A novel of Sephardic life revives the Jewish family saga

ANDREW SILOW-CARROLL JTA

The very first Jewish book was a multigenerational Jewish family saga. But while the Bible went on to achieve some commercial and critical success, the genre doesn’t always get much love.

Consider the big bestselling books of the last century. Critics may debate the literary merits of bestsellers like Exodus by Leon Uris, The Source by James Michener and The Chosen by Chaim Potok, but cultural historians generally agree that each was an important indicator of Jewish tastes and preoccupations post-World War II.

But two other popular books of the era, both multigenerational Jewish family sagas, are rarely mentioned these days.

Belva Plain’s novel, “Evergreen,” published in 1978, is a ragsto-riches story about a Polish-Jewish immigrant and her offspring. It spent 41 weeks on The New York Times bestseller list in hardcover and another 20 in paperback, and was made into a miniseries by NBC in 1985. Gloria Goldreich’s novel, “Leah’s Journey,” also published in 1978, is also about an Ashkenazi family that experiences most of the upheavals of the previous 100 years.

Although Leah’s Journey won the National Jewish Book Award in 1979, I’ve never seen it nor “Evergreen” on a list of the century’s best or “most essential” Jewish novels.

And in truth, the qualities that make a book wildly popular aren’t always the ones that make it literary. A New York Times reviewer once described Plain’s books as “easy, consoling works of generous spirit, fat with plot and sentiment, thin in nearly every other way and almost invisible in character development.”

I brought all this baggage to my review copy of Kantika, Elizabeth Graver’s 2023 novel, described by its publisher as a “dazzling Sephardic multigenerational saga.” It’s about a wealthy Turkish Jewish family whose fortunes are reversed by the First World War and whose members are dispersed to Barcelona, Cuba and finally New York. And yet while it has all the drama one might expect from such journeys and the novels about them, it remains both lyrical and literary, and likely, if there is any justice, to stand the test of time.

How Graver pulled it off is something she and I talked about last week, when I reached her in Cape Cod. (Graver, the author of five previous books of fiction, teaches creative and nonfiction writing at Boston College.)

At the center of the novel is Rebecca, a privileged daughter of a Jewish factory owner in Constantinople who must constantly reinvent herself as a daughter, wife, mother, immigrant and businesswoman. The character is based on Graver’s own grandmother, and the story Graver tells is rich in details about the Sephardic heritage of her mother’s side of the family. There are snatches of Ladino dialogue and song lyrics, and organic depictions of Ladino folk and religious culture.

“I had interviewed my grandmother telling stories when I was 21,” said Graver, who is 59. “And I’ve been sort of haunted by but a little scared of telling the story.” Between research and trips to Turkey, Spain and Cuba, the book took her a decade to write.

She decided against a nonfiction version of her grandmother’s life, thinking the story would contain too many holes and force her to insert herself into what would then become a sort of literary memoir. Instead, the book is fiction stretched over a real-life scaffolding: Each chapter begins with a photograph of the relatives who inspired the book’s characters.

One of the key relationships in the book is between Rebecca and her stepdaughter, Luna, a willful, intelligent girl with a disability that affects her speech and movement. Rebecca dedicates herself to Luna’s education and what we would now call physical therapy, a set-up for shmaltz (or its Sephardic equivalent) if there ever was one. But just when you expect her to cue the string section, Graver often veers to show you how complicated and difficult people — even admirable people — can be.

“Rebecca is beautiful, and has that power and strength but is a bit narcissistic. She kind of relies on surfaces but is really good at passing,” Graver explained. “And then she has this child whose body doesn’t allow her to do any of that, but who is also fiercely determined and passionate and smart. In the interplay, they reveal each other through their different points of view.”

The book arrives at a time of renewed interest in Sephardic culture, and part of its appeal is that it is telling what to many American Jewish readers, fed a steady diet of the Ashkenazi experience, is a fresh story.

Kantika is also a migration story, another genre that is very much of the moment. Graver herself teaches the genre, which includes works by Korean-American author Min Jee Lee, Haitian-American Edwidge Danticat and Vietnamese-American

Viet Thanh Nguyen.

I asked Graver if she was conscious of genre when she was writing the book, and wary of the way a sprawling family novel like hers might be received.

“I don’t even like the term ‘family saga,’” said Graver, who, when I asked, wasn’t familiar with Plain or Goldreich. “It makes me wince, even though I suppose I have written one and I’m

Rabbi Avi Shafran Jta

The Orthodox Jewish community boasts a wide array of creative services providers. And, in keeping with the Jewish religious tradition over millennia, those vendors cannot, in good conscience, buy into elements of “progressive” social developments. They do not accept, for instance, that it is proper to identify as a different sex from one’s biological one, or that a same-sex union is proper.

That is why my organization took a particular interest in 303 Creative LLC v. Elenis, in which the Supreme Court ruled in favor of Lorie Smith, a Christian web designer who refused to create wedding announcements for same-sex couples.

Ms. Smith feared that Colorado’s anti-discrimination law might compel her to create webpages celebrating same-sex unions, something that goes against her conscience.

The 303 Creative decision seems to be widely misunderstood and misrepresented.

Not long after the Supreme Court handed down their decision, a small town hair salon owner said she would refuse service to clients who use pronouns different from their biological sex.

“If a human identifies as anything other than a man/woman, please seek services at a local pet groomer,” the hairdresser, Christine Geiger, posted on Facebook. “You are not welcome at this salon. Period.”

There ensued much “We told you so,” tying the hairdresser’s policy and comments to the 303 Creative decision.

The hairdresser may have been emboldened to offer her boorish words by the Supreme Court decision, but the plain meaning of the decision’s wording — as confirmed by scholars of the law — does not support her refusal of service.

Likewise, critics of the decision conjured a host of dire scenarios, like a devout Christian who believes that Jews killed Jesus refusing to sell wedding dresses to brides unless they accept Christianity, or a white supremacist baker who won’t sell his cakes and cookies to blacks or Asians.

None of these scenarios could conceivably emerge from the Supreme Court’s web designer decision, or be sustained if they did. The ruling does not sanction bigotry. It protects free speech.

We usually think of the First Amendment’s guarantee of a right of free expression in its simplest sense, that Americans are allowed to express their feelings as they wish without government interference. indebted to them in various ways. But I want the characters to be flawed and complex and for the turns that they take to come out of their intersections with both history and their own very particular circumstances. I think about big novels where there is a big social canvas and it’s not a story of triumph.”

But included in that Constitutional right is a protection against government coercion of a citizen to express a particular point of view.

Indeed, Kantika, unlike many novels of Jewish migration, is actually a story about a family’s economic decline. Ultimately, said Graver, she wanted to capture the story of her Sephardic family’s journey in all its complexity.

“I have a deep anxiety about being overly sentimental and wrapping things up too much,” said Graver. “I love fiction that gestures towards the complexity of real life.” faced with a request to create a website that expressed celebration of same-sex marriages, she feared being compelled by the state to employ her creativity in the service of something that violates her religious conscience.

Andrew Silow-Carroll is editor at large of the New York Jewish Week and managing editor for Ideas for the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

The Supreme Court ruled in line with its predecessor Court’s 1943 interpretation of the First Amendment, that no American should have to fear being punished for her unwillingness to express something that violates her conscience.

So now, some truly plausible scenarios that could be born of the decision:

A web designer, in this case, someone deeply dedicated to LGBTQ causes, is asked to design a webpage for an anti-gay activist, graphically promoting the potential client’s point of view. Or a Jewish cake artist is asked by a neo-Nazi group to design a swastika-shaped cake with frosting in the likeness of Adolf Hitler.

Thanks to the 303 Creative decision’s affirmation of the compelled speech doctrine, the designer and baker will have the right to ask the client to go elsewhere to be serviced.

That “compelled speech doctrine” dates back to a 1943 Supreme Court decision, West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette, where the Court ruled that a state cannot force children to stand, salute the flag and recite the Pledge of Allegiance if doing so violates their religious consciences.

Justice Robert H. Jackson famously asserted, “If there is any fixed star in our constitutional constellation, it is that no official, high or petty, can prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion, or other matters of opinion or force citizens to confess by word or act their faith therein.”

Lorie Smith is not a computer salesperson. Were she one, Colorado’s anti-discrimination law would legitimately require her to sell a computer to anyone, even someone whose lifestyle violates her sensibilities. Even as a web designer, she had and has no right, under her state’s law, to refuse service to a same-sex couple that wishes the site to promote their widget company.

In fact, a filing in the case stated clearly that she was “willing to work with all people regardless of classifications such as race, creed, sexual orientation, and gender.” And that she “will gladly create custom graphics and websites” for clients of any sexual orientation.

So what was Ms. Smith’s objection? Something simple: If

And, now, in a case where a client asks an observant Jew to enlist his or her talents in promoting what halacha (Jewish law) considers objectionable, he or she will be able to politely decline and suggest an alternative service. The “politely” is vital. Deeply held beliefs might be hurtful to others, but living one’s values sometimes means making decisions that inadvertently cause pain. Rudeness, though, is never in order.

The High Court decision was not about discrimination or about religion, though. And attempts to characterize it as such, or as license to show bias against people because of their race, religion or sexual orientation are disingenuous.

In the words of the majority opinion: “The First Amendment envisions the United States as a rich and complex place where all persons are free to think and speak as they wish, not as the government demands.”

The decision, in other words, was about the Constitution’s protection of citizens’ rights.

About freedom.

Rabbi Avi Shafran serves as Director of Public Affairs for Agudath Israel of America.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

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