Ebisu Publications

This is what was, and what might have been.

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Category: Jezebel

  • Reviews, and a Holiday Sale!

    hanukkah

    I’ve just had both books reviewed by Amos Lassen, a gay activist and scholar of Jewish history. A somewhat abridged version of the reviews is below. And these came just in time for the holidays! So I’m announcing a special holiday sale of the second volume, The Stars in their Courses. Normally you can buy it at this website for $15 plus postage, but from now until the end of December, it is $10 flat–but only if you send a check for that amount to Ebisu Publications, 9026 N. Syracuse Street, Portland OR 97203. Please note that since I am out of town until November 20, all books will be mailed out starting on November 21. Here are the reviews:

    The Throne in the Heart of the Sea: Tyre was a major maritime empire in the Ninth Century, B.C.E (for those of you who are not aware, Jewish readers of the Bible and history do not use the initials B.C. but rather B.C.E. referring to that period as Before the Common Era). The king’s daughter, Jezebel, feels that the gods have chosen her to rule Tyre. Elijah, an Israelite farm boy, is bitter and swears to avenge his father’s death at the hands of the king [of Israel].

    There is another character, Tamar, a poor, dark-skinned young woman who yearned to be a scribe yet who is also a lover to Jezebel.

    I am totally in awe of author Martha Shelley ’s prose and her command of Biblical facts here and I cannot even imagine the amount of research that went into the writing of this book.

    We enter the worlds of Ancient Israel and Canaan as well as the lives of the three main characters. It was a world ruled by men and for men and to challenge required great strength and self-assuredness. What Shelley has done here is create characters that although they lived at a very different time in history, somehow seem to be quite contemporary and whose lives mirror ours to a degree. Jezebel, for example, dared to question her father and, in effect, doing so made her also question the status quo. As readers, we get to watch her development just as we watch Elijah transform from an Israelite farm boy into a prophet. (All I can say is WOW!!!).

    I have spent a great of my life studying the Hebrew Bible (The Five Books of Moses) and Elijah has always been one of the most mysterious characters in it but here he comes to life and seems so real that I believe everything he says and does. The three major characters come across as being very real and there was a moment when I looked up from the pages of the book and expected them to be in my study with me. I also must mention that the prose is gorgeous. This is a book that must be read. It is not often that we get a treat like this and the best news of all is that there are another two volumes to complete the trilogy.

    The Stars in Their Courses: In Book II of her Jezebel trilogy, Martha Shelley gives us a large story of sexual politics and religious wars as well as the clash of empires. Once again we go back to the ninth century; this time to the Levant and once again we see the characters that we read about here much differently than we see in the Bible. Our main characters are Jezebel, Elijah, Tamar and her guard Bez. Bez is a mutarajjul, a woman dressed in male clothing who usually works as a soldier or harem guard.

    At the beginning of the book, Tamar is in Egypt with Bez. She has come to further pursue her studies in medicine. Jezebel who had been her lover is now married to Ahab, king of Israel. She knows that if she wants to keep her position, she must give birth to an heir. She also flirts with the women in her husband’s harem. It seems that Elijah, by accident, has begun a massacre and is now on the hit list as the most wanted and dangerous man in Israel. When Ahab is away at war Jezebel takes over the reigns of government. The characters come together in various ways and eventually they will have to deal with Assyria, the mightiest and strongest empire in the world. We see how the characters came to their places in history as well as how they lived their daily lives. We also learn a bit about how they were psychologically— their loves and their hates, what they thought and how they became part of history.

    This is a sequel but it is not necessary to have read the first book as this stands on its own. The paths of the characters change in this second volume. There is a lot of drama and a lot of adventure here. There is also a great deal of tension that the reader feels as we move toward the war that has been brewing but to which the characters seem oblivious at times.

    Shelley brings history and fiction together and makes it a bit difficult (and a bit fun) to decide which is which. Her research is impressive and she uses it beautifully to weave the stories of these characters. I have one problem with this book is that I have to wait for the third volume and knowing that is a trilogy that will be the end.

    Now I have a bit of confession. I have always considered myself something of a gay activist and I know many others who were far more active and vocal than me. However, I ashamedly admit, that I had not heard of Martha Shelley before and after reading about who she is, I am a bit embarrassed to not have known. But now I know that she has been of the leaders in our liberation movement and an excellent writer to boot. She is a marvel of a person and I am so proud to have met her through her writing.

  • Assyrian Empire: Blood at the Banquet

    This week the big news in the U.S. has been about torture, as conducted by the C.I.A. after 9/11. I’ve spent some time with the comments section in my hometown newspaper: the majority of readers are outraged, while some defend the practice. Some even seem naïve enough to be shocked. However, most ruling elites, ours included, achieve and maintain their power by violence or the threat of violence.

    My novels about Jezebel take place when the Assyrian empire on the rise. A major predator without much in the way of natural resources (they didn’t know what to do with all that oil yet), it devoured the wealth and slave labor of other nations through conquest. Still, life was good for the elite and for what you might call the Assyrian middle class.

    In writing historical novels, I do my best to absorb historians’ and archaeologists’ descriptions and present the reader with snapshots that convey the color and flavor of an ancient civilization without descending into tedious academic detail. Below are a couple of the snapshots of ancient Assyria, from The Throne in the Heart of the Sea.

    Assyrian banquet1) The new Assyrian king has invited guests from other nations to celebrate the inauguration of his new capital. These guests include our heroine, Tamar. Wealthy and middle-class citizens are also in attendance.

    Hundreds of brightly striped awnings stretched from the riverbank up along the gently rolling terrain. Thousands of people milled about. Somewhere at the front of the mob the king was offering a sacrifice to Ashur. Tamar came late, so she waited at the edge of the crowd, hearing nothing of the ceremony, seeing nothing over the heads of those in front of them except smoke rising from the flames that would prepare their dinner.

    When the offering had been made, she threaded their way to the women’s section. Finely dressed ladies pushed ahead of them, trailing expensive scents, burbling effusive apologies without relinquishing a hair’s breadth of space, squatting knee to knee in every available bit of shade. Eventually they squeezed in across from a group of ladies in white linen, who seemed as cool as a school of fish in the Tigris.

    Servants carried jars of beer and copper trays up and down the aisles. The first course was roast chickpeas, pickled locusts, and pomegranate seeds, and a towel for the ladies to wipe their fingers.

    An enormous pastry arrived. They broke through the crust cover and found it stuffed with songbirds cooked in milk and sprinkled with mint. Then more beer arrived, along with the main course—a huge bowl of beef simmering in onions, surrounded by heart-shaped loaves. Within moments the ladies had torn the bread apart and were scooping up thick chunks of fragrant stew.

    “This is delicious!” Tamar exclaimed. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

    “Oh, I’m so glad,” said an Assyrian lady. “I do it this way at home. It’s one of my husband’s favorite recipes.”

    “How do you make it?”

    “Easiest thing in the world. Simmer chunks of fresh cow spleen with salted stomach, add milk, onions, and crushed dodder seed. While it’s cooking you pound more onions and some leek with fresh beef blood, add that during the last few minutes, sprinkle in a little mint and serve.”

    “Blood?” Tamar stared at the dripping hunk of bread in her hand. Dear Goddess, forgive me this sin against Your law and don’t let me throw up in front of everybody.

    2) Later, Tamar wanders through the city and accidentally encounters one aspect of the violence that supports the Assyrian empire and the comfortable life of its more fortunate citizens.

    Tamar was intending to stroll along the riverbank. After a while, however, she found herself in an unfamiliar quarter and realized she’d taken a wrong turn. She turned to retrace her steps and saw a large man coming on rapidly, hand on his sword belt. He yelled something. She began to run.

    In the distance she saw a flickering light and heard what sounded like drumming. A military band. She’d be safe with them. The man behind her increased his pace and she ran faster, until the stitch in her side became a stabbing. Then she rounded the last corner and arrived at a construction site. It was bathed in torchlight and surrounded by guards.

    She was standing at the edge of a plaza where naked men and women dragged stone blocks up ramps. Others squared the stones with chisels and shoved them into place. Work gangs slapped courses of bricks atop the foundation stones. Tamar forgot the stitch in her side, almost forgot the man behind her, as the syncopated ear-splitting hammering engraved this night in her heart forever: she drank in the stench of slaves who hadn’t bathed since their capture, drank the fetor of blood and the crack of whips, the black fumes of stone oil torches—

    Two men approached, hitched like donkeys to a heavy cart, its solid wooden wheels clattering on the cobblestones. She drew back to let them pass. The cargo of bodies was piled neatly, feet to front, heads lolling back at the rear. She gasped, and the donkey-slaves turned to look at her, displaying the brands on their cheeks, and something new in the world: the Assyrians, with their genius for organization, had tattooed numbers on their captives’ foreheads.