The Ascent of Eli Israel
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2. Is “An Unwelcome Guest” pro-Jewish or pro-Palestinian, anti-Israeli or anti-Arab, or even-handed in its approach? Please cite examples from the story to support your belief.
3. The New York Times Book Review wrote that “An Unwelcome Guest” is “an encapsulation of the dread that haunts nearly every Jew — whether hawk or dove — in Israel and the diaspora.” Do you agree or disagree with this statement? Why?
4. Do you think readers’ perspectives on the collection of stories differ depending on their religion and whether the reader identifies personally with the Jewish religion and culture?
5. The best short stories have endings that are both surprising and inevitable. Many of these stories, such as “An Unwelcome Guest,” “The Art of Correcting,” and “The King of the King of Falafel,” have surprise endings. Did these endings feel inevitable? Were you able to foresee the ending? If so, did this diminish or enhance your reading of the story?
6. The Jerusalem Syndrome is a psychological disorder in which victims suffer delusions and psychotic episodes triggered by a visit to the city of Jerusalem. Is the story “The Ascent of Eli Israel” primarily about a man of faith who has been called by God, or about a sick man suffering from mental illness? At what point in the story do these two themes intersect most sharply?
7. Eli Haller is a murderous monster who draws readers into his world and allows them to walk in his shoes for a while. Did you find him sympathetic throughout the story despite his horrifying actions? Why or why not?
8. If the story “The Ascent of Eli Israel,” continued for another five or ten pages, what do you think might happen next?
9. What does the story “For as Long as the Lamp Is Burning” say about the nature of memory and its burden? Is there ever a time when it might be best to forget?
10. Is The Ascent of Eli Israel a violent book? At a time when graphic and gratuitous descriptions of violence are standard in much popular fiction for purposes of mere shock and titillation, does Papernick succeed in portraying violence in a considered, human manner? Does he accomplish this? If so, how?
11. The dreamlike city of Jerusalem is very much a character in these stories. In which of these stories does the city’s magical qualities most affect the characters and their actions? Please cite specific examples from the stories.
Q&A with Jonathan Papernick
What are the biggest challenges of keeping a short story short?
A: Trying to tell a complete story that reflects all of the world, not just a fragment of it. I try to manage this by rigorously forcing myself to compress and expand my story simultaneously.
If you could take a writing class with any short fiction writer, dead or alive, who would it be and why? And further, what would you hope the first lecture would be called?
A: I know this is kind of childish, but I would love to take a writing class with Philip Roth, not just because of what I hope he could teach me but also so he knows that I actually exist. Maybe his first lecture would be called “Becoming Zuckerman: A How-to Guide.”
Is there a short story you would consider to be perfectly crafted?
A: I think the short story “Bullet in the Brain” by Tobias Wolff is pretty damn near perfect, though there are a few lines that I would cut, given the chance. Even after one hundred readings I still get a physical reaction reading the final line of the story. “Going to Meet the Man” by James Baldwin, I think, is absolutely perfect. I’m still amazed that he is able to conjure such sympathy in such a horrifying, monstrous character as the racist sheriff.
William Faulkner prioritized writing forms thusly: “Maybe every novelist wants to write poetry first, finds he can’t, and then tries the short story, which is the most demanding form after poetry. And failing at that, only then does he take up novel writing.” Do you agree or disagree, and why?
A: I hope I don’t come off as arrogant paraphrasing Flannery O’Connor, who, when asked why she writes short stories, quipped “because I’m good at it.” I actually find novel writing to be significantly harder than short story writing since rather than juggling one or two balls at a time you need to juggle seven or eight or more. With short story writing it is possible to contain the entire story in your mind, whereas writing a novel is a sloppy, frustrating act, full of despair and fear. My first novel took me four years to write, and I still can’t believe that I was able to stick with it to completion. Writing that novel was definitely the hardest thing I ever did. Short stories, on the other hand, though never easy, at least fit into my realm of understanding and basic competence.
I read a very moving, thoughtful, and funny piece in The Good Man Project about your quest to become a perfect Jew after the birth of your son. So, I have to ask, did you become more perfect?
Perhaps I’ve succeeded, but perhaps not. My oldest son is four years old now, and I struggle every day to be a good father both to him and to his younger brother, but, with exhaustion and stress and pressure to write a good book on top of everything, I really don’t know if I’m doing as good a job as I possibly can. As far as being a better Jew, the only truly tangible test that I have had to face recently is related to the death of my mother. I’m an only child, and I did what an only child with a single mother has to do, and I took care of business and gave her a proper and honorable Jewish burial, and for that I feel that I’m finally and irrevocably a man. But I don’t know if I am mourning in the proper manner. Our relationship was complicated, as all parent/child relationships are, but I am not saying Kaddish every day. In fact, I’ve only said Kaddish for her once but think about it every day, and I hope that the community at large does not judge me for that. On the other hand, I think I honor her life by being a good father and helping her grandchildren become better people.
Can you talk about the difference for you in writing short stories versus writing the novel? Which is more satisfying to you? What’s your writing process like?
I love writing short stories, and I find it immensely satisfying, like solving a complex puzzle. When I write a short story I usually have a question that I need to answer. My characters show me the way. I usually end up in a surprising and deeply satisfying place. Often times, my short stories actually come from the title alone. What I like about short stories is that I can contain all of my ideas in my head at once whereas writing a novel I need to plan and research and persist. If writing short stories is like a sprint, writing a novel is like running one hundred marathons. I find writing a novel to be immensely difficult, and though my first novel turned out much better than I ever could’ve imagined, I feel like the blood and sweat that I put into it never really paid off the way that I hoped it would. But I would hate to pigeonhole myself as just a short story writer or a novelist. I love to write and that feeling of hitting your stride and immersing yourself deeply in a work is the best feeling in the world.
There’s a great quote from you: “You’ve got to play being a writer before you are a writer. You’ve got to convince yourself that you are one before you have the chutzpah to do it.” So, what convinced you?
In some strange way, I think I always thought I was a writer going all the way back to second grade. I did identify myself as a writer all the way back then, even though I had very little talent, even for my age. I was never a prodigy in my class, or even singled out as a good writer by any of my teachers all the way up through high school. My eleventh grade creative writing teacher actually told me that I was “not a very strong writer.” So, I guess some sort of inner confidence kept pushing me onward. I certainly don’t believe in destiny, because there’s just too much hard work involved. I really don’t know what else I could do in this world. I certainly don’t have the talent to play shortstop for the Toronto Blue Jays. I wrote a couple of bad novels before I was ever published, and I was young and arrogant enough to believe I was really writing something quite important. In some ways that youthful naïveté allowed me to get a couple apprentice manuscripts under my belt before I realized that I had no i
dea what the hell I was doing. By that time I knew I could never write anything as bad as I had already written, so I had clearly established a floor for myself with those works.
There are few things more terrifying than staring down at a blank page or a blank screen. Writing is a supreme act of creation, and one really has to convince oneself that one is capable of creating an entire world in order to do it. You really need to psych yourself up and make yourself believe that you can accomplish anything. I think in many ways I need to convince myself that I’m up to the task every time I sit down to write. I guess looking at my books on my shelves and getting positive feedback from my readers helped convince me for a short time that I am indeed a writer. But I need a booster shot of confidence quite often, so I’m certainly open to any compliments anyone might have about my writing.