David Grossman’s “To the End of the Land” reflects life in art
David Grossman’s newest novel, “To the End of the Land,” is a sensational allegory describing the impact of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict on intimate relationships. Many critics have hailed it as one of the year’s best books. But more significant is the haunting “echo of reality,” as Grossman writes in the book’s epilogue, which surrounded its creation.
The novel’s protagonist, Ora, becomes consumed with a premonition that her son Ofer will die during his final mission as an Israeli combat soldier in the West Bank. To cope with her fear, she embarks on a month-long hike along the Israel Trail—a path that spans the length of the country—with Ofer’s estranged biological father. By recounting the stories of Ofer’s life, from her pregnancy to Ofer’s first love, she hopes that she can save her son and protect him.
Grossman created this story in part because he experienced the tragedy that Ora is trying to prevent. While he was writing “To the End of the Land,” Grossman’s younger son Uri was killed in the 2006 Lebanon War—and Grossman dealt with his grief by reengaging in the creative process. “After we finished sitting shivah,” Grossman writes in the epilogue, “I went back to the book.” The eschewing of boundaries between fantasy and fact, between Grossman’s fiction and his experience, allows him to bring his characters to life.
In “To the End of the Land,” Grossman frames history in personal relationships. He includes a soldier’s love letters in the book and depicts Ora’s conflict with Ofer after he makes a mistake during a military operation. Should she support her son even if he was wrong? Grossman humanizes politics by focusing on the lives that Israelis and Arabs continue to live during the conflict.
Ora’s stories force the reader to confront the enigma of what makes us human. As she reflects on the danger that faces Ofer, she says, “The thousands of moments and hours and days, millions of deeds, countless actions and attempts and mistakes and words and thoughts, all make one person in the world…one person, who is so easy to destroy.”
Grossman puts his characters through delusions and hysterics as they cope with the reality of the conflict, and he provides concrete and visceral descriptions of their inner experiences. At one point, Ora buries her face in the earth and screams for her son. These emotions reflected Grossman’s own as he began writing. “At the time, I had the feeling, or rather, a wish,” he writes in the epilogue, “that the book I was writing would protect [my son].”
In “To the End of the Land,” Grossman invokes the allegory of the “nationalized womb,” which readers may recognize from “Lion’s Honey,” Grossman’s earlier book on the story of Samson. He asserts that every Israeli son is estranged from his family and belongs to the state from the time of his conception. In a society steeped in political and military conflict, the son’s parents worry about his death even before he is born. In “To the End of the Land,” Grossman expands and completes this allegory, now describing the nationalized family. Grossman depicts the impact of war on his characters’ development—their sexuality, self-image, aspirations, fears, familial bonds and communal relationships. Grossman brings the reader on a journey through the physical realities of Israel—through both the hike and the characters’ life stories. He maps the landscape and history of Israel—its monuments, gravesites, and communities—lending each location significance through the stories that Ora tells. This device strikes a powerful chord in the context of a conflict that is all about the historical significance of land and geography.
Grossman has succeeded here in writing characters so alive that at times the story becomes uncomfortable. Readers can feel the anxiety when Ofer’s biological father, Avram, asks Ora if she has heard any news about their son. Grossman allows his readers to connect to his characters through the raw, larger-than-life emotion that the novel exudes. The overwhelming tangibility of his characters—their flawed reasoning, idiosyncrasies, and sensuality—permits the story to oscillate between different characters’ perspectives and different time periods without losing the plot’s linear flow. While the novel contains plenty of action and suspense, its mundane, personal triumphs drive it forward—such as when the introverted Avram allows a baby to sit on his lap during a Shabbat dinner.
While “To the End of the Land” may be an anti-war novel, recalling Grossman’s acute attention to the plight of the Palestinians and his stark anti-occupation stance, it is much more than a political statement. To oversimplify a novel of such complexity and scope would be an injustice to Grossman’s work. He does send a consistent moral message throughout the book, but the story unfolds with such tenderness, detail, and insight that “To the End of the Land” has the potential to be his masterpiece.
Leigh Cuen will graduate this spring from the University of San Francisco with a B.A. in media studies and a minor in Middle Eastern studies. She has written for multiple San Francisco newspapers, including El Tecolote and the Haight Ashbury Beat.
