I've been waiting awhile to get to these short stories; when I first heard about them, my interest in biblical retellings was reignited. I kind of/sort of attempted this for one NaNoWriMo, where without much in the way of scholarly merit, I tried to imagine the lives of the matriarchs. Lemberger, with all of her knowledge and empathy, accomplished what I might have dreamed of had I taken this task more seriously. I was at least vaguely familiar with almost all of the stories presented here, but as promised, she really burst those worlds open.
Even disregarding the characters for a moment, her descriptions of the landscapes, from lush Persia to the arid desert, made the worlds seem real even in the most magical realist of stories. We start with Eve, who, as the main character of an origin-of-life story, is the only one who understands, through her narrative, that she is recounting things for all time. Or, at least she would be if her voice counted as much as Adam's and those of her sons. Cities rise and fall from there; warfare, conquest and cruelty are often a backdrop here, as they are in the Hebrew Bible. We see how ambition turns Yael's people, who are surprisingly peaceable at first, into warmongers.
Yael's story was similar to Lot's wife's, named Puha here, in that they both make murderous choices in service of an arguably higher goal, but then they have to live with the unwanted consequences of that. These dilemmas perhaps speak the most to me from a modern perspective. The women narrating these tales had slightly differing desires--Yael longed for the peace and family of the old days, Puha wanted to save her daughters, Zaresh was mired in a world of political intrigue as a way to advance her family (and I commend Lemberger for telling a story about THAT man's wife while never mentioning his name; surely intentional. :p).
Sometimes the worlds and other characters around these women seemed a little one dimensional; we were there to witness how the protagonists wove through all of that. Marriage and child-rearing, servitude to men and judgment based solely on looks was something none of these women could escape. Penina, perhaps, had it the worst, because she found no love from her husband or sister wife, and her children were ultimately destined to leave her. Ergo, in a biblical context, she was destined to a life of loneliness, yet she did very little to try and change her fate. Ultimately, she accepted the status quo. Unlike Hagar, who chose to leave with Ishmael; this surprised me at first, because I believe canonically Sarah drives her out. But it was interesting to give Hagar this agency, and then other ultimate realizations about her life.
Then we have the stories about Michel and Achsah. I've always read Michel transcribed as Michal, but maybe Lemberger didn't want to share her name so intimately. :p. Far be it for me to question a biblical scholar about these spellings anyway. These two characters, besides Deborah who wasn't central and who dealt as a warrior, struck me as the most aggressive. I admit, I didn't know/remember the story of Michel's second marriage, and this story was a little more awkward for me. We divvy back and forth between her husband, Palti, and the collective first person of his hometown. Michel is more distant; we get to know her along with Palti, and Palti himself is easily the most empathetic of the men in this story. Certainly the most respectful husband, who sees his wife as a real person and not just a prize. Their love felt almost modern. Meanwhile, I think I have to read Geraldine Brooks's "The Secret Chord" now, to see beyond the layers of David's monstrous personality, hopefully. Perhaps he's a good cautionary tale for unbridled tribalism and nationalism, but at least he was a poet and musician, dammit. :p. Anywho, as for Achsah, I didn't know her story at all. But what a note for Lemberger to end on; this women riding back to her father and demanding her due. I love how she was considered "wise" and always let her opinion be known; uplifting!
Of course, I can't end this review without mentioning Miriam, ostensibly my mother's namesake. In a broader world made up of conquerors and the enslaved, she addresses us from ancient pre-Judaism's darkest time--and ergo likely most sympathetic from a modern perspective. Ironically, out of all the characters, Miriam, written as child, was the most idealistic, though perhaps the least interesting on her own. In this story, much like in the canon, she mostly exists to usher in her brother's entrance. Eh.
Thanks to the #readukkah campaign for Chanukah for giving me the push to finally pick up this book!