Newton author Joan Leegant’s latest book, “Displaced Persons,” a collection of short stories, half set in Israel and half in the States, won the New American Fiction Prize and is a “One Book, One Hadassah Read” and selection for the Women’s League for Conservative Judaism Reads program. “Displaced Persons” has been called “Breathtaking” (New York Journal of Books), “Prophetic” (The Times of Israel), and “Deeply affecting…gorgeous tales of wandering Jews” (Hadassah Magazine).
Joan will be speaking about “Displaced Persons” and what it means to come out with a book of Jewish fiction after Oct. 7 during Jewish Book Month at Hebrew College (12/3); Temple Beth Zion in Brookline (12/5); Temple Aliyah in Needham (12/15); Hillel B’nai Torah in West Roxbury (12/15); and Temple Isaiah in Lexington (12/18). For details, visit joanleegant.com.
How did you decide on the structure of “Displaced Persons”? How do the two sections of the book inform each other to tell a larger story?
The stories were written one at a time, not with a book in mind. It was only after I saw I had enough stories to constitute a whole collection that I noticed that half were set in Israel, half in the States. This offered me an architecture that was both aesthetic and logical but also added another layer of meaning to make the book more than the sum of its parts: the Israel stories became “East,” the American stories “West.” This structure ended up echoing the themes of the book—exile, belonging, what it means to call a place home—because Jewish life is lived in two places, and has been for thousands of years: in the Diaspora and in Israel.
“Displaced Persons” is filled with a variety of complex, nuanced characters. What is your approach to crafting characters?
I don’t think of it as crafting characters so much as letting them emerge as I write. This means setting my intentions aside and listening and watching for the details as they show up in the sentences: a name, an attitude, a quirk, what a character says or does in a scene as I write it. My job as the writer is to bring these hazy figures—who somehow exist though they are inventions—into focus. I was initially a lawyer, and everything was very head-driven, very thought-out. That doesn’t work for me in writing fiction. I have to instead just follow the sentences. The sentences will tell me who my characters are if I stay true to the words and rhythms and scenes and keep my preconceptions and ideas out of it.
As you mentioned, Israel—the country, the culture, and the people—is central to “Displaced Persons,” as well as to your earlier works. What draws you to write about Israel?
I lived in Israel for three years in my late 20s and early 30s, and though it sounds like a cliche, it was a life-altering experience, even, in retrospect, a little destabilizing. I did a deep dive into the religion, shucked my professional identity—I was already a lawyer—fell in love with the country, and wanted to live a different kind of life than what I saw ahead of me in America, which seemed to be all about careerism and personal advancement. It didn’t work out that way; I became ill and came back to the States, but once I started to write—by then I was 40—the Israel experience and, more importantly, my feelings about it, the intensity and passion, were all there, waiting for me. I got to live in Israel again 20 years later when I was invited to be a visiting writer at Bar-Ilan University for five years. Those experiences made their way into my newest book.
Has the Oct. 7 Hamas attack and subsequent war affected the reception of your book? How are you navigating the current landscape?
My book has received an enthusiastic reception in the Jewish community where, more than ever, since Oct. 7 people have wanted to come together to hear from Jewish authors and about Israel. The wider world is another story. I haven’t been targeted, as other Jewish writers have, by having my name show up on a boycott list or having an event canceled. But the usual speaking invitations haven’t been forthcoming and there was no point in reaching out to venues in places where anti-Israel sentiment has been at a fever pitch. It’s a worrisome climate for Jewish writers. I’m navigating it by adapting my approach and supporting other writers where I can.
Jews often speak about tikkun olam, repairing the world. How does fiction contribute to this effort?
Fiction can help repair the world by shining a light on the truth about how life is lived, which I think is fiction’s task. I’m not a fan of didactic fiction that sets out to impart a lesson or has an explicit agenda or seeks to provide a moral. But good fiction has the capacity to increase empathy, to expand our ability to understand others, especially those different from ourselves, and that can go a long way toward tikkun olam.
Paula Breger is the librarian at Temple Emanu-El in Haverhill, past chair of the Association of Jewish Libraries Jewish Fiction Award Committee and current member of the American Library Association Sophie Brody Medal Committee.
This post has been contributed by a third party. The opinions, facts and any media content are presented solely by the author, and JewishBoston assumes no responsibility for them. Want to add your voice to the conversation? Publish your own post here. MORE