Customer Reviews

The River Midnight

5 star:		(24)
4 star:		(8)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

An excellent first novel of a time and place that I've heard about too little. Although I am not Jewish, this book portrays a time and place from which my grandparents escaped. It was like hearing my grandfather speak of the countryside, political situation, and schooling. Now, I understand why he could read and write four languages (and church Latin!). A criticsim I've read is that some of the characters are not fully developed. However, isn't this the way with "real" life? A part of us always remains hidden from those around us...was Hannah-Leah's failure to have children due to something with her or with her husband? We'll never know and back then even a midwife couldn't know for sure. As for the angel characters, aside from a literary device, who's to say they didn't exist then and don't exist now? I found the environmental descriptions both imagined and real an integral and rewarding part of the story - I wouldn't want to enter that mikvah. The extensive bibliography also shows good research and some guidlines for more in-depth reading. For this sharing, a big thank-you to the author.

I borrowed this book from my mother and read it in a week's time. For anyone whose ancestors came from Poland, it gives a personal glimpse into what shetyl life might have been like. These four women also have contemporary counterparts in today's world- an intellectual, a dreamer, a family person, and a professional (midwife). This book so touched my heart that I felt a strong desire to share with all my friends. To this end, I have started a book club with 16 people, and this book is our first selection. As my friends are reading it, they are pouring in songs of praise. The BEST read in a long, long time. Enjoy! It is a wonderful historically accurate novel.

Nattel has taken the life in a tiny Polish shtetl before the Holocaust (and one that we come to understand disappeared during that horrendous period) and presents it to the reader through the thoughts and feelings of the villagers, both men and women. In the first half of the book we are introduced to the original four wild girls, Misha, the midwife; Faygela, the mother of many and wife of the village baker; Hannah-Leah, the butcher's wife; and the children of Zisa-Sara who had left the shtetl with her husband, only to die in a sweatshop fire in New York City and leave her orphaned children to return to her native home. The tales told through these women and men of this imaginary town in Poland are sweet, magical, aggravating, heart-wrenching, startling, and just about every other adjective you can imagine. Nattel is a marvelous story-teller and the reader is caught up from the first page in the lives and loves of these simple and wonderful people. Of particular joy to me was the sprinkling of Yiddish that Nattel uses throughout the book - it not only gives the right flavor to the tales, but since many of the words are reminiscent of my childhood in a Jewish-oriented community, they are like old familiar friends. They add a somewhat funny, appropriate, accurate and tasty spice to the stories of the interactions, friendships, secrets and ties that these people have with one and other. This is a wonderful book.

The River Midnight is Lilian Nattel's well-researched and honest depiction of women's life in shtetl Europe. From the "zogerin", the women's prayer leader to Misha the midwife dispensing her various potions to induce a pregnancy or get rid of one, the mythical town of Blaszka comes alive through the voices of its women. Although at times the story is a little uneven, with tidbits inserted that seem to have no relation to the plot (one of the women has an affair with a gentleman in Warsaw that seems as though it's excerpted from another book altogether), Nattel draws out her story in a fascinating, almost midrashic way, layering interpretation upon interpretation until, gradually, the whole picture emerges.

Perhaps the greatest flaw in this book is Nattel's attempts to weave a magical theme into the book, for example in the characters of "the Traveller" and "the Director" (and with one of the main characters being able to turn herself into a tree frog). These insertions, too, are a little annoying, and overall, they are too subtle to make any meaningful point. Luckily, they manage not to detract from Nattel's lively and evocative shtetl tale, so different from some others we've seen and heard.

Let's just say that Blaszka isn't Anatevka, the mythical town seen in the musical "Fiddler on the Roof", with its clean (if slightly dusty) streets and its cheerful, sexless cast. Blaszka's women and men are lusty and three-dimensional; they menstruate, they ejaculate. And Blaszka itself is muddy and strewn with filth and ruins.

In her notes at the end of the book, Nattel writes that in her research, she tried to avoid historical records from after WW2 because of the rosy-coloured nostalgia for pre-war Jewish life, and there is certainly no sentimentality here. Yet, with all her honesty and truth to life, a certain beauty emerges in her depiction.

Out of the filth and mud and bickering of small-town Poland, Nattel weaves an enduring legacy to the next generations of Jews -- a tapestry-like vision of the world of our grandmothers. The River Midnight is a stunning first novel from an outstanding Canadian writer, but it is something more as well -- a window into a home to which we will never again return.

I should also add that this novel made for excellent (lively!) book-group discussion. My mother invited me along to hers, and there were many varied responses (from "I loved it" to "I hated it"), but nobody could remain neutral in the face of this strongly evocative work. It also spurred an interesting discussion of women's prayer in Jewish history, and comparison with other recent Jewish "women's novels".

I.B.Singer, Peretz, S.Aleichem, D.Bergelson, Mendele all have portrayed shtetl life, with a tragic, comical, historical, or religious perspective. L.Nattel in her debut as a novel writer has given us her lyrical, colorful interpretation of the shtetl life in a fictional village of Blaszka (Russian occupied Poland), at the end of the 19th century. At the core of the story there are four characters (the "vilda Hayas," or "wild creatures), all of them female. The strong, independent Misha, a midwife who challenges traditions but remains much respected and loved by the community; Hanna-Leah the childless butcher's wife; Faygela the dreamer who wishes to become a poet and becomes the mother of many, and Ziza-Sara who emigrates to New York and has an early death. Around this core there is a myriad of remarkable characters: Emma and her revolutionary ideas, the rabbi and his fear of fire, Hayim the water carrier, besides the ever-present angels and demons of Jewish folklore.

Nattel has divided her novel by a "mekhitzah" (the walll that divides the men's section from the women's section in a traditional synagogue) and contrary to tradition women's perspective has precedence over the counterpart genre (excuse me, the "mama" comes first and then the "papa"). The final and third section is dedicated to Misha, the strongest character, the keeper of secrets who has become pregnant but who will not reveal who the father is. This structure is responsible for the novel's much criticized flaw: overlapping and repetition.

The author integrates her vast knowledge of folklore, traditions, magic, and with an enjoyable sense of humor brings back a community life which is now part of history. Great historical events are not emphasized, there is no drama, it is a reading to be placidly enjoyed, the concern is with daily life, erotism and passions, friendships, understanding and misunderstandings amongst the characters, with some hints of magic realism which somehow seems out of place.

...and they've all thanked me. It's an easy book to love. Set in 19th century Poland in a Jewish shtetl, it's the interwoven stories of a group of women who were born and raised in the tight-knit village and have now grown into women, many with children of their own.
The central figure of the story, and of the village, is the local midwife and healer. Being a midwife myself, I was of course drawn to this character who held great appeal for me.
There's a quality of magical realism, almost like a fable, that sustains the book, and I found it captivating and very inspirational.
Lovely. Read it. You won't regret it.

This admirable attempt to capture the vanished world of a Jewish stetl, circa 1894, succeeds in many respects: not only is it admirably researched (down to the details of what people ate, what they wore, the political climate they lived in, as well as the physical landscape of the Polish countryside), but it also presents a moving portrait of the way in which the members of a small community affect each other's daily lives. Thus, it is effective not only as a portrait of a vanished Jewish way of life, but in its depiction of a sense of community that has largely vanished for most modern Western readers. One great example of this is the story (apparently a very old one in the Jewish tradition) which one of the villagers tells about the man who sees a woman pulling a dirty, legless boy on a makeshift cart. Seeing the sad state of both mother and the child, the man cries out, "God, you who are supposed to look out for your children, how can you allow this to happen? Why do you not do something for your children?" The wind picks up, and God's response is this: "I did do something. I made you." It's a wonderful story, and a good example of the spirit of the book, in which each person affects -- and is conscious of affecting -- the lives of others. If there is a weakness in the book, it may lie in the occasional bluntness and lack of fluidity in the prose, as if the author were more adept at short stories than a long narrative. Partly, this is intentional, since the narrative loops back and repeats itself. But overall, this is a wonderfully illuminating book, and a joy to read.

This first novel by Lillian Nattel, captures the magic and myth associated with the shtetls of Eastern Europe. It brought to mind the stories of Sholom Aleichem and I. L. Peretz and Avram Reisen and those of my mother. I was completely engrossed in the lives of these women and the strength that they had in the difficult lives that they lived. This is a book about feminism as well as a wonderful picture of life in the shtetl. I am recommending this book for my book discussion group and would recommend it to anyone who has family that came from Eastern Euroope.

The author's writing seems so effortless and so simply beautiful, it is hard to believe that this is her first novel. I was absolutely taken with Blazka and its delightful myriad of men and women. When engrossed in the lives of Misha the midwife, Hayim the watercarrier, and Hanna-Leah the butcher's wife, one can't help but feel that the author must have grown up among them. What thorough research - a blend of detailed history with enchanting mythology.

I've always said I was a big fan of Canadian authors (mostly because of my love of Margaret Atwood). Now I have another big reason to love it -- thanks to Lilian Nattel and this gorgeous and touching book!

This tale of a Polish Jewish community is tightly woven and gently pulls the reader in. The lives are so interconnected, and seeing the different perspectives of the characters and how their decisions have affected one another throughout the years provides insight and a delightful feel of conspiracy on the part of the reader. Nattel's descriptions of the characters and setting are misty and almost surreal -- much like an impressionist painting. She shows true artistry.