The Red Tent
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As a work of fiction, it shows great imagination. The plot's deviation from the story in the Bible is almost (although not quite) entirely credible. Conjuring the relations between women of 4,000 years ago, and even creating an entire women-centered religion, are praiseworthy accomplishments.
That said, other aspects disappoint and annoy.
The tone of the writing appears intended to breathe heightened significance into the actions of the women in the community. I have the unconfirmed feeling that this is a literary decision bordering on the political, a way of making this book feel as important as the Bible. Unfortunately, the righteous descriptions of people's sensations and reactions felt more like an educated alcoholic's expatiation on some happy aspect of their lives: it feels almost maudlin, rather than important.
One can enjoy this as a great work of imagination, a description of a past that never was, just as the Harry Potter books are a great romp through a magical world that doesn't exist. However, Diamant wrote this to tell us something about our world today. Women chafe under the determination of the men, except when they act in realms unknown to males (childbirth, menstruation, worship of the Great Mother). Women's stories are recovered from the dustbin of history, and given greater attention than those androcentric stories our patriarchal culture has allowed to be passed down for the last 40 centuries. Worship of "El," the monotheistic practice that started us on today's paths of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, is just another option in the panoply of pagan practices. The message for today is that organized religion doesn't address women's spiritual needs, but paganism does.
The problem with Diamant's underlying message is that she misses the revolutionary nature of Abram's and Jacob's practice. If you believe that the Jews reached a fundamentally new understanding of God, you cannot enjoy this book.
I'll focus on Leah's reaction to Reuben's circumcision, on page 42. Dinah describes how unsure Jacob was about whether and how he would perform the operation. The next paragraph opens with "still, it had to be done." Leah agonizes and feels sick over the coming "mutilation" of her son. Further in the paragraph, we learn that the foreskin means nothing to Leah - so she doesn't care whether he gets circumcised after all? The paragraph ends with the women in the Red Tent laughing at the delicate equipment men carry between their legs.
To summarize, this fellow Jacob shows up as a stranger to a tribe in some isolated hills in Palestine. He marries several of the women, then declares that his understanding of his obligation to the one God requires him to cut off the foreskin of his sons' penises. The women react to this by saying "whatever - just as long as we can still make fun of what you're born with between your legs."
The Red Tent posits that it is somehow an injustice that we have preserved the men's stories from those days, and not the women's. While Dinah's story is remarkable, and she lives a wealth of interesting experiences, Diamant never suggests anything in her story worth saving over four millenia; certainly the women's response to circumcision is forgettable, particularly when one considers the significance of circumcision.
Circumcision was a sign of the covenant between God and His people after Abram showed faith. It is a vitally important part of the Jewish religion at the time. It is connected to the amazing and disturbing story of Abram being willing to murder his son Isaac because a voice in his head, which Abram recognized as God, told him to do so. The story and the rite have been preserved for centuries because they plumb the depths of our souls and help to bring us into a new relationship with the divine. They say something deeply meaningful to us even today, and in every age. I recommend reading Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling, for further understanding of the horror and majesty of this story.
This new religion broke with prior pagan religions in that it was based on faith, rather than material gain. It required faith to practice, and the reward was faith. Dinah and the other women get material and sensual benefits from their polytheistic worship of wooden statues and other gods: her curses to her brothers are seen as effective, she feels an oceanic unity with womanhood on her first menstrual period, she prays to the gods so that women facing a death in childbirth live. But she doesn't have faith, which is everything (according to Kierkegaard, and according to monotheistic religion). Faith is the trusting relationship with God, the peace that knows no understanding (for who can understand Abram's peaceful resolution to murder his son?). As the individual relationship with God, faith is democratic - accessible to all, regardless of sex or social position - and freeing. "Oppression" means nothing to a person who has faith; the person with faith overcomes it. Despite today's female elite fashion to scorn monotheistic, "patriarchal" religion, that kind of religion offers the most effective way today to overcome perceived discrimination.
This brings me to the opening of the paragraph I mention above - "still, it [circumcision] had to be done." Why, if Leah felt sick about the pending mutilation? Jacob was one man in a solitary community. His father-in-law, Laban, was not part of the covenant, and probably couldn't care less. Surely Leah could have enlisted her sisters to oppose this, if she felt afraid on her own. In previous pages, we learned that the women in Palestine could determine which of their sons received the father's birthright and which received his blessing. The implied answer, "that some man decided it and the women had no say," does not make sense. The domestic power arrangement at the time had to involve a great deal of consent from the women, a conclusion which affects how one sees today's women's movements.
The Red Tent exalts feeling, sensation and emotion as our validation in life. It ignores the centrality of faith in the religions it scorns. Since I see religion as primarily a way to practice faith, rather than a way to feel better, I could not give this work more than two stars.
What does not seem to be important here is what gods are worshipped, or how many, but that the roles of men and women are changing. There have previously been matriarchs as powerful as the patriarchs - Sarah, wife of Abraham, and Rebecca, wife of Isaac. Yet Leah and Rachel are not given as much prominence in Jacob's tribe. Not that the lot of women, such as Laban's slave wife Ruti, is all that fantastic. But with the loss of their traditions, the potency of these women seems to diminish. Although the four wives of Jacob add to his richness with their skills, there is a danger that those women who are not enslaved, will be even more reduced in their roles as they become mere bargaining chips in transactions amongst men. Rebecca sadly concludes that Dinah will not be her heir at Mamre. Jacob, shamed to have discovered that Rachel did actually steal Laban's teraphim, destroys these icons of household gods that have been used to welcome Dinah into adulthood. And from there, things do really start to go wrong. But is this due to a curse of their gods, or because Jacob has grown suspicious of his wives and their ways, and now relies instead on his avaricious sons Simon and Levi for advice?
There are some differences from the Biblical account of the same events. In the Bible, Laban welcomes Jacob with open arms. Jacob also wrestles with the Lord God himself before reuniting with Esau, but Anita Diamant suggests that his broken leg and fever were caused by an encounter with a wild boar instead (although, since Dinah is accompanied with Joseph when she encounters the boar, we are never quite certain that it is real, since Joseph has a tendency of seeing visions, just like his father). In the Bible, it's Jacob who gives Joseph his famous technicolour dreamcoat, but in The Red Tent, Rachel is the more likely tailor of this garment that Joseph's brothers sneer at. There is not much mention of a famine in Egypt, even although Zafenat Paneh-ah is in power there. A few of Jacob's sons would have appeared to die earlier than they do in the Bible, and Judah and Reuben are not as squeaky clean in the Bible as Anita Diamant presents them. And the last mention of Dinah in the Bible is "Should he deal with our sister as with an harlot?", which does not forebode well... Anita Diamant accounts for these differences by relating that these are the forms of the tales as carried down by the women, whilst Jacob's account of the same events is quite different. Since Jacob has only the one daughter, it would not appear that the women's stories will survive, but maybe the story of Dinah is too terrible to be forgotten...
Some of the most compelling passages are the birth scenes: like Rachel before her, Dinah becomes a successful and much sought-after midwife, and Diamant has researched the herbs and the methods they would have used at that time very well. This is most of all, a highly compassionate novel - when Dinah leaves us, her audience, we are truly sorry to see her go, and that it a sign that Diamant has created a vibrant and powerful character. The minor characters also make a great impact - although her scenes are few, if ever there is a film of The Red Tent, I would suggest that the role of Werenro be played by Julia Roberts. If you know the Biblical story well, then you will know that there are quite a few horrors in store for our Dinah, and Anita Diamant has handled these well. But as equally important as the horrors are the delights of this book, and they are as numerous as the tribe of Israel of which they tell. Although this novel has been mainly marketed at women, male readers will be equally enthralled by Anita Diamant's splendid narrative. I have done an online reading guide - interested readers can contact me for this.
Go ahead and laugh if you will, but when you get to be my age, this nose hair thing is a real problem. My wife actually had to buy me an electric trimmer. You turn the thing on and it makes a little buzzing noise and you shove it in your nose and twirl it around. The point is, I found myself doing things like grinding away at my nose hairs rather than read this book.
It's the story of Dinah, very minor Old Testament figure in the story about Jacob. The biblical story has her "defiled" by a member of some local ruling family, which caused her family, Jacob's family, to exact brutal revenge. In the novel, this turns into more of a modern-day love affair, with Dinah willing to marry the guy, but, true to the times, Jacob's family kills them anyway. The novel is Dinah's complete story, including the stories of her mothers and aunts.
I like the premise of the novel: the Bible would seem to be a pretty good place to mine for historical fiction. And the fact that the author changed the central plot around a little doesn't bother me a bit. It's fiction, by goodness; we expect if not desire this kind of thing.
But the writing is so pedestrian and so shallow that it is very difficult to remain interested. The first third of the book is about Dinah's mother and aunts--her "mothers," as she calls them, because they all were married to Jacob, and because they all had a hand in raising her. It is written in the first person by her, so she obviously wasn't around for this part of the story, and she relates these events in a the very dry, narrative-summary style. She tells of an event, then shows us what her mothers had to say about it, instead of showing us the event itself. It kind of makes your eyes swim.
The pace picks up a little bit when her own story begins, at least to the extent that she shows us events as they occur, but the problem here is that there is nothing new. Oh, she shows her family living in tents, and raising goats and animals. The town she first visits is dusty and large, to her provincial eyes, and there are jugglers and other strange personages roaming around. She describes the Egyptian town she finally ends up in pretty well: there are artisans and masons, and she also gives us a good idea of the food and drink available there. And this is good, but it doesn't take that extra step. One gets the sense that she didn't do more than the most rudimentary research into these times; most of what she relates are such things as one could have imagined right off the top of his head. There is just not enough detail.
There is no insight into religious matters either, which is something one might reasonably expect when reading a fictional account of biblical events. For example, Abraham's story is briefly commented upon by one of Dinah's mothers thusly: "What kind of mercy [God's] is that, to scare the spit dry in Isaac's mouth? Your father's God may be great, but he is cruel." This is the extent of it. Now you can think whatever you want to about the Abraham story, but you can't deny that there are many interpretations of the meaning of this event. The rather biased, twentieth-century, Marxist view presented here adds nothing. The circumcision thing left me scratching my head also. When Jacob had his first son, all the mothers were horrified that he was going to perform this rite. So was I, for that matter. Which led me to wonder, how in the heck did this become a custom in the first place, 4,000 years before Christ? But nope, no light is shed on this. We learn nothing.
In the end though, the overriding disappointment here is the writing style, which is grossly sentimental, humorless syrup. The main characters, all of whom are women, seem to do nothing other than run to each other kissing and hugging and tasting each other's tears and celebrating the love they have for each other with song and dance, especially while they give birth to babies, zillions of them, in events which are described in excruciating detail about every third page of this witless mind-deadener. It is a great relief to be done with it.