A translation of "Petty Business" provides comedy and nostalgia.
By AARON LEIBELPRIME MINISTER Yitzhak Rabin and Tel Aviv mayor Shlomo Lahat walk down Herzl Street in Tel Aviv in 1975(photo credit: YAACOV SAAR/GPO)Petty Business is the fix that nostalgia addicts crave. It will appeal to those who yearn to return to the Tel Aviv of the 1970s, ’80s and early ’90s. Then, it resembled a European city – gracious but with a low-key, small-town feel, a place where you would go to have cake and coffee and watch the Med, not the metropolis of 2018 with its cutting-edge architecture, its hi-tech bustle, its super highways that turn into elongated parking lots each day.But this novel is set not only in the Tel Aviv of mayor Shlomo “Chich” Lahat, but in an Israel in which Menachem Begin’s first two finance ministers, Simcha Ehrlich and Yigal Hurvitz, would feel comfortable. In that pre-“start-up nation” era, grocery store owners, such as this novel’s Yosef Zinman – rather than today’s software moguls – were among the country’s most prosperous citizens. A trip abroad featured a travel tax – the author rightly refers to it as a “travel ransom” – and holding foreign currency, except for that purchased from a bank and for the trip, was verboten.Even if you don’t remember Chich and have never been forced to buy dollars on the black market, you may enjoy Petty Business, as author Yirmi Pinkus is brutally honest and a keen observer of Israelis in particular and people in general. Plus he has a subtle sense of humor, which still comes across in the smooth translation by Evan Fallenberg and Yardenne Greenspan.The novel follows two sisters, Tzippi Zinman and Dvora Saltzman, and their families as they plan a vacation to Austria.Tzippi and Dvora don’t look alike, but their similarities flow from living in close proximity for so many years, Pinkus writes.“The four decades they have spent living side by side have distilled themselves into a pronounced family look that is unmistakable: the pursing of lips that accompanies the end of questions; scratching the tip of the nose in moments of embarrassment; the preference for wide tunics that fall nearly to the knee; and the huge plastic-frame glasses that both wear.”The author is adept at revealing people’s foibles but perceptively and in an offbeat and seemingly offhand manner. For example, Tzippi was both successful and wealthy. However, she had a serious character flaw: she liked to make promises but not follow through.“The promises she made stemmed from a deep, noble place: the fact that no actual deed could awaken in her soul the same kind of excitement generated by the mere announcement of her intentions.”Tzippi and Dvora’s brother Avrum is a slightly mysterious character who suffers from an excess of theatricality and ceremoniousness that “prevented people from getting angry at him, just as they were prevented from taking him seriously.”The author loves to expose hypocrisy. Both families are very solicitous about the welfare of their wealthy maiden Aunt Masha. From her youth until the end of her middle age, Masha liked to party and sought the company of men.“Behind her back,” the author notes, “members of the family wrinkled their noses with a sanctimoniousnesss meant to conceal the fact that they were concerned about the future of her assets. Still, not one of those men who passed like a cloud in the skies of the inheritors’ hopes succeeded in endangering their rights,” for Masha had long ago decided to leave her wealth to her relatives. The author casts light on the problem of tax cheating and the shady nature of some businesses operating illegally on the periphery of Israeli society.Although a comedy, Petty Business has a somber dimension. The tragedy that befalls the family was both not unexpected and devastating.Overall, this is a delightfully humorous novel. Petty Business may not engender loud guffaws, nor even many chortles, but you’ll find a smile frequenting your lips as you read.The book deals with a specific time in the life of Israel and Tel Aviv, but much of the human folly that the author pillories also can probably be found in Timbuktu, Tallahassee and Tehran – any place that we sometimes greedy, selfish, hypocritical Homo sapiens call home.Aaron Leibel is a former editor at The Jerusalem Post and Washington Jewish Week. His novel, Generations: The Story of a Jewish Family, which spans 1,500 years and three continents, is available online.
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