Israel In Translation

In continuation of the celebrations surrounding Israel’s Independence Day, host Marcela Sulak reads from Amos Oz’s iconic description of the events surrounding the struggle for Israeli independence. Text: Amos Oz, A Tale of Love and Darkness. Translated by Nicholas De Lange. Harcourt, Inc., 2003. Music: Ofra Haza – Eli Eli (lyrics by Hannah Szenes) City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra – Hatikvah This episode originally aired April 23, 2015.

Tonight marks the 70th anniversary of the founding of the State of Israel. Moving past all the euphoria and towards attempts at wisdom, this episode will feature excerpts from the essay “The Meaning of Homeland” by Amos Oz, found in the collection “Under This Blazing Light,” translated by Nicholas de Lange. Text: Amos Oz, “The Meaning of Homeland” in Under This Blazing Light translated by Nicholas de Lange, Syracuse University Press, 2995. Music: Canvas (Instrumental Version) by Imogen Heap Previous Independence Day Episode: A Night to Remember on the Road to Independence

In honor of Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day in Israel - host Marcela Sulak reads poetry by Paul Celan, including his famous “Death Fugue.” Paul Celan was born Paul Antschel to a Jewish family in Czernowitcz in 1920. The death of his parents in the Holocaust, and his imprisonment in a Romanian work camp are the defining forces in his poetry and use of language. Celan wrote in German. According to Pierre Joris, who translated Celan’s later poetry, he “harbored feelings of intense estrangement from the language and thus set about creating his own language through a “dismantling and rewelding” of German.” Texts: Selected Poems and Prose of Paul Celan. Translated by John Felstiner. W.W. Norton & Co. 2001 Poems of Paul Celan. Translated by Michael Hamburger. Persea Press, 1995. Music: Felix Mendelssohn - Prelude & Fugue in E Minor, op.35 no.1 Felix Mendelssohn - Songs Without Words, op.19 no.6 in G Minor Felix Mendelssohn - Songs Without Words, op.30 no.6 in F Sharp Minor

In honor of the seven (or eight) days of Passover, which began on Saturday night, we will continue reading the work of Jacqueline Shohet Kahanoff, whose novel Jacob’s Ladder was featured two weeks ago for its reference to Palm Sunday. This week features the essay “To Die a Modern Death,” which is often used as a text on bereavement in Israeli nursing schools. It is not an easy text, but it is a very important one for those caring for aging family members, especially during the holidays. Text: “To Die a Modern Death” by Jacqueline Shohet Kahanoff. Translated by Hannah Schlit. In Keys to the Garden. New Israeli Writing, ed. Ammiel Alcalay. City Lights Books, 1006.

In honor of the beginning of Passover this weekend, this week's episode features an excerpt from S.Y. Agnon’s story, “The Home,” which appears in Herbert Levine and Reena Spicehandler’s English translation in Jeffrey Saks’ series on Agnon, the only Hebrew-language writer to have received the Nobel Prize in Literature. Text: “The Home,” by S. Y. Agnon, translated by Herbert Levine and Reena Spicehandler, in The Outcast and Other Tales. Ed. and annotated by Jeffrey Saks. Toby Press, 2017.

In honor of Palm Sunday, this episode features an excerpt from Jacqueline Shohet Kahanoff's Jacob's Ladder. Born in Cairo in 1917, the author depicts life in Egypt between the two world wars in the novel, which was published in 1951, before she settled in Israel. Here is an excerpt from the novel: Miss O’Brien had felt the child’s hand stiffen in hers, and Rachel’s unseemly interest in the beggar boy moved her. The child might be loved and spoiled, but she must be unbearably lonely if she cared for such a dirty little scamp. At first when everything in Egypt was strange, new, and often shocked her, Miss O’Brien had followed Alice’s instructions and the advice of other nurses that children must be kept away from all that smacked of native life, but now this seemed cruel to her. Text: Jacqueline Shohet Kahanoff, from Jacob’s Ladder in Keys to the Garden. New Israeli Writing. Ed. by Ammiel Alcalay. City Lights, 1996.

This episode features segments from the book Jerusalem Stands Alone by Mahmoud Shukair, a collection of tales narrated in a series of stand-alone observations, usually no more than a single page, and often simply a paragraph, so that they resemble, in a way, the tenants of a house or the apartments of a neighborhood. Nicole Fares has translated it from the Arabic. Mahmoud Shukair was born in 1941 in Jerusalem and worked for many years as a teacher, journalist and editor-in-chief of the cultural magazines Al-Talia'a (The Vanguard) and Dafatir Thaqafiya (Cultural File). He was jailed twice by the Israeli authorities for his political remarks, and was deported to Lebanon in 1975, not returning to Jerusalem until 1993. He is the author of 45 books, six television series, and four plays, including Mordechai’s Moustache and His Wife’s Cats. In 2011, he was awarded the Mahmoud Darwish Prize for Freedom of Expression. He has spent his life between Beirut, Amman, and Prague and now lives in Jerusalem. Here is an excer

In honor of the Purim custom of reading the Book of Esther, this episode features an excerpt from Ruth Calderon's short story "A Bride for One Night". It is the title story in her collection of Talmudic tales, published in Ilana Kushan's English translation in 2014. Calderon has a doctorate in Talmud from Hebrew University and was elected to the Israeli Knesset in January 2013. She is founder and former director of Elul Beit Midrash in Jerusalem and founder and chair of Alma: Home for Hebrew Culture in Tel Aviv. The story opens with a Talmudic passage: When Rav would visit the city of Darshish, he would announce: “Who will be mine for a day?” And when Rav Nachman would visit the city of Shachnetziv, he would announce: “Who will be mine for a day?” Text: Ruth Calderon, A Bride for One Night. Talmudic Tales. Translated by Ilana Kurshan. The Jewish Publication Society, 2014. Music: משירי ארץ אהבתי“ (לאה גולדברג / דפנה אילת) בביצוע חוה אלברשטיין”

Ruby Namdar's second novel, "The Ruined House", appeared in its English translation in 2017. Set in New York, the book centers on an esteemed professor. It is uncannily timely in that it dovetails with the #MeToo movement and the close scrutiny that the film industry, media, sports, academia and politics are undergoing right now for their participation in systemic sexual harassment and gender-based discrimination. Here is an excerpt form the novel: Cohen specialized in elegantly naming his courses, which attracted students from every department and were always fully enrolled. It was more than just their names, though. His courses were well conceived and well rounded. For all their incisiveness, their main strength lay in the aesthetic harmony of their superbly formulated interpretative models, which were easy to understand and absorb. In general, “elegant” was the adjective most commonly applied to anything bearing the imprint of Professor Andrew P. Cohen. Music: Demian by Tatran Text: Ruby Namdar, The Ruined

This podcast is devoted to the poetry of the Jerusalem Light Rail. Each of the 23 stops of the Jerusalem Light Rail's red line features a poem, translated into Arabic, Hebrew, and English. Some of the poems depict bodies in a state of fatigue, as if coming home from work during a daily commute. And some of them are about travel, and the tiny details of it -- construed in a metaphysical as well as a physical sense. The beauty of the project is the insinuation that we travel via language, as well as via train, through landscapes, and through bodies, as in Samih Al-Qasim’s poem “Rain on the Newsstand,” translated from the Arabic by Idan Barir. Here is "Rain on the Newsstand" by Samih Al-Qasim: Sudden rain pouring on the morning papers rain, the ink flows from language to language the mannequin’s features fade away from the cover as does the face of an athlete proud of his trophy the eyeliner melts in an actress’ eyes the bloody red oozes and wounds open on the opinion page the small newsstand shuts its doors rai

Haim Gouri, the last poet of Israeli’s founding generation, died one week ago today. He wrote of the terrible sacrifice of war, and of memory and camaraderie. Born in Tel Aviv in 1923, Gouri was a poet, novelist, documentary film maker, journalist, and the author of a book on the Jerusalem trial of Adolf Eichmann. During World War II, Gouri joined the elite strike force of the Haganah, the Jewish paramilitary force operating during Mandate Palestine, called the 'Palmach.' He was sent to Hungary to help holocaust survivors come to Palestine. Gouri's first book of poetry, published in 1949, was heavily influenced by his experience in the Palmach during the war of 1948. His later books become more abstract. Today's episode features poems from the volume Words in My Lovesick Blood, translated by Stanley Chyet. This is an excerpt from the poem "Account": And again, as always in the Land of Israel, the stones boil, earth gives no cover. And again my brothers call out from the depths. Texts: Haim Gouri, Words in My

Author and playwright Nava Semel passed away in December 2017. Her novel "Paper Bride" paints a vivid portrait of British Palestine in the 1930s, seen through the eyes of an illiterate boy. Here is an excerpt from the novel: And so, dear children, we repeat the question. What does your family do for the homeland? Herzl Fleisher stood up first, followed by other pupils, all of them describing how their fathers or their uncles or other people they knew were active in the defense of Jews in Palestine or had devoted their lives to building the country. But I hadn’t lied. My big brother Imri really did go to Poland to get married for the homeland. Text: Paper Bride by Naveal Semel. Translated by Sondra Silverston. Hybrid Publishers, 2012. Previous podcast: And The Rat Laughed: Remembering Writer Nava Semel Music: שלמה ארצי – באיזשהו מקום

Peter Cole is a poet and translator who has recreated Spain's golden age of Jewish culture and adapted tenth-century Arabic-language poetry to 21st-century English so skillfully that the lines sing. This episode features translations from Cole's new book Hymns and Qualms: New and Selected Poems and Translations, which features poems originally written in Hebrew, Arabic, and Aramaic, alongside Cole's new poetry. Here is an excerpt from the poem "Blessed Are Those" by Avraham Ben Yitzhak, translated by Cole from the original Hebrew: Blessed are those who sow and do not reap— they shall wander in extremity. Blessed are the generous whose glory in youth has enhanced the extravagant brightness of days— who shed their accoutrements at the crossroads.   Text:Hymns and Qualms: New and Selected Poems and Translations. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2017. Music:Etti Ankri – Mi Yitneni Etti Ankri –Avdei Zman Etti Ankri –Yefe Nof

Novelist and playwright, Nava Semel, passed away in December 2017. There are writers that you plan to read and never do, and then, when they pass away, you regret not having read them in their lifetime. Nava Semel is one of these writers. Her work was the first to address the topic of the so-called “Second Generation”— children of Holocaust survivors. And The Rat Laughed is a five-part novel dealing with the horrors of the Holocaust and the influence of this harrowing chapter of human history; on humanity’s relationship with God; on the understanding of human nature; on the need to forget in order to survive; and on the need to remember, nonetheless. Here is an excerpt from the novel: If you were going to hand me over to strangers, why did you bring me into the world? Where is “there”? Who’s going to help me with my homework “there”? Whose bed will I go to “there”? And who will be with me “there”? Who else will be “there”? Why isn’t “there” here? Text: “And The Rat Laughed” by Nava Semel. Translated by Miri

The acclaimed and prolific Israeli author Aharon Appelfeld passed away last week at the age of 85, leaving behind 47 published works. This episode honors his legacy with excerpts from his memoir, entitled The Story of a Life.   Here is an excerpt from the memoir: After the Sabbath meal, we take a stroll to the stream. Grandfather and Grandmother walk ahead, and we follow behind them. At night this branch of the river looks wider. The darkness sinks, and white skies open above us, flowing slowly. I stretch out my hands and feel the white flow coming straight into my palms. “Mother,” I say. “What is it, my love?” The words that I had sought to describe the sensation have slipped away from me. Since I don’t have words I sit there, open my eyes wide, and let the white night flow into me.   Music: Little Bird (Instrumental) by Imogen Heap

Ronit Matalon's Bliss: A Novel revolves around two friends: Sarah, a politically active photographer, and Ofra, a selfless graduate student. The story is told in flashbacks as Ofra is summoned from Tel Aviv to a provincial township near Paris for a funeral. While there, Ofra, and we, the readers, learn about the collapse of Sarah's marriage. Here is an excerpt from the novel:  Sarah closed her eyes in surrender to the music. “It really is unlike anything else,” she said. Michel and I exchanged glances. She was completely tone-deaf and couldn’t tell the difference between the theme song from the nightly news and Bruce Springsteen, a Hebrew folk song and the overture to Don Giovanni. She heard it all as one cacophonous mess. “It’s because she has so much inner noise,” Michel explained. On one of his previous visits a few years earlier, he had accepted an invitation to join her on a tour of Gaza and had endured Channel 2 and Army Radio the whole way. Text:  BLISS. By Ronit Matalon. Translated by Jessica Cohen.

We end 2017 with an infusion of religious, secular, biblical, and sensual registers and sensibilities as we enter the poetic world of Esther Ettinger, curated through the translations of Lisa Katz. The Jerusalem-born Ettinger is the author of five books of poetry, two novels, and a monograph on the Israeli poet Zelda. Text: “Elisha,” translated by Vivian Eden,” “Dynasty” translated by Lisa Katz, “History II,”and “When I Brought You,” translated by Rona May-Ron. See also: Dreaming the Actual: Contemporary Fiction and Poetry by Israeli Women Writers, edited by Miriyam Glazer. SUYNY Press, 2000. Music: כל יום מתחילה שנה – עפרה חזה Axcik Girl – The Bridge Project בית הבובות – שנה חדשה

Host Marcela Sulak reads from a folkloric-infused story by the Jerusalem-born writer Dan Banaya-Seri, in which a simple Jewish man uses his minimal understanding of Christmas to try to make sense of his marital obligations. Text: “Birds of the Shade,” by Dan Banaya-Seri. Translated by Betsy Rosenberg. In Keys to the Garden: New Israeli Writing. Ed. Ammiel Alcalay. City Lights Books. 1996. Music:  Silent Night by George Martinos Birds Chirping by Alexander

In honor of the beginning of Hanukkah, host Marcella Sulak reads Etgar Keret’s story “Childish Things”, translated by Sondra Silverston, which takes place during the holiday. Excerpt: When Lev heard that he couldn’t burn the curtain, he burst into tears and claimed that in kindergarten, they said that every day you have to light a curtain and eat eight jelly doughnuts. My wife still tried to argue that the only things that gets lit are candles and the exact number of jelly doughnuts to be eaten isn’t specified in the holiday manual. But her flimsy arguments shattered on the armor of our pyromaniac son’s terrifying determination. Text: “Childish Things” by Etgar Keret. Translated by Sondra Silverston, Tablet Magazine. Music: Al Hanisim by Izhar Cohen Banu Hosheh Legaresh by LeHakat HaKesher HaVirtuali Ma’oz Tzur by Yosef Karduner

In Yehudit Hendel's story "The Dancer", the narrator talks about life, death, and God with a barefoot man dancing in a park. Hendel was born in Warsaw in 1926 to a Hasidic family. In 1930, her family immigrated to Israel, and her first stories were published in 1942. She emerged as one of the first female voices in Hebrew literature after Israel's independence in 1948. Text: “The Dancer” by Yehudit Hendel, translated by Miriam Schlusselberg