Critique du Publishers Weekly
Every once in a while, Grossman abandons his structurally intricate, morally complex novels of Israeli society, such as Be My Knife and See Under: Love, for lighter fare aimed at both adolescent and adult readers. But "lighter" is a relative term; like his previous adventure story The Zigzag Kid, this new novel drags its teenage protagonists through some heavy terrain. In this case, the milieu is the growing population of poor and drug-addicted runaways eking out a living on Jerusalem's streets. Assaf is an average Israeli teenage boy, shy and awkward, more comfortable with video games than with his schoolmates. His father arranges a do-nothing summer job for him with the City Sanitation Department, and he spends most of his time daydreaming about soccer until he is hitched up with a lost dog named Dinka and ordered to find its owner. Assaf learns, from the dog's retracing of its usual habits, that the owner's name is Tamar, a fellow teenager, but locating her quickly develops into something grander and more difficult-a knightly quest, on the order of a classic folk tale or hidden-door computer game, replete with guides (an elderly Greek nun, doped-up Russian immigrants), trolls (a vicious street gang), an evil king named Pesach and, of course, a princess to rescue. To Grossman's credit, Tamar is no typical lady-in-distress; she's on a quest of her own, to free her brother Shai from the clutches of the shady Pesach, a "manager" who exploits teenage street performers. To find him, she shaves her head and sings for spare change until she descends deep into the runaway world, perhaps too far to ever re-emerge. In Grossman's hands, this plot is both pleasingly familiar and made new through immersion in the details of Israeli life. Almog and Gurantz do a fine job translating the book's mix of teenage dialogue and lush description. (Jan.) Forecast: In Israel, this novel (and The Zigzag Kid) sold to adolescent as well as adult readers and was a bestseller. The Zigzag Kid fared less well in the U.S., and Someone to Run With may also have trouble finding the right audience here, since even Grossman's fans tend to prefer his more political writings. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Critique de Booklist
Very different from Grossman's books of political commentary, this entertaining novel is more like his Zigzag Kid (1997), part urban survival adventure, part YA romance, and part mystery. A best-seller in Israel and translated from the Hebrew in an informal, relaxed style, the story weaves together the lives of two middle-class teens who find themselves in Jerusalem's violent drug underworld. Tamar, a talented singer, runs away from home with her beloved dog, shaves her head, sets up a hideout. Who is she searching for? Why is she on the run? When she loses her dog, awkward, shy teenager Assaf finds the stray lab, who then leads him on a wild chase across the city until they find Tamar. The mob violence is too easily resolved, but the many plot surprises about unconscious messengers are fun, even when they are awkwardly contrived. For many readers, the most memorable character will be the lost dog, who always knows where he is going, who he is, and whom he loves. --Hazel Rochman Copyright 2003 Booklist
Critique de Kirkus
An agreeably melodramatic sixth novel from the prizewinning author (Be My Knife, 2001, etc.). Here, two Israeli teenagers undertake intersecting perilous quests. When Assaf, who's 16 and enduring a demeaning summertime job at Jerusalem's City Hall, is ordered to find (and fine) the owner of an obstreperous stray dog, he stumbles into a world reshaped by terrorist attacks, rampant criminality, and confused loyalties. Discovering that the person he seeks is a runaway girl (also 16) named Tamar, Assaf (and the dog, Dinka) prowl Jerusalem's darkest corners, receiving leading information from Theodora, an aged Greek nun who hasn't left her apartment in 50 years, yet seems to have been a de facto fairy godmother to vagabond youths and street people. Meanwhile, Grossman constructs a parallel narrative (beginning earlier than do Assaf's adventures) of Tamar's entry into a gang of street performers masterminded by criminal boss Pesach (whose other minions pick the pockets of his performers' audiences). We learn that Tamar, a precociously gifted singer, is seeking her brother Shai, a heroin addict in thrall to Pesach. The two narratives move swiftly, eventually joining for a prolonged climax, during which Tamar and Assaf see Shai through a grueling withdrawal, and Assaf understands the necessity and comfort of having "someone to run with" in such embattled times. This is a consistently absorbing tale, even when much of it strains credibility. Neither Theodora nor Pesach, for example, is, strictly speaking, a believable character. But we soon see that she is Grossman's version of Great Expectations's immortal recluse Miss Havisham--and that he is another version of Oliver Twist's enduringly creepy Fagin. The Dickensian provenance and romantic texture here--and the hyperbole with which its young protagonists' exploits are imbued--in fact very effectively dramatize the experience of living in a volatile society and the resources required for survival therein. Grossman's most entertaining book yet. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Critique du Library Journal
This new work from Grossman (Be My Knife) offers something new for the American reading public-a novel set in Israel that has nothing to do with the Palestinian dispute or the continuing impact of the Holocaust. That said, it is important to note that it's not a potential Disney production either. Its three main protagonists are 16-year-old Assaf, stuck in a boring summer job; Tamar, a lonely, albeit very talented, young singer who takes to the streets in search of her brother, Shai; and Dinka the dog, Tamar's companion and protector. Himself a talented musician, Shai is a heroin addict who has fallen under the power of Pesach, a Russian Mafia don who runs a pickpocketing operation using runaway street performers as bait. Tamar hopes that by performing on the streets herself she will be found by Pesach, brought into his operation, and led to her brother. The plan works, but escaping the Russian's clutches results in the loss of Dinka, who ends up in the pound where Assaf works. Told to locate the owner, Assaf finds himself trailing Dinka all over Jerusalem, encountering an assortment of rather eccentric characters, before finding Tamar and discovering feelings new to him. Appealing primarily to the serious young adult and the twentysomething audience, this belongs in most public libraries.-David W. Henderson, Eckerd Coll. Lib., St. Petersburg, FL (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Extraits
Excerpt from Someone to Run With by David Grossman, translated by Vered Almog and Maya Gurantz. Copyright (c) 2000 by David Grossman. Translation copyright (c) 2004 by Vered Almog and Maya Gurantz. To be published in January, 2004 by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved. A dog runs through the streets, a boy runs after it. A long rope connects the two and gets tangled in the legs of the passersby, who grumble and gripe, and the boy mutters "Sorry, sorry" again and again. In between mumbled sorries he yells "Stop! Halt!"--and to his shame a "Whoa-ah!" escapes from his lips. And the dog keeps running. It flies on, crossing busy streets, running red lights. Its golden coat disappears before the boy's very eyes and reappears between people's legs, like a secret code. "Slower!" the boy yells, and thinks that if only he knew the dog's name, he could call it and perhaps the dog would stop, or at least slow down. But deep in his heart he knows the dog would keep running, even then. Even if the rope chokes its neck, it'll run until it gets where it's galloping to--and don't I wish we were already there and I was rid of him! All this is happening at a bad time. Assaf, the boy, continues to run ahead while his thoughts remain tangled far behind him. He doesn't want to think them, he needs to concentrate completely on his race after the dog, but he feels them clanging behind him like tin cans. His parents' trip--that's one can. They're flying over the ocean right now, flying for the first time in their lives--why, why did they have to leave so suddenly, anyway? His older sister--there's another can--and he's simply afraid to think about that one, only trouble can come of it. More cans, little ones and big ones, are clanging, they bang against each other in his mind--and at the end of the string drags one that's been following him for two weeks now, and the tinny noise is driving him out of his mind, insisting, shrilly, that he has to fall madly in love with Dafi now--because how long are you going to try to put it off? And Assaf knows he has to stop for a minute, has to call these maddening tin followers to order, but the dog has other plans. Assaf sighs--"Hell!"--because only a minute before the door opened and he was called in to see the dog, he was so close to identifying the part of himself in which he could fall in love with her, with Dafi. He could actually, finally, feel that spot in himself; he could feel himself suppressing it, refusing it in the depths of his stomach, where a slow, silent voice kept whispering. She's not for you, Dafi, she spends all her time looking for ways to sting and mock everyone, especially you: why do you need to keep up this stupid show, night after night? Then, when he had almost succeeded in silencing that quarrelsome voice, the door of the room in which he had been sitting every day for the last week, from eight to four, opened. There stood Avraham Danokh, skinny and dark and bitter, the assistant manager of the City Sanitation Department. (He was sort of a friend of his father's and got Assaf the job for August.) Danokh told him to get off his ass and come down to the kennels with him, now, because there was finally work for him to do. Danokh paced the room and started explaining something about a dog. Assaf didn't listen. It usually took him a few seconds to transfer his attention from one situation to another. Now he was dragging after Danokh along the corridors of City Hall, past people who came to pay their bills or their taxes or snitch on the neighbors who built a porch without a license. Following Danokh down the fire stairs, then into the courtyard in back, he tried to decide whether he had already managed to defeat his own last stand against Dafi, whether he knew yet how he would respond today when Roi told him to quit stalling and start acting like a man. Already, in the distance, Assaf heard one strong, persistent bark and wondered why it sounded like that: usually the dogs all barked together--sometimes their chorus would disturb his daydreams on the third floor--and now only one was barking. Danokh opened a chain-link gate and, turning to tell Assaf something he couldn't make out over the barks, opened the other gate, and, with a flick of his hand, motioned Assaf down the narrow walkway between the cages. The sound was unmistakable. It was impossible to think that Danokh had brought Assaf down here for just one dog; eight or nine were penned in separate cages. But only one dog was animated; it was as if it had absorbed the others into its own body, leaving them silent and a bit stunned. The dog wasn't very big, but it was full of strength and savagery and, mainly, despair. Assaf had never seen such despair in a dog; it threw itself against the chain links of its cage again and again, making the entire row shake and rattle--then it would produce a horrifying high wail, a strange cross between a whine and a roar. The other dogs stood, or lay down, watching in silence, in amazement, even respect. Assaf had the strange feeling that if he ever saw a human being behave that way, he would feel compelled to rush up and offer his help--or else leave, so the person could be alone with his sorrow. In the pauses between barks and slams against the cage, Danokh spoke quietly and quickly: one of the inspectors had found the dog the day before yesterday, running through the center of town near Tziyyon Square. At first the vet thought it was in the early stage of rabies, but there were no further signs of disease: apart from the dirt and a few minor injuries, the dog was in perfect health. Assaf noticed that Danokh spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as if he were trying to keep the dog from knowing it was being talked about. "He's been like that for forty-eight hours now," Danokh whispered, "and still not out of batteries. Some animal, huh?" he added, stretching nervously as the dog stared at him. "It's not just a street dog." "But whose is it?" Assaf asked, stepping back as the dog threw itself against the metal mesh, rocking the cage. "That's it, exactly," Danokh responded nasally, scratching his head, "that's what you have to find out." "Me? How me?" Assaf quavered. "Where will I find him?" Danokh said that as soon as this kalb--he called it a kalb , using Arabic--calms down a little, we'll ask him. Assaf looked at him, puzzled, and Danokh said, "We'll simply do what we always do in such cases: we tie a rope to the dog and let it walk for a while, an hour or two, and it will lead you itself, straight and steady, to its owner." Assaf thought he was joking--who had ever heard of such a thing? But Danokh took a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and said it was very important, before he gave the dog back, for the owners to sign the form. Form 76. Put it in your pocket--and don't lose it (because, to tell the truth, you seem a little out to lunch). And most important, you have to explain to the esteemed master of this dog that a fine is included. A settlement of one hundred and fifty shekels or a trial--and he'd better pay up. First of all, he neglected to watch his dog, and maybe that will teach him a lesson to be more careful next time, and second, as a mi nimal compensation (Danokh enjoyed sucking, mockingly, on every syllable) for the headache and hassle he had caused City Hall, not to mention the waste of time of such su perb human resources! With that, he tapped Assaf on the shoulder a little too hard and said that after he found the dog's owners, he could return to his room in the Water Department and continue to scratch his head at the taxpayers' expense until the end of his summer vacation. "But how am I . . ." Assaf objected. "Look at it . . . It's like, crazy . . . " But then it happened: the dog heard Assaf's voice and stood still. It stopped running back and forth in the cage, approached the wire mesh, and looked at Assaf. Its ribs were still heaving, but it moved more slowly. Its eyes were dark and seemed to focus intensely on him. It cocked its head to the side, as if to get a better look at him, and Assaf thought that the dog was about to open its mouth right then and say in a completely human voice, Oh yeah? You're not exactly a model of sanity yourself. It lay on its stomach, the dog; it lowered its head, and its front legs slipped under the metal grid, begging with a digging motion, and out of its throat a new voice emerged, thin and delicate like the cry of a puppy, or a little boy. Assaf bent in front of it, from the other side of the cage. He didn't notice what he was doing--even Danokh, a hard man, who had arranged the job for Assaf without much enthusiasm, smiled a thin smile when he saw the way Assaf got down on his knees at the blink of an eye. Assaf looked at the dog and spoke quietly to it. "Who do you belong to?" he asked. "What happened to you? Why are you going so crazy?" He spoke slowly, leaving room for answers, not embarrassing the dog by looking into its eyes for too long. He knew--his sister Reli's boyfriend had taught him--the difference between talking at a dog and talking with a dog. The dog was breathing fast, lying down. Now, for the first time, it seemed tired, exhausted, and it looked a lot smaller than before. The kennels finally fell silent, and the other dogs began moving again, as if coming back to life. Assaf put his finger through one of the holes and touched the dog's head. It didn't move. Assaf scratched its head, the matted, dirty fur. The dog began to whine, frightened, persistent, as if it had to unburden itself to someone right away, as if it could no longer keep silent. Its red tongue trembled. Its eyes grew large and expressive. Assaf didn't argue with Danokh after that. Danokh took advantage of the dog's momentary calm: he entered the cage and tied a long rope to the orange collar hidden in its thick fur. "Go on, take it," Danokh ordered. "Now it'll go with you like a doll." Danokh jumped back when the dog leaped up and out of the cage, instantly shaking off its fatigue and silent surrender. It looked right and left with fresh nervousness and sniffed the air as if it were listening for a distant voice. "See? You guys already get along great," Danokh said, trying to convince Assaf and himself. "You just watch out for yourself in the city--I promised your dad." The last words were thick in his throat. The dog was now focused and tense. Its face sharpened, for a moment it was almost wolflike. "Listen," Danokh mumbled with misgiving, "is it okay to send you out like this?" Assaf didn't answer, only stared in astonishment at the change in the dog once it was free. Danokh tapped his shoulder again. "You're a strong kid. Look at you. You're taller than me and your father. You can control it, right?" Assaf wanted to ask what he should do if the dog refused to lead him to its owners, how long he should walk after it (the three lunchtime sandwiches were f0waiting for him in his desk drawer). What if, for instance, the dog had had a fight with the owners and had no intention of going back to its home-- Assaf did not ask those questions at the time, or at any other time. He did not return to meet Danokh that day, nor would he return over the next few days. Sometimes it is so easy to determine the exact moment when something--Assaf's life, for instance--starts to change, irreversibly, forever. The moment Assaf's hand clutched the rope, the dog uprooted itself with an amplified leap and pulled Assaf with it. Danokh raised his hand in fright, managed to take a step or two after his hijacked employee, even started running after him. It was useless. Assaf was already being tugged outside City Hall, forced to stumble down the stairs. He broke into the streets, later smashed into a parked car, a garbage can, the people passing by. He ran . . . Excerpted from Someone to Run With: A Novel by David Grossman All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
