By Rabbi Rachel Esserman

Some novels offer a simple plot, at least, at first glance. For example, readers might be excused for thinking that “The Anatomy of Exile” by Zeeva Bukai (Delphinium Books) is only a story of forbidden love between a Jewish Israeli and a Muslim Palestinian. However, this brilliant work offers insights into the meaning of family, religion and national identity. Its many conflicted characters are looking to create meaningful lives, but their choices are often governed by emotions and forces that are out of their control.
One reason it’s possible to underestimate the power of this novel is because it is told from the point of view of one character: Tamar, a sabra (native born Israeli) from an Ashkenazic background. That is not true of her husband Salim, who was smuggled out of Syria with his sister, Hadas, in 1944. Since Salim and Hadas arrived before their parents, they were deliberately placed in a kibbutz where no one spoke Arabic in order to force them to learn Hebrew. Salim resents the Ashkenazic worldview of many Israelis and seems as comfortable with the Arab culture in which he grew up as he is with Israeli society. 
The timing of the novel is important: its beginning and ending are bookmarked by very different wars. It opens just after the Six-Day War when the country is celebrating what seems to be a miracle: “After two thousand years of exile, Jerusalem was theirs again. They were humbled, awed, and triumphant. A month later, their bellies were still full of that triumph. They sang and danced in the Kings of Israel Square. Through it all, [Tamar had] been aware of Hadas’s unease, the ambivalence of her joy coupled with her sorrow for a peace that would never be and, later, sympathy for those who had believed their leaders and thought this war would see them back in the villages they’d lost in 1948 as if nothing had occurred, the last nineteen years erased.” Hadas’ unease has an additional cause: unknown to her family, including her husband and brother, she is having an affair with a Palestinian poet, one that results in a murder/suicide. 
Salim, who has no knowledge of his sister’s affair, reacts badly to his sister’s death and decides to move the family to the United States. Tamar is against the move: she wants their three children to be surrounded by the same culture that shaped her. Salim believes that, once in the U.S., he will become rich and promises they will return to Israel in five years. Their relationship is complex: Anytime Tamar questions one of Salim’s choices, she is accused of being disloyal. His word rules and his decisions are sometimes supported by violence, although he always apologizes afterward. Underlying their problems are the differences in cultures in which they grew up, especially when Salim feels he’s treated as lesser than those whose parents and grandparents came to Israel from Europe.
At first, no one in the family is happy after their move to Brooklyn. Salim has to work two jobs to pay for a small apartment. Their children, Ruby, Ari and Rachel, have difficulty adjusting to American culture. Ruby, who is a teenager, only begins to blossom when she meets Faisal, the son of a Palestinian family that moves into their apartment building. It’s clear the two teens are enamored with each other. Even though the families aren’t close, Salim is happy to have someone with whom to speak Arabic and tells Tamar not to worry about what he sees as a teen crush. But Tamar, who knows far more about Hadas’ life and murder than Salim, worries that history will repeat itself. Yet, interfering in the lives of these lovers has implications far beyond anything she expects. 
There are many reasons that the relationship between Rudy and Faisal preys on Tamar’s mind, including worry about how Israeli society would treat the couple if they ever returned home. But it is her knowledge about Hadas’ relationship with her lover that creates the greatest dread: “[Tamar] felt the same helplessness as after Hadas’s death. Only then she had no clear vision of the path they were on. Now she did and what she saw frightened her. Ruby had no idea of the danger she was in, of how love could turn into despair, of how fragile identity was. Her mother, after meeting Salim, had said, cross a border and you’re lost. Now all of these years later, Tamar reluctantly agreed with her. From the moment she met Salim, elements of her identity, her culture had been subsumed by his. She worried it would be the same for Ruby if she were with Faisal.”
It’s difficult to discuss the novel without giving away parts of the plot that readers should discover for themselves. However, it doesn’t ruin too much to note that latter part of the novel takes place in Israel and continues the story of Ruby and Faisal. Those sections are the most heartrending sections of the work. There is a simple line said by Faisal that may alter the way readers will think about not only him, but what Tamar is trying to accomplish. However, Faisal also helps Tamar come to terms with her and her daughter’s life in ways she didn’t expect. In fact, the beauty of this work is that every character is far more complex than they appear at first. 
Underlying the decisions the characters make are the divide between their personal and social/political identities. What do you owe your country, especially a country like Israel, which is surrounded by enemies who want to destroy it? But what do you owe individuals, those who are not working against you, but who are seeking basic rights and equality in the country in which they also live? Should you leave your cultural heritage behind in order to make a relationship work? How much honesty do you owe your family and friends? What happens if you are asked to keep secrets that if revealed might destroy other relationships? These are only a few of the many questions the novel leaves readers to ponder. 
“The Anatomy of Exile” is the best novel I’ve read this year and deserves a wide audience. Bukai has written a work whose meaning deepens the more readers ponder its characters’ behavior. I was tempted to break my rule of not giving away endings because the need to share my thoughts about what occurs is difficult to contain. Anyone who loves literary novels should immediately read this work. Those interested in the complexities of Israel life will find eye-opening, challenging material here. This work is so powerful that it’s hard to believe it is Bukai’s first novel. I look forward to future works.