Apeirogon: a novel about Israel, Palestine and shared grief, nominated for the 2020 Booker Prize Paperback – 25 Feb. 2021

In an odd coincidence I had been recommended this book by a friend and then it was chosen a my book club read. I'd had a quick look at the ambitious structure and started it slightly in awe.There are 457 pages split into 1000 very small chapters with a large section of narrative in the middleI started in May 2022 and found that I couldn't connect with it at all - plenty of people loved it though so decided to keep it and try again. The current situation in Gaza brought the book back into my mind so it seemed an appropriate time to try again - and I'm so glad I did!To begin with the book is confusing - each short chapter seems to change the flow of the story and there are many strands that are introduced - they are wide ranging but connections are clear from the start. A rhythm is established almost immediately and continues through all the horror.The two men at the heart of the book have both had daughters killed in the fighting which seems to symbolise the futility of war.These stories are true which adds to the overall sense of hopelessness and tragedy. I read a lot of fiction and was curious that this book reads like a fictional story but has an underlying gravity that cannot be ignored.The war has been ongoing for decades and is largely ignored by most people. The recent escalation (Oct 2023) has increased media attention and the rest of the world is becoming more interested. Never has this book been more relevant.I learnt a huge amount about the conflict while I was reading. It's all incredibly complicated and the author repeatedly reinforces information to emphasise, educate and promote understanding. This is done in such a beautiful, lyrical way that it stays with you.The book is full of contrasts at every level with the symbolism of the birds being a continual theme. This metaphor is used over and over in a multitude of different ways.Many times, seemingly random, strands of the story are introduced but it is never long before a connection is made. This tapestry of images and links makes this book a joy to read.The message that both of these men want to spread is extremely powerful. I came away from the book wanting them both to shout louder and for people with influence to listen more carefully. Neither has answer but they hold the beginnings of a journey towards the end - this is clear when you read their stories.When I finished I wanted to learn more about the conflict and am certainly more aware of the current news coverage.The second half of the book seems to have a more mature feel - the immediacy of the grief has moved on and the long term development of the area is considered in depth. New themes are introduced with water, silence and music coming to be fore in many of the chapters.

I've written this review in numbered fragments as a homage to the novel itself.1The title of Colum McCann’s novel, longlisted for the Booker Prize, may be pronounced | əˈpʌɪɹəɡən |. Or it could be | əˈpɪəɹəɡən |. Perhaps even | əˈpeɪɹəɡən |. Americans, meanwhile, are likely to pronounce the word entirely differently.2IPA, an abbreviation of the International Phonetic Alphabet, is an internationally recognized set of phonetic symbols widely used in quality dictionaries. It was developed in the late 19th century and enables users to replicate sounds from any language based on a unique symbol for each sound.The word apple is rendered | ˈæpəl | and is pronounced not too dissimilarly in British and American English.3Essentially, Apeirogon is a circadian novel with a very straightforward plot line. In the morning, two friends, one Israeli and one Palestinian, travel from different directions to a rendezvous at the Cremisan Monastery near Beit Jala, about five kilometres from Bethlehem in the West Bank, then they travel back to their separate homes in the evening.4The word Amazon is rendered | ˈæməzən | but is pronounced dissimilarly in American English as | ˈæməˌzɑn |.5Circadian, pronounced | səːˈkeɪdɪən |, is a word coined in the 1950s, formed from the Latin words for about and day. In literature, it is applied to texts set within one 24 hour period or slightly less. Famous novels to have used the circadian form include Ulysses by James Joyce and Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.11Although this is a novel, the men are real. Rami Elhanan is a former Israeli soldier whose daughter Smadar was killed by Palestinian suicide bombers. Bassam Aramin was convicted of attacking Israeli troops with hand grenades, and years later his daughter Abir was killed by an Israeli soldier who shot a rubber bullet at the back of her head. Their tragedies occurred in 1997 and 2007 respectively.The politics and the geography of their lives are complex, as are their backstories. Even though the men strive for peace, travelling the world together to tell audiences about their losses, it seems their grief is still raw and powerful. According to the Pittsburgh Jewish Chronicle, the book is too painful for either Rami or Bassam to finish reading.What Colum McCann has brought to this story is an inventive narrative structure. Inspired by, amongst other things, a Philip Glass opera and the famous tales of Scheherazade, the book comprises 1,001 numbered fragments ranging from a couple of words to several pages in length. Some refer to Rami and Bassam and their families; some to the broader political situation and the history of the conflict in Israel and Palestine; some to seemingly incidental topics, notably birds and eyes and later water and sound; some are pictorial; two are simply blank spaces. The fragments count up to 500, then comes 1,001, then down again from 500. If this sounds gimmicky, it isn’t. What is evident, from the way the narrative and the characters are meticulously constructed out of these disparate fragments into multi-dimensional lives in the reader’s mind, is that McCann has brought a supreme clarity of vision and perfect lucidity of prose to his telling of these profound interconnected stories.5It may be politically unpopular, in 2020, to say a middle-aged white man is the outsider. One school of thought is that all writers are outsiders. But in this context, that is a fact. From his vantage point as an Irish-American, McCann presents both his Israeli and Palestinian protagonists in a balanced – though by no means dispassionate – way, giving them approximately equal page time. He invests both Rami and Bassam with immense dignity.Like the other major contender for this year’s Booker Prize, Hilary Mantel, the novelist has chosen to focus outwards, not on his own cultural concerns. A journalist can take aspects of their own life and fictionalise it, but a great novelist is selfless and magnanimous. They can dedicate months or even years to the immense task of giving voice to characters half a world away from their lived experiences.McCann, in writing this book, is living out the message of Rami and Bassam: only by learning about one another’s humanity can we bring about peace in the world.4"I was fascinated by the region because, frankly, I knew so little about it and had no skin in the game — I’m not Jewish, Muslim, Israeli, or Palestinian. I come from an Irish Catholic background. I do come from a background of war and trauma, but it’s entirely different."—Colum McCann3If this sounds gimmicky, it isn’t.2The fragments did, however, feel trite at times. The 450-page novel could probably have been shaved down to 400 without significant loss of impact.One of the more dubious aspects of the text was the inclusion of what purported to be real transcripts as spoken by Rami and Bassam. These take up fragment 500 (on the way up) and 500 (on the way down), and form a sizeable chunk in the middle of the book. Whilst admirable insofar as these transcripts gave voice to two courageous men and to their grief, the effect was undeniably repetitious. Being able to see, quite clearly, where McCann had drawn his content and the characters’ thoughts and feelings that were better shown elsewhere in the fictionalised bulk of the book sadly diminished the mystery that surrounds the job of a novelist.1In its scope, this novel was reminiscent of certain previous Booker Prize winners. The precise character observation within a broader historical sweep reminded me of both Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally and The Narrow Road to the Deep North by Richard Flanagan, while the exploration of religion and race called to mind one of my favourite books The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson. But Apeirogon was truly unique, a masterpiece in its own right. If all the longlisted books demonstrate such exquisite craft, I’m in for a great few weeks of reading.