Customer Reviews

The Speed of Light (Ballantine Reader's Circle)

5 star:		(26)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

Elizabeth Rosner has written an extraordinary debut novel in "The Speed of Light," an elegant, understated work which tackles such serious themes as the Holocaust's impact on the children of survivors, political massacre in Latin America and the significance of personal connection as a means of liberating the human possibiliites of hope, memory and love. "Speed" is that kind of lovely, slow-paced psychological novel where three decent people, scarred deeply by the anguish of either directly or derivately witnessing horrific suffering, learn that shared memory, tenderness and the need to risk everything for love assist them in overcoming the pain of a murderous past. This brilliant work ultimately is about possibilities: of living in a world drenched with blood, of overcoming enormous personal fears, of embracing one another's past to insure the chance of mutual survival.

Each of the three central characters has a unique voice (so much so that this latticed work includes three different type settings) and presents his or her own complicated confrontation with silence and memory. Each character gropes for meaning; each confronts the terror of the past, the anguish of living a solitary life and the desperate fear of abandonment, great sadness and existential isolation. Each character learns the nobility of bearing witness.

Julian Perel has absorbed the silence and imagined Holocaust memory of his father, Jacob. Living upstairs from his musically-gifted sister, Julian is an obsessive recluse, immersed in a life of suffocating detail, terrified of human touch, suspicious of language and voice. He theorizes that his father "gave up his language because it belonged to the killers; he could not live with the sounds of their voices inside his own." Like his now deceased father, Julian speaks in "the vocabulary of science and never reveal[s] his heart." Tormented by a past which he does not fully comprehend but which dominates his personality, Julian's self-imposed isolation is at once a private punishment and a social rebuke. It is only through his halting relationship with Sola, a hired housekeeper, that he begins the process of personal integration.

Hired by Paula Perel to oversee her downstairs apartment while pereforming in Europe's opera houses, Sola expands her domestic obligations as she initiates a friendship, a relationship, with the reluctant Julian. Sola, ravaged by memories of her village's annihilation at the hands of a brutal Latin American despotism, has her own torment, unshared and terribly burdensome. Slowly, quietly, Sola and Julian begin to learn a central lesson: sharing memories and making others become derivative witnesses to social evil is a good thing. By permitting this "buried language" to surface, Sola initiates a process by which both Julian and she perceive the possibilities of life.

The most tragic figure in "Speed" is Paula Perel, whose operatic voice soars through her apartment and vibrates with immediate beauty. Seemingly oblivious to post-Holocaust trauma, Paula sets out to Europe to test the quality of her voice. There she discovers the hidden story of her family's past with shattering consequences. Where Julian has had a lifetime to absorb memory and silence, Paula has but days. She learns that inflicted silence "bruises the heart," that her father's heart must have been "completely black and blue from a lifetime of sorless grief banging around in his chest." How Paula confronts both her own personal crisis and the implications of the Holocaust on her professional life is one of the many instructive moments of the novel.

"The Speed of Light" is nothing less than brilliant. Invoking the Hasidic teaching that "there are three ways to mourn: through tears, through silence, and by turning sorrow into song," Elizabeth Rosner has crafted a moving novel about love and meaning and connection in the midst of remembered pain and sorrow. Through her sensitive portrayal of three fully-imagined protagonists, Rosner teaches us that people can emerge from the wilderness of despair to the refreshing oasis of possibility, voice and connection.

Rather than write a synopsis of the book, or suggest who may or may not enjoy it, I simply want to say that The Speed of Light is one of the most wonderfully poignant, emotional, thoughtful books I have ever read about love, loss and human relationships. The writing is so lovely and so poetic, that irrespective of your inclination toward prose or poetry, you cannot help but be moved by the language of the book. Also, the manner in which the writer presents the points of view of the three main characters is so perfectly executed that she makes a difficult style choice appear simple. Liz Rosner is a gifted writer. This book should be on everyone's shelf. I have bought it as a gift for many friends and cannot recommend it any more heartily. Read it read it read it.

Elizabeth Rosner's debut novel is nothing short of a marvel, with language so rich it seems impossible to sustain. And yet sustain it she does, with no less than THREE separate voices that weave around one another in a kind of triple counterpoint. While that may sound like it would be difficult to follow it is actually very reader-friendly, particularly with the aid of different fonts to indicate the narrative speaker.
Julian, a socially maladaptive genius, keeps the world at bay through inflexible routine and the constant company of his thirteen televisions. He lives with his sister, Paula, a rising opera diva who by contrast throws herself into the world to drown herself in experience. When she embarks on a European tour, she leaves Julian and their apartment in the care of Sola, her housekeeper, a recent immigrant from an unnamed South American country. Each character carries with them an onus of grief and remembrance which they struggle to cope with in their own way. As their stories unfold and their relationships develop, each comes to terms with the nature of their own burden, and they must decide whether to risk the sanctity of their pain by sharing it with one another.
The novel is meticulously crafted and gently paced, lyrical without crossing the line into preciousness. Ms. Rosner is clearly a writer with a love and mastery for the music of words, and here she puts her gifts to use in delineating a quiet tale of the aftermaths of tragedies, where the survivors are compelled towards the comfort of revelation. This is a beautifully realized work that heralds the arrival of a major talent on the literary scene.

...the combination of which makes this an absolutely stunning debut novel. The author addresses some important issues in a sensitive and moving way -- buried pain and fear, the way that pain can be passed on from one generation to the next, and the ways in which people can deal with this pain and fear -- making the book entertaining, touching and uplifting.

The story revolves around three characters -- an adult brother and sister, and their housekeeper. The siblings' father was a survivor of Auschwitz -- they remember that during their childhood there seemed to be a 'parade' of survivors that passed through their living room, sharing their grief and their stories. Their father, however, never shared his experiences with his family -- he carried them around inside him, in silence, for his entire life. This pain has been passed on to his children -- although neither of them have ever addressed it directly until the events in this book.

Julian, the brother, is a brilliant science student -- he never completed his doctorate, but instead retreated into his own world, staying most of the time shut up in his apartment (upstairs from his sister), working on a commissioned dictionary of scientific terms. When he ventures outside, we can see his obsessive/compulsive behavior manifest itself more visibly: he takes the same route to the same errand on the same day of each week; he avoids cracks in the sidewalk; he steps on only one color of tile in the deli; he always orders the same foods. His sister Paula, who loves him dearly, recognizes that he is 'different' and tries to protect and care for him as much as she can.

Paula is an aspiring opera singer -- with a true gift for music. When she leaves for an extended audition tour of Europe, she arranges for her housekeeper -- a woman named Sola, from an unnamed Central or South American country -- to stay in her apartments while she's gone to 'watch over' Julian, to prepare an occasional meal for him.

Sola is dealing with her own hidden pain and grief -- she was the sole witness to the murder of her entire village by government troups who accused them of collaborating with rebels. She hid in the forest and heard the screams and pleas of the dying -- some were shot in the street, many were burned alive in their homes. She also mourns for her husband, who was killed in a mining accident, and for her infant daughter who died shortly thereafter.

During her trip to Europe, Paula makes some discoveries in Budapest about her father -- and his family -- and his experiences (and role) in the death camp. What she learns shakes her to her very core. At the same time, at home, Sola has managed to begin a gentle but deep friendship with Julian, through the most effective method available to humans -- sharing honest, deep feelings. He awakens one night to hear her sobbing in the apartment below -- and he is drawn to her to share her pain and to comfort her.

Sola shares her story with Julian -- and with another friend from her country -- and in doing so, has some insightful comments about being a witness. She says that when you share your experience, your listeners become witnesses as well -- and a burden shared is a burden lightened. Rather than feeling a new weight upon his shoulders from this sharing, Julian finds that he feels more connected than ever to another human being -- an uplifting and freeing experience.

There are many parallels in the story of these three to stories I have read about survivors of sexual abuse -- but the most important one is one that is universal to all human suffering. Silence can only increase pain and grief -- sharing it can be beneficial to everyone concerned.

This is an amazingly moving story, a well-conceived and executed novel that was one of the most compelling reads I've come across in some time -- it's valuable on many levels. I look forward with great anticipation to more work from this talented writer.

I do believe that Ms Rosner is the first to write about the children of the survivors of the halocaust and the effect it had on their lives. She has a unique way of probing the very depth of these two young people's souls to unveil the horror and the consequences of the silence of their father. A housekeeper, who is touched by a similar political tragedy comes into their lives and the miracle of rebirth begins. It was a book that was difficult to put down, beautifully written with passion,
understanding and renewal. I congratulate this author for taking on a difficult and controversial task. I will be on the lookout for future books of which I hope there will be many!

The Speed of Light is a a novel with elements of epic poetry that can help each of us learn about our own wounds and how they might be healed. Elizabeth Rosner has written an important book that left me deeply moved on two levels. First, there is the story of three characters each struggling to live life under the shadow of their families being victims of the most horrible crimes against humanity. Secondly, there are the words Rosner finds to describe the internal landscapes of these people, and I found myself moved to tears at times by her descriptions. The poetic style reminded me of Ondaatje's writing in The English Patient.
Much of the story is told through the eyes of Julian, whose parents were Holocaust survivors. Here is description from his childhood:

"For a time there was a baby living next door to the house I grew up in. Late at night, when the baby woke up crying, I awoke too, feeling as if the sound of that baby came from inside of me. I lay there in the dark and waited for someone to bring the child the comfort it needed.
How could anyone bear it? I often wondered. How could anyone even attempt to bridge the gap between oneself and the world? All I knew how to do was live deep inside my body, far from the dangerous surface...
My father had no capacity for joy: it was squeezed out of him before I entered the world. Perhaps the years of being with my mother saved him for a little while, but even she realized it was impossible to resurrect someone standing so close to his own grave."

Julian's sister, Paula, carries this same trauma in an opposite way. She thrusts herself into the world as a potential opera singer. While she drives herself relentlessly outward into the world, she is unable to help Julian, who retreats to an internal life of suffering in which he often watches eleven television sets simultaneously and stays within a few blocks of his home at all times.
It is while Paula is traveling in Europe that Julian meets Paula's housekeeper, Sola. Sola's family was also the victim of mass brutality, but her response to this loss is so different than Julian's or Paula's that she is able to bring a new energy into Julian's life and the result is the wondrous mystery of this book.
The 20th Century was dominated by unprecedented collective traumas the impact of which is usually ignored in explanations of why there is such massive cultural and individual dysfunction today. Yet, it is fairly easy to see the collective impact of the massive crimes against humanity the world has lived through in the last 100 years. The brutal killing of so many people has left a visible scar across the personal, physical and political landscapes of our planet. The continuing search for solutions to intractable poverty and oppression in the Middle East, Africa and Latin America are part of the living collective wounds we must all confront as world citizens.
Rosner's book takes us into the internal world of just three lonely survivors of these holocausts and yet their story offers a penetrating insight into our collective pain and our potential path toward recovery and wholeness. She reveals in her lyrical style how an individual can be deeply wounded by a collective crime and somehow triumph over that wound by sharing her need for love as a way out of the pain. Survivors often become bitter, angry, souls, who shut themselves down and pass on their pain to others. Yet if just one wounded soul can rise above these responses and realize that it is the lack of love that caused the wound, the results can be a gentle, magnificent triumph of healing. Survivors such as these finds their way to finally end the continuing rupture of their own living spirit.
This is the important message of this wonderful book. Whether our wounds are the consequence of a collective trauma or a more random loss of love through illness, accident or individual abuse, the paths of the compulsive achiever or the lonely cynic will not bring us the healing we need. Our path to healing lies in reaching out from behind that wound and finding our common humanity with the love of others.
.

Elizabeth Rosner's debut novel, THE SPEED OF LIGHT, heralds a unique and beautiful new literary voice. The story of three young people haunted by the violence and sadness of the past, this novel is engaging and lyrical, despite the dark and bloody secrets it contains.

Julian and Paula Perel grew up in the shadow of the Holocaust. Their father, a Hungarian survivor of Auschwitz, was --- for the most part --- silent about the horrors he experienced and how he survived. In America, he began a career and created a family. His personal history was mysterious but obviously brutal, as obvious and brutal as the faded blue numbers on his arm.

Julian and Paula each had a very different type of relationship with their father. And they each innately interpret and express their father's past and pain in very different ways. Julian, like his father, seeks solace in science. He is a solitary and eccentric figure, living in an apartment above the one belonging to his sister, with eleven televisions and a rigid routine. Overly sensitive to his environment, Julian relies on Paula both emotionally and physically. Paula, instead of living in near silence and stillness like Julian and her father, fills the Perel house with music. In her own way Paula seeks order. A gifted classically trained opera singer, Paula, from a young age, trained vigorously, even living for years with her voice coach as a teenager. When she leaves for Europe for a string of auditions, her brother is left virtually alone.

Enter Sola Luz. Sola, a beautiful Latin American refugee, is Paula's housekeeper. Paula arranges for Sola to stay in her apartment for one month to keep an eye on Julian while she is abroad. Sola is relieved to be out of her own small, dark apartment for a while and is certainly curious about and intrigued by Julian. Sola, like Julian and Paula's father, witnessed mass murder, the destruction of her village and the loss of her family. She has carried the tragedy with her for a long time, never fully sharing her pain.

Now these three --- Julian, Paula and Sola --- in six weeks time must each face the sadness and destruction in their pasts and come to terms with it, with each other and with themselves. For Paula, the catalyst for catharsis is a trip to Hungary and the discovery of her family's history of music and her father's deepest secret. For Julian and Sola, their growing friendship and spiritual connection cause each to step beyond their self-imposed emotional and physical boundaries to begin to heal past hurts.

While THE SPEED OF LIGHT is undeniably a well-written novel, it swings frantically --- sometimes paragraph to paragraph --- between the voices of the three protagonists, so it is a bit of a challenging read. This jagged pace is alternately frustrating and entrancing. If the reader can abide the choppiness, a wonderful and poignant novel is the reward.

From the first pages of this fairly short book, Rosner packs an emotional punch. Often heartbreaking but always hopeful, THE SPEED OF LIGHT is less about the sorrows of the past and more about healing through sharing. Julian, Paula and Sola are all damaged by circumstances beyond their control. Each is burdened with a load too heavy to shoulder alone and find that by giving voice to sadness, loneliness, fear and loss, they can begin to recover and move towards happiness. Rosner presents the reader with three characters, stronger than they themselves know, at a moment of upheaval. This upheaval allows for profound transformation. The transformative journeys in THE SPEED OF LIGHT make an elegant and overwhelmingly worthwhile read.

--- Reviewed by Sarah Rachel Egelman

The characters in this book are people who might be living on any urban apartment block - people who are living each day and suffering in the present from events of the past. Brother and sister Julian and Paula are affected by their parents' experiences in surviving the Holocaust. Their housecleaner, Sola, has made her way to the U.S. from Mexico after her native village is brutally destroyed. This very quiet but intense novel is not about the catastrophes that have occurred but the long-term damage and eventual healing that happens when the characters come together. Elizabeth Rosner's language describes beautifully the things that pass through the characters' minds as they try to get through each day without losing their sanity. I like the simplicity of this theme. Some of the passages are really true to life. Every adult person I know can relate to the characters in this book as they struggle with the difficulty of basic communication and in reaching out to one another in today's world. I recommend this book as a great purchase this holiday season, which for many people will be a somber, thoughtful one in terms of gift giving.

The Speed of Light is an incredible book. I've been in a book group for 10 years, and I think this book rates as one of my top ten, perhaps even top five! It's right up there with Correlli's Mandolin and Samuri's Garden.

The story is rich with raw truth, tender love, fear of the past, yet hope for the future. Also, being a child of two Holocaust survivors, I could fully empathize with all three characters of the book and their full range of emotions. Rosner's writing style is very poetic, bringing beauty to a story of trauma that could otherwise be too difficult to read. It was a totally absorbing book and I highly recommend it!

I found Elizabeth Rosner's Speed of Light a lyrical and surprising novel. It is the first work of fiction or non-fiction I've read which gives a believable sense of hope for an emotionally whole life for the "second generation," children of Holocaust survivors. My daughter, in the "third generation," also felt very connected to the content and context of the characters' inner and outer lives. I felt the novel showed the universality of trauma--that witnessing mass murder first or secondhand causes permanent vulnerabilities, regardless of the age, gender, class, race or nationality of the witness--and wove that concept together with a positive subtext that even those who don't talk about their trauma, may work to "undo" it by helping others experiencing a wholly different trauma, explaining to me why so many survivors silent about their own pasts are very politically active to help other oppressed groups.

On my first reading I thought the protagonist was the extroverted sister, who maintained her positive outlook by being away from her family as much as possible. The second time through, I thought the book was focused on the introverted brother, who was so vulnerable and intolerant of the unexpected that he could scarcely leave his apartment. Who knows how the book will present a third face on my next trip into the falling gingko leaves? What is clear is that Rosner has created a hopeful, believable vision relevant to those who are survivors, children of survivors, grandchildren of survivors, or who work with survivors.