Grossman’s evocative gifts are in full force ... reminded me of fiction’s ability to evoke an often intuited but rarely articulated atmospherics of place ... There are many stories within stories in the novel, like concentric circles whirring in the air. Some are underdeveloped...some seem like clanking, superfluous devices rather than intrinsic to the plot...and yet others are alluded to too belatedly and briefly to be successfully integrated into of the novel ... The result is a certain amount of confusion and unnecessary distraction from the main events, yet such is this writer’s skill and generosity of vision that More Than I Love My Life moves beyond its flaws to cast a spell that lingers. Grossman is especially good on women, presenting them as complex and nuanced characters, and his understanding of the opaque ways of love — sometimes subterranean, often unexpected or arbitrary — is unmatched ... David Grossman is one of our outstanding contemporary writers and I have sometimes thought that, despite all the accolades that have come his way, he hasn’t been given his full due because he happens to be an Israeli, although one who is often deeply critical of his country’s actions and moral quandaries. To read him is to understand that there is a world beyond the political, even in these re-tribalized times, one in which there is room for recognition, however incomplete and often painful, of who we are in our own eyes and in one another’s.

Vera, Nina and Gili are memorable characters, each suffering in different but equally profound ways. Grossman effectively inhabits the consciousnesses of these women and doesn’t spare the reader any of their considerable emotional pain. He’s a sympathetic if unfailingly honest chronicler of their anguish. A reader doesn’t have to identify with the particulars of the women’s stories to appreciate how the consequences of fateful choices can reverberate down through the generations.

... is at face value about an Israeli family who remain largely untouched by the violence in their homeland – it is a love story, a story about a family and their myriad individual tragedies. But it is also about the way that the personal can never be wholly separated from the political, about the lingering wounds of history, about how violence seeps into all the dark corners of a life. It is, in the end, about Israel. Immaculately translated by Jessica Cohen, this is another extraordinary novel from Grossman, a book as beautiful and sad as anything you’ll read this year.

Grossman’s genius for cap­ti­vat­ing sto­ry­telling is once again on tri­umphant dis­play as he writes as affect­ing­ly about the great themes that have long stirred his imag­i­na­tion ... Cohen rewards us with a superb trans­la­tion. Read­ers may be intrigued to learn that More Than I Love My Life is based on a true sto­ry. Yet even with­out that knowl­edge, this star­tling and aching­ly ten­der sto­ry grace­ful­ly deliv­ers both his­tor­i­cal and emo­tion­al verisimil­i­tude. This inter­gen­er­a­tional nov­el about shat­tered lives and ideals, impos­si­ble loves, grief, and heal­ing is as mov­ing a sto­ry as one could hope for from Israel’s con­sum­mate nov­el­ist of trau­ma, empa­thy, and the redemp­tive pos­si­bil­i­ties of storytelling.

In More Than I Love My Life he tells a sombre and affecting tale without recourse to undue melodrama or psychobabble. This delicately crafted novel, crisply translated from the Hebrew by Jessica Cohen, is a fitting tribute to his late friend.

A visceral dissection of what we choose to protect and neglect in striving for moral clarity.

[A] powerful novel ... Grossman performs a deft exploration of how trauma impacts succeeding generations.

Tender and disquieting ... The author has created an unforgettable character [in Vera]. This adds another remarkable achievement to Grossman’s long list.

The first part of Grossman’s novel...is the most moving. As the novel progresses, though, it begins to feel overdetermined ... Grossman, a justly celebrated Israeli novelist, could have done a lot more with a lot less. Occasionally moving but more often overwrought, Grossman’s latest novel is not his finest.