Advertisement
Sex, Drugs and Idol Worship—Our Ancestors Uncovered in Fiction |
|
by Tamar Fox, August 14, 2007 |
|
Samson is a blowhard; Sarah a rebellious, headstrong daughter who makes herself barren. Moses' wife is a freedom fighter, Nathan is a prophet beset by doubt and fear and Rashi's son-in-law battles his evil inclination to love men.
The Book That Started It All: And probaby the best of the bunch.
Sounds like the Jewish heroes and heroines of the Bible and the Talmud?
Not exactly.
That's because these are the new heroes of a burgeoning genre of modern literature: Jewish pulp fiction. These historical novels -- and they are novels, despite their various levels of accuracy to the ancient time period in which they are set -- star protagonists of old: from Genesis' Cain, Noah, Abraham and Sarah (they have their own books), to Exodus' Moses, Miriam and Tzipporah (separate and together), as well as characters from the prophets, like David, Nathan and Samson, and even from the Megillot, such as Queen Esther and Ruth (who already have books named after them).
Jewish pulp fiction, ranging in quality from a Regency Romance to commercial literary fiction, feature stories of love, adventure, sex, war, betrayal, politics, mystery, suspense, anguish, murder and death.
Where else can one find such stories but in the Bible?
Actually, it's in Ecclesiastes, not Song of Songs, but whatever.
When King Solomon (who is not yet the protagonist of one of these books) wrote in his own holy book, "Song of Songs," "There is nothing new under the sun," he hadn't read the latest in Jewish pulp fiction.
"This is the story of my life, and it's not a happy one," said the character Samson in "The Book of Samson," by David Maine. "My life has an abundance of frustration and pain, plus a fair bit of sex and lots of killing and broken bones, but it's got precious little hope and joy, comfort and inspiration.... You may think you know the story, but believe me there's more."
There's a lot more when it comes to Jewish pulp fiction. In the last five to 10 years, authors are churning out books exploring even the most minor characters of the Bible and the Talmud.
What is the point of all these books? Who reads them? Why do authors write historical fiction about real people from Jewish history? And, the most important question when it comes to mixing pop culture with religion: is it good for the Jews? Is it beneficial to take our ancestors, rabbis, prophets, kings and queens -- whom many revere and consider holy -- and fictionalize their lives?
Full story
Carolyn Starman Hessel, the director of the Jewish Book Council in New York, and one of the most influential people promoting Jewish books, sees many of this type of manuscript come across her desk. She called this genre of religious historical fiction a form of "midrash," like the body of commentary on primary Jewish text.
![]() |
Tamar Fox has an MFA from Vanderbilt University in Nashville, but she still doesn't like sweet tea. Born and raised in Chicago, she's also lived in Iowa City, Dublin, Oxford, and Jerusalem. When she's not rocking out at honky tonks she teaches More... |
Jonathan
Thnaks for pointing out that not every fictional story that mentions a Bible character is a Midrash. Midrash are a bit more significant. For anyone interested, check out Simi Peters book Learning to Read Midrash.
Gregory C.
I think that there is still potential for very good contemporary literature with biblical themes (they are, to a skilled enough writerm inexhaustible). But like literature dealing with say, the American "West," most people rewriting the biblical material do so with more cliches than a JK Rowling writer's clinic. For every masterpiece like Blood Meridian, there are hundreds of pulp novels. I wish fiction on biblical and talmudic themese could either present the nuance of the texts themselves, as Graves I, Claudius did for Tacitus and Suetonius, or otherwise incorporate the texts as motifs rather than retell the story with contemporary obsessions. The endless retellings of patriarchal era-literature have an opposite effect than the purported goal of being entertainingly relevant: they drag universally relevant human stories into the trivial and painfully transient preoccupations of the contemporary.