People of the Book
What lives for centuries but can still die before its own birth?
Living in a century of genocide and other abysmal human rights failures we have become almost inured to the scope of suffering that has been endured by people and peoples in our world.
Though there are now those who deny it, the Holocaust still serves as a reminder of the fact that racial hatred can exist beneath the polished veneer of civilized society. But as one genocidal atrocity follows another, Cambodians killing Cambodians, Turks killing Armenians, Iraqis killing Kurds, Bosnians killing Serbs (and Serbs killing Bosnians), Rwandans killing Tutus, Muslim Sudanese killing Christian Sudanese, it takes historical perspective to appreciate the seemingly endless plight of the Jews in the history of the madness that passes for civilization in "modern" times.
For Jews it is vitally important to keep the memories of these events alive, which is why through the ages they have been recorded and lovingly transcribed. The Torah, which makes up the first five books of the Christian Bible, is a record of the Exodus and the search for the Promised Land. Early Jewish families would have a Torah in their genizah, or depository of sacred books. The genizah would also include a haggadah, which recounts the events of Passover. The word "haggadah" comes from the Hebrew root "hgd" meaning "to tell." It is inspired by the Biblical injunction instructing parents to tell their children the story of the Exodus.
These books are often exquisitely illustrated with images both fanciful and ornate. In The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon we read of a manuscript "illuminated with bird-headed letters. Hoopoes, owls, thrushes, European goldfinches, and peacocks.... Lacy, geometrical patterns and arabesques form the backgrounds. A bright carmine and the blue of lapis lazuli are the dominant colors."
This points to one of the central mysteries of Geraldine Brooks' exciting new novel, People of the Book. The book in question is an illuminated Hebrew manuscript, a haggadah, from Medieval Spain. The book was housed in the National Museum in Sarajevo until it disappeared in 1992 at the height of the bombing. The assumption was that it has been looted, but it is restored after the war by Museum curator Ozren Karaman, a librarian (hurrah!) and also a Muslim, who heroically rescued the book during an attack. The United Nations decides to have the book restored and returned to the collection as a symbol of unity for the people of Sarajevo. Hannah Heath, a conservationist from Australia, is called in to oversee the restoration and as she picks her way through the manuscript, she becomes absorbed in the book's history.
She realizes almost immediately that there is a great deal more to the book than meets the eye. Jews in Spain during the Middle Ages did not embellish manuscripts with lavish decorations. Everything about the manuscript, from the lavish illustrations to the ostentatious binding is inconsistent with the work's supposed provenance. Resisting pressure from all sides to restore the book quickly, Hannah reconstructs not only the history of the haggadah but of an entire people, from the Inquisition through contemporary Serbia. In alternating chapters, Brooks leads us through those interlocking histories. As Hannah makes a discovery, for instance, a thin white hair caught in the binding, we learn the circumstances leading up to it. A butterfly wing, a set of missing clasps, two red stains, and some salt residue, provide Hannah, and the reader with clues to the book's historical context.
When Dr. Karaman asks if she intends to return the book to something resembling its original glory, she demurs. "I think you have to accept a book as you receive it from past generations," she tells him, "and, to a certain extent, damage and wear reflect that history."
Saved not once but twice by Muslims from destruction, preserved from the flames of Inquisitorial fires by a Rabbi with a penchant for gambling and a Catholic priest with a dark secret he hides even from himself, this book has more than it's share of history to share. It is a remarkable story, made even more so because it is based on actual events.
Books mentioned:
The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon, Richard Zimler