I recently saw a post on a historical fiction blog asking for recommendations for a "good" novel on the Crusades. As the comments came in, the question changed to what made a "good" Crusade novel. While I wouldn't call BOOK III - RACHEL, the final volume of my RASHI'S DAUGHTERS trilogy, a crusades novel, I confess that the First Crusade does take place during the book's time span and there are at least 6 secondary characters who experience various aspects of the crusade first hand.
I did read some Crusade novels to get an idea how other authors approached the subject. Most were too male-centric and too into gore/glory for my taste, but I did like "There will be Wolves" by Karleen Bradford, a YA offering with a female protagonist. Of course I couldn't find any written from the Jewish [or Muslim] perspective.
To answer the question, for me what makes a Crusades novel good [in addition to the usual things that make for a good novel] is its historical accuracy. First of all, nobody in the First Crusade called it a 'crusade.' The word was created much later; to the participants, it was an armed pilgrimage - something that previously would have been a contradiction in terms. Many, if not the majority, of 'crusaders' were not heroic knights in shining armor. They were ignorant impoverish serfs or criminals/scoundrels who saw the Pope's promise that this pilgrimage would substitute for ALL penance as a "get-out-of-jail-free card" that permitted/encouraged all sorts of villainous behavior.
Let's face it, by and large the crusades were a political disaster in which hundreds of thousands of people died with the result that Eastern and Western Churches separated and have never reconciled, Jews became the world's scapegoats, and Muslims have held a grudge against Christians for almost 1000 years.
Sorry to delay this post, a reply to my most recent blog entry about Hillel vs. Shammai. I've been away from my computer while attending the Association for Jewish Studies conference for the previous 3 days [more on that later this week or next]. I realize that I didn't mention that one of my prime reasons for lighting a menorah according to Shammai was because, as I learned from studies with Talmud professor Judith Hauptman of JTS, when it comes to women's issues, Shammai is more 'liberal' than Hillel. There's a wonderful article on the subject sent to me by Susan Marx, and I have shared some of it below. The entire article, written by Chana Safrai, is available online at the Jewish Women's Archives.
"Talmudic tradition lists over 350 disputes between Shammai and Hillel, including more than 60 that deal with issues of family law - that is, disputes in which women are incorporated into the halakhic discussion. Traditionally, the sages have characterized Shammai as generally more stringent or restrictive, while Hillel is more lenient (Tosefta Sukkah 2:3). However, on two issues this characterization does not apply when it comes to matrimonial law. Firstly, these issues always involve two parties, the husband and wife, and therefore a stringent ruling for one is automatically a lenient ruling for the other. Moreover, in the majority of disputes on issues of matrimonial law, it is Shammai that views women as autonomous individuals possessing equal personal status, while Hillel disregards women's personal status, thus seeming more restrictive to women.
An example is the woman who arrives from a distant or isolated place and relates that her husband has died. She asks to be recognized as a widow and thus be eligible to receive her ketubah (marriage settlement). Shammai accepts her request while Hillel debates the issue, saying, "We have not heard [of accepting a woman's word testifying to her husband's death]." Thus, in this instance Bet Shammai is more attentive to the widow's predicament, exhibiting greater sensitivity, while Hillel adopts a more restrictive approach, distrusting the testimony of the woman concerned. Shammai here is also attentive to the legal status of women and demands a coherent legal system in which one ruling obligates the entire legal system, thus declaring her a widow and providing her with her financial resources. Hillel, on the other hand, is more concerned with the possibility of familial complications.
In addition, Shammai's acceptance of the testimony of the woman whose husband died in a distant land leads him to reach the conclusion that "she may marry and also claim her ketubah" (Mishnah Yevamot 15:3). Since her testimony is admissible, she is free to start a new life and also entitled to the economic protection that the marriage contract bestows on a widow. But Hillel declares, "She may marry, but not claim her marriage contract." According to Hillel, she is released according to the laws of matrimony but not as far as monetary laws are concerned since these may be judged only in a Jewish court with two witnesses. In other words, since her release was not carried out in an orderly legal framework, she is not entitled to receive her marriage contract. So, while Shammai draws the full legal conclusion and frees the woman from all dependencies, Hillel separates the financial contract from the discussion of her personal matrimonial status. Shammai grants the woman organized legal status."
Guests to our home during Hanukah are surprised, and intrigued, to see us light two menorahs every night, each with a different number of candles. In synagogue last Friday night [the first night of Hanukah], when many members brought their own menorah, the congregation stared in confusion when I lit 8 candles with the shamash. Our rabbi, who knew what I was doing and why, asked me to explain my bizarre action. Here's a slightly fuller version of what I said:
Two of our most famous sages are Hillel and Shammai, and the Talmud details many of their disputes. Their frequent differences were eventually decided when a Bat Kol [voice from Heaven] announced that halacha followed Hillel, not Shammai. Yet the School of Shammai didn't close and Shammai's students continued to follow his rulings. The Talmud [Eruv 13b] explains that in such disputes, where both parties are striving for the "sake of heaven," both Hillel's and Shamai's argument are the words of the Living God ["Elu V'Elu Divrei Elohim Chayim"].
Of course Hillel and Shammai disagree over how to light the Hanukah lamp to best commemorate the miracle [Shab 21b]. Here's the passage in question: "Our Rabbis taught: The mitzva of Hanukah is one light for a man and his household. The zealous kindle a light for each person [in the household]. And for the extremely zealous, Shammai says: On the first day, light eight and thereafter, gradually reduce; but Hillel says: On the first day, light one and thereafter progressively increase ... two sages differ [about the reasons]. One maintains that Shammai's reason is that lights should correspond to the days still to come, and that of Beth Hillel is that lights should correspond to the days that are past. The other maintains that Shammai's reason is that the lights should correspond to the bull sacrifices of Sukkot [see my Oct 8 blog entry]; while Hillel's reason is that we increase in matters of sanctity, not reduce."
In short, Hillel calls for a continual increase in lights, from one to eight, while Shammai says to start with eight lights and end up with one. And in my home, where "these and these are the words of God" and there is no lack on Hanukah candles, we light one menorah according to Shammai and one according to Hillel to honor the tradition of diversity in Judaism. Rather than just giving us Hillel's law, the Talmud records the many debates between the schools of Hillel and Shammai. In arguments among many more generations of sages, we learn majority and minority opinions, and quite often, we get no decision; both opinions stand. Judaism has never been monolithic, and by lighting menorahs that represent both Hillel and Shammai, I celebrate the many diverse traditions in Judaism - "the words of the Living God."
I posted on Facebook that our family was enjoying sweet potato latkes for Hanukah, and suddenly everyone wants to know the recipe. I must confess that my husband, who was taught by my bubbi, is the chef for Jewish dishes in our house. So I asked how he makes them.
Ingredients:
4 large sweet potatoes
1-2 onions [1 large or 2 small]
6 eggs
1-2 T flour or matzah meal
˝ t baking powder
salt and pepper
lots of canola or other vegetable oil
You will also need a food processor and a large cast-iron skillet
Peel potatoes and onions
Chop potatoes and onions into 1-2 inch cubes
Shred them together in food processor
Remove mixture to large mixing bowl
Add eggs to consistency that holds together [not too liquid]
Add salt and pepper to taste
Mix thoroughly with large spoon
Add flour or matzah meal to thicken
Heat oil in pan [wear safety goggles and large apron]
Place 2-inch diameter dollops in hot oil [it should sizzle]
Check latkes often to make sure they don't get too burnt [the sugar in sweet potatoes will darken them faster than regular potato latkes]
Turn over when dark brown and crisp around the edges
Remove from pan and drain on paper towel; use another paper towel between each layer.
Eat and enjoy with applesauce and/or vanilla yogurt.
One thing I have learned from my mail is that readers can feel strongly about which books they like and which they don't. RASHI'S DAUGHTERS have generated emails that run the gamut from "the best book I've ever read" to "utter trash, complete waste of time." I've even received hate mail for disparaging such great and pious people as Rashi and his family.
When it comes to books that I like, I find that I have become more particular. Frankly, since I became a historical novelist, I can no longer read fiction with the same voracious appetite as previously. Of course much of my reading time became devoted to research/nonfiction, but there were other factors. When I was writing [as opposed to researching or editing], I realized that my voice tended to get contaminated by the author whose novel I was reading. So I stopped reading fiction when I was writing. As I wrote and edited more, I noticed poor writing and lousy editing, and it irritated me. Historical inaccuracies infuriated me. It became increasingly difficult to get lost in a story and suspend disbelief. It used to be that once I started a novel, I'd continue to the end [or at least scan it or skip to the end], but now I lack that patience and easily quit reading something I don't like.
Unfortunately the worst thing is that reading great books doesn't thrill me like it used to. In fact, when I come across a truly wonderful novel, it totally depressed me because I know I could never write as well.
But my fans shouldn't have that problem and hopefully most of you like my writing. Click here to post a review of RACHEL on Amazon.
By the way, I have a RashisDaughters fan group on FaceBook. I also have a Maggie Anton fan page. You can find it on my profile under "Info" by scrolling down to "pages" and clicking on my photo.
The last several days have been wonderfully hectic. Hosted Thanksgiving dinner at our home for 12 relatives, two of whom stayed with us for 4 days. Then Sunday night, just as I was getting ready for bed, came a phone call from my son-in-law that my daughter's water had broken and I should come over right away to stay with my toddler grandson while they went to the hospital. The baby's due date was Dec 2, so this call wasn't unexpected, and my new grandson, Benjamin, arrived at 10:30 the next morning: 7 lbs-2 oz and 20˝ in.
Mother and baby were doing so well that they came home yesterday, along with URJ's daily 10 Minutes of Torah email. Wednesday is devoted to T'filah, and this week it continued discussing a very timely subject - HODA’AH: GRATITUDE. Here's a link to last week's article. Between welcoming a new grandson and celebrating Thanksgiving with so many family members, I found that today's commentary by Rabbi Sarason touched me deeply. So I'd like to share some of it with you, as his favorite prayer is also my own.
"A hundred million miracles are happening every day.
And those who say they don’t agree are those who do not hear or see.
These words, from American Jewish lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II (
Some years ago in a worship retreat, each of us was asked to identify our favorite prayer in Jewish liturgy, the one with which we resonated most deeply. I realized that I resonate most deeply with the Hoda’ah benediction, and specifically with its attention to hanisim sheb’chol yom imanu - the miracles that we experience every day. Whatever theological doubts any of us might have, whatever reservations about petitionary prayer and its efficacy, there should be no doubt at all about the need to say, “Thank you,” and to acknowledge the small (read, “big”) miracles that surround us at all times if only we'd open our eyes to see them.
It is human nature to take for granted our health, our relationships, our work - in short, everything about our lives that is going well - until they are lost or impaired. It is only when we have lost something that we come to appreciate it. Life inevitably teaches us those lessons. Better then to be ever thankful for our daily blessings while we have them and can enjoy them; better to be aware and appreciative of the true miracles that surround us at all times - to cultivate that sense of awe and wonder about which A.J. Heschel wrote when he was attempting to evoke for readers his own experience of authentic Jewish piety …
A rabbinic tradition notes that, in the World to Come, all of the prayers and all of the sacrifices will be rendered obsolete - except for the prayer of gratitude and its sacrificial counterpart, the offering of thanksgiving, which will endure forever (Midrash on Psalms, 56:4). This is an exceptionally wise tradition: even envisioning an ideal era without want, when there will be no need for petitionary prayers, there will always be a need to express our gratitude. If that is to be true in the messianic future, so much the more so is it true in the world of here and now!"