May 21, 2012
A provocative “what-if” premise propels Nobel laureate Wiesel’s (Night) latest novel. In 1975, an Orthodox Jewish man, Shaltiel Feigenberg, is kidnapped from a Brooklyn street and held hostage by two terrorists, an Arab and an Italian, who demand the release of Palestinians and threaten death if their demands aren’t met. Shaltiel, a kindly storyteller, ruminates on the blessings of Judaism and recalls the words of Jewish prophets, philosophers, and mystics with nostalgia. He also remembers the moral ambiguity of being hidden in his native Galicia by a Nazi officer while his family labored in Auschwitz. Wiesel deplores ideologies that mislead and betray, including the communism that lured Shaltiel’s brother in the 1930s. As Shaltiel’s Arab captor spews hatred and his Italian captor speaks for international terrorism, Shaltiel claims that the excesses of Israel’s treatment of Palestinians are unavoidable safety measures. While the clock ticks closer to the deadline, Wiesel’s narrative skills fail to create tension, and Shaltiel’s rescue is perfunctory. Instead of a literary thriller, we get a didactic defense of the Jewish state and its timeless vulnerability. Agent: Georges Borchardt.
November 26, 2012
Wiesel’s novel, set in 1975, recounts the fictional biography of Holocaust survivor Shaltiel Feigenberg, who recalls the story of his life after he is abducted from his home in Brooklyn, N.Y., and held captive by extremists. Unfortunately, award-winning narrator Mark Bramhall isn’t at his best here. Early on, some listeners will tune out; Bramhall’s performance of Feigenberg’s Italian and Arab abductors is disappointing: at times, he makes the Islamic terrorist sound almost Russian. Although Bramhall does a bit better subsequently in flashback scenes featuring German characters, the damage has already been done. Additionally, the flatness of his narration is not engaging. While Wiesel has given him dramatic material to work with—his protagonist recalls hiding from the Nazis and pleading for his freedom—Bramhall’s uninspired delivery robs the text of its power. A Knopf hardcover.