זוג במחצית חייו, המחזיק מכבסה בעיר קטנה במרכז הארץ, משחזר את האירועים שהובילו לשבר גדול בחיי המשפחה. טראומה היושבת בלב סיפור אהבתם היא קרינת הרקע של הרומן יוצא־הדופן הזה, שעלילתו נפרשׂת כעין תעלומה המתפענחת לאִטה.
הרחק מהריאליזם הנוקשה והמוכּר, שוכן לו עולם מופלא של חפצים, ולהם תחושות, מחשבות וקולות. המאפיין עולם זה הוא אירוע, ספק־טקס ספק־משפט, הקרוי "יום שִׁיבת הקיומים", ובו מתאחדים חפצי הבית כדי להשיב את קיומו של זה שנעדר. בין בני הזוג כמו גם בין החפצים מתעורר ויכוח ער, קולני ומכמיר לב בשאלה "מתי ובאיזה מקום קרה מה שקרה".
במשפט אהבה, יצירה קאמרית מלאת דמיון ובה הורוּת במשבר, עולה מסע חיפוש פורע־שלווה אחר צורה, אחר מיניוּת, המוליד זעזוע, כעס ואשמה, "שיגעון בִּשניים" וגם החלמה. זהו סיפורו של בית, במלוא מובן המילה.
שרה שילֹה, כלת פרס ספיר לשנת 2007, כבשה לבבות קוראים ומבקרים כאשר ראה אור ספרהּ שום גמדים לא יבואו (עם עובד), שעוּבּד להצגת יחיד ותורגם לשבע שפות. זהו ספרה השני, ספר נועז ואמיץ.
This is Sara Shilo's second book (for adults, she has written one for children). Her first, Shum Gamadim Lo Yavo'u, won the Sapir prize fifteen years ago. I read it some time ago and it is still one of my favorites in modern Hebrew literature. I had been waiting for another book from her and I really looked forward to reading this one. This book is very difficult to describe. There's a family of three in Jerusalem with issues. That's the plot. But most of the book is taken up with the personification of the various things in their home. The clothes hook, the sewing machine, the range hood, the piano, the front door, the window blind, the corner where the walls meet the ceiling, and several more things, all speak and interact. Each thing sees the family from its own point of view. The family is represented by, I think, the husband, who speaks as "we" meaning, I guess, both husband and wife. But later, the wife speaks in her own voice. As the couple try to understand their daughter and start a new business of picture framing, the home participates in an oblique way. And, eventually, the couple sort of interact with the personified home. Eventually, there is a Mishpat Ahava, a trial of love, which is sort of a metaphor for the family's issues, but it doesn't really relate. This book is a confusing mess of words and sentences that make sense individually but little sense taken as a whole. The author is saying something about love. No doubt she, and/or her editor and publisher can explain what that is and how it emerges from this stew of words. The book however, should not need an explanation. Shum Gamadim was special because the first person narrators all had distinct, yet authentic voices rooted in their time and place that made them come alive even though there was no formal plot. There is a plot here, but hardly any authentic voice - just the wife at the end. The voices of the home are all silly concoctions and the husband saying "we" all the time, though clearly meant to show how emotionally bound up he is, doesn't feel authentic. I think the book might have worked without the personified home since there is a potentially interesting family story here. A huge disappointment. Maybe in fifteen years she will write something better.