My rating is 4.5.
By now, I’ve realised that reviewing Sethu’s books is a near impossible task. They are so rich, so multi-layered that you’ll inevitably miss out on some points. I’m bravely making an attempt here, anyway. The Saga of Muziris was the first book I read by Sethu and I was absolutely impressed by its complexity and canvas. In Aliyah, Sethu takes us on a similar journey into the past by reimagining the lives of the Jews who lived in Kochi until the late 1940s-early 50s when they migrated to Israel.
The epicentre of the book is a small fictional Jewish family, one among many who live in the tiny village of Chendamangalam. There’s Eshimuthimma, the matriarch, her three sons Menahem, Evron, and Elias, and her grandson Salamon. Aliyah traces the ups and downs of the family with Salamon mainly furthering the narrative. Summing up the novel’s storyline is deceptively simple – in 1948, Ben Gurion announces that Israel welcomed Jews from all over the world. This is joyous news to many people in the little Jewish community but others like Salamon remain unsure. Everyone needs to decide soon, though.
“So which is our country then? Do we have anything we can claim as our own with certainty?” Elias asks Salamon.
At its heart, the book tries to seek answers to these questions. The Jews had called India home as far back as 70 AD when they arrived in Cochin after being exiled from Israel. Ever since, they had lived peacefully (well, mostly if you discount the internecine rifts between Malabari Jews and Paradesi Jews who came later in the 15th century) in Kerala with the munificence of the Hindu Kings.
“What was the advantage in selling, at a throwaway price, everything that had been acquired through generations, and leaving with just what they could take for a land across the sea?” wonders Evron.
Aliyah in Hebrew means ‘ascent’. The central dilemma is – will migration truly be an ascent for everyone? Should they go to Israel to keep the faith or be in India to keep their homes?
I relished the slow, immersive pace of this novel with its oddball set of characters spanning three generations. It’s arresting for its long expositions on Kerala’s politics and cultural history. I felt like Salamon many times, when all I can do is listen to these unfettered musings, sometimes nodding in understanding and sometimes not when it got confusing and repetitive.
I cannot end this review without mentioning Rebecca, the most mesmerising of all the fiery women in the book. She does not live long (not a spoiler) but her presence continues to dominate Salamon’s dreams and Muthimma’s memories. Kudos to Catherine Thankamma who has translated splendidly, retaining the deep flavours of a cultural milieu.
Magical realism. History. Folklore. Family. Imagery. There’s everything and more in Aliyah. Do read.