Catherine's Reviews > People of the Book
People of the Book
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This is an awful book.
I expected great things from Brooks - March is a book I treasure - but this novel is a third-rate Da Vinci code, written with about the same amount of skill.
The premise is captivating - a 500-year-old haggadah is found in Sarajevo in 1996, and the novel sets out to explore the book's journey across Europe in those intervening years. Along the way, the haggadah acts as an entry point into the tumult, crisis, and unspeakable violence experienced by Jewish communities across Europe.
Yet the novel does not live up to the premise. The focus is not upon the haggadah or the people who have handled it between 1480 and 1996, but rather upon the Australian conservator called in to restore it in Sarajevo. The details of where the haggadah has been are important because Hanna, the conservator, is writing an essay about its journey, and she'll gain academic and professional prestige from doing so. Hello, cultural appropriation! For example: "why had an illuminator working in Spain, for a Jewish client, in the manner of a European Christian, have used an Iranian paintbrush? Clarissa's identification of this anomaly had been great for my essay. It had given me an excuse to riff on the way knowledge had traveled amazing distances during the Conveivencia, over well-established routes linking the artists and intellectuals of Spain with their counterparts in Baghdad, Cairo, and Isphahan." (321) (We are actually supposed to clap our hands with glee on Hanna's behalf at that point, I think.) Once Hanna's expertise about the haggadah is questioned, she gives up her work as a conservator of old, European and Middle Eastern texts, and instead starts saving Australian Aboriginal art from being destroyed by mining companies. She has an assistant - he's Aboriginal, but it's Hanna who we're supposed to identify and sympathize with, feeling pleased that she's a white superwoman, saving people from themselves.
There are other truly problematic issues of race in the text. The first character of color we encounter is a Rasta cab driver who smokes ganja and who won't drop her at Scotland Yard in case he gets caught for using drugs. We meet a man - Raz - who is part African-American and part Hawaiian, and whom the protagonist observes "was one of those vanguard beings of indeterminate ethnicity, the magnificent mutts I hope we are all destined to become given another millennium of intermixing." (141). Yep, that's right, she just called him a mongrel. The depictions of Jewish, Muslim, and Christian faith are so broad-brushed i don't know what to think - it's like a child's paint-by-numbers for major world religions.
And of course, in the tradition of Dan Brown, it's a love story. Within a few pages of beginning the book Hanna's sleeping with the Muslim curator of Sarajevo's major museum, and by the end she's overcome her aversion to the idea of a long-term relationship and is ready to be with him. Whoop-dee-doo.
In conclusion: UGH.
I expected great things from Brooks - March is a book I treasure - but this novel is a third-rate Da Vinci code, written with about the same amount of skill.
The premise is captivating - a 500-year-old haggadah is found in Sarajevo in 1996, and the novel sets out to explore the book's journey across Europe in those intervening years. Along the way, the haggadah acts as an entry point into the tumult, crisis, and unspeakable violence experienced by Jewish communities across Europe.
Yet the novel does not live up to the premise. The focus is not upon the haggadah or the people who have handled it between 1480 and 1996, but rather upon the Australian conservator called in to restore it in Sarajevo. The details of where the haggadah has been are important because Hanna, the conservator, is writing an essay about its journey, and she'll gain academic and professional prestige from doing so. Hello, cultural appropriation! For example: "why had an illuminator working in Spain, for a Jewish client, in the manner of a European Christian, have used an Iranian paintbrush? Clarissa's identification of this anomaly had been great for my essay. It had given me an excuse to riff on the way knowledge had traveled amazing distances during the Conveivencia, over well-established routes linking the artists and intellectuals of Spain with their counterparts in Baghdad, Cairo, and Isphahan." (321) (We are actually supposed to clap our hands with glee on Hanna's behalf at that point, I think.) Once Hanna's expertise about the haggadah is questioned, she gives up her work as a conservator of old, European and Middle Eastern texts, and instead starts saving Australian Aboriginal art from being destroyed by mining companies. She has an assistant - he's Aboriginal, but it's Hanna who we're supposed to identify and sympathize with, feeling pleased that she's a white superwoman, saving people from themselves.
There are other truly problematic issues of race in the text. The first character of color we encounter is a Rasta cab driver who smokes ganja and who won't drop her at Scotland Yard in case he gets caught for using drugs. We meet a man - Raz - who is part African-American and part Hawaiian, and whom the protagonist observes "was one of those vanguard beings of indeterminate ethnicity, the magnificent mutts I hope we are all destined to become given another millennium of intermixing." (141). Yep, that's right, she just called him a mongrel. The depictions of Jewish, Muslim, and Christian faith are so broad-brushed i don't know what to think - it's like a child's paint-by-numbers for major world religions.
And of course, in the tradition of Dan Brown, it's a love story. Within a few pages of beginning the book Hanna's sleeping with the Muslim curator of Sarajevo's major museum, and by the end she's overcome her aversion to the idea of a long-term relationship and is ready to be with him. Whoop-dee-doo.
In conclusion: UGH.
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Patrick
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rated it 5 stars
Aug 02, 2010 04:20AM

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Even if I agreed (which I don't - I don't think religion is a 'label' in her work, or in real life), that argument doesn't address why she indulged in such problematic portrayals of race.



I guess "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" applies to works of literature as well.











There is no racism or appropriation here. You seem to be angry about the exact opposite meaning of the sentence, and in general your review reads like the sort of essay written by someone seeking out a reason to be offended. This is an excellent book that celebrates the mixing of cultures.

I told my wife, who has read much more widely than I have (I tend to stick with the Victorians), that although I enjoyed the story a lot I didn’t think that much of the writing and wouldn’t call Geraldine Brooks a great author. She immediately handed over a copy of March saying that crap writers tend not to win the Pulitzer Prize. I am halfway through March and have changed my opinion of Brooks and see her now as an exceedingly talented author.
Perhaps if I’d read People of the Book after March I’d have been as disappointed as you were as my expectations would have been so much higher.



Exactly. I loved the book.





