As an Israeli author, Amos Oz composed My Michael in Hebrew. So, as a typical monolingual American, I had to settle for the English translation. The translator (Nicholas de Lange) did a beautiful job, as far as I can tell. The prose is elegant and maintains the intended dark timbre and simmering hostility of the original.
In 1950s Jerusalem, Hanna and Michael are a seemingly normal young married couple. They start out fairly impoverished in a small apartment in a none-too-prestigious neighborhood, and over time, they do the things most couples do: have a baby, acquire nice stuff, take family trips, develop relationships with in-laws and neighbors. But beneath the normalcy, Hannah emotionally detaches from her real-life circumstances as she increasingly engages with her fantasies. Michael, who is pragmatic, responsible, and studious, can’t offer Hannah the adventure she craves. She inwardly resents the stability and routine, and she drifts away from her husband.
The story isn’t plot driven. Instead, it focuses on Hannah’s psychological evolution. Early in the narrative, she admits that she has always pined for a time in her youth when she was sick and bedridden because she loved the adventure of her vivid dreams while she rested. In her adulthood, her dreams and visions grow fantastically wild and frighteningly dangerous, even masochistic.
Aside from the central story line, My Michael also poignantly illustrates the social environment of the time in a study of contrasts - the scholars in Jerusalem and the laborers of the kibbutzim, the orthodox families and the secularists, the generally even-tempered men and the comparatively hot-headed women.
As for the artistic quality, the English is gorgeous, much better than most originally American-English books. Even so, I realize that much was unavoidably lost in translation. For example, my Israeli cousin pointed out one contrast which otherwise would have been completely lost to me because of the intrinsic meanings of the Hebrew city names. She explains:
“Even the opposition between Jerusalem (where Michael and Hannah live) and Holon (where Michael's father lives) is extreme. The abbreviation of Jerusalem is Yam, which means sea in Hebrew (even though there is no sea in Jerusalem). And the Hol in Holon means sand in Hebrew. Hannah drowns in Jerusalem in her dreams and hallucinations, but in Holon she thrives (and visits the seashore).”
Thanks to my cousin Michal (aka Miki) for her linguistic insight (and for gifting me with this beautiful book).
I also found this audio recording of a BBC World Book Club interview with Amos Oz. (Note: They spell his first name Amoz.) The primary-source perspective is a treat, as Oz discusses lots of cool details I didn't cover, such as how the story psychically came to him as a young man living in a kibbutz, and whether he personally likes or dislikes the characters of Hannah and Michael. If nothing else, it’s fun to hear the author’s voice and beautiful Israeli accent.
In 1950s Jerusalem, Hanna and Michael are a seemingly normal young married couple. They start out fairly impoverished in a small apartment in a none-too-prestigious neighborhood, and over time, they do the things most couples do: have a baby, acquire nice stuff, take family trips, develop relationships with in-laws and neighbors. But beneath the normalcy, Hannah emotionally detaches from her real-life circumstances as she increasingly engages with her fantasies. Michael, who is pragmatic, responsible, and studious, can’t offer Hannah the adventure she craves. She inwardly resents the stability and routine, and she drifts away from her husband.
The story isn’t plot driven. Instead, it focuses on Hannah’s psychological evolution. Early in the narrative, she admits that she has always pined for a time in her youth when she was sick and bedridden because she loved the adventure of her vivid dreams while she rested. In her adulthood, her dreams and visions grow fantastically wild and frighteningly dangerous, even masochistic.
Aside from the central story line, My Michael also poignantly illustrates the social environment of the time in a study of contrasts - the scholars in Jerusalem and the laborers of the kibbutzim, the orthodox families and the secularists, the generally even-tempered men and the comparatively hot-headed women.
As for the artistic quality, the English is gorgeous, much better than most originally American-English books. Even so, I realize that much was unavoidably lost in translation. For example, my Israeli cousin pointed out one contrast which otherwise would have been completely lost to me because of the intrinsic meanings of the Hebrew city names. She explains:
“Even the opposition between Jerusalem (where Michael and Hannah live) and Holon (where Michael's father lives) is extreme. The abbreviation of Jerusalem is Yam, which means sea in Hebrew (even though there is no sea in Jerusalem). And the Hol in Holon means sand in Hebrew. Hannah drowns in Jerusalem in her dreams and hallucinations, but in Holon she thrives (and visits the seashore).”
Thanks to my cousin Michal (aka Miki) for her linguistic insight (and for gifting me with this beautiful book).
I also found this audio recording of a BBC World Book Club interview with Amos Oz. (Note: They spell his first name Amoz.) The primary-source perspective is a treat, as Oz discusses lots of cool details I didn't cover, such as how the story psychically came to him as a young man living in a kibbutz, and whether he personally likes or dislikes the characters of Hannah and Michael. If nothing else, it’s fun to hear the author’s voice and beautiful Israeli accent.
"Gifting"? Oy vey!
ReplyDeleteEnglish is a malleable language. Allow me my attempts at molding it, will ya?
ReplyDeleteNina, I love your review. It summarizes the plot, and conveys the atmosphere of the novel. I would have phrased my words more carefully had I known you were planning on quoting me.... By the way, what's wrong with gifting? Feels fresh and sophisticated.
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked it, Michal! I did tweak your phrasing a tiny bit for the quote. Hope you don't mind.
ReplyDeleteAnd there's nothing wrong with "gifting"! I'm glad to have your support on this linguistic issue. (Regifting, on the other hand, can be problematic.)