Prescient, more or less—it doesn't take a prophet to forecast cyclical violence in the Middle East—Bukiet's witty, engrossing novel anticipates the current resurgence of Palestinian-Israeli conflict, chronicling the derailment of the peace process after a conservative victory in the Knesset. Like an Israeli All the Kings Men
recast as a thriller, the tale is told by a political aide—Nathan Kazakov, a blind ex-POW, Russian immigrant, former poet, Lebanon invasion veteran, semicloseted homosexual and now speechwriter to Simon ben Levi, the charismatic right-wing prime minister (more in the mold of Benjamin Netanyahu than Ariel Sharon). Making an obvious reference to Yitzhak Rabin's assassination, the novel opens with a gun shot: a Jewish settler fires the pistol, and it is Nathan who gets a bullet in the ear. This brush with death heightens Nathan's disenchantment with Simon's politics, impelling his investigation into the assassin's real target and prompting him to search for Simon's estranged son, the enigmatic archeologist Gabriel. Bukiet (Signs and Wonders) keeps a steady level of suspense simply by capitalizing on Nathan's blindness. After encounters with colorful characters like Gita Mamoun, a philanthropic female Palestinian arms mogul and a fanatical rabbi called Moshe X, Nathan discovers a labyrinthine conspiracy code-named Strange Fire, which somehow involves Gabriel. In a region as convoluted as the Middle East, conspiracies are as central as ordinary politics, and it's almost a shame when all is finally revealed after the fascinating deployment of so many Red Sea herrings. (May)
Forecast:Call this a hopped-up literary novel or an offbeat thriller—either way, it defies genre labels. Mainstream thriller readers probably won't bite, but fans of clever, eccentric amateur detectives—and those who follow Israeli news closely (the book will be promoted in Jewish publications)—will appreciate the hero's wiles. An author tour to New York, Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., should help those readers find the book.
