A novel of Tel Aviv (seedy and modern…)

20th July 2017

This Is How We Talk  by Julian Furman, a novel of Tel Aviv.

This Is How We Talk is a novel I frankly did not enjoy, yet found quite compelling. The writing is stylish and self-assured, as the review on the cover promises. The reader is taken to the seedy and modern world that is Tel Aviv and presented with insights into the history of Israel from a Jewish perspective.

The story follows one family, two adults in particular – Lia and Yonatan – a couple with a young child on the verge of breaking up. The author switches between chapters describing the present and those recounting past incidents which shaped each character’s life and current, desperate situation.

The story is told in three parts: first through the eyes of Yonatan, then Lia and finally a side character named Nadav. We learn their histories and how events in their lives shaped the adults they have become.

The first hundred pages, dedicated to husband Yonatan, portray him as a horrible human being. He’s not used to being responsible for anyone, let alone himself. When he’s thrust into the role of father, he has difficulty finding his way. After a fight with his wife and too many sleepless nights thanks to their infant son, he takes off and goes on an all-night drinking and drugs binge through the seedier parts of Tel Aviv. He screws a stranger in a toilet, watches a gang rape, gets beaten to a pulp by a group of bar goers he offends in his drugged up state, and allows a female acquaintance to get (presumably) beaten to death by a coked-up childhood friend because he’s too out of it to intervene. Afterwards, he goes home, uses baby wipes to clean up and crawls into bed with his wife, as if nothing has happened.

Yonatan’s night and the way it is interspersed with flashbacks to several turning points in his life, reminded me so much of Alex Garland’s The Tesseract style and subject matter. (Admittedly, my least favorite novel by this brilliant author.)

The second part, dedicated to his wife Lia, shows us a broken and confused woman wandering through life, instead of living it. Through her story we learn more about the complex political history of Israel and the occupied territories, peace movements, elections, suicide bombers, Arab-Jewish tensions and local views on homosexuality. Her life is a series of failures, culminating in an early dismissal from required army duty, which brings shame to her family and creates a festering wound in their relationship they are unable to heal.

It was hard for me to like any of these characters. The author’s choice to intersperse the present day with turning points from the past is not unusual. Yet he only shows us the tragedies, humiliations and stupid decisions which lead to the characters’ insecurities. None of the characters are really ever shown in a positive light and that makes it difficult to root for them. These are damaged people, unable to accept or cope with the challenges life throws at them. It also makes it difficult for the reader to understand why these two people are trying to make it work; neither is capable of taking care of themselves, let alone a child.

Tel Aviv itself is intimately described, yet not in the way a travel agent would write about it. The city is portrayed as a cold, depressing, disturbed, cruel and social deranged mix of the ultra-rich and extremely poor living side by side. There is little to love, but in order to enjoy this novel and the ending, the author asks you to do just that.

Or does he?

On a side note, I know several lovely Israeli citizens living here in Amsterdam. As well-adjusted as they seem, complaints about life in Sin City (and Europe in general) often seep into the conversation. When I ask why they don’t go back to Israel, the response is always the same, “It’s safe here.”

The conversations we’ve had mirror those on page 207 in this book. Several characters are talking about where they would move to, if they could afford it:

‘I just want to emigrate. There’s no future here.’

‘Where would you go?’ says the man next to her.

‘I’d go to Germany. Berlin.’

‘Really? After everything that happened there? […]

‘Somewhere else. A place with wars then, not wars now.’

After reading this book, I finally understand what my acquaintances mean. Constantly surrounded by war and terror, always wondering when life will be normal again; that messes with your psyche in ways most of us can only imagine.

This novel stayed with me long after I finished it. It challenged many of the assumptions I had about Israel and does create empathy for the extraordinarily convoluted political and religious situations encountered by simply living there. I doubt reading this book will make you want to visit the country, but you may understand it better.

Jennifer for the TripFiction Team 

Click on the image to access Jennifer’s books

Jennifer S Alderson herself is a fabulous writer, do let us tempt you to pick up her own art mystery “The Lover’s Portrait” set in Amsterdam. She has also recently set up the Facebook Group, Travel By Book where you can join authors and readers as they travel the world via literature. Follow her, too, on Twitter

You can follow Julian Furman on Twitter and on Facebook

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