Beyond the Borders

A Multiplicity of Perspectives

One of the great pleasures of losing oneself in a bookstore is the found in the process of discovery, in the stumble upon, as it were, and then in the staying awhile to explore an idea as it has been curated by the bookstore owner, manager and staff. Beyond the usual substructures — Fiction, Non-Fiction, Current Events, History, Art, Poetry, Memoir and so on — there are the categories like “Books Staff Love” and sometimes even a newer favorite, “Books Our Customers Love,” which will often include handwritten notes, reviews in miniature, basically, of the reading interiority of those outside ourselves, building blocks for the invisible strands of connection among all of us who value learning.

One of the more frustrating and irritating experiences of being in many of my favorite bookstores these days is found in the heavy handed ways that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the Gaza War especially is being represented in displays. It would not be an exaggeration to say that in the vast majority of independent bookstores I have entered in cities throughout the United States in the last two years, there is a willful neglect of displaying books about Israel by authors — Jewish or otherwise — with an eye toward accepting the reality and legitimacy of Zionism and the Jewish national project of self-determination. This of course is of a piece of the dangerous siloization and polarization of our political discourse in general made manifest in ways that prevent real learning and understanding. Of the many casualties and horrific tragedies since October 7 — rape, murder, mass killing, the unconscionable death of children and innocents at the top of this list — one has been to stop believing that the way to stop the fighting and to move toward coexistence and peace is to start from the basic principles of educational inquiry and understanding.

As a reader, as a student of history, as a rabbi, and as a human being, I feel an obligation to understand the perspective of my neighbor. I count among my teachers rabbis and non-believers; Buddhists, Christians and Muslims; musicians, artists, historians and scientists. Our rabbinic midrash teaches that “God has 70 faces,” which means of course that we can’t know God otherwise. A multiplicity of perspectives is necessary in order to grasp the essential unity of God and all humankind.

I’m acutely aware of this since I had the disturbing experience of being canceled at a Brooklyn bookstore event for the sin of being a Zionist. I was to be the interlocutor for a talented young Tel Aviv based writer named Joshua Leifer (a fierce and principled critic of Israeli policy, by the way) and his book Shattered Tablets. It was a sensation for a brief moment, received ample media coverage — Ginia Bellafante covered it nicely for the Times — and a naively believed that afterward, bookstores would step into the breach and curate display tables dedicated to understanding the conflict.

To our detriment as readers, that has not yet happened. On display is the unitary view that Israel is the illegitimate colonizer of indigenous Palestinians and Zionism is a foreign irritant in the region. I have heard from a number of sellers that one of the tensions is that the younger staff often will refuse to actually display books about Israel by “Zionist authors,” a dangerous absurdity that was at the heart of my own cancelation nearly 18 months ago. There is nowhere to get lost in learning in settings like this because there is only one direction to travel in this spiraling downward into the abyss of uniform thinking.

It’s a shame.

But do what I do: engage the managers of your local store. Write them an email. Give them a call. Be polite but recommend titles. Encourage them to be brave in the face of the mindless mobs that see things only one way. While it is true that independent bookstores are privately owned, they are a part of our communities in ways for more beneficial to the insidiousness and greed of the ravenous monstrosity known as Amazon. We go to bookstores to be with other people; to bump into our neighbors and share ideas; to discover something in real time, human to human, in order that we may grow and learn.

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I am relieved to see a number of journalists writing with clarity and directness about the need to unequivocally condemn the phrase “Globalize the Intifada” in the wake of the Hanukah Massacre in Sydney. Besides my own Substack, there have been thoughtful pieces by David Frum in the Atlantic, Bret Stephens in the Times, and many other places. Stephen Bush in the Financial Times writes, “Something about antisemitism seems to interfere not just with people’s moral compasses, but also their actual compasses. Bondi Beach is not in Israel. It is in Australia. I’m not going to get into the rights and wrongs about Israel’s war in Gaza because it is beside the point…Violent antisemitism is not caused by anything Israel does — Israel merely fills the role that, throughout modern history, had previously been taken by discredited science about race and ethnicity, and conspiracy theories about everything from the banks to the Moon landings.” He goes on to conclude, “An unwillingness on the part of people from across the political spectrum to police their friends and not just their enemies has created the conditions for old hatreds to flourish freely in the 21st century. The human cost of that now reaches across the whole globe.”

Amen to that.

Finally, Matthew Kassel has a very helpful piece on the necessary coming to terms with the phrase “Globalize the Intifada” among New York Democrats. For my money, Mayor-elect Mamdani remains persistent in condemning antisemitism but just can’t find the courage to fully condemn the phrase. As candidates running for Congress, Ritchie Torres, Erik Bottcher and Alex Bores distinguish themselves in condemning the phrase. Others refused to or couldn’t be reached for comment. If you’re a New York voter, you should hold folks’ feet to the fire on this.

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One of the fondest memories I have about being a student in Madison was getting lost in the stacks at University Bookstore. In the basement especially, where books were arranged according to classes, I would spend hours there exploring what my fellow students were learning while I was on my path. In its best iteration, the University aspires to live according to what it calls “The Wisconsin Idea,” described as the notion that “that education should influence people’s lives beyond the boundaries of the classroom.”

Amen to that.