I came upon this book having read nothing in-depth previously about Israel or the history of the Jewish people. My educational exposure had been limited to my half-hearted, soon-to-be abandoned effort in early childhood to read the Old Testament and Christian Bible; the subjects' cursory treatment in school; and later, reports and commentary in news media. While media reports and commentary helped to inform, they could not patch the gaps in my knowledge.

My Promised Land transformed this reader from a person who was largely oblivious of the issues, and therefore disinterested, to someone fueled by a keen desire to learn more about the Jewish people, and their ancient history and earliest origins.

How could a book of non-fiction inspire in that way?

Ari Shavit wrote a love letter to and on behalf of Israel. It's a love letter filled with aching pride, affection - and equal shame. It soars with hope - then plummets to the depths of despair. Its words sparkle with brilliant clarity, amidst arrant confusion. Shavit wrote his book of non-fiction like a novel of the best contemporary literature.

My Promised Land is a journey of self-discovery for both the man and his people. It's at once a deeply personal history and the history of a young nation. The author tells the tale of his ancestors and those of others, the details of their lives uncovered from long-buried or previously unknown photographs and records. Then he describes events and locations of almost two centuries ago as if he were there, as though he had jumped into a time machine and transported himself to those places. Through artful language, he then describes what he sees, hears, smells and feels so that, in turn, the reader is also transported.

I was taken particularly by Shavit's story of a 1930s orange grove, one which had been located in the Jewish colony of Rehovot in Palestine, in a period not long before all hell broke loose. An entire chapter is devoted to the birth and growth of Israel's orange industry.

Prior to the passage I quote below, Shavit has described in exquisite detail how the owner and his orange grove came to be, at this time and in this place. How the land would have been ploughed, the water canals dug, and the hoped-for orange trees seeded. How and when the first shoots of the young trees would have appeared. And how the relations among neighbours, Arab and Jew, grew from curiosity to conviviality, to their visiting each others' homes, sharing meals and enjoying festivities together.

The first season of the young orange grove is critical. The orange grower has to start up the formidable pump that draws water from the deep well. He has to clear out the irrigation canals into which unripe fruit has fallen in winter. He has to redig the furrows and bowls, and weed, clean, and dispose of dry thorny branches. He has to make sure that all is set for the first rains of summer.

At the end of April 1935, disaster strikes in the form of a heat wave…. If action is not taken immediately, half of the orange crop will be lost and the citrus season of 1935–36 will be a bust. The first watering of the young Rehovot grove is therefore an act of emergency. The pump pulls the clear water to the pool, and from there the water travels down the open, cemented canals until it emerges from the circular openings of the clay grate into the sandy furrows. The Arab guardian, his pants hiked up to his knees, his bare feet covered in mud, guides the water with a hoe from tree to tree. He quickly traps the water by each tree with a tall mound of soil so that the trees would be able to withstand the deadly dry desert winds.

The heat wave brings with it a sense of panic. More water is needed quickly. They must save what can be saved. The orange grower and the Arab guardian are joined by their families, who work beside them in the stifling heat. Still, in the midst of the panic they can hear the sounds of children’s gaiety, shouting in Hebrew and in Arabic, as they run to watch the gushing water. After the children lend their small hands to the great common effort, they steal away to the square pool and jump gleefully into its cool waters. While the adults are still struggling with the heat and with the sense of approaching calamity, the youngsters discover all that is forbidden, wondrous, and fun in this man-made Garden of Eden.

It is not all so tranquil and not long thereafter conflict erupts.

A Jew born in Israel, Shavit knows that only facing the truth of Israel's creation and the circumstances of its present, in all its history's bald, brutal detail will save the young nation's future. An example is the author's blunt description of the 1948 Lydda slaughter which began Israel's ousting of Palestinians from their homes. Those who had been brutally dispossessed in turn dispossessed Palestinians, uprooting them from homes in which the Palestinians' own ancestors had been born centuries past. Shavit devotes an entire chapter to Lydda alone.

It's clear that Shavit's heart breaks at the atrocities and injustices done by the Zionists. It is clear also that, while he abhors the means, he recognizes the necessity of the outcome, for otherwise there would have been no Israel and no Israelis, such as one named Ari Shavit.

I've only one criticism about the book. It began to drag near the end and could have been about 50 pages shorter. Shavit excels at painting in words the reality suggested by old records and photos. However, when he waxes philosophical, he frequently repeats the same idea over several sentences; and he waxed most philosophical near the end of the book. That is a minor criticism, however, one merely worth the docking of half a star. Since a half-star isn't an option, I rate this book five stars.

Thanks to My Promised Land, I shan't soon forget the names of persons and places I'd not heard of previously. I'll not forget Lydda; and I want to go back and read that chapter again - and likely, again. Nor will I forget that orange grove owner or his Arab guardian, both of whom worked side-by-side to save the young orange trees. And I am determined now to learn more about Israel and her people.