Into the darkness of my nothingness, something penetrates. It is far, far away and has a steady rhythm. I can only sense it. No thoughts, no memories, just this constant pulse, a grating sound is added. Each pulse carries a thousand needles. Each a little more powerful, with needles a bit thicker. I must run away, but in this new existence I have no legs, no arms. The dark is no longer a gas or liquid; it is pure magma, like black pain, storming in on me in chaotic patterns, hammering the walls of my consciousness. I must escape, I am fading away, I need a line to grab onto before I vanish once and for all. The beep is my rope, my secret map of escape. Beep…Beep…BEEP The contours of my body are drawn with sharp, increasing pain, now I finally know where my eyes are. I concentrate all my power, to try to open them a crack to reveal the real world, a world that might give me answers to the situation that I am in. Nothing, complete failure. The beats of a terrified heart join with the external beeping. I must try one more time, a superhuman drive, a complete focus of the mind on one goal-escape, before something fatal happens. 9 I utter a quick prayer, finally a crack opens. But it’s one blinding crack in a place where two should have opened. Something is wrong. Everything is wrong. I shut the crack because the light hurts. A voice rises from the swamp of my memories, rolling like horrific thunder. “Where do you think you are going? Running to be saved by your Jew? Now that the truth is known, there’s no doubt that you are going to hell!” I don’t recognize the voice, but my heart does, racing, demanding me to run for my life. I open wide one eye, a cry for help screams out of me, a sound I didn’t know my body could produce. I’m burning alive and I cannot run. Consumed by fire, I’m trapped with only the pain and the screams. Two figures dressed in white storm into my nameless space. A mix of voices, a sharp insufferable pain cutting through my burning skin, and then a silent blessing as I start to fade away. I’m awake again, the pain is still there, but less now. Now I see that I’m lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines, covered with white bandages. This new world has no smell, only a blurred figure of a woman sitting on a chair. All of this I see vaguely through one eye. I try asking the woman where I am, and why I’m here, and she is alarmed, jumping out of her seat, not answering, she rushes to my bedside. I can see eyes and a nose and a mouth. The eyes are smiling, kindly, instantly reducing my level of fear. She tries giving me a light touch on my arm, but it feels like a steamroller. She jerks back when she sees the terror in my eye. “I’m so sorry dear.” Her soft voice covers me like soothing raindrops. “Please nod if you can understand what I’m saying.” I try to move my head, and surprisingly it cooperates. Her face is lit up with an angelic smile. “I am Sarah. Do you know who you are?” I’m surprised by the question. Don’t people usually know who they are? I’m about to nod, but I suddenly realize that I’m actually not sure. My body tenses, the pain is unbearable. “Don’t worry dear. It happens sometimes when a person is going through such trauma and is on such strong medications.” I’m listening but not hearing, because I can’t find my own name inside my brain. “Do you remember why you are here?” Distracted, I don’t bother to respond. I’m still trying to remember my name. A tear rolls from my eye, finding its path beneath the bandages, its trail burning like a river of lava. Instinctively, I try to wipe it from my face. That’s a big mistake. I feel consciousness slipping away. I’m awake again, and I don’t know how long I was out, but Sarah is still bending over me, stroking my hair. “What happened to me?” I try speaking, but my lips refuse to move. I’m not able to see if she understands me. Tears are threatening, but I fight them off, hard. There is no way in the world I’m letting that pain happen again. “There will be time later for the full story, love. You have suffered a severe injury, but you are going to live.” Somehow her words don’t strike me as sounding too happy. 11 It’s a good thing that I am going to live, no? Then why does it sound like it would be better if I had died? I can see my blurred reflection in her thick glasses. I look like a mummy with tiny windows to the world where my right eye and mouth are. I try to lift my head, but it feels like a boulder at the base of a pyramid. “Don’t exhaust yourself, Amal. You will need all your strength in the coming days. Rest my child.” Amal. It sounds familiar and right. I am Amal, it’s true, but what about the rest? Where are the memories of Amal? I want to remember, but all I can think about is what is happening beneath the bandages. I can feel the molecules of my face, but it does not feel normal to me. Under the cloth things are terribly wrong, and I don’t want to find out. Deep inside I know there is no longer a human face.
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A true diamond, still in the rough. After a bit of polish, "White Smoke" will shine brilliantly across a wide world of readers.
“In our house of cards, everything is well known. Yonatan is the one card that cannot be touched. Remove it, and everything will collapse.”
Yonatan Green is a bisexual, intellectual troublemaker who will do anything to provoke his right-wing father, Israel’s Prime Minister, who always puts the country before his family. However, Yonatan finds himself proud of his father for the first time when he facilitates the creation of Isratine: a democratic union of Israel and the Palestinian Authority in the area between the Mediterranean Sea and Jordan River.
When Yonatan meets Meir, a shy tech entrepreneur, he falls in love for the first time, and the couple decides to marry. The family grows when fate brings Amal into their lives: a Palestinian girl, a family-honor acid attack victim. Their love story unfolds alongside the new Isratine State. But the euphoria of peace and unification starts to fade when both Jewish and Arab anti-liberal forces join forces, putting the newfound, delicate democracy in jeopardy and threatening the life of Yonatan’s family.
As smoke spreads over the country, the Prime Minister must acknowledge his mistakes and rethink the ambitious dream of Isratine. Will hope overcome the reflex of fear and hatred?
White Smoke was one of the most compelling page-turners I've read this year. Author Itamar S.N. ratchets up tension and momentum like a pro, beginning with relatable-but-flawed characters (including the speculative nation of Isratine), moving on to capture heartstrings, and ending with raw emotional power. In the pages leading up to the story's climax, my stomach was in my throat and the last few chapters hit with an undeniable force. The deeply personal exploration in these pages is palpable and, such is the brilliance of the author, also intensely relatable.
We begin with the founding of Isratine- a unified Israel and Palestine- as well as the introduction to our two Jewish main characters: Yonatan, a bisexual activist and Meir, a shy, self-made gay man. As the nation develops, so too do Yonatan and Meir's life together. The couple bonds with a Muslim domestic violence victim named Amal and the three become an inseparable family unit. Religious and political ideologies create tension both at home and throughout Isratine. The mirroring of family and country here is nothing short of brilliant. Together, they are more powerful than either a story of human relationships or a political narrative could be on its own. The author's storycrafting is absolutely inspired.
Although the foundations of White Smoke are rock solid, it could use an editor. Each chapter switches first-person perspective between Yonatan and Meir, but there is no delineation to clue in the reader, such as a name at the beginning of each chapter or a particular font for each of them. It took the first several chapters for me to even realize that two different men were speaking. The grammatical mistakes and stilted cadence are also major distractions from the story. These errors are likely a result of the author's writing in a language in which he is very proficient, but does not possess native fluency. The attentions of an editor with native-level English would easily smooth the rough edges in an otherwise beautifully executed novel.
White Smoke is for any reader who can recognize the paradox of hope and despair that comes of loving with all one's soul. Israeli Itamar S.N. writes his own soul onto the pages of White Smoke and readers will be hard-pressed not to respond in kind, regardless of their cultural backgrounds.
Reviewed by
First and foremost, I am a reader. I am a Jack of all genres and master of none. I can't resist an interesting narrative or an intriguing topic, so I've read widely and regretted nothing.
“In our house of cards, everything is well known. Yonatan is the one card that cannot be touched. Remove it, and everything will collapse.”
Yonatan Green is a bisexual, intellectual troublemaker who will do anything to provoke his right-wing father, Israel’s Prime Minister, who always puts the country before his family. However, Yonatan finds himself proud of his father for the first time when he facilitates the creation of Isratine: a democratic union of Israel and the Palestinian Authority in the area between the Mediterranean Sea and Jordan River.
When Yonatan meets Meir, a shy tech entrepreneur, he falls in love for the first time, and the couple decides to marry. The family grows when fate brings Amal into their lives: a Palestinian girl, a family-honor acid attack victim. Their love story unfolds alongside the new Isratine State. But the euphoria of peace and unification starts to fade when both Jewish and Arab anti-liberal forces join forces, putting the newfound, delicate democracy in jeopardy and threatening the life of Yonatan’s family.
As smoke spreads over the country, the Prime Minister must acknowledge his mistakes and rethink the ambitious dream of Isratine. Will hope overcome the reflex of fear and hatred?
About the author
Itamar S.N is an Israeli writer and musician. In his writing, he combines his education and interest in the history and politics of the Middle East. view profile
Published on May 30, 2021
90000 words
Contains mild explicit content ⚠️
Genre: Literary Fiction
Reviewed by
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