Last week, we discussed Benjamin Tammuz’s “My Brother,” one of the longer novellas inSix IsraeliNovellas. Participants agreed that, despite its length, Tammuz’s story was probably the most accessible one we’ve encountered. We are presented with a straightforward, chronological narrative detailing 40 years in the narrator’s life. The story is presented in the form of a dramatic monologue delivered to the reader in a manner whereby the storyteller reveals things about himself that about which he may be unaware. Meanwhile, his readers develop an awareness that the storyteller never possesses. In this case, the never-named narrator keeps telling us that the story is not about him, but about other people–but, in fact, we realize that in many ways the story is really about him.
Our group spent most of our session discussing the narrator and what made him tick. It was pretty much agreed upon that the narrator could be best described as a “wuss,” “a wimp,” a person who chooses to passively observe life through his windows rather than actively engaging in the world. This is in contrast to the behavior of his industrious older brother Kalman, someone who goes to college abroad, returns to successfully manage the family business, publishes an important agricultural journal, rises in the ranks of the town council, serves on several boards and contributes to charity, and woos and marries three woman, fathering children with two of them (this latter behavior is problematic–he is clearly a philanderer). In essence, the older sibling frequently takes advantage of his younger brother: Kalman moves into his parents’ home, and makes significant improvements while the narrator constructs a find of “servants’ quarters behind the manor house” in the backyard; Kalman goes on vacation with his new wife, Sophie (a woman whom the narrator knew first and who he had hoped to marry), while the narrator is left to take care of things back home (and misses a professional conference that he hoped to attend); Kalman has sexual encounters with three different women and it is likely that the narrator was celibate all his life. Despite Kalman’s behavior, the narrator always stands up for him; he continually rationalizes his brother’s behavior and his own passivity. The only action he takes is to flash his houselights on and off in protest of his brother’s sexual escapades. Even after his brother has died (and been replaced by an American geologist–also a philanderer) the narrator remains ineffectual and unhappy. He even questions his own existence, noting that he was merely his brother’s shadow.
This week, we will first revisit Tammuz’s “My Brother,” in order to talk futher about the women in the story, something that we did not have time for last week. We will then move on to discuss the final novella in Shaked’s anthology, Aharon Appelfeld’s “In the Isles of St. George (pp. 292-325), a post-Holocaust story with affinities to the legend of the Wandering Jew.
Our informal discussion group, which has been in operation for nearly 25 years, now meets via Zoom every Friday from 12-1 (check CBI’s web site or weekly announcements for updates and a link). All are welcome to attend. Copies of this anthologyare available at discount book sites on the internet. If you have questions, contact Jay Jacoby at jbjacoby@charlotte.edu.
