An Interview With Zeruya Shalev
Dec. 22, 2016
By Chantal Ringuet
Editor's note: Chantal Ringuet interviewed Israeli writer Zeruya Shalev, also an engaged feminist and mother, in May at the Jerusalem Writers Festival.
It is now 6 p.m. and the sunbeams are waving on the deep white stone of Jerusalem's buildings. I am meeting Zeruya Shalev at Mishkenot Sha'ananim, the beautiful cultural center where the Jerusalem Writers Festival takes place every two years. The inspiring building overlooks the impressive walls of Jerusalem's Old City. The same morning, we met for the first time. Quickly, I will learn that Zeruya Shalev is not only a great writer, but also a very kind and generous person.
When I ask her how it is to be a writer in this country, she answers spontaneously, "It is quite a burden to be an Israeli writer." Israel being the only Hebrew country in the world, it is not easy for writers to obtain a large, even international, readership. "We are dependent on our translators," she says. As a translator myself, I ask her to speak about her own experience. Though Shalev is a well-known, internationally recognized woman writer, her relationship with translators has not always been easy. "I feel suspicious of my translations," she admits. She once encountered a difficult experience, when an American translator, along with the editor, decided to censor an erotic scene in one of her books.
How does the Israeli-Palestinian conflict affect her writing? This is a predictable, but still tricky question Israeli writers have to face. "It is not easy to sit and write when so many things happen around you. To explore the inner world is difficult with all this violence. And then, going abroad, you face criticism concerning your country. Why don't I write about politics? This is a question people keep asking." So much so, that some of her intimate stories have been seized upon to serve this idea. "There have been a few symbolic interpretations of my novels that are strange… For example, some journalists mentioned that my protagonists illustrated the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, one of them representing Israel, and the other Palestine… although I write intimate novels, some people absolutely want them to reflect the socio-political context, which is not what I am aiming to do."
The conversation then focuses on the reality of being a woman writer, especially in Israel. I ask, "Are there supplementary difficulties involved?" As a woman born in 1959, in Kibbutz Kineret, Shalev says that she can feel these difficulties, and what they imply in Israel and outside the country. Shalev thinks men have more important roles in Israeli politics and military. The same can be said about literature, which is linked to a long tradition of Hebrew men writers, from the maskilim to the contemporary Israeli writers. "There is not much room for female Hebrew writers after 1990," she admits. "There is still hegemony of the males in Israeli literature. Nowadays, feminine literature is still less important: it is deemed too much commercial or too popular." Her novel, " Love Life" (Chavei Ahava, 1997), which depicts the stormy relationship between a young woman and a man twice her age has been ranked by the German magazine Der Spiegel among the 20 best novels of the last 40 years. But in her own country, Shalev faced severe criticism. "Once, I was walking in the street, and an older woman came to me… how can you write such things?" I am happy to remind her that a powerful novel always provokes shocking reactions, she notes.
When I ask her what she thinks about the future of the Hebrew language, she responds, "There are threats against the Hebrew language," her voice lightly affected by sorrow. "I try not to think about it — I concentrate on the writing. But it seems that Hebrew will vanish in the diaspora." Shalev then reminds me "there is a change in the use of Hebrew, especially the slang, a blend of Arabic and Hebrew." Then, as if expressing a thought that haunts her, she says, "That it becomes a more superficial language, this is my real fear."
The conversation reaches a turning point. "Maybe the Hebrew state will not last for so long... " she says. "It is already a miracle that we survive. There are extremists inside and outside of Israel." In the past, she has been dangerously exposed to violence: in 2004, while she was going back home after having taken her children to the kindergarten, she was wounded during a bus explosion, caused by a Palestinian suicide bomber. It took her four months to recover. Now, her daughter is soon leaving for California, where she will pursue her graduate studies. Shalev admits that she found it difficult at first. "My grandparents came from Russia to this country to flee the violence. They had to struggle a lot," she says. She senses that she must be faithful to them, to their struggle, to their memory. With time, though, she started seeing things differently. "Maybe it's better if she doesn't come back," she says about her daughter. "In the last five or 10 years, yordim (people who leave Israel and settle elsewhere) have not been seen as traitors anymore. Globalization engenders difficulties locally." As a mother, what Shalev wants first and foremost for her children is for them to be secure, as well as happy with their lives.
In 2014, for her novel, "Ce qui reste de nous" ("The Remains of Love" in English), Shalev was awarded the prestigious Prix Fémina in France. In this book, she depicts the Gaza wars. She was quite surprised to receive this distinction despite the anti-Zionism of the French. "It is the first time that I opened more windows to Israeli reality. There is more about the conflict and how it affects the life of the protagonists." She thinks there is a contradiction between human rights and security. "I try to represent the part of the Israeli people that wants peace and a Palestinian state. Europeans are black and white about the issue. But there are life, family, emotions…"
I then bring in the topic of motherhood. "There is a strong link between motherhood and writing," she says. Though she started writing at age 6, she only published when she became a mother. "Mara was born with my first book of poetry. It increased my emotional abilities. In Israel, it is quite natural for women to have children. It is expected — it is both a personal and a national wish. Nonetheless, being a mother is a big responsibility in Israel. But I never conceived of leaving," she admits. She was much more worried about her son, when he joined the army. "You can understand the Israeli experience only if you have a son in a fighting unit. Today, it is easier to escape the army. I encouraged my son to join the army. It is his duty. But it is difficult." She relates that Israel is caught in a paradox: "The State must exist to avoid a disaster for the Jews, but it creates more problems than what it solves."
Chantal Ringuet is a scholar, translator and former HBI Scholar-in-Residence. She is a research associate at HBI and at Concordia University. Her most recent work is a translation, with Pierre Anctil, from Yiddish to French of "Marc Chagall: Mon Univers, Autobiographie" coming out in January. She is also the co-editor of a collective work about Leonard Cohen, published in April by the Presses de l’Université du Québec.