Ambivalence by Jonathan Garfinkel

I enjoyed reading this memoir by Toronto writer Jonathan Garfinkel even more than Shalom Auslander's (see the link to my Gazette review below), maybe because as far as I'm concerned ambivalence is always preferrable to anger. Both ambivalence and anger are born of frustration and struggle, though ambivalence is open-ended and anger ultimately a dead-end.

Garfinkel writes honestly about his need to reconcile his Zionist upbringing with the injustices done to Palestinians in the aftermath of the War of Independence and the early years of the founding of the State of Israel.

Tipped off by an Arab-Israeli girl he meets in Toronto, he travels to Israel for the first time to find a house which is supposedly shared by both a Palestinian and Jewish family. If true, it would constitute a possible model for mutual coexistence, he thinks. Unsurprisingly, the situation of the house turns out to be something other than expected. But it doesn't really matter. The search for the house was only ever the means by which the author could venture out to map the contours and crevices of his Jewish soul.

The book is at its best in the first half. Garfinkel's portrayal of the Minsk shul minyan which he attends in Kensington Market is memorable, and the gradual dissolution of his relationship with his girlfriend is conveyed with subtlety. As a playwright, Garfinkel knows how to write spare, rich dialogue. Particularly moving is his description of his relationship with his grandfather and the responsibility he feels to the elder's legacy.

His initial arrival in Israel is absolutely hilarious: He falls into the hands of a group of boozing, dope-smoking, gun-toting Jerusalem punks who chastise him for being incapable (a Canadian trait) of saying "fuck" with the proper passion.

But as the book progresses his questions become less personal and more overtly political, which is a shame. He eschews touristy Holyland sites and heads straight for refugee camps in the West Bank. The majority of the interviews he conducts are with Palestinians who describe the hardship of daily existence and Garfinkel increasingly sympathizes with them. It's unfortunate that almost all of the Israelis he speaks with espouse either blinkered or intransigent positions, or are decidedly marginal, for example a representative of Zochrot, an organization devoted to memorializing the names of Palestinian towns that are no longer in existence. Garfinkel becomes so taken by the Palestinians he meets that he even makes an episode when his borrowed bicycle is stolen by some Palestinian kids and held for ransom seem almost sweet.

The author's Jewish conscience speaks to him in the form of imagined conversations with his old Bialik elementary school teacher Mrs. Blintzkrieg, which by the end sound too cute. As a balanced, considered examination of the political issues relevant to the prospects of building a lasting peace the book is lacking.

Suffice to say this will not be a popular book among Jewish Canadians who tend to be fiercely supportive of Israel. Nonetheless, Garfinkel's courage should be applauded. He opens himself up to a journey of unexpected returns, and faces head-on the many disturbing questions of loyalty and personal integrity encompassed by his Jewish identity. His conclusion that the pervasive preoccupation with victimization on both the Israeli and Palestinian sides is an untenable basis on which to forge peace is hardly earth-shattering. Efforts at mutual honesty and seeing the other for who they really are is required, not the building walls. How exactly this might happen, Garfinkel doesn't conjecture. Neither does he give the reader a sense of how his own ambivalence might be reconciled, which is a bit a letdown.

Foreskin's Lament by Shalom Auslander

My review from today's Montreal Gazette.

http://www.canada.com/montrealgazette/news/books/story.html?id=796e3d73-a15f-42ce-8949-b0d21eae3deb&p=1

Centre St-Ambroise - The responsibility for the arts

There was a piece on CBC Radio this morning about the opening of a new arts space in the south central district of St. Henri. The project is underwritten by Peter McAuslan, of brewery fame, an important supporter of the arts and literature in Montreal. The centre's new Director Dave Cool said that more and more artists are fleeing the Plateau as property values rise, rental prices increase and condofication spreads. The Plateau's loss is St. Henri's gain and this new space fills a gap, giving the growing community of artists new opportunities to exhibit.

This initiative seems wonderfully old-fashioned, in the sense that it's privately underwritten and responds to local artistic needs emerging organically out of current economic conditions. Listening to the piece and Cool's remarks, my thoughts turned to a series of what ifs: What if the government didn't hand out grants to artists at all? Would art cease to be made? Of course not. Would the vacuum be filled by people like McAuslan stepping up to the plate and going to bat for the arts? I think so. Would private patrons, as opposed to government bodies be more responsive to the actual needs of artists working in the community? In what ways would the culture of artists and the work they produce be changed i.e. instead of being preoccupied with filling out grant proposals and the culture promoted by that relationship, would the focus shift and would their work be less academic and more relevant to actualities and public tastes? I don't see the arts as we know it shrivelling up and dying if the circumstances were different. I see the opposite to be true, a more vibrant, relevant, urgent and more cherished existence for the arts, with a stronger sense of ownership and responsibility on behalf of the communities where they enrich daily life.

If You're Keeping Score 3

Karlheinz Schreiber 3
Brian Mulroney 0
Members of Parliament 2
Canadian People 0

(One point deducted from Mulroney after his performance today. He "apologized," but to whom? It would have been nice to hear him utter the words "to all Canadians." Instead he disgraced himself further by attacking the scumbag Schreiber, proving that they belong in the same league. And his explanation about all of the cash being paid to the tax man - years after it should have been declared - since he could not produce any documentation on his supposed expenses for services rendered. How stupid does he think we are? I thought the members of the committee did relatively well, at least NDP's Comartin and BQ's Menard.)
Well folks that'll do it until the committee returns after the holiday break in late Jan.

Found Poem

I'm so jazzed on reading David McGimpsey's latest book Sitcom (more on that later) that it's screwed with how and where I see poetry. Here's the result.

'YES'
a facebook friends feed

Ellen has received a ‘Yes’
Lev has removed The Doors from his favourite music
Romy is attending Jolly Nights 24.12.07
Penn joined the group Support the Monks’ Protest in Burma
Beth added the Birthday Calendar application
Simon and Rachel are now friends
Lev added the ATTACK! application
Ina is working and working and working
Cyndi challenged Trevor to Name that Cartoon Character
Joseph and Morningstar found each other
using the Friend Finder
Simon and Suki are now friends
Robin added the We’re Related application
Zach is exasperated by misguided literary nationalism
Divvy and Beth added the Jewish Gifts application
David joined the group Circus Afterhours
21 of your friends have received a new message
Charles was tagged in a group album
Ellen has received a ‘Yes’
See who has clicked ‘Yes’ on ‘YOU’.

Christmas on Chabanel

There' s a Christmas wreath hanging in the lobby of 99. There is also a small decorative electric Chanukah menorah close by. In fact each of the buildings our company administrates (seven) in the shmatte district have both a Christmas wreath and a menorah in their lobby. 433 Chabanel, with it's cathedral ceiling and mezanine also boasts two fully-trimmed, ten-foot high, artificial evergreens and a six-foot menorah with condor-like wing span. I admit I find it an odd sight. Not so much the menorahs; the ultra-orthodox Chabad Lubavitch on Chabanel has had a giant menorah out in front of their building at this time of year for as long as I can remember. It's the Christmas decor that feels somehow strange. Why that should be, I'm not exactly sure. Yes, these buildings have always been owned by Jewish people and still are. But to call the industry "Jewish" has been an exaggeration for some time. It's a mixed bag of ethnicities, increasingly Asian, south Asian, Armenian, Arab and more. In the past, the building owners tended not to celebrate holidays with festive decor of any kind. It may have been out of fear of offending one or more ethnic group. But I think what really makes it seem odd is that the industry has been struggling and word on the street is that retail has been disappointing so far this season. The stately, structured menorah is one thing. But the cheerful appearance of tinsel, shimmering gold balls, and mistletoe feels anachronistic for Chabanel these days. On the other hand, it may just be the pick-me-up we all need. The other day I went to see a tenant about a heating problem. At the end of my visit she said, "Oh and by the way thank you for downstairs." I said, "Downstairs? For what downstairs?" completely dumbfounded. She answered with a tired smile, "The wreath, it's a nice change."

A better snow poem than mine

Here's a better snow poem than mine (below) by Anne Sexton courtesy of The Writer's Almanac (we both make reference to milk at the end):

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/programs/2007/12/03/#friday