"Following the Trail" is a great story, just like the ones from the old days

It begins with the drowning of a young boy in a lake and a headteacher—a relentless thrower of chalk at pupils who mock his half-amputated hand with two paralysed fingers—who warns them not to go to the scene of the incident, which is full of mud and hazards. The action is set in Jerusalem in the 1970s. The lake is the result of a technical error in the construction of a dam, meaning the water ends up somewhere completely different from where it was supposed to.

Kermit lives opposite the dam, surrounded by rusty signs depicting a child with his arms raised just as he is about to be submerged by the water – there is also a warning that reads: danger of drowning, keep away. Nevertheless, Kermit, Ghershon and Schneider proceed regardless, ignoring the warnings and rushing toward it at the sound of the final bell. Upon arriving in front of the dam, after climbing over the hill two and a half times, they speak for the first time. Schneider asks: ‘Who’s died?’. And Kermit: “How should I know?” Schneider: “The headteacher said a boy.” And Ghershon: “Didn’t he say a person?”

It was a subtle and masterful touch – even somewhat in the style of Lansdale (as in Joe R.) – to have come up with this question. This is emphasised to show that, when it is there, even a scrap of fabric is enough to gauge talent. Talent that is never held back, page after page—all 547 of them—of this long novel entitled "Seguendo le tracce" (Giuntina, 22 euros, translated by Shulim Vogelmann), a great story of the sort they used to write. Perhaps it is because Assaf Gavron has translated Philip Roth and Jonathan Safran Foer and has, in some way, internalised that rhythm, those demands, that narrative structure, or for who knows what other reasons, but the novel is different from his previous works, which, whilst not shying away from friction with reality, indeed drew heavily on it to take flight. In one, The Hill, the focus was on Israeli settlers; in another, Hydromania, on Palestinians conquering Israel in the year 2067; and in yet another, The Eighteen Lashes, on a settling of historical scores dating back to the years of the British Mandate in Israel.

Here, Gavron changes tack; he no longer uses the individual to tell the story of the collective, but multiplies the individual by four and recounts the founding of Israel, interweaving it with the present through the story of a village that was once Arab and will become a chic suburb, and entrusting it to the unpleasant voice of Rechavam, a racist psychopath who eliminates unwanted dogs (all of Ghershon, the story’s great procrastinator). He sketches a friendship that begins, grows and expands, amidst falafel chains, reunions in London and ventures into the design of military graves. At one point, Gary Coleman – aka Arnold Drummond – even turns up. At the heart of this friendship, fate explodes in the form of a tragedy so profound that, regardless of what each character had thought or dreamt of themselves up to that point, reality will reshape everything.

It is a novel about unpredictable paths, including those of a romantic relationship. Here there is one such relationship – intermittent, fraught with conflict – which drives Litty and Ghershon apart and brings them back together, and which lasts right up to the final pages, when we are struck by the bitterness of a love that is more unfulfilled than lost. Assaf Gavron has crafted a story that rings true to life. He is aided by the protagonists – all capable of breaking the fourth wall – and a country shaped by destiny.