The Book Week

Signing my book

Nowadays, in various social networks, there are groups. For me groups are a complex matter. They're exactly the same as the social groups we had in kindergarten, elementary school, high school, and even in the army, university, and workplaces. In short, groups are everywhere. On the one hand, you want to belong to the top dog circle, and on the other hand, most of the time you detest its members because you're on the margins if not completely outside the circle. Once or twice in my life, I created an independent subversive gang that defied everything and everyone. The problem was that at the head of the dominant pack stood the prom queen who really disliked my non conformist circle and with whom I was usually in love. So that was a shitty situation and that is why I hate groups.

When the book I wrote was published by Catharsis Books, I was added to the Whats App Catharsis group with all the rest of the gifted writers and poets.

In the first week, right after the book was released into the world, I felt that for the first time in my life I had been accepted into the 'top dog circle' in the world of Hebrew literature and poetry. It included young poets, talented and bold writers, and the best translators who translated masterpieces that had never before been seen in the country. Two weeks after my book was released, a well-known celebrity's book came out, and my book disappeared completely from the group's consciousness, along with me.

Now it’s June 2023. In my home land, in every major town and city book festivals are happening and book booths are sprouting everywhere like mushrooms after the rain. But I am sitting on a hill in central Germany, watching rabbits peek at me from the meadow and then scurry away.

Looking at my phone I see the Catharsis Whats App group full of photos of booths filled with books and lists of young talents who will be standing by these booths at specific hours and days to talk about their books, read poems, and perhaps even sign one or two copies. The group is buzzing with excitement. And here a sense of existential insignificance sits beside me when I see all the smiling faces of the group members.

I delve into every picture that is shared in the WhatsApp group and search for my lonely book, telling myself that it must be on some stand in some city in my Israel, in the Middle East. The dear publisher believed in me, and whether I am worthy or not, he thought the book is good and that it deserves to exist on its own.

The images below remind me of CAPTCHA: (CAPTCHA - Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart).

To prove you are human, please select the images that show a book in apricot color with a turquoise stain in the center.

While examining the pictures closely I hear the sound of horse hooves nearby. I want to get away from all this happiness on my phone so I jump out of the van and run towards the sound of the hooves. I see a man leading a horse to a pasture. 'Can I take a photo?' I ask in English, and he reluctantly agrees. I think to myself – I’ll take the photo and then maybe ask if they will let me clean a stall. For free. Anything just to get away from the Book Week.

But the horse has other ideas and doesn’t want me anywhere near it. It whinnies, sways its head around and pulls the lead here and there, and the man says 'Ho!' to calm it down but the horse doesn’t calm down. I, the almost professional horse person, don't realize that the horse's behavior might have something to do with my presence and am still trying to photograph the horse. The man struggling to calm the horse looks angrily at me, and all at once I understand that I am not welcome. 'Sorry, sorry...' I mumble and flee back to my Nadedet.

So, as part of the global journey of self-discovery, I understand that the experience of feeling out of place or not a part of anything or unwelcome is a subjective experience that exists within me at all times and anywhere on the globe. It governs me, dictates my behavior and choices, and often torments me. How do we separate ourselves from an existential experience that has been a part of us since we came into this world, an experience that, like my blood, nourishes every particle of my soul, and without it, I believe, I would die. Or not.

While writing these lines, I am not breathing; specific muscles around my ears are tense, and all my senses are muffled and blurry. My eyes are open yet do not see. My ears hear only my inside noises. My nose does not smell, and my skin is numb.

I close my eyes. I breathe. Once and again. A deep breath followed by a regular breath. Listen. What do you hear? Outside, the hum of an engine and the chirping of birds. Inside, a buzzing noise. Tinnitus. The brain is in a black box. If all the sensory openings are sealed, the brain will talk to itself. If we stop this conversation, the brain will be in darkness and silence. Then it might rest and rejuvenate. Now focus only on the air entering your nostrils.

I open my eyes. Now I am back in my van and thinking more clearly and much more relaxed.

When I finished writing the book I really did believe that it was a good book. In fact, I was so sure it was good that I allowed other people to read it and the feedback was very promising and I began imagining myself giving interviews here and there. And then the publisher himself read it and called me back almost immediately saying it will be published and my euphoria reached new highs.

But after a while I realized that the real test happens when the book goes out to the book shops and meets the public. There you have the readers who don't know a thing about you and have never heard your name and if you don't know how to make the right moves maybe, maybe, maybe baby, you'll be discovered post humus and post Tahini. In other words, after you're dead. Maybe...

The book was published in March 2023. Now it is June and in June we have the Book Week. The Book Week is happening in Israel and I am in Germany so I can't promote my book in anyway at this time and even if I was in Israel I wouldn't know how to promote it or me. That is the simple reality of the situation and it's OK. Goodnight.