Driven more by psychology than its plot...a chronology-jumping character study about the individual experience of a collective trauma ... This portrait ...is a thoughtful meditation on the human struggles that are not often considered in history books or political moments.
The novel shines in its last third ... This depth and intensity comes on suddenly, an earth-quaking shift from the steady removal of the preceding chapters ... Introspection pervades every page. The tone is alternately poignant and soporific—sometimes, even downright confusing ... The book ends in a crescendo, though, and there is poetry enough to propel audiences to the soul-stirring climax ... a powerful peek into the psychology of trauma and a great book club pick for those seeking a challenging, deep discussion.
What emerges, powerfully translated by Daniella Zamir, is a shattering portrayal of utter loneliness, guilt, and despair ... In addition to probing Elsa’s state of mind, Ben-Naftali also grounds her story in vivid descriptions of the reality of the train and the camp ... At just 138 pages, the novel is short. As long as the narrator is inventing the whole thing anyway, it would have been nice to imagine more details about how Elsa managed her first few years in Israel—for instance, whether it was hard for her to learn Hebrew, or whether she felt any regret when her brother Jan, her only surviving relative, moved far away to Australia ... Even unsolved mysteries can leave a lot of clues.
Winner of the Sapir Prize, one of Israel’s highest literary honors, Ben-Naftali’s biographical novel portrays a vanished woman finally found. Translator Zamir provides a vivid translation.
... captivating ... This heartbreaking novel is highlighted by Ben-Naftali’s spare prose and insightful observations. The author seamlessly blends history and fiction to forge a riveting novel.
...a kind of novel within a novel. Why Ben-Naftali chose this framing device isn’t entirely clear, since she doesn't make full use of it. The vast majority of the book is taken up with descriptions of Elsa’s experiences; only occasionally are we reminded that the real Elsa was a cipher, that these descriptions are the narrator’s imaginings. But Ben-Naftali doesn’t fully explore what it might mean to imagine another person’s life or what these fictions illuminate about the narrator herself. Then, too, the narration hovers at a distance, favoring third-person description over dialogue or scenes in the present. The constant exposition makes Elsa into an abstraction and the other characters into less, even, than that. Ben-Naftali doesn’t make full use of her material, and the result feels more tired than fresh.
