. Alderman was trying to change my beliefs. Only that she was looking at the same story with different eyes.
As I said, this book is not for everyone, but if you are looking for something that is a little different, looks at something from a totally different direction, and has the ability to bring to light questions and new information, than this is the book for you. I am giving it 4 stars, and in fact, enjoyed it much more than I thought I might.
This book was provided to me by Little, Brown and Company through Netgalley in exchange for my review. I would like to thank them for the chance to read a book that I would probably not ever looked at on my own. I thoroughly enjoyed it
I thought that Alderman's decision to tell this tale from 4 vary different viewpoints was a brilliant idea. Each character had a different relationship with Jesus and none of them alone could have told the tale completely by themselves. The switching of voice throughout the book allows the author to cover, not only the different times periods of Jesus' life, but also the different facets of his life. Of the four tellings (or gospels, per the title) I feel the best one was the telling by Judas. It is here that we first get to see what political forces are at work in Israel between the occupying Romans and the Jews. This political background was the most interesting part of the book to my thinking. Since I am not very well versed in the history of Israel, the Jewish faith, or the Roman empire during the time of Tiberius, I found this part of the book illuminating. The idea that the political forces at work during this time period could play such a major role in allowing Jesus to gather a following, and therefore, to become both who he was and who he wasn't, was what I liked best about the book.
One reason that I see this book as more than just the retelling of Jesus story, is that the second two "gospels" those of Caiaphas and Barrabas do not seem to have much to do with Jesus at all. Although Caiaphas was the High Priest of Jerusalem during this time, he never really came in contact with Jesus in a large way. His focus was more in the arena of the political strife between the occupiers and the native populations, and his efforts to reconcile the two. In the case of Barrabas, he went on to continue to lead the rebellion of the Jews against the Romans long after Jesus was dead. In fact, his story began with the death of Jesus and continued on with the focus on the political. For me this was the second best section of the book.
All in all, I found Alderman to present a thought provoking work that captivated me. Both her excellent prose and her development of the characters in the books were definite pluses. Not only was she adept at fleshing out the four characters telling the stories, but her attention to the supporting cast of characters was also well done. In addition, her ability to tell the story of Jesus from and alternate perspective and make it both believable, and more importantly, not disrespectful or preachy, was appreciated. As much as I enjoyed the book, at no time did the writing make me question my faith, or give me the idea that Ms. Alderman was trying to change my beliefs. Only that she was looking at the same story with different eyes.
As I said, this book is not for everyone, but if you are looking for something that is a little different, looks at something from a totally different direction, and has the ability to bring to light questions and new information, than this is the book for you. I am giving it 4 stars, and in fact, enjoyed it much more than I thought I might.
This book was provided to me by Little, Brown and Company through Netgalley in exchange for my review. I would like to thank them for the chance to read a book that I would probably not ever looked at on my own. I thoroughly enjoyed it
June 26, 2014
Honestly nearly rated this five stars. It's excellent. Read it.
I have quite a number of retellings of the Christ myth, so if I tell you that this may be the best, even better than The Good Man Jesus And The Scoundrel Christ, believe it is good. It says something so widely overlooked and even forgotten but so obvious - this is a Jewish story. In traditional Jewish communities, where the rituals and observations and practice in everyday life is kept alive, as it was without change for millennia, the past is not some distant thing, nor some mythical land. It is there by your side, it is living. There is an unbroken chain stretching back from this day to that day, through the centuries, in which people like you said this prayer, people like you broke this bread. The world may be different but people don't change.
Miriam (Mary, mother of Christ) is a Jewish mother who hoped for nothing more than for her son to grow up and marry and give her grandchildren. Now he is gone and he has not even left her grandchildren to grieve with, nor help her as she grows old. Iehuda of Kerioth (Judas Iscariot) is a man seeking a return to a more pure and authentic faith in the time of Roman-occupied Judea, when the temple leader is appointed by Rome, by the emperor, by a man claiming to be a living god, in blasphemy. Yet his faith seems unfounded when the new firebrand reformist preacher he follows begins to espouse the same blasphemies of being a living god. Caiaphas is a man holding a difficult peace, preserving his people's way of life and making concessions to its conquerors, trying to mitigate the all-powerful might of Rome and reign in the more extreme elements among his own people who could bring the troubled peace crashing down. And Bar-Avo (Barabbas) is a resistance fighter, a terrorist, a freedom fighter, a criminal, a man who kills his own people as well as the enemy if he believes they have collaborated or become complacent about their degradation.
These people could be now as they were then. People holding difficult peace. People seeking freedom and an authentic religious life. People enduring through grief and disappointment. Nothing is mysticised or otherised. And Alderman's writing is so good, these are rich, full, identifiable people.
The book is composed of four parts, each narrated in first person by each of the characters. The book is bookended though with a prologue and an epilogue, detailing the first and second sieges of Jerusalem. This gives context to the world these characters inhabit. It is vital to understand what the overarching, defining force was in this world. That every person reacts and lives in reference to this situation. Pompey conquers Jerusalem, he slaughters the temple's men, violates the holiest place in the temple with his heathen presence, and makes the temple leaders appointees of Rome. The religio-ethnic tension between the occupying force and the occupied stems from this. And the fact that the Jews live and worship is a gift merely by the mercy of Rome, and not their right as free people. And their religious leadership becomes a political tool of their oppressor, permanently entangling the struggle for political freedom with religious purity and authenticity.
When the book ends, it ends with the siege of Jerusalem by Titus, who believes that the mercy shown to the Jews has not been met with gratitude, and for their defiance, destroys their city utterly. A million people in Jerusalem were starved, slaughtered or hacked through, the buildings of the city razed, the temple burnt and the Holiest of Holies defiled and destroyed. The Jews are scattered to the four winds, those that survived, and must continue on.
Once it establishes this historical setting, what makes this book amazing is how sympathetic everyone is in their own way, even when they have diametrically opposed viewpoints. Alderman's writing is so good that with each new character you are brought in and totally on their side, even while recognising their flaws.
I loved her portrayal of Iehuda (Judas). I've seen many sympathetic portrayals of Judas in various media, I didn't expect anything particularly new from this one. Yet I got it. Many portrayals of Judas are of a man mistakenly doing what he thinks is the lesser of two evils, or a man racked with ambivalence and remorse. Alderman's Iehuda is neither. He is a man who desperately needs his faith in God and believes Yehoshuah (Jesus) is the one to lead a truly revolutionary reform of the religion, return Judea to a real relationship with God who seems to have abandoned them to occupation. The corruption of the temple leaders who allow a blasphemous, living god to be sacrificed to in the temple every day, the idolatry of the coinage being minted with graven image of that living god, the transformation of their most holy and pious religious positions into political positions won with favours and wealth, where contemplation is not on the spiritual but on the machinations of empire - all these draw him to this new cult. He is heart and soul devoted to it. So when Yehoshuah (Jesus) starts to show the same corruption, same blasphemy, same politicking, by claiming to be a living god, by allowing himself to be anointed in expensive oils as gestures of wealth, by playing favourites amongst his followers about who is in his inner circle of "disciples", Iehuda (Judas) can't stand it. For him, it Yehoshuah (Jesus) who betrays him, not the other way around. In fact Yehoshuah (Jesus) betrays the whole cause. And for Iehuda (Judas) it is a true return to God to report him to the authorities, a true act of devotion to the one true God to renounce this imposter. He is not ambivalent, but happy. He has done the right thing. He is reunited with the true faith.
Caiaphas is just as interestingly portrayed. Caiaphas is widely discussed by the other characters as being corrupt, and he is, just not as they think. Caiaphas does not see himself as religiously corrupt. He knows he has made concessions to Rome, but he thinks he has won more battles than he has lost, and he has mitigated a lot of the worst excesses of Rome. For him, the most important thing of all is to ensure the continuation of the temple, the daily sacrifices to God, the sanctity of the Holiest of Holies, the ability to wash out his people's sin when he meets with God on Yom Kippur. All else is secondary. There must be peace for the temple to continue, the relationship with God is all that matters. So what if it is undignified? So what if there is injustice? So what if the Romans kill the young men and everyone is too afraid to stop them? Your dignity, your justice and your grief should not be as important as your dedication to God. Call yourself pious? Yet you would risk bringing down their wrath on us all, risk them destroying the temple? True adherence to the faith would require that the preservation of the relationship with God in paramount. Therefore any concession to that end is justified.
What is really good in this chapter is that Caiaphas meets Pilate. Pilate wants temple gold to pay for building an aqueduct, and doesn't understand or care that this would sacrilegious, for gold dedicated to the glory of God to be used by Rome's emissaries for projects of their liking. And Pilate bursts out into a rant, that despite the fact he is set up as the antagonist, is massively sympathetic, especially to me as someone without faith. He brays that everything that's in this city is holy, the gold is holy, the food is holy, the building is holy, the coins are (un)holy, everything - EVERYTHING - is a source for religious offence. He's trying to build an aqueduct to bring you clean water, you fucking backwards peasants, and you're too fucking superstitious to even appreciate what's trying to be done for you! It is a great scene, in which Pilate's absolute rightness and wrongness is played off this arbitrator who knows that there will be riots and death as a result of this man's pigheadedness towards those he's been set over to rule. It's every occupation ever. Why don't you love my mercy you idiots!
The last chapter is of Bar-Avo (Barabbas), whose name means "son of his father" and therefore is understood to be a nom de guerre. He is a resistance fighter, a savvy, smart, quick and ruthless leader who spends his life fighting to free Judea from Roman rule. He has no tolerance for those who capitulate to Rome, who pander to the Romans, who ease their way, who collaborate to bring about a subjugated Judea, and in this other Jews are as much his enemy as the Romans. He commits random acts of "terror" to ensure people never become complacent about Roman rule. The peace Caiaphas so desperately craves is Bar-Avo's (Barabbas) greatest nightmare and defeat. He resists to the end, until as an old man, with his band of loyal Zealots, they storm the temple and kill its Rome appointed leaders. For which, Rome pays them back in spades.
So where is Yehoshuah (Jesus) in all this? He is far from the centre of things. He is of greatest importance to his mother, and barely remember by Caiaphas and Bar-Avo (Barabbas). He has a decent following, but no more really than a lot of other reformist, messianic, apocalyptic cults had at the time. Does he pose a threat to the temple leaders? Not in a religious sense, but he is an embarrassment to them because they are tasked with keeping the population docile under Roman rule. A few of his scattered followers believe he has risen from the dead, but since no one sees him, they figure that his body was simply stolen in order to be given a proper burial. Not even his mother really believes. This is a retelling of the Christ myth in which Christ is a minor character. Why he said what he said, why he did what he did, why he died how he died, is what's important. He himself is but a shadow. The negative space where religion and politics collide in an occupied land.
Absolutely read this book. This may be my longest review ever. That's how much I enjoyed this book. Read it. Read it now.
I have quite a number of retellings of the Christ myth, so if I tell you that this may be the best, even better than The Good Man Jesus And The Scoundrel Christ, believe it is good. It says something so widely overlooked and even forgotten but so obvious - this is a Jewish story. In traditional Jewish communities, where the rituals and observations and practice in everyday life is kept alive, as it was without change for millennia, the past is not some distant thing, nor some mythical land. It is there by your side, it is living. There is an unbroken chain stretching back from this day to that day, through the centuries, in which people like you said this prayer, people like you broke this bread. The world may be different but people don't change.
Miriam (Mary, mother of Christ) is a Jewish mother who hoped for nothing more than for her son to grow up and marry and give her grandchildren. Now he is gone and he has not even left her grandchildren to grieve with, nor help her as she grows old. Iehuda of Kerioth (Judas Iscariot) is a man seeking a return to a more pure and authentic faith in the time of Roman-occupied Judea, when the temple leader is appointed by Rome, by the emperor, by a man claiming to be a living god, in blasphemy. Yet his faith seems unfounded when the new firebrand reformist preacher he follows begins to espouse the same blasphemies of being a living god. Caiaphas is a man holding a difficult peace, preserving his people's way of life and making concessions to its conquerors, trying to mitigate the all-powerful might of Rome and reign in the more extreme elements among his own people who could bring the troubled peace crashing down. And Bar-Avo (Barabbas) is a resistance fighter, a terrorist, a freedom fighter, a criminal, a man who kills his own people as well as the enemy if he believes they have collaborated or become complacent about their degradation.
These people could be now as they were then. People holding difficult peace. People seeking freedom and an authentic religious life. People enduring through grief and disappointment. Nothing is mysticised or otherised. And Alderman's writing is so good, these are rich, full, identifiable people.
The book is composed of four parts, each narrated in first person by each of the characters. The book is bookended though with a prologue and an epilogue, detailing the first and second sieges of Jerusalem. This gives context to the world these characters inhabit. It is vital to understand what the overarching, defining force was in this world. That every person reacts and lives in reference to this situation. Pompey conquers Jerusalem, he slaughters the temple's men, violates the holiest place in the temple with his heathen presence, and makes the temple leaders appointees of Rome. The religio-ethnic tension between the occupying force and the occupied stems from this. And the fact that the Jews live and worship is a gift merely by the mercy of Rome, and not their right as free people. And their religious leadership becomes a political tool of their oppressor, permanently entangling the struggle for political freedom with religious purity and authenticity.
When the book ends, it ends with the siege of Jerusalem by Titus, who believes that the mercy shown to the Jews has not been met with gratitude, and for their defiance, destroys their city utterly. A million people in Jerusalem were starved, slaughtered or hacked through, the buildings of the city razed, the temple burnt and the Holiest of Holies defiled and destroyed. The Jews are scattered to the four winds, those that survived, and must continue on.
Once it establishes this historical setting, what makes this book amazing is how sympathetic everyone is in their own way, even when they have diametrically opposed viewpoints. Alderman's writing is so good that with each new character you are brought in and totally on their side, even while recognising their flaws.
I loved her portrayal of Iehuda (Judas). I've seen many sympathetic portrayals of Judas in various media, I didn't expect anything particularly new from this one. Yet I got it. Many portrayals of Judas are of a man mistakenly doing what he thinks is the lesser of two evils, or a man racked with ambivalence and remorse. Alderman's Iehuda is neither. He is a man who desperately needs his faith in God and believes Yehoshuah (Jesus) is the one to lead a truly revolutionary reform of the religion, return Judea to a real relationship with God who seems to have abandoned them to occupation. The corruption of the temple leaders who allow a blasphemous, living god to be sacrificed to in the temple every day, the idolatry of the coinage being minted with graven image of that living god, the transformation of their most holy and pious religious positions into political positions won with favours and wealth, where contemplation is not on the spiritual but on the machinations of empire - all these draw him to this new cult. He is heart and soul devoted to it. So when Yehoshuah (Jesus) starts to show the same corruption, same blasphemy, same politicking, by claiming to be a living god, by allowing himself to be anointed in expensive oils as gestures of wealth, by playing favourites amongst his followers about who is in his inner circle of "disciples", Iehuda (Judas) can't stand it. For him, it Yehoshuah (Jesus) who betrays him, not the other way around. In fact Yehoshuah (Jesus) betrays the whole cause. And for Iehuda (Judas) it is a true return to God to report him to the authorities, a true act of devotion to the one true God to renounce this imposter. He is not ambivalent, but happy. He has done the right thing. He is reunited with the true faith.
Caiaphas is just as interestingly portrayed. Caiaphas is widely discussed by the other characters as being corrupt, and he is, just not as they think. Caiaphas does not see himself as religiously corrupt. He knows he has made concessions to Rome, but he thinks he has won more battles than he has lost, and he has mitigated a lot of the worst excesses of Rome. For him, the most important thing of all is to ensure the continuation of the temple, the daily sacrifices to God, the sanctity of the Holiest of Holies, the ability to wash out his people's sin when he meets with God on Yom Kippur. All else is secondary. There must be peace for the temple to continue, the relationship with God is all that matters. So what if it is undignified? So what if there is injustice? So what if the Romans kill the young men and everyone is too afraid to stop them? Your dignity, your justice and your grief should not be as important as your dedication to God. Call yourself pious? Yet you would risk bringing down their wrath on us all, risk them destroying the temple? True adherence to the faith would require that the preservation of the relationship with God in paramount. Therefore any concession to that end is justified.
What is really good in this chapter is that Caiaphas meets Pilate. Pilate wants temple gold to pay for building an aqueduct, and doesn't understand or care that this would sacrilegious, for gold dedicated to the glory of God to be used by Rome's emissaries for projects of their liking. And Pilate bursts out into a rant, that despite the fact he is set up as the antagonist, is massively sympathetic, especially to me as someone without faith. He brays that everything that's in this city is holy, the gold is holy, the food is holy, the building is holy, the coins are (un)holy, everything - EVERYTHING - is a source for religious offence. He's trying to build an aqueduct to bring you clean water, you fucking backwards peasants, and you're too fucking superstitious to even appreciate what's trying to be done for you! It is a great scene, in which Pilate's absolute rightness and wrongness is played off this arbitrator who knows that there will be riots and death as a result of this man's pigheadedness towards those he's been set over to rule. It's every occupation ever. Why don't you love my mercy you idiots!
The last chapter is of Bar-Avo (Barabbas), whose name means "son of his father" and therefore is understood to be a nom de guerre. He is a resistance fighter, a savvy, smart, quick and ruthless leader who spends his life fighting to free Judea from Roman rule. He has no tolerance for those who capitulate to Rome, who pander to the Romans, who ease their way, who collaborate to bring about a subjugated Judea, and in this other Jews are as much his enemy as the Romans. He commits random acts of "terror" to ensure people never become complacent about Roman rule. The peace Caiaphas so desperately craves is Bar-Avo's (Barabbas) greatest nightmare and defeat. He resists to the end, until as an old man, with his band of loyal Zealots, they storm the temple and kill its Rome appointed leaders. For which, Rome pays them back in spades.
So where is Yehoshuah (Jesus) in all this? He is far from the centre of things. He is of greatest importance to his mother, and barely remember by Caiaphas and Bar-Avo (Barabbas). He has a decent following, but no more really than a lot of other reformist, messianic, apocalyptic cults had at the time. Does he pose a threat to the temple leaders? Not in a religious sense, but he is an embarrassment to them because they are tasked with keeping the population docile under Roman rule. A few of his scattered followers believe he has risen from the dead, but since no one sees him, they figure that his body was simply stolen in order to be given a proper burial. Not even his mother really believes. This is a retelling of the Christ myth in which Christ is a minor character. Why he said what he said, why he did what he did, why he died how he died, is what's important. He himself is but a shadow. The negative space where religion and politics collide in an occupied land.
Absolutely read this book. This may be my longest review ever. That's how much I enjoyed this book. Read it. Read it now.
June 7, 2013
It was an interesting idea, writing a book about Jesus from a Jewish perspective, but I was very disappointed. The first century characters so obviously belonged in the 21st. None of the characters were believable and the character development was stale and predictable. Miriam (Mary) was the most interesting story, but the other three characters (Judah aka Judas, Bar Avo aka Barabbas, and Caiaphas) as well as their stories all fell flat. The cursing and the sexuality in the story so distracted from the world Alderman created that I wasn't able to enjoy it. Most significantly, the central character, Yehoshua (Jesus) was so one dimensional and unimpressive it is difficult to believe that anyone could have mistaken him for the Messiah. It would have been much more interesting if Alderman had left the question of Yehoshua's credentials open-as many Jewish Jesus scholars have done (i.e. Daniel Boyarin, and Amy-Jill Levine)-a question of faith. Alderman's Yehoshua was self-absorbed, arrogant, delusional, and erratic. He couldn't have been less compelling. I wasn't expecting him to be anointed Messiah or worshipped as Lord, but I wasn't prepared to think that he deserved to be crucified-as Alderman portrays him. All in all, not worth anyone's time.
June 7, 2017
interesting novel surrounding the life of Jesus and split into 4 different versions, took me awhile to get into this novel maybe it was the subject title.
June 29, 2013
This book is brilliant. I am a deep lover of the time period, so I stand biased, but Naomi Alderman's reimagination of the period, weaving of actual historical reports (I am hard-pressed to call anything "fact" when the experts so vehemently disagree) and novelist projections, is riveting (to me). I will think of her rendition for a long time.
I know I read her Orange Award winning book, Disobedience, when it came out, but did not record it on Goodreads. I loved how she interspersed some LGBT roots in this book as well.
I know I read her Orange Award winning book, Disobedience, when it came out, but did not record it on Goodreads. I loved how she interspersed some LGBT roots in this book as well.
April 18, 2017
what a book! and to read it by coincidence in the weekend of Easter! too bloody for me at times but not less reliable alternative for the story of Jesus then the version we "know". All the characters are so human. no one is just godly or just a traitor. my favorite character was Kajafas' wife.
July 14, 2013
I thought I was going to like this - that's why you checked it out of the library Paul you dumbdumb - but I REALLY liked it! A piece of historical fiction set in the time of Roman occupied Judea, early in the first century CE. Before the first of four parts begin there is an introduction that perfectly sets the tone for much of what lies ahead: The ritual sacrifice of a lamb in the Jerusalem temple (that's THE Temple of course, Herod the Great's rebuilt version of King Solomon's earlier destroyed Temple) is accounted for in considerable detail. A twice daily performed ceremony of utmost importance in the Judean (or 'Jewish') religion, the description is at once something that made this reader feel equal parts queasy and awe-inspired. The slaughter is given the context of the daily ceremonial life of the Temple, and the various sacrificial offerings large and small made by the faithful visiting pilgrims rich and poor alike.
Then the Romans arrive...General Pompey's forces occupy Jerusalem and eventually take control of the Temple. Under his command the conquering army is obviously tough, but actually reasonably considered and fair. His orders are to not desecrate the temple. The Roman Empire permits the occupied Judeans to carry on with the worship of their God Yahweh.
With this setup complete the story begins. It is broken into four parts - each telling a story from the point of view of (in order) - Miryam (Mary), a mother in Nazareth whose eldest son Yehoshua (Jesus) was crucified in Jerusalem a year earlier; Yehuda Ish-Karyot {man of Kariot} (Judas Iscariot), a former disciple of the same Yehoshua thought to be dead, but actually living as a reinvented Romanised gentleman of the regional port town Caesaria; Caiaphas, the Cohen HaGadol or High Priest of the Temple; and finally Bar-Avo (Barabbas), an anti-Roman rebel leader.
Alderman does a superb job at convincingly portraying 1st century life in Roman Israel as it really might have been. The sights, sounds and smells of various markets, villages, bath-houses, and homes of the rich and poor, Roman and Jew, really come across. The food and drink is lavishly accounted for - a good selection of olives, figs, white cheeses and a nice glass of wine will go nicely with this book!
{SPOILERS AHEAD}
Gideon, a boy escaped from an anti-Roman riot in Jaffa, and one who it turns out knew, and followed, the crucified teacher Yehoshua, turns up frost-bitten and nearly dead one winter up in the high hills of Galilee that surround Nazareth. Once nursed back to health he becomes a goat herd and domestic help in Miryam's house. We learn that her husband Yosef has upped and left. The Romans are on the trail and come looking for the escaped one from Jaffa, and Miryam risks the whole village's safety by lying about how long he's been staying with them. At first Miryam is resentful of the fact that this boy seems to have known her son in a way that she could not in the last year or two of his life, and doesn't really want a daily reminder that he went off the rails so to speak and was killed in punishment by the Romans. But at the same time she is glad to have someone in the home who is interested in her recollection of her departed son as a boy. Gideon's stated love for her son's teachings somehow seem to keep his memory alive for her.
Yehuda is portrayed as a very complex and sensitive man, and one who thinks quite deeply. Living as an 'enslaved guest' in the home of a wealthy Roman citizen and merchant, Yehuda's party-piece, at his host's behest, is to tell that strange story of the one in Jerusalem who thought he was the King. As with Conrad's Marlowe, Alderman has her character tell the story as a sequence of past events. Yehuda tells how much he loved his wife, and that he almost didn't recover from her sudden death. Once he has encountered a small group of men banded together in the company of their Nazarene teacher, he throws his lot in with them and becomes an especially passionate believer in his ministry. As the group grew and attracted increasing attention, Yehuda finds himself somewhat at odds with Yehoshua's seemingly carefree attitude to those proclaiming him the Annointed One, the Messiah.
The episode of Lazarus' sister Mary annointing Jesus' feet with a pint of very expensive spikenard oil (John 12:1–10), just before the Passover in Bethany, is reworked by Alderman with considerable verve. Yehuda doesn't understand why such an expensive ointment (worth a labourer's annual wage) wasn't sold to feed the poor, and doesn't understand his teacher's vague response. He becomes increasingly disillusioned...
Caiaphas' story is interesting in that it is told in almost complete isolation from the story of Jesus. We learn of the daily comings and goings of a privileged and powerful family. The High Priest is in effect the 'spiritual leader' of the local Jewish population, and as such it is fascinating to see the portrayal of the relationship between the occupied and the occupier. (I couldn't help but draw my own clumsy analogy with the current situation in Israel regarding the 'autonomous' Palestine Authority... but that's another conversation for another day.) His concerns are primarily with the purity of his own soul - which extends to the purity of his wife's soul - as every year on the holy Day of Atonement - Yom Kippur - he must proffer himself before God in the Temple's inner sanctuary, the Holy of Holies - where only the High Priest must ever step, and only on that day. A Rope will be tied to his ankle so that he may be pulled out should the Lord smite him there and then as has happened before. Understandably he is preoccupied with his own suspicions of his wife's infidelity as it can truly be a matter of life and death.
The events surrounding the arrest and crucifixion of a strange and rabble-rousing teacher from Galilee are told from Caiaphas' perspective almost as an aside in his ongoing struggle with Pilate over the supply of Temple monies for civic projects - forbidden by Jewish law. There is the disturbing episode of a mob disrupting the Temple one year in the days before Passover, upsetting the tables and assaulting the money-changers... Nevertheless, the simmering atmosphere of pending rebellion, disorder and faithlessness is brewing all the time.
Which leads the story of The Liars' Gospel nicely to Bar-Avo's tale. His name (not his given name) means "His Father's Son" in Hebrew, and we learn why that is so, and why his actual name is never used. Alderman tells Barabbas' story almost as though he were Mario Puzo's young Vito Corleone on his way up through the ranks of hoodlums and made men who run the black markets and smuggle the weapons around the Roman garrison controlled Jerusalem. There are several episodes of violent revolt which lead to Bar-Avo's arrest and the subsequent encounter with Yehoshua/Jesus we're familiar with. His place on the Roman cross is taken by 'King of the Jews' who doesn't appear to have as many friends in town as the king of the wise guys... A long career in increasingly political anti-Imperialist rebellion unfolds for Bar-Avo, yet somehow he prospers, seeming to live a charmed life. He finds himself on occasion thinking back to his moments in the same cell beneath the Prefect's house when he talked with the Nazarene about God and faith, and is thankful that it was not he who died on the cross that Passover.
I'd be giving this the full five stars if it wasn't for the slightly heavy-handed way that the epilogue explains why the gospel may be the liars' gospel of the title. I thought it would've been wiser to leave the reader to decide for themselves. On the whole though, this was a very believable and enjoyable imagined story of some of the major figures in Jesus' days, and how we should always be wary of history's perspectives. Recommended.
Then the Romans arrive...General Pompey's forces occupy Jerusalem and eventually take control of the Temple. Under his command the conquering army is obviously tough, but actually reasonably considered and fair. His orders are to not desecrate the temple. The Roman Empire permits the occupied Judeans to carry on with the worship of their God Yahweh.
With this setup complete the story begins. It is broken into four parts - each telling a story from the point of view of (in order) - Miryam (Mary), a mother in Nazareth whose eldest son Yehoshua (Jesus) was crucified in Jerusalem a year earlier; Yehuda Ish-Karyot {man of Kariot} (Judas Iscariot), a former disciple of the same Yehoshua thought to be dead, but actually living as a reinvented Romanised gentleman of the regional port town Caesaria; Caiaphas, the Cohen HaGadol or High Priest of the Temple; and finally Bar-Avo (Barabbas), an anti-Roman rebel leader.
Alderman does a superb job at convincingly portraying 1st century life in Roman Israel as it really might have been. The sights, sounds and smells of various markets, villages, bath-houses, and homes of the rich and poor, Roman and Jew, really come across. The food and drink is lavishly accounted for - a good selection of olives, figs, white cheeses and a nice glass of wine will go nicely with this book!
{SPOILERS AHEAD}
Gideon, a boy escaped from an anti-Roman riot in Jaffa, and one who it turns out knew, and followed, the crucified teacher Yehoshua, turns up frost-bitten and nearly dead one winter up in the high hills of Galilee that surround Nazareth. Once nursed back to health he becomes a goat herd and domestic help in Miryam's house. We learn that her husband Yosef has upped and left. The Romans are on the trail and come looking for the escaped one from Jaffa, and Miryam risks the whole village's safety by lying about how long he's been staying with them. At first Miryam is resentful of the fact that this boy seems to have known her son in a way that she could not in the last year or two of his life, and doesn't really want a daily reminder that he went off the rails so to speak and was killed in punishment by the Romans. But at the same time she is glad to have someone in the home who is interested in her recollection of her departed son as a boy. Gideon's stated love for her son's teachings somehow seem to keep his memory alive for her.
Yehuda is portrayed as a very complex and sensitive man, and one who thinks quite deeply. Living as an 'enslaved guest' in the home of a wealthy Roman citizen and merchant, Yehuda's party-piece, at his host's behest, is to tell that strange story of the one in Jerusalem who thought he was the King. As with Conrad's Marlowe, Alderman has her character tell the story as a sequence of past events. Yehuda tells how much he loved his wife, and that he almost didn't recover from her sudden death. Once he has encountered a small group of men banded together in the company of their Nazarene teacher, he throws his lot in with them and becomes an especially passionate believer in his ministry. As the group grew and attracted increasing attention, Yehuda finds himself somewhat at odds with Yehoshua's seemingly carefree attitude to those proclaiming him the Annointed One, the Messiah.
The episode of Lazarus' sister Mary annointing Jesus' feet with a pint of very expensive spikenard oil (John 12:1–10), just before the Passover in Bethany, is reworked by Alderman with considerable verve. Yehuda doesn't understand why such an expensive ointment (worth a labourer's annual wage) wasn't sold to feed the poor, and doesn't understand his teacher's vague response. He becomes increasingly disillusioned...
Caiaphas' story is interesting in that it is told in almost complete isolation from the story of Jesus. We learn of the daily comings and goings of a privileged and powerful family. The High Priest is in effect the 'spiritual leader' of the local Jewish population, and as such it is fascinating to see the portrayal of the relationship between the occupied and the occupier. (I couldn't help but draw my own clumsy analogy with the current situation in Israel regarding the 'autonomous' Palestine Authority... but that's another conversation for another day.) His concerns are primarily with the purity of his own soul - which extends to the purity of his wife's soul - as every year on the holy Day of Atonement - Yom Kippur - he must proffer himself before God in the Temple's inner sanctuary, the Holy of Holies - where only the High Priest must ever step, and only on that day. A Rope will be tied to his ankle so that he may be pulled out should the Lord smite him there and then as has happened before. Understandably he is preoccupied with his own suspicions of his wife's infidelity as it can truly be a matter of life and death.
The events surrounding the arrest and crucifixion of a strange and rabble-rousing teacher from Galilee are told from Caiaphas' perspective almost as an aside in his ongoing struggle with Pilate over the supply of Temple monies for civic projects - forbidden by Jewish law. There is the disturbing episode of a mob disrupting the Temple one year in the days before Passover, upsetting the tables and assaulting the money-changers... Nevertheless, the simmering atmosphere of pending rebellion, disorder and faithlessness is brewing all the time.
Which leads the story of The Liars' Gospel nicely to Bar-Avo's tale. His name (not his given name) means "His Father's Son" in Hebrew, and we learn why that is so, and why his actual name is never used. Alderman tells Barabbas' story almost as though he were Mario Puzo's young Vito Corleone on his way up through the ranks of hoodlums and made men who run the black markets and smuggle the weapons around the Roman garrison controlled Jerusalem. There are several episodes of violent revolt which lead to Bar-Avo's arrest and the subsequent encounter with Yehoshua/Jesus we're familiar with. His place on the Roman cross is taken by 'King of the Jews' who doesn't appear to have as many friends in town as the king of the wise guys... A long career in increasingly political anti-Imperialist rebellion unfolds for Bar-Avo, yet somehow he prospers, seeming to live a charmed life. He finds himself on occasion thinking back to his moments in the same cell beneath the Prefect's house when he talked with the Nazarene about God and faith, and is thankful that it was not he who died on the cross that Passover.
I'd be giving this the full five stars if it wasn't for the slightly heavy-handed way that the epilogue explains why the gospel may be the liars' gospel of the title. I thought it would've been wiser to leave the reader to decide for themselves. On the whole though, this was a very believable and enjoyable imagined story of some of the major figures in Jesus' days, and how we should always be wary of history's perspectives. Recommended.
January 17, 2019
I truly loved this book. The writing is magnificent, her characters are incredibly fleshed out with their own voices.
Miryam, mother of Yehoshua. Mourning, keening, melodramatically loving her firstborn son. Even as I shook my head, I completely sympathized with her mother's love. You know the type, she loves her son despite his faults. When he turns away from her she misses him. She mourns his loss when he leaves home; long before he is hung on the cross. I felt her sorrow and her love. It crushed my heart as he must have crushed hers.
Iehuda, the betrayer. A man who truly believes in God and wishes to follow a teacher who he is drawn to. A man he feels compelled to sit and speak and debate with, in the true spirit of brotherhood, philosophy, betterment. He observes firsthand the subtle shift of thinking in Yehoshua's group over time. What happened to their ideologies of bringing the word of their god to others? When did it become about Yehoshua instead?
Caiaphas, the High Priest of the Great Temple in Jerusalem. This man is one in line of men chosen as both a religious leader and diplomat for his people during a reign of occupation. How does one even juggle religious zealotry with political consequences? Very, very delicately and precariously. The history and the fate of the Jews lies in the folds of these robes. One wanted teacher of many is easy enough to hand over to appease Pilate who is massacring civilians in the streets for their unruly protests.
Bar-Avo, the dissident. Rebel. Extremist. Terrorist. Hero. Freedom-fighter. Pick your side and pick your title. This man fought in the underground for the freedom of the people of Jerusalem from Roman control. Eventually imprisoned with Yehoshua, the pacifist who preached "love your enemy," - yet this violent one was chosen by the people in Pilate's game of one lives, one dies. They wouldn't let one of their local heroes die before another unknown teacher from far away.
Look, read the book description. Then you know what this book is about. It's about a controversial figure in religion told as historical fiction. This is not the King James Bible, which is a collection of selected writings, like any compilation put together by an editor - fact, fiction, poetry, etc. Now, if that last sentence bothered you, then this book is probably not for you. If you're reading this book's blurb and reviews out of interest and that didn't bother you, then this book may be a book for you. I highlighted this bit of conversation between Bar-Avos and a fresh, still-hopeful Isaac that I thought is poetically poignant to this book and the entire topic really:
Miryam, mother of Yehoshua. Mourning, keening, melodramatically loving her firstborn son. Even as I shook my head, I completely sympathized with her mother's love. You know the type, she loves her son despite his faults. When he turns away from her she misses him. She mourns his loss when he leaves home; long before he is hung on the cross. I felt her sorrow and her love. It crushed my heart as he must have crushed hers.
Iehuda, the betrayer. A man who truly believes in God and wishes to follow a teacher who he is drawn to. A man he feels compelled to sit and speak and debate with, in the true spirit of brotherhood, philosophy, betterment. He observes firsthand the subtle shift of thinking in Yehoshua's group over time. What happened to their ideologies of bringing the word of their god to others? When did it become about Yehoshua instead?
Caiaphas, the High Priest of the Great Temple in Jerusalem. This man is one in line of men chosen as both a religious leader and diplomat for his people during a reign of occupation. How does one even juggle religious zealotry with political consequences? Very, very delicately and precariously. The history and the fate of the Jews lies in the folds of these robes. One wanted teacher of many is easy enough to hand over to appease Pilate who is massacring civilians in the streets for their unruly protests.
Bar-Avo, the dissident. Rebel. Extremist. Terrorist. Hero. Freedom-fighter. Pick your side and pick your title. This man fought in the underground for the freedom of the people of Jerusalem from Roman control. Eventually imprisoned with Yehoshua, the pacifist who preached "love your enemy," - yet this violent one was chosen by the people in Pilate's game of one lives, one dies. They wouldn't let one of their local heroes die before another unknown teacher from far away.
Look, read the book description. Then you know what this book is about. It's about a controversial figure in religion told as historical fiction. This is not the King James Bible, which is a collection of selected writings, like any compilation put together by an editor - fact, fiction, poetry, etc. Now, if that last sentence bothered you, then this book is probably not for you. If you're reading this book's blurb and reviews out of interest and that didn't bother you, then this book may be a book for you. I highlighted this bit of conversation between Bar-Avos and a fresh, still-hopeful Isaac that I thought is poetically poignant to this book and the entire topic really:
"He was a Jew, Yehoshuah... If he were even as loved as that... a Jew... might not the Empire soften towards us?"I, for one, loved it.
Bar-Avos looks at him. What a kindhearted boy he is. How did he get to be so simple, in a world this hard?
Bar-Avos speaks very quietly and low and very slowly.
"Rome hates us," he says. "We are their conquered people and we are dust under their feet."
"But if-"
"Listen. If they want something from us, they will take it. They will not stop hating us. They will finda way to say that the thing they want was never ours to begin with."
January 8, 2014
An interesting take on a part of human history where myth and history collide. There are people, like Julius Caesar, whom we know existed, and about whom we know a fair amount. And then there are people like Helen of Troy, lost to pre-history, who as likely as not, never existed. Jesus of Nazareth is perched awkwardly between these two places, and to my mind, this made Naomi Alderman's story about life in Roman-occupied Jerusalem a quite haunting novel about how stories and myths come to be and about what can never be known for certain. And so we have a retelling of the parable of the talents which is quite different in its focus from the biblical account. And it is not Yehoshuah but the political insurrectionist, Bar Avo, who persuades the fishermen of Galilee to throw their lot in with him.
It's beautifully written and to this admittedly uneducated reader, the evocation of life in 0BCE Jerusalem feels spot-on. I don't know if her description of the lines of crucifixes on the road into Jerusalem as screaming trees is originally her own but either way, it's a perfect metaphor for the horrors of crucifixion, which Alderman reminds us, was hardly an exceptional mode of judicial killing at the time (somehow, I can't help but picture Mark Lanegan being attracted to the image, which makes me wonder if it is older).
I liked the way that the book took a well-established story (although one where I'm embarrassingly reliant on a primary school Church of England version which left out a lot of the awkward details) and looked at it from a different angle – presenting Judas as a disillusioned follower who fears that his leader is becoming a cultish demagogue, and Caiaphas not as a cynical man seeking to get rid of a trouble-maker making life difficult for the temple, but as a pragmatic leader in a febrile, difficult environment, doing what he thinks will best protect his people from the might of the Roman Empire.
It's not without its flaws – the Epilogue would have been better presented as an author's afterword as it's essentially a “just in case you didn't get it, my point is that the myth of Jesus was bad news for the Jews” and she'd made that point well enough in the main body of the novel. I was also never quite sure she'd really explained quite why Pontius Pilate had decided to let the people of Jerusalem decide which of Barrabus/Bar Avo and Yehoshuah/Jesus should live and which should die – surely a Roman Prefect would want to be shot of the political insurrectionist, and be largely indifferent to the fate of a religious mystic? But perhaps I'd missed the point, maybe Pontius Pilate simply wasn't meant to be very clever.
[4.5 but I'm rounding up]
It's beautifully written and to this admittedly uneducated reader, the evocation of life in 0BCE Jerusalem feels spot-on. I don't know if her description of the lines of crucifixes on the road into Jerusalem as screaming trees is originally her own but either way, it's a perfect metaphor for the horrors of crucifixion, which Alderman reminds us, was hardly an exceptional mode of judicial killing at the time (somehow, I can't help but picture Mark Lanegan being attracted to the image, which makes me wonder if it is older).
I liked the way that the book took a well-established story (although one where I'm embarrassingly reliant on a primary school Church of England version which left out a lot of the awkward details) and looked at it from a different angle – presenting Judas as a disillusioned follower who fears that his leader is becoming a cultish demagogue, and Caiaphas not as a cynical man seeking to get rid of a trouble-maker making life difficult for the temple, but as a pragmatic leader in a febrile, difficult environment, doing what he thinks will best protect his people from the might of the Roman Empire.
It's not without its flaws – the Epilogue would have been better presented as an author's afterword as it's essentially a “just in case you didn't get it, my point is that the myth of Jesus was bad news for the Jews” and she'd made that point well enough in the main body of the novel. I was also never quite sure she'd really explained quite why Pontius Pilate had decided to let the people of Jerusalem decide which of Barrabus/Bar Avo and Yehoshuah/Jesus should live and which should die – surely a Roman Prefect would want to be shot of the political insurrectionist, and be largely indifferent to the fate of a religious mystic? But perhaps I'd missed the point, maybe Pontius Pilate simply wasn't meant to be very clever.
[4.5 but I'm rounding up]
March 1, 2014
Naomi alderman has written an intriguing account of events and people surrounding Jesus. In so doing she has made biblical figures that are sometimes perceived as one dimensional characters and turned them into ones we can relate to, with depth and conflict and imperfection. Although at times it felt sacrilegious reading some points of view such as the Iehuda from Qeriot, it made you see how Jesus could have been perceived, at the time, in a negative but credible way; a rock star that started to believe the hype surrounding him and got carried away. Of course most believe this to be false as he indeed turned out to be the real deal, but at the time there must have been doubt and Jesus could have come across as a smug, arrogant heretical madman. i thought it was interesting to portray Judas as an over zealous man of God that became disillusioned and rebelled, throwing himself instead at the mighty feet of Rome. I enjoyed reading the part of Yehoshuah's mother, Miryam as you can see how she could have felt resentful and rejected by her son. It simply offered a more human account of an almost mythical character and brought life and reality to her. The characters that surround Yehoshuah are painted in fine detail through Alderman's alternative view point, but Yehoshuah himself is still presented, in my opinion, as a mysterious being that we are never able to get near. We see him through other's eyes. Yet by doing so we are constantly made aware that this is an individual's opinion which allows room for us as the reader to form our own. This is where the genius of this book lays; in the doubt, in the many eyes that reflect Jesus. This is all set against a backdrop of brutal Roman occupation, that often gets ignored surrounding the life of Jesus. I found this book fascinating, poetic, historically insightful and extremely provocative. I also appreciated the biblical motif that naomi incorporated into her style of writing, 'And it is Friday morning, and it is Friday evening. The Sabbath day.'
March 6, 2014
BABT70 years after the storming of Jerusalem's walls, a mother mourns her preacher son's death
BBC blurb - In her new novel, the award-winning writer Naomi Alderman provides a compelling and challenging fictional account of life in Roman-occupied Judea. Her novel begins in 63 BC with Pompey's Roman army assailing the fortifications of Jerusalem, and ends with the bloodshed of the Jewish-Roman war in the first century CE.
Within this context of Roman brutality and Jewish insurrection, Alderman presents the life and death of a charismatic Jewish preacher, Yehoshuah. A year after his death, four people tell their stories - his mother, Miryam; his former friend and follower Iehuda of Qeriot; the High Priest at the great Temple in Jerusalem, Caiaphas and the rebel, Bar-Avo.
Read by Stephanie Racine and Tracy-Ann Oberman
Abridged by Sally Marmion
One started and hoped for some historical insight, but the getting is only an imagined and romanticised intrigue.
Move along, nothing to see.
Produced by Emma Harding
Author Note: Naomi Alderman grew up in the Orthodox Jewish community in north-west London. Her first novel, 'Disobedience', was published in ten languages and won the Orange Award for New Writers; like her second novel, 'The Lessons', it was read on BBC Radio 4's Book at Bedtime. In 2007, she was named Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year, and one of Waterstones' 25 Writers for the Future. In 2009 she was shortlisted for the BBC National Short Story Award
July 5, 2013
"And in the midst of all that, one preacher by the name of Jesus died. And either something miraculous happened or someone lied."
This is not the story of Yehoshuah (Jesus)but of the way his existence affected those around him. It is an often bloody tale of a people under Roman occupation, told from the perspectives of Miryam (his mother), Iehuda (a follower), Caiaphas (High Priest of Jerusalem) and Bar-Avo (rebel and murderer).
The first half of the book is sublime. Miriam's feelings of betrayal, disappointment and loss in relation to her eldest son, and the strong love she had for him despite all these things, ring so true.
My favourite "chapter" is that of Iehuda. A man who loses faith, finds it again in Yehoshuah and then loses it again when he feels that Yehoshuah is allowing himself to become the centre of things and more important than his message and his people.
"Losing one's faith is so very like gaining it. There is the same joy, the same terror, the same annihilation of self in the ecstasy of understanding. There is the same fear that it will not hold, the same wild hope that, this time, it will. One has to lose one's faith many times before one begins to lose faith in faith itself."
After this it becomes more about a city under occupation and the clash between Rome and Jerusalem. It is no less compelling and well-written, but did not appeal to me as much as the first two chapters. However, I still found myself unwilling to put it down, even for a moment.
This is not the story of Yehoshuah (Jesus)but of the way his existence affected those around him. It is an often bloody tale of a people under Roman occupation, told from the perspectives of Miryam (his mother), Iehuda (a follower), Caiaphas (High Priest of Jerusalem) and Bar-Avo (rebel and murderer).
The first half of the book is sublime. Miriam's feelings of betrayal, disappointment and loss in relation to her eldest son, and the strong love she had for him despite all these things, ring so true.
My favourite "chapter" is that of Iehuda. A man who loses faith, finds it again in Yehoshuah and then loses it again when he feels that Yehoshuah is allowing himself to become the centre of things and more important than his message and his people.
"Losing one's faith is so very like gaining it. There is the same joy, the same terror, the same annihilation of self in the ecstasy of understanding. There is the same fear that it will not hold, the same wild hope that, this time, it will. One has to lose one's faith many times before one begins to lose faith in faith itself."
After this it becomes more about a city under occupation and the clash between Rome and Jerusalem. It is no less compelling and well-written, but did not appeal to me as much as the first two chapters. However, I still found myself unwilling to put it down, even for a moment.
June 21, 2013
I won this book through GoodReads First Read program.
This is an uncomfortable read for a Christian. Alderman is a Jewish lady who allegedly writes about Jesus through four peoples perspective. Mary, Judas, Caiphaas and Barabas. Yet only the Mary and Judas section cover Jesus prominently. Caiphaas and Barabas only discuss Jesus peripherally. Even the sections which do cover Jesus more completely include complete lies with absolutely no backing which results in the uncomfortable feeling in reading the book. Jesus allegedly strikes Joseph. Joseph leaves Mary for another woman, Mary never finds that Jesus is gone from the tomb, Judas doesn't kill himself etc.
The author cites very few sources for the tale she makes up. The few verses of the Bible she does cite are selective and misconstrued. She conveniently ignores the rest of the New Testament. I think this is an attempt by the author to write a controversial book that will sell many copies and make her famous. Sadly enough that may work in this world. I suggest you read the non-fiction story on the life of Jesus-the New Testament.
This is an uncomfortable read for a Christian. Alderman is a Jewish lady who allegedly writes about Jesus through four peoples perspective. Mary, Judas, Caiphaas and Barabas. Yet only the Mary and Judas section cover Jesus prominently. Caiphaas and Barabas only discuss Jesus peripherally. Even the sections which do cover Jesus more completely include complete lies with absolutely no backing which results in the uncomfortable feeling in reading the book. Jesus allegedly strikes Joseph. Joseph leaves Mary for another woman, Mary never finds that Jesus is gone from the tomb, Judas doesn't kill himself etc.
The author cites very few sources for the tale she makes up. The few verses of the Bible she does cite are selective and misconstrued. She conveniently ignores the rest of the New Testament. I think this is an attempt by the author to write a controversial book that will sell many copies and make her famous. Sadly enough that may work in this world. I suggest you read the non-fiction story on the life of Jesus-the New Testament.
June 18, 2013
The Liars' Gospel: A Novel, fictional book on the life of Jesus, is a visually telling read and gives a realistic look into how people lived, thought, loved, and hated back in Biblical times. There are three main sections which are three very different stories, each revolving around a time, place, verse, or person from the Bible.
For example, part one focuses on the life of Jesus from birth to his resurrection and how he was perceived by the family who gave him mortal life. Instead of writing about how his family revered him from the day he was born, the author instead delves into the tough matters of how his differences became too much for his family, eventually breaking it up.
Interesting read for those that have read the Bible or have a little knowledge of who the people where inside the Bible, or for anyone who likes to read period fiction. Biblical times were violent and harsh. These stories bring readers back to these times and make them wonder how they could have reacted under different points of view.
This review was published on my book blog.
For example, part one focuses on the life of Jesus from birth to his resurrection and how he was perceived by the family who gave him mortal life. Instead of writing about how his family revered him from the day he was born, the author instead delves into the tough matters of how his differences became too much for his family, eventually breaking it up.
Interesting read for those that have read the Bible or have a little knowledge of who the people where inside the Bible, or for anyone who likes to read period fiction. Biblical times were violent and harsh. These stories bring readers back to these times and make them wonder how they could have reacted under different points of view.
This review was published on my book blog.
April 24, 2013
I only got 14% through this book when I realized I was starting to hate Jesus. Who the heck would write a historical fiction novel and turn the Savior of the World into an abusive, unfeeling, psycho? I'm curious as to who the author thought her audience was, because any Christians worth their salt would use the book as toilet paper. Atheists or Muslims might agree with its accuracy (or lack thereof) but I honestly can't imagine this novel interesting them.
Typically, writers of historical fiction try to stick close to the known facts and fill out the ambiguous parts. This book would fit better under speculative fiction, since the title was the only thing I found believable.
Thanks Netgalley, for the copy.
Typically, writers of historical fiction try to stick close to the known facts and fill out the ambiguous parts. This book would fit better under speculative fiction, since the title was the only thing I found believable.
Thanks Netgalley, for the copy.
June 17, 2013
There's something a bit WOLF HALL-ish about what Alderman is up to here, in taking the story of Jesus and telling it from a defiantly secular, Jewish perspective. The four narrators are all known by their Jewish names, Miryam (Mary), Iehuda of Qeriot (Judas Iscariot), Caiaphas, and Bar-Avo (Barabbas), while Jesus is consistently referred to as Yehoshuah. Yehoshuah borrows a lot of old rabbinical teachings (the Golden Rule is not original to Christianity) mixed with a few visionary notions ("Love your enemies" _is_ original), but he's also well-versed in a variety of charlatan's techniques and increasingly prone to megalomania as his following grows. Some reviewers argue that there's supposed to be a Rashomon quality to the depiction, but I felt as if there was a consistent psychology throughout, half wise rabbi and half manipulative cult leader.
What's most interesting to me about Alderman's novel is how Yehoshuah is more the entry point to the story than the story itself: the novel begins in a brief prologue with the conquest of Jerusalem, and ends with the destruction of the Temple, and in between the story is largely concerned with issues of power and living under occupation. Thousands of Jews are executed by Rome over the course of the novel, of which Yehoshuah is only one. The possibility for violence exists as a constant background presence. Yehoshuah proposes the idea of loving your enemy as a radical ethic of nonviolence, but Alderman suggests that he's a little too in love with his own myth to take its implications seriously:
Iehuda is shocked to learn how small his movement looks from the outside (Caiaphas refers to the 'inconvenience' caused); and halfway through, the novel moves on to where the power really lies and in the process becomes more Josephus than New Testament. High Priest Caiaphas is portrayed as a savvy political operator given the nearly impossible task of keeping the peace so that the Temple will continue to function. Bar-Avo is something like a professional insurgent, robbing Roman caravans and giving the money to villagers to win their support. Both are keenly intelligent and sharply limited, and their stories are the most immediately entertaining.
However, I began to feel as if the frequent violence had become a bit numbing and repetitive, losing some of its power as the story went along. And Alderman sometimes fails to make Caiaphas and Bar-Avo convincing as 1st century characters. (A conversation in which Bar-Avo cannot believe that the Yehoshua cult will attract more followers than Juno is a classic example of heavy handed period piece irony.)
I am a little biased in favor of the source material. I was raised in an evangelical Christian home, and while I have been an atheist for more than a decade I continue to be fascinated by books about the 'historical Jesus' and different ways of looking at the myths that I grew up with. So more than usual, my view of THE LIARS' GOSPEL is very subjective. But with that in mind, IMO Naomi Alderman did a fine job at re-casting the life of Jesus in a surprising (and insightful) new light.
What's most interesting to me about Alderman's novel is how Yehoshuah is more the entry point to the story than the story itself: the novel begins in a brief prologue with the conquest of Jerusalem, and ends with the destruction of the Temple, and in between the story is largely concerned with issues of power and living under occupation. Thousands of Jews are executed by Rome over the course of the novel, of which Yehoshuah is only one. The possibility for violence exists as a constant background presence. Yehoshuah proposes the idea of loving your enemy as a radical ethic of nonviolence, but Alderman suggests that he's a little too in love with his own myth to take its implications seriously:
[From Iehuda]'The man I first followed would never have wanted to king.'
'You know, I believe that is what Caesar said when he first took power. It seems to be a pattern with them. In this time of special emergency, they say, I must take more power than usual, but this shall be given back in time to the people. Somehow it is always a time of special emergency. It is quite surprising how seductive a crown can be.'
Iehuda is shocked to learn how small his movement looks from the outside (Caiaphas refers to the 'inconvenience' caused); and halfway through, the novel moves on to where the power really lies and in the process becomes more Josephus than New Testament. High Priest Caiaphas is portrayed as a savvy political operator given the nearly impossible task of keeping the peace so that the Temple will continue to function. Bar-Avo is something like a professional insurgent, robbing Roman caravans and giving the money to villagers to win their support. Both are keenly intelligent and sharply limited, and their stories are the most immediately entertaining.
However, I began to feel as if the frequent violence had become a bit numbing and repetitive, losing some of its power as the story went along. And Alderman sometimes fails to make Caiaphas and Bar-Avo convincing as 1st century characters. (A conversation in which Bar-Avo cannot believe that the Yehoshua cult will attract more followers than Juno is a classic example of heavy handed period piece irony.)
I am a little biased in favor of the source material. I was raised in an evangelical Christian home, and while I have been an atheist for more than a decade I continue to be fascinated by books about the 'historical Jesus' and different ways of looking at the myths that I grew up with. So more than usual, my view of THE LIARS' GOSPEL is very subjective. But with that in mind, IMO Naomi Alderman did a fine job at re-casting the life of Jesus in a surprising (and insightful) new light.
March 20, 2015
"Liars' Gospel" blew me away. Once I picked it up, I was hard pressed to put it down. Historical novels as well as novels about religion fascinate me, and Alderman does such a great job of capturing the time period in such a way as to make the reader feel as if it's familiar. The story of Jesus/Yehoshuah as told from the point of view of four Jews is such a different way of looking at the story. In two of the sections, Yehoshuah is almost a minor character until you realize how heavily he has influenced the action of the story.
The main question asked by this story is Was there truly a miraculous thing occurring or was everyone complicit in the greatest lie of all time? I imagine this could be deeply offensive to those with great Christian faith, but I found the book provocative and inspiring. It makes me want to know more.
Naomi Alderman is an amazing writer, and while I enjoyed "Disobedience," with "Liars' Gospel," she has made a devoted reader and I look forward to whatever she conjures next.
The main question asked by this story is Was there truly a miraculous thing occurring or was everyone complicit in the greatest lie of all time? I imagine this could be deeply offensive to those with great Christian faith, but I found the book provocative and inspiring. It makes me want to know more.
Naomi Alderman is an amazing writer, and while I enjoyed "Disobedience," with "Liars' Gospel," she has made a devoted reader and I look forward to whatever she conjures next.
February 10, 2014
This is a really good book. It puts Jesus into the political and historical context of an occupied city and offers a new perspective on the biblical tales via the stories of Barrabas, Caiaphas, Judas & Mary. Each of these characters is given a decent backstory that puts their actions into context and makes them come alive as characters. It also puts it all firmly in its Jewish context; from the stories that are told to the call for a messiah. I really liked the writing style - like the best historical fiction it put you firmly in the time and each voice seems authentic. Interestingly this book seems to manage to appeal to both believers and unbelievers and its a compliment to Alderman's writing that she can pull this off. A book that I would suggest has slipped through the net because Ms Alderman is relatively unknown but it should be up there with Wolf Hall and the other big historical / mainstream crossovers
May 31, 2016
Every story could be told in four different ways…
"…or forty or four thousand. Every story is at least partly a lie." So writes Naomi Alderman at the conclusion of this vivid, audacious, informative, and thought-provoking book. There have been a surprising number of novels in the past decade or so aiming to revisit the life of Jesus from a novelist's perspective. José Saramago writes as a surprisingly respectful atheist in The Gospel According to Jesus Christ ; Philip Pullman in The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ embraces the man but not what hagiographers have made of him; Colm Toíbín in The Testament of Mary shows a bewildered mother refusing to buy in to the revisionist history his disciples would weave around her son; Simon Mawer's The Gospel of Judas still waits on my shelf. But Naomi Alderman's Gospel is different from all these because she is writing as a Jew, against the detailed and specific historical background of Jewish resistance to Roman rule in the first decades of the Common Era. Both Mary and Judas tell their stories in this book, as do the High Priest Caiaphas and the terrorist Barabbas. Each story, as Alderman insists, is a lie, truth shaped by the teller for a particular purpose, but the truth is somewhere in there nonetheless.
The prologue opens with a stunning description of the ritual sacrifice of a lamb in the Temple, which manages to be devotional and stomach-turning at the same time. This is a prelude to the desecration of the Temple by Pompey. Many of the same themes are revisited in the epilogue, which ends with the Temple's destruction under Trajan. In between is over a century of compromise between Roman procurators and Jewish High Priests which did little to assuage zealotry or resentment. Jerusalem is a powder keg, and no author has pictured it so vividly as Alderman; even without the Jesus story, this would be a gripping and informative historical novel.
Actually, Alderman keeps Jesus pretty much in the background. She calls him by his Hebrew name, Yehoshuah; Judas is Iehuda from Queriot, and Barabbas is Bar-Avo. Place names are unfamiliar too: Jesus comes from Natzaret in the Galil, and preaches in Kfar Nachum and Beit Ani. So Christian readers do not start with the automatic reaction "I know what he did," or "I know what happened there." The same shifts of expectations occur all through the story. Yehoshuah is clearly a charismatic preacher, but he is also a fiery individual with a violent temper, as easy to imagine as a political activist as a peacemaker. In all the main characterizations, the distinction between sacred and secular is fascinatingly ambiguous.
The opening section takes place a year or so after the crucifixion, when Mary is visited by a young disciple whose gentle ways contrast with the almost cruel independence of her lost son. The Iehuda chapter paints Judas with much of the inquiring spirituality we generally associate with Jesus. But, as he says, "losing one's faith is so very like gaining it." In this version, he does not commit suicide but ends up as a kind of second-rank Roman, a secular agnostic. I found the Caiaphas story the weakest of the three; the man is mostly concerned with his diplomatic dealings with Pilate and his suspicions of his wife's chastity, and the trial and execution of this madman takes only a couple of pages, which may be the point. But any weakness is swept away by the closing section involving the partisan leader Bar-Avo. Alderman shows him not only as a cunning man of action, but also as generous and loved by his community. Indeed, she continually gives his story closer parallels to the gospel accounts of Jesus than she allows her Yehoshuah, just making him more effective (at least in the short term) at achieving his particular ends. The final verdict of history, she contends, is based on many factors, most of them coincidental.
Fundamentalist Christians will dismiss this novel, but others—Christian, Jewish, or agnostic—with a modest amount of biblical education will find much to think about. Many years after the crucifixion, Alderman has Bar-Avo say, with fine prophetic irony: "If Yehoshuah ends by being loved in Rome, they will find a way to use him against us." As indeed they did. But she goes a long way towards claiming him back as part of a great historical moment that is also a climax in the story of an entire people.
"…or forty or four thousand. Every story is at least partly a lie." So writes Naomi Alderman at the conclusion of this vivid, audacious, informative, and thought-provoking book. There have been a surprising number of novels in the past decade or so aiming to revisit the life of Jesus from a novelist's perspective. José Saramago writes as a surprisingly respectful atheist in The Gospel According to Jesus Christ ; Philip Pullman in The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ embraces the man but not what hagiographers have made of him; Colm Toíbín in The Testament of Mary shows a bewildered mother refusing to buy in to the revisionist history his disciples would weave around her son; Simon Mawer's The Gospel of Judas still waits on my shelf. But Naomi Alderman's Gospel is different from all these because she is writing as a Jew, against the detailed and specific historical background of Jewish resistance to Roman rule in the first decades of the Common Era. Both Mary and Judas tell their stories in this book, as do the High Priest Caiaphas and the terrorist Barabbas. Each story, as Alderman insists, is a lie, truth shaped by the teller for a particular purpose, but the truth is somewhere in there nonetheless.
The prologue opens with a stunning description of the ritual sacrifice of a lamb in the Temple, which manages to be devotional and stomach-turning at the same time. This is a prelude to the desecration of the Temple by Pompey. Many of the same themes are revisited in the epilogue, which ends with the Temple's destruction under Trajan. In between is over a century of compromise between Roman procurators and Jewish High Priests which did little to assuage zealotry or resentment. Jerusalem is a powder keg, and no author has pictured it so vividly as Alderman; even without the Jesus story, this would be a gripping and informative historical novel.
Actually, Alderman keeps Jesus pretty much in the background. She calls him by his Hebrew name, Yehoshuah; Judas is Iehuda from Queriot, and Barabbas is Bar-Avo. Place names are unfamiliar too: Jesus comes from Natzaret in the Galil, and preaches in Kfar Nachum and Beit Ani. So Christian readers do not start with the automatic reaction "I know what he did," or "I know what happened there." The same shifts of expectations occur all through the story. Yehoshuah is clearly a charismatic preacher, but he is also a fiery individual with a violent temper, as easy to imagine as a political activist as a peacemaker. In all the main characterizations, the distinction between sacred and secular is fascinatingly ambiguous.
The opening section takes place a year or so after the crucifixion, when Mary is visited by a young disciple whose gentle ways contrast with the almost cruel independence of her lost son. The Iehuda chapter paints Judas with much of the inquiring spirituality we generally associate with Jesus. But, as he says, "losing one's faith is so very like gaining it." In this version, he does not commit suicide but ends up as a kind of second-rank Roman, a secular agnostic. I found the Caiaphas story the weakest of the three; the man is mostly concerned with his diplomatic dealings with Pilate and his suspicions of his wife's chastity, and the trial and execution of this madman takes only a couple of pages, which may be the point. But any weakness is swept away by the closing section involving the partisan leader Bar-Avo. Alderman shows him not only as a cunning man of action, but also as generous and loved by his community. Indeed, she continually gives his story closer parallels to the gospel accounts of Jesus than she allows her Yehoshuah, just making him more effective (at least in the short term) at achieving his particular ends. The final verdict of history, she contends, is based on many factors, most of them coincidental.
Fundamentalist Christians will dismiss this novel, but others—Christian, Jewish, or agnostic—with a modest amount of biblical education will find much to think about. Many years after the crucifixion, Alderman has Bar-Avo say, with fine prophetic irony: "If Yehoshuah ends by being loved in Rome, they will find a way to use him against us." As indeed they did. But she goes a long way towards claiming him back as part of a great historical moment that is also a climax in the story of an entire people.
October 19, 2024
I’ll just say this - read this book, read Disobedience, but don’t waste your time on The Power. Alderman trying to be Margaret Atwood is just boring, but this book was great and Disobedience is EXCELLENT.
August 22, 2013
First of all, the writing itself is brilliant. It's poetic, sensory, emotional, and spare while not sacrificing passion. And the concept - the story of the Passion of Jesus from the point of view of four people surrounding him - is excellent. Alderman shows the complexity of Jewish society, and the different ways in which Rome is a constant presence in the lives of her characters. Historical figures are not allowed to remain static and distant, but brought to vivid, three-dimensional life.
Much of what I found slightly disappointing about this novel may be down to the disconnect between the publicity I'd read about the book and the actual content. Obviously, this is not a problem with the novel itself, but rather with its marketing and the hype surrounding it.
The blurb sets up the scene - Yehoshuah the preacher is crucified and soon his followers are saying he's risen again - and then feeds you the fantastic line, "and then either something miraculous happened, or someone lied." I therefore went into this novel thinking the question of what happened to the body was going to be a major plot point - that each character would have their own idea of what happened on Easter morning - and expected this to really engage with the whole question of the resurrection. Instead, this point was glossed over -his followers claimed he rose again, but for the other characters, the line "oh, and then someone, probably one of his followers, stole the body" was repeated several times, and that was it. Again, that's not a problem with the book itself - if that wasn't the theme Alderman wanted to write about, fair enough - but the blurb was slightly misleading, and thus set me up to read what I thought was a very different book.
Also, much of the publicity surrounding this book was about how daring and groundbreaking it was. I didn't find that to be the case - many of the characterisations are not unfamiliar to well-read Christians (Barabbas as freedom fighter, Pilate as spineless and bad at politics, Caiaphas doing the best he can to preserve what freedoms are left to them by Rome, Judas as the true believer who feels betrayed by Jesus and turns on him - all of this was present 60 years ago in Dorothy L. Sayers' "The Man Born to be King"), and while that obviously isn't the entirety of Alderman's intended audience, the fact remains that this concept is NOT exactly new, and the characterizations are pretty standard theology.
The Epilogue, I felt, could have had its last three or four pages cut, when it changed from a fantastically atmospheric retelling of the sacking of Jerusalem into a lecture on the history of anti-Semitism in Christianity. Yes, it's highly symbolic from a literary point of view to show Rome elevating the Jewish man they killed and turning him on the Jews themselves - but Bar-Avo made that point himself very well in fiction, in his section, and it WORKED. It didn't need to be repeated, at length, in a style that came across as an essay instead of the epilogue of a novel.
And finally, this may be a quibble, but the fact is that this is basic research, and when basic research isn't done, it throws me out of the whole narrative and makes it difficult for me to trust the author - but TOMATOES are a New World food. Nobody in the Middle East ate them until the 16th century, at least. And nobody outside India would have had aubergines until the establishment of the Silk Road, unless you were EXTREMELY important. To show Caiaphas' wife serving both of them in the same meal is ridiculous, and someone of Alderman's stature should have known better.
I know this sounds really critical, but I did love the book and would recommend it to others. It's just that I tend to harp on the things I found difficult, rather than what I loved.
Much of what I found slightly disappointing about this novel may be down to the disconnect between the publicity I'd read about the book and the actual content. Obviously, this is not a problem with the novel itself, but rather with its marketing and the hype surrounding it.
The blurb sets up the scene - Yehoshuah the preacher is crucified and soon his followers are saying he's risen again - and then feeds you the fantastic line, "and then either something miraculous happened, or someone lied." I therefore went into this novel thinking the question of what happened to the body was going to be a major plot point - that each character would have their own idea of what happened on Easter morning - and expected this to really engage with the whole question of the resurrection. Instead, this point was glossed over -his followers claimed he rose again, but for the other characters, the line "oh, and then someone, probably one of his followers, stole the body" was repeated several times, and that was it. Again, that's not a problem with the book itself - if that wasn't the theme Alderman wanted to write about, fair enough - but the blurb was slightly misleading, and thus set me up to read what I thought was a very different book.
Also, much of the publicity surrounding this book was about how daring and groundbreaking it was. I didn't find that to be the case - many of the characterisations are not unfamiliar to well-read Christians (Barabbas as freedom fighter, Pilate as spineless and bad at politics, Caiaphas doing the best he can to preserve what freedoms are left to them by Rome, Judas as the true believer who feels betrayed by Jesus and turns on him - all of this was present 60 years ago in Dorothy L. Sayers' "The Man Born to be King"), and while that obviously isn't the entirety of Alderman's intended audience, the fact remains that this concept is NOT exactly new, and the characterizations are pretty standard theology.
The Epilogue, I felt, could have had its last three or four pages cut, when it changed from a fantastically atmospheric retelling of the sacking of Jerusalem into a lecture on the history of anti-Semitism in Christianity. Yes, it's highly symbolic from a literary point of view to show Rome elevating the Jewish man they killed and turning him on the Jews themselves - but Bar-Avo made that point himself very well in fiction, in his section, and it WORKED. It didn't need to be repeated, at length, in a style that came across as an essay instead of the epilogue of a novel.
And finally, this may be a quibble, but the fact is that this is basic research, and when basic research isn't done, it throws me out of the whole narrative and makes it difficult for me to trust the author - but TOMATOES are a New World food. Nobody in the Middle East ate them until the 16th century, at least. And nobody outside India would have had aubergines until the establishment of the Silk Road, unless you were EXTREMELY important. To show Caiaphas' wife serving both of them in the same meal is ridiculous, and someone of Alderman's stature should have known better.
I know this sounds really critical, but I did love the book and would recommend it to others. It's just that I tend to harp on the things I found difficult, rather than what I loved.
January 12, 2016
Originally posted on: The Book Musings
The Liars’ Gospel is a fictional retelling of the story of Jesus (Yehoshuah). A book many has labelled controversial and I can indeed say that it is. I think that when you choose religion as your topic, you will find mixed reactions towards your book. Some people will like it and others won’t and this is evident when you look at the ratings on Goodreads, because you will find as many 1 star ratings as there are 5 or 4 star ratings.
The story is set in the first century and is being told from different view points. I find the book challenging and probably (thought) provoking too. I didn’t finish this book, and because of that I cannot provide you with a review of the book, but I will give you my reasons for not finishing it. Knowing that this book was controversial, I tried to keep an open mind when about 12% into the book Jesus (Yehoshuah) apparently strikes his father. I was like “What!? This is wrong”, but I carried on reading, because the writing is good, despite me having qualms with the content. I stopped reading the book halfway after the part about Iehuda (who is Judas I believe) “f-king some wh*re” and I thought I just cant finish this book. It was just too much for me and I felt uncomfortable reading it. There is a lot of profanity used in this book, which I believe is not in line with the setting. I doubt that people in the biblical times spoke like that, but it’s just my opinion.
Now I can hardly call this book blasphemous, as I have not finished reading it and do not know what happens in the second half of the book. This book, I believe, is either a hate or love and I do not love this book. I wouldn’t recommend reading it, but if you are curious about this book then do pick it up if you aren’t sensitive to the topic. If you would like to read Jesus’ story I suggest you read the Bible (but only if you are Christian, I wouldn’t dream of suggesting you read the Bible if you are not)
The Liars’ Gospel is a fictional retelling of the story of Jesus (Yehoshuah). A book many has labelled controversial and I can indeed say that it is. I think that when you choose religion as your topic, you will find mixed reactions towards your book. Some people will like it and others won’t and this is evident when you look at the ratings on Goodreads, because you will find as many 1 star ratings as there are 5 or 4 star ratings.
The story is set in the first century and is being told from different view points. I find the book challenging and probably (thought) provoking too. I didn’t finish this book, and because of that I cannot provide you with a review of the book, but I will give you my reasons for not finishing it. Knowing that this book was controversial, I tried to keep an open mind when about 12% into the book Jesus (Yehoshuah) apparently strikes his father. I was like “What!? This is wrong”, but I carried on reading, because the writing is good, despite me having qualms with the content. I stopped reading the book halfway after the part about Iehuda (who is Judas I believe) “f-king some wh*re” and I thought I just cant finish this book. It was just too much for me and I felt uncomfortable reading it. There is a lot of profanity used in this book, which I believe is not in line with the setting. I doubt that people in the biblical times spoke like that, but it’s just my opinion.
Now I can hardly call this book blasphemous, as I have not finished reading it and do not know what happens in the second half of the book. This book, I believe, is either a hate or love and I do not love this book. I wouldn’t recommend reading it, but if you are curious about this book then do pick it up if you aren’t sensitive to the topic. If you would like to read Jesus’ story I suggest you read the Bible (but only if you are Christian, I wouldn’t dream of suggesting you read the Bible if you are not)
February 6, 2017
Fascinating look at the world of Jesus, a well thought-out recreation of a life and time
I'm not a believer in any religion, but do find the origins of them worthy of thought, and love interpretations and stories created from the materials we have.
From four perspectives, this book recreates the world of the first century, where the stories of Jesus were first developed. His mother, Judas, Barbaras and Caiaphas (a high priest) between them tell the story of a preacher who taught and was crucified at the time, but also give a full picture of the brutal life lived by the people at the time, and how Yehoshuah would have fit in, been seen by various people and possibly how the myths grew.
This was an easy audiobook to listen to, well narrated by various voices creating the characters, and the book itself felt fairly considered.
I found the world of Jesus actually more interesting than the account of him: as Alderman paints him, he is a small part of a growing rebellion, his pronouncements cause worship and adoration, as you might expect, but the perspectives of the rebel freed in his place and the high priest who watches him sentenced I found much more fulfilling.
The women of the book show range, some stand out as strong and novel for the time, the men (mostly Jews) are fighting the ruling Roman forces or part of the system, we get a good look at both sides. And it's not white-washed - prostitutes are sought, disease is rife, people are killed in skirmishes.
For someone looking for a human look at the life and times of one man, it's a great read. I don't believe in the myths and legends, so it made a refreshing book to try - a look at how the stories could have developed and why. And what might have happened.
I liked the idea of four perspectives, just one or two wouldn't have offered the glimpses in everyday life and the troubles of the times. Well-created and rounded characters, it reminded me of Pullman's 'The Good Man Jesus' but gave more than that with its multiple narrators.
I'm not a believer in any religion, but do find the origins of them worthy of thought, and love interpretations and stories created from the materials we have.
From four perspectives, this book recreates the world of the first century, where the stories of Jesus were first developed. His mother, Judas, Barbaras and Caiaphas (a high priest) between them tell the story of a preacher who taught and was crucified at the time, but also give a full picture of the brutal life lived by the people at the time, and how Yehoshuah would have fit in, been seen by various people and possibly how the myths grew.
This was an easy audiobook to listen to, well narrated by various voices creating the characters, and the book itself felt fairly considered.
I found the world of Jesus actually more interesting than the account of him: as Alderman paints him, he is a small part of a growing rebellion, his pronouncements cause worship and adoration, as you might expect, but the perspectives of the rebel freed in his place and the high priest who watches him sentenced I found much more fulfilling.
The women of the book show range, some stand out as strong and novel for the time, the men (mostly Jews) are fighting the ruling Roman forces or part of the system, we get a good look at both sides. And it's not white-washed - prostitutes are sought, disease is rife, people are killed in skirmishes.
For someone looking for a human look at the life and times of one man, it's a great read. I don't believe in the myths and legends, so it made a refreshing book to try - a look at how the stories could have developed and why. And what might have happened.
I liked the idea of four perspectives, just one or two wouldn't have offered the glimpses in everyday life and the troubles of the times. Well-created and rounded characters, it reminded me of Pullman's 'The Good Man Jesus' but gave more than that with its multiple narrators.
March 2, 2013
Most of us know what the Gospels tell about Jesus and having him as the main subject. But what about some of the other characters close to him? Naomi Alderman picks 4 secondary characters, people that had a connection to Jesus and imagines their stories and feelings - his mother, his betrayer apostle, the high pries who condemned him and the zealot that was spared his life while Jesus was crucified. Along with their stories, we glimpse what it must have been like back then. While all of these stories involve some deliberate lying, what we should understand about any story (as Mary says in her story) is that it can be true, someone can be mistaken or it can be a lie... I found interesting the mention of the missing body of Christ where it was thought to be buried is in all 4 stories. Great read.
February 13, 2014
Great depiction of life in Judea in the first century, focusing on the crucifixion of Jesus. The story is told from several perspectives, which enriches the storytelling. The thing that surprised me the most was the description of the sacrifices from the perspective of the priests. I never would have thought I could appreciate a description of that; however, it includes not only the gory details, but what the priest performing the sacrifice should be thinking about, such as one's own mortality. It also described what went into procuring the spices for the incense and why they were so valuable, and interestingly, how the priest's essential role was keeping the peace in order to keep the supply lines open. If only Leviticus was so interesting when it discusses sacrifices!
September 21, 2013
It may be a truism to say that if this book were a fictional account of the life of Mohammed, rather than of Jesus, Naomi Alderman would have had to take cover, but it is nevertheless the case. I couldn't abide it. Her picture of both Jesus and Mary is so far off course as to be unreadable (for a Christian), even if stylistically good (which it is).
November 24, 2022
Every hero has their flaws. Kennedy was a debauchee—if to say the absolute least about a philandering womanizer—who engaged in multiple affairs, Gandhi was a bedlematic cousin-molesting pedophile, Malcolm was a brazen anti-semite who freely associated with violence (there is a reason why we mainly teach only MLK Jr. to schoolchildren), Beauvoir actually brought an underage student of hers to Sartre for the two of them to exploit and rape (which is why she was suspended from her teaching position in Rouen). So if the vice of Jesus Christ, hero above all heroes, was that he cared too much about people, or that he let the calls of “Messiah” get into his head—I am more than willing to forgive him for those relatively minor transgressions of man, and I am equally predisposed to recognize that for all of his greatness in thought, he still must have been just as much a slave to the human mind and all of its inclinations as any of us—and if we are created in God’s form (as Abrahamic theology would have us believe), maybe there is no entity that exists free from that limitation.
I was recommended this book by a friend of mine, who has a strange tendency to describe books as “raw” or “tough.” I tell her often to lay off the New York Times Book Review and maybe then she might drop the habit of discussing books as if she were Gordon Ramsey evaluating a medium-rare filet mignon: juicy, tender, over-done. And I told her as much when she raved to me about the rawness of this book. I said don’t be ridiculous, a book cannot be raw. A book is not uncooked food, neither is it some unrefined good, nor a sore wound. And as I am with many things—I was wrong—this narrative is intensely raw, it is visceral, uncompromisingly emotional. If there is any word to describe this book, then it must be “raw.” If this novel were not a novel, it would be fresh-caught salmon, silver straight from the quarry, blood escaping from an open gaping hole where a knife was lodged only a few moments ago—raw in every capacity.
Alderman embarks on an endeavor of staggering scale: to challenge how we think about a tale that is the entire basis of modern understanding—the most well-known and influential story of all time. Her novel offers new perspectives from a cast of characters with whom we are already intimately familiar: Miryam (Mary), Iehuda (Judas), Caiaphas, and Bar-Avo (Barabbas). Their revised accounts span the lifespan and impact of Yehoshuah (Jesus) in ways that drag down familiar figures from deification while inviting us to judge them as the real humans that they must have been. Along the way, we are forced to answer some tough questions about the unvarnished Jewish Jesus and Roman Judea as a whole. The story doesn’t happen the way that we have been told it does, but Alderman is on her knees begging us to at least consider the idea that some of the events in this novel happened. This book took me a while to read because I was reading it with my Bible open alongside, comparing where events in The Liar’s Gospel converged with and diverged from the synoptic gospels. Before reading, it is probably helpful to know that this is not an atheist story, nor a Christain one—this is a Jewish story—steeped in Jewish culture and tradition. Knowing the backstory, historical context, and teachings of the Torah will add more to a reading of this novel, but it is by no means required or necessary.
I will say this: I understand why a Christian (or any non-Jewish worshipper of an Abrahamic faith, for that matter) may take offense to this novel, after all, if someone rewrote the accepted understanding of Abraham Lincoln and introduced new qualities or speculated on his admirable character—I, too, might be saddened as to the dishonor of a good man, someone that I respect and hold as a role model (a similar reverence to the type that perhaps many see in Jesus). But I will also say this: the historical account of Lincoln’s life was not written entirely by his closest followers half a century after his death, nor has anyone claimed Honest Abe rose from Peterson House a few days after breathing his last breath, nor that he walked across the Potomac to heal the penurious with a single touch, nor that he performed divine miracles, nor that he was the Son of David—the one and only true Messiah—savior of the sinners, God himself. So the story centers around the premises that are more palatable, even to the secular and ‘pagan’ (feel free to laugh) minds. Jesus certainly existed in some capacity, he was a Jew, and he probably wandered the land preaching revolutionary concepts (imagine saying “love thy enemy” in a time when your enemy occupied your home, killed men for little reason, raped women at convenience, burned your buildings, stole all your goods and left you to starve, etc.). And then, Alderman stops there. No apotheosis, nor elevation to God. And free from deference to the divine, we are able to explore the humanity of Jesus, the events surrounding his life, and the people whom he touched—in the land that he longed to change.
There are some spoilers after this:
Alderman begins with a portrait of a vanquished city—Pompey’s 63 BC siege of Jerusalem. (and as a note: this book is far more than simply a retelling of Jesus’s life, it is an incredibly well-researched portrayal of the historical events surrounding Jerusalem, the life and general “feeling” of those living in Judea under Roman rule, as well as providing incredible insight into the everyday encounter with Jewish halakha and how adherents organized their life under these principles). Pompey, after breaking through the city walls, storms the Temple and murders the priests as they faithfully continue to fulfill their duties—uttering prayers and sacrificing a lamb as their friends are cut down next to them. And when he is done, Pompey extends a little grace to the burning city—he will allow them to keep their God, and their rituals, and their Temple. A decision that will frustrate Rome for centuries to come, but perhaps the most integral decision to the birth of Christianity.
The first narrative is of a grieving mother—it has been a year since the Romans put up Yehoshuah on that cross. Miryam doesn’t want to talk about him, but what mother would? She doesn’t hate him, although it can certainly seem like that. Perhaps the weakest link in Alderman’s masterfully constructed story is her account of Yehoshuah as a child and young adult, provided as flashbacks from Miryam’s perspective. Sure, it makes sense for him to question the world, and it makes sense that he found himself disillusioned with the present operation of things, and maybe it makes sense that he leaves to search for something deeper. But that he hit his father Yosef (Joseph)? That he is horrified with himself? However, Alderman’s writing is so captivating, I’m willing to give her a free pass just this once. And, it certainly does provide a compelling foundation for the teachings of Christ in a sort of practical manner (in that his childhood experiences share some responsibility for the type of preacher that he became). Then, of course, there are the flaws (and if you have not gotten by now, since everyone is human, this book obviously denies the virgin birth of Christ, Immaculate Conception’s denial of original sin, and Mary’s perpetual virginity). Yosef has an affair, Miryam is still lost in grief, etc. But Yehoshuah’s flaws are strangely endearing. It’s like this: when a God exhibits kindness in suffering, that is expected. But when a flawed man is motivated by pure virtue—now that is something. And Yehoshuah’s flaws are not fatal vices nor a scourge on character. He perhaps wants too much, too fast, and haven’t we all been veiled by ambition at one instance or another? For that reason, his family misunderstands him, or maybe they understand him perfectly. And in his family, as a result, there is strife, there is conflict, but notably, there is nothing inherently differing from what is described in the Gospels. Doesn’t the Bible itself provide some support for this sort of relationship between Jesus and his family? When Jesus’s family hears of his preaching “they went out to lay hold on him, for they said: ‘He is out of his mind.’” (Mark 3:21). So it is nothing new that this book includes such a narrative, after all, it’s already been said in the New Testament. All that we are asked is to entertain that idea from the perspective of Yehoshuah’s concerned family, who dearly cares for and misses him. There is a scene in this section of the book where Yehoshuah’s family goes to visit him when he is with his followers—Miryam longs to see her son. Judas inquires as to letting them in, and he returns with this response to deny them entrance: “‘We are a family now,’ he said, ‘we who follow his teachings, we are like his family’” (45). And it is shocking because why would Jesus treat his own mother like that? With reckless disdain for the people who have loved and cared for him? Like a petulant toddler: “no you are not my family!” But it does recall a very similar scene from the Gospel of Mark: “Then his mother and brothers came to see him and, standing outside, sent someone in to call him….And he answered them saying, ‘Who is my mother, or my brothers?’ And he looked about on those who sat around him and said, ‘These are my mother and brothers!’” (Mark 3:31-35). Any pastor worth their salt will immediately object to this: oh no, no Shulin, you have gotten it completely wrong—Mark’s passage is simply displaying that we are all God’s family who accepts Jesus and his teachings. And any skeptic worth his salt would say that sounds suspiciously like a creative interpretation (or at least a careful omission), and while I am not coming to any conclusions just yet, Alderman does provide an interesting perspective from Jesus’s family. The New Testament gives us the viewpoints of the disciples of Christ, but not really much from the characters who reside on the periphery—so it is certainly refreshing in a way to think about these scenes from other vantages. At the end of Miryam’s part, it is implied that she makes up certain aspects of Yehoshuah’s story to let him live a little longer in her memory, and as an extension of kindness to a young and devout revolutionary that holds her son as his idol. More than trying to offer an alternative explanation for the origins of some of the information in the Gospels, I think this serves as a reminder that humans are susceptible to certain things. Humans are fallible, and sometimes we make things up, sometimes out of malice, but other times out of virtue. But even in the times that we lie for a good purpose, it is still a lie. It is suggested that a grieving mother could have lied to protect the image of her child, is that such a wild idea?
The next figure we are reacquainted with is Iehuda of Cariot, or Judas Iscariot. Alderman’s greatest accomplishment in this novel is her depiction of Iehuda. She makes us feel sorry for, even love, a character that is traditionally reviled as the Benedict Arnold of his day. There are plenty of incidents that help illuminate a reimagined Judas, but there are two in particular that have an expressed Biblical origin in Alderman’s sources. These events help us understand why someone as ardent of a follower as Iehuda would have lost his faith. The Iehuda of this book (and, ostensibly, of the Bible) is as Jewish as everyone else. But he starts to not believe as strongly when he loses his wife and sees problems in his surrounding environment. Just then, a young vibrant preacher—Yehoshuah—comes into town and seems to be speaking directly to him. Iehuda is instantly hooked on this new voice who talks big about bringing peace and cooperation to the world. So we follow their adventures across Canaan, bringing God’s word to the ears of the bereaved and oppressed. Iehuda quickly becomes a close advisor of Yehoshuah and is sometimes the lone opposition to certain decisions. However, Yehoshuah starts to make decisions that don’t really make any sense, and Iehuda’s first commitment is to serve God not someone who got caught up in his followers calling him Messiah. There’s a scene in the book that shows how obsessed with himself Yehoshuah has become. A son has just lost his father and is asking Yehoshuah for any sort of support, and he basically tells the guy to get over it because all he should do is follow God (himself), so whatever happened to his father didn’t really matter. This is a callback to the scene in the gospels when: “A follower said to him: ‘Lord, let me first go and bury my father.’ But Jesus said to him: ‘Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.’” (Matthew 8:21-22). It’s a shocking amount of insensitivity, even in the Bible, and it begs the question of why would the literal God act like that? It also reminds me of that one quote by Marcus Aurelius about the virtue of gods, in that would an unjust deity even be worth worshipping? The real kicker is the anointment of Jesus, in the house of Shimon (Simon the Leper), which is told in all of the gospels to some extent if I remember correctly. It basically boils down to this: the synoptic gospels have varying accounts of a woman pouring this really expensive oil on Yehoshuah’s head, to honor him and Yehoshuah is all jazzed up about it and praises her faith. However, some apostles questioned that, saying that they could have sold the oil and used the money to help the poor. Yehoshuah responds with basically “Well, I won’t be here forever so it’s fine” and there is a Q & A section at the end of the book where Alderman says that she knew that her grandfather also had the same concerns about her, which is extremely validating because I had the exact same problem with that passage too. Later in the Gospel of John, he infers that it was Judas who was the opposition, and tries to sort of get ahead of the issue by saying “Oh Judas was only against it because he wanted money.” But it doesn’t change the flawed justification, something that simply shouldn’t be coming out of the mouth of God. It reflects a certain vanity that shouldn’t exist within the divine.
I have a lot more to say about this book, and I haven’t even gotten to the depictions of Caiaphas and Bar-Avo which are done just as well as the previous two characters. But, Goodreads has a character limit that won’t let me go on, so I’ll end it here. This is the most thought-provoking book I have ever read in recent memory, and I encourage everyone to look into it. If I had it my way, then people of all faiths would read this book, not to destroy or strengthen someone’s faith, but simply to challenge the way we think. Challenging our beliefs is always valuable, and always gives us a net benefit in the end, no matter how it ends up impacting us.
I was recommended this book by a friend of mine, who has a strange tendency to describe books as “raw” or “tough.” I tell her often to lay off the New York Times Book Review and maybe then she might drop the habit of discussing books as if she were Gordon Ramsey evaluating a medium-rare filet mignon: juicy, tender, over-done. And I told her as much when she raved to me about the rawness of this book. I said don’t be ridiculous, a book cannot be raw. A book is not uncooked food, neither is it some unrefined good, nor a sore wound. And as I am with many things—I was wrong—this narrative is intensely raw, it is visceral, uncompromisingly emotional. If there is any word to describe this book, then it must be “raw.” If this novel were not a novel, it would be fresh-caught salmon, silver straight from the quarry, blood escaping from an open gaping hole where a knife was lodged only a few moments ago—raw in every capacity.
Alderman embarks on an endeavor of staggering scale: to challenge how we think about a tale that is the entire basis of modern understanding—the most well-known and influential story of all time. Her novel offers new perspectives from a cast of characters with whom we are already intimately familiar: Miryam (Mary), Iehuda (Judas), Caiaphas, and Bar-Avo (Barabbas). Their revised accounts span the lifespan and impact of Yehoshuah (Jesus) in ways that drag down familiar figures from deification while inviting us to judge them as the real humans that they must have been. Along the way, we are forced to answer some tough questions about the unvarnished Jewish Jesus and Roman Judea as a whole. The story doesn’t happen the way that we have been told it does, but Alderman is on her knees begging us to at least consider the idea that some of the events in this novel happened. This book took me a while to read because I was reading it with my Bible open alongside, comparing where events in The Liar’s Gospel converged with and diverged from the synoptic gospels. Before reading, it is probably helpful to know that this is not an atheist story, nor a Christain one—this is a Jewish story—steeped in Jewish culture and tradition. Knowing the backstory, historical context, and teachings of the Torah will add more to a reading of this novel, but it is by no means required or necessary.
I will say this: I understand why a Christian (or any non-Jewish worshipper of an Abrahamic faith, for that matter) may take offense to this novel, after all, if someone rewrote the accepted understanding of Abraham Lincoln and introduced new qualities or speculated on his admirable character—I, too, might be saddened as to the dishonor of a good man, someone that I respect and hold as a role model (a similar reverence to the type that perhaps many see in Jesus). But I will also say this: the historical account of Lincoln’s life was not written entirely by his closest followers half a century after his death, nor has anyone claimed Honest Abe rose from Peterson House a few days after breathing his last breath, nor that he walked across the Potomac to heal the penurious with a single touch, nor that he performed divine miracles, nor that he was the Son of David—the one and only true Messiah—savior of the sinners, God himself. So the story centers around the premises that are more palatable, even to the secular and ‘pagan’ (feel free to laugh) minds. Jesus certainly existed in some capacity, he was a Jew, and he probably wandered the land preaching revolutionary concepts (imagine saying “love thy enemy” in a time when your enemy occupied your home, killed men for little reason, raped women at convenience, burned your buildings, stole all your goods and left you to starve, etc.). And then, Alderman stops there. No apotheosis, nor elevation to God. And free from deference to the divine, we are able to explore the humanity of Jesus, the events surrounding his life, and the people whom he touched—in the land that he longed to change.
There are some spoilers after this:
Alderman begins with a portrait of a vanquished city—Pompey’s 63 BC siege of Jerusalem. (and as a note: this book is far more than simply a retelling of Jesus’s life, it is an incredibly well-researched portrayal of the historical events surrounding Jerusalem, the life and general “feeling” of those living in Judea under Roman rule, as well as providing incredible insight into the everyday encounter with Jewish halakha and how adherents organized their life under these principles). Pompey, after breaking through the city walls, storms the Temple and murders the priests as they faithfully continue to fulfill their duties—uttering prayers and sacrificing a lamb as their friends are cut down next to them. And when he is done, Pompey extends a little grace to the burning city—he will allow them to keep their God, and their rituals, and their Temple. A decision that will frustrate Rome for centuries to come, but perhaps the most integral decision to the birth of Christianity.
The first narrative is of a grieving mother—it has been a year since the Romans put up Yehoshuah on that cross. Miryam doesn’t want to talk about him, but what mother would? She doesn’t hate him, although it can certainly seem like that. Perhaps the weakest link in Alderman’s masterfully constructed story is her account of Yehoshuah as a child and young adult, provided as flashbacks from Miryam’s perspective. Sure, it makes sense for him to question the world, and it makes sense that he found himself disillusioned with the present operation of things, and maybe it makes sense that he leaves to search for something deeper. But that he hit his father Yosef (Joseph)? That he is horrified with himself? However, Alderman’s writing is so captivating, I’m willing to give her a free pass just this once. And, it certainly does provide a compelling foundation for the teachings of Christ in a sort of practical manner (in that his childhood experiences share some responsibility for the type of preacher that he became). Then, of course, there are the flaws (and if you have not gotten by now, since everyone is human, this book obviously denies the virgin birth of Christ, Immaculate Conception’s denial of original sin, and Mary’s perpetual virginity). Yosef has an affair, Miryam is still lost in grief, etc. But Yehoshuah’s flaws are strangely endearing. It’s like this: when a God exhibits kindness in suffering, that is expected. But when a flawed man is motivated by pure virtue—now that is something. And Yehoshuah’s flaws are not fatal vices nor a scourge on character. He perhaps wants too much, too fast, and haven’t we all been veiled by ambition at one instance or another? For that reason, his family misunderstands him, or maybe they understand him perfectly. And in his family, as a result, there is strife, there is conflict, but notably, there is nothing inherently differing from what is described in the Gospels. Doesn’t the Bible itself provide some support for this sort of relationship between Jesus and his family? When Jesus’s family hears of his preaching “they went out to lay hold on him, for they said: ‘He is out of his mind.’” (Mark 3:21). So it is nothing new that this book includes such a narrative, after all, it’s already been said in the New Testament. All that we are asked is to entertain that idea from the perspective of Yehoshuah’s concerned family, who dearly cares for and misses him. There is a scene in this section of the book where Yehoshuah’s family goes to visit him when he is with his followers—Miryam longs to see her son. Judas inquires as to letting them in, and he returns with this response to deny them entrance: “‘We are a family now,’ he said, ‘we who follow his teachings, we are like his family’” (45). And it is shocking because why would Jesus treat his own mother like that? With reckless disdain for the people who have loved and cared for him? Like a petulant toddler: “no you are not my family!” But it does recall a very similar scene from the Gospel of Mark: “Then his mother and brothers came to see him and, standing outside, sent someone in to call him….And he answered them saying, ‘Who is my mother, or my brothers?’ And he looked about on those who sat around him and said, ‘These are my mother and brothers!’” (Mark 3:31-35). Any pastor worth their salt will immediately object to this: oh no, no Shulin, you have gotten it completely wrong—Mark’s passage is simply displaying that we are all God’s family who accepts Jesus and his teachings. And any skeptic worth his salt would say that sounds suspiciously like a creative interpretation (or at least a careful omission), and while I am not coming to any conclusions just yet, Alderman does provide an interesting perspective from Jesus’s family. The New Testament gives us the viewpoints of the disciples of Christ, but not really much from the characters who reside on the periphery—so it is certainly refreshing in a way to think about these scenes from other vantages. At the end of Miryam’s part, it is implied that she makes up certain aspects of Yehoshuah’s story to let him live a little longer in her memory, and as an extension of kindness to a young and devout revolutionary that holds her son as his idol. More than trying to offer an alternative explanation for the origins of some of the information in the Gospels, I think this serves as a reminder that humans are susceptible to certain things. Humans are fallible, and sometimes we make things up, sometimes out of malice, but other times out of virtue. But even in the times that we lie for a good purpose, it is still a lie. It is suggested that a grieving mother could have lied to protect the image of her child, is that such a wild idea?
The next figure we are reacquainted with is Iehuda of Cariot, or Judas Iscariot. Alderman’s greatest accomplishment in this novel is her depiction of Iehuda. She makes us feel sorry for, even love, a character that is traditionally reviled as the Benedict Arnold of his day. There are plenty of incidents that help illuminate a reimagined Judas, but there are two in particular that have an expressed Biblical origin in Alderman’s sources. These events help us understand why someone as ardent of a follower as Iehuda would have lost his faith. The Iehuda of this book (and, ostensibly, of the Bible) is as Jewish as everyone else. But he starts to not believe as strongly when he loses his wife and sees problems in his surrounding environment. Just then, a young vibrant preacher—Yehoshuah—comes into town and seems to be speaking directly to him. Iehuda is instantly hooked on this new voice who talks big about bringing peace and cooperation to the world. So we follow their adventures across Canaan, bringing God’s word to the ears of the bereaved and oppressed. Iehuda quickly becomes a close advisor of Yehoshuah and is sometimes the lone opposition to certain decisions. However, Yehoshuah starts to make decisions that don’t really make any sense, and Iehuda’s first commitment is to serve God not someone who got caught up in his followers calling him Messiah. There’s a scene in the book that shows how obsessed with himself Yehoshuah has become. A son has just lost his father and is asking Yehoshuah for any sort of support, and he basically tells the guy to get over it because all he should do is follow God (himself), so whatever happened to his father didn’t really matter. This is a callback to the scene in the gospels when: “A follower said to him: ‘Lord, let me first go and bury my father.’ But Jesus said to him: ‘Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.’” (Matthew 8:21-22). It’s a shocking amount of insensitivity, even in the Bible, and it begs the question of why would the literal God act like that? It also reminds me of that one quote by Marcus Aurelius about the virtue of gods, in that would an unjust deity even be worth worshipping? The real kicker is the anointment of Jesus, in the house of Shimon (Simon the Leper), which is told in all of the gospels to some extent if I remember correctly. It basically boils down to this: the synoptic gospels have varying accounts of a woman pouring this really expensive oil on Yehoshuah’s head, to honor him and Yehoshuah is all jazzed up about it and praises her faith. However, some apostles questioned that, saying that they could have sold the oil and used the money to help the poor. Yehoshuah responds with basically “Well, I won’t be here forever so it’s fine” and there is a Q & A section at the end of the book where Alderman says that she knew that her grandfather also had the same concerns about her, which is extremely validating because I had the exact same problem with that passage too. Later in the Gospel of John, he infers that it was Judas who was the opposition, and tries to sort of get ahead of the issue by saying “Oh Judas was only against it because he wanted money.” But it doesn’t change the flawed justification, something that simply shouldn’t be coming out of the mouth of God. It reflects a certain vanity that shouldn’t exist within the divine.
I have a lot more to say about this book, and I haven’t even gotten to the depictions of Caiaphas and Bar-Avo which are done just as well as the previous two characters. But, Goodreads has a character limit that won’t let me go on, so I’ll end it here. This is the most thought-provoking book I have ever read in recent memory, and I encourage everyone to look into it. If I had it my way, then people of all faiths would read this book, not to destroy or strengthen someone’s faith, but simply to challenge the way we think. Challenging our beliefs is always valuable, and always gives us a net benefit in the end, no matter how it ends up impacting us.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 345 reviews