It is 1943, and despite occupation by the Italian army, allied to Nazi Germany, the remote French commune of Saint-Martin-Vésubie, close to the border, seems to be a haven for Jews. Although she has been obliged to adopt the French name Hélène, Esther’s family is not typically Jewish because her father, a former teacher, is a self-styled communist and “pagan” who risks his life guiding refugees along the “Old Salt Road” passes across the Alps into northern Italy. When in due course Esther is obliged to flee in turn with her mother, she falls under the influence of a rabbi, so that, once the war is over , it makes sense for the pair to follow a relative’s advice to emigrate to Jerusalem “to forget” the troubled past. This proves impossible, since the establishment of Israel means displacement of the Palestinians and more strife.

Esther’s brief, chance meeting in Palestine with Nejma, an Arab girl of a similar age, is the device used to link the two characters, even if only tenuously.  Le Clézio portrays them as “wandering  stars”, innocent victims of circumstance uprooted from their homes who happen to be on opposite sides of the conflict. Yet their positions are not equal, for Esther has the means and choice to travel further and create a new life in Canada, although she will always be haunted by memories. Nejma’s story occupies less than a quarter of the novel, making it seem like a digression in the account of  Esther’s life, but it is more moving, since she suffers more in her attempts to survive at the most basic level in or outside the grim camps set up by the United Nations. Her future, which is left unclear, appears bleak.

Despite being very observant, even as a highly educated woman in later life, Esther does not seem to reflect much on how the injustice borne by her people has led to a chain reaction of suffering for others.  It is Nejma who has the insight to see the significance of a dying Arab’s question, “Le soleil ne brille-t-il pas pour tous?”  (“Doesn’t the sun shine for everyone?”)  This is the closest the author comes to “taking sides”.

Perhaps because I read this in December 2023, during the unrelenting bombardment of Gaza triggered by the brutal incursions by Hamas into Israel on October 7^th, I was expecting Le Clézio, as a Nobel Prize winner, to give more consideration to the moral issues raised by the conflicts which form the background to this novel.  It appears that he prefers to leave it to us to reflect on these, via his focus on individual lives, which tend to follow a random course, subject to fragmented, disjointed perceptions, as in reality.

From the outset, the lyrical, often repetitive prose creates a hypnotic effect as he describes in great detail the landscapes, sea voyages, small daily events in a village or refugee camp. The reader has to pay close attention, to glean scraps of information to build up a picture of what is going on. One needs a certain amount of general knowledge about, for instance, the Shoah or Holocaust, the belief in “Eretz Israel” leading to the foundation of the modern state in 1948, the Nakba (forced movement and dispossession of the Palestinians) and subsequent conflicts there to appreciate the novel more fully.

However, one can simply read this as a lyrical, impressionistic account of how war makes people rootless and vulnerable but hopefully coming to terms with their situation and gaining greater self-knowledge and control over their lives.