First the Raven

Rating:
Summary: FTR May Change a Reader's Perspective
Review: Authors of fiction rarely choose to tell a story because it is timely and that it especially true of fine literary fiction. Somehow, "First the Raven" appears in print just when interest in its subject matter is high, precisely when its message is needed.

The characters in this lovely first novel by Leora G. Krygier are Israeli transplants on Los Angeles soil. Their experiences in America are so germane to this moment in geopolitics it is difficult to imagine a more perfectly timed release. It is as if this little volume was sent to us so that we might better understand not only the immigrant experience, but also that we might see Israeli divisions that we have never before observed-at least not up close and personal as this story presents them.

The narrative centers on a journey of redemption for Amir that begins when he befriends Rosenberg, an elderly Holocaust survivor who he identifies with the Israeli politics that Amir was only too happy to leave behind. Amir's relationship with a wife he loves is unraveling and his daughter is entangled with the kind of legal and moral morass that every parent fears the most. Amir longs for the freedom he once felt as a parachuter, feels a vague disease with his new home, a longing for his old.

Amir's new friend is also emotionally detached from his wife and his son. The two strangers come together in a small restaurant in a Jewish section of Los Angeles only because it is so popular they must share a table. In spite of Amir's reluctance to associate with the old Orthodox Jew, Amir slowly accommodates Rosenberg's loneliness and in so doing finds someone who has just the right connections and character to help him through the explosions that he must face in the days ahead.

In turn, Amir's virility, common sense and vulnerability combine to offer something the elderly Rabbi is not finding in his other relationships. We see how differences can heal rather than divide, a very real lesson for today's world.

Krygier tells this story with sensitivity and with a command of language not seen in many mainstream novels. Consider this poetry in prose:

"(Amir) remembered his first jump, looking up into the fullness of the canopy, its lined geometry, the softness of its membrane. The flapping fabric was gossamer-thin, like a wing..."

"....she flirted with him...with competence, as if she were following her grandmother's recipes for yeast cake-just a little but not too much."

"Through the peephole...he could still see her, sitting on the step, round, through the fisheye, as if she were floating in an amniotic sac."

"It was an altered sky, cloudless and mute, tinted with faint paper-white strokes."

Part of the power of Krygier's passages may be credited to experience. She was born in Tel-Aviv and grew up in Philadelphia. She now lives in Los Angeles, and descriptions of that city ground the work; there is not a city street or a vista out of place. Her experience as a referee in the juvenile division of the Superior Court of the County of Los Angeles also gives her first-person insight into the system that young offenders must confront when they stray.

First the Raven is the kind of story that gives us something to take away with us once we have turned its last page. It may or may not change a readers' perspective, but it certainly will give her comfort and confidence in the future. It's hard to imagine that we could ask more.

Carolyn Howard-Johnson, author of "This is the Place"

Rating:
Summary: FTR May Change a Reader's Perspective
Review: Authors of fiction rarely choose to tell a story because it is timely and that it especially true of fine literary fiction. Somehow, "First the Raven" appears in print just when interest in its subject matter is high, precisely when its message is needed.

The characters in this lovely first novel by Leora G. Krygier are Israeli transplants on Los Angeles soil. Their experiences in America are so germane to this moment in geopolitics it is difficult to imagine a more perfectly timed release. It is as if this little volume was sent to us so that we might better understand not only the immigrant experience, but also that we might see Israeli divisions that we have never before observed-at least not up close and personal as this story presents them.

The narrative centers on a journey of redemption for Amir that begins when he befriends Rosenberg, an elderly Holocaust survivor who he identifies with the Israeli politics that Amir was only too happy to leave behind. Amir's relationship with a wife he loves is unraveling and his daughter is entangled with the kind of legal and moral morass that every parent fears the most. Amir longs for the freedom he once felt as a parachuter, feels a vague disease with his new home, a longing for his old.

Amir's new friend is also emotionally detached from his wife and his son. The two strangers come together in a small restaurant in a Jewish section of Los Angeles only because it is so popular they must share a table. In spite of Amir's reluctance to associate with the old Orthodox Jew, Amir slowly accommodates Rosenberg's loneliness and in so doing finds someone who has just the right connections and character to help him through the explosions that he must face in the days ahead.

In turn, Amir's virility, common sense and vulnerability combine to offer something the elderly Rabbi is not finding in his other relationships. We see how differences can heal rather than divide, a very real lesson for today's world.

Krygier tells this story with sensitivity and with a command of language not seen in many mainstream novels. Consider this poetry in prose:

"(Amir) remembered his first jump, looking up into the fullness of the canopy, its lined geometry, the softness of its membrane. The flapping fabric was gossamer-thin, like a wing..."

"....she flirted with him...with competence, as if she were following her grandmother's recipes for yeast cake-just a little but not too much."

"Through the peephole...he could still see her, sitting on the step, round, through the fisheye, as if she were floating in an amniotic sac."

"It was an altered sky, cloudless and mute, tinted with faint paper-white strokes."

Part of the power of Krygier's passages may be credited to experience. She was born in Tel-Aviv and grew up in Philadelphia. She now lives in Los Angeles, and descriptions of that city ground the work; there is not a city street or a vista out of place. Her experience as a referee in the juvenile division of the Superior Court of the County of Los Angeles also gives her first-person insight into the system that young offenders must confront when they stray.

First the Raven is the kind of story that gives us something to take away with us once we have turned its last page. It may or may not change a readers' perspective, but it certainly will give her comfort and confidence in the future. It's hard to imagine that we could ask more.

Carolyn Howard-Johnson, author of "This is the Place"

Rating:
Summary: A Beautiful Literary Voice
Review: Although new to the literary world, Leora Krygier is not a novice when it comes to writing beautiful fiction. Filled with elegant words and compelling style, Krygier tells the novel and exotic story of an Israeli ex-paratropper who is transplated with his wife and daughter in southern California. He is spiritually lost, which is evident in his relationships with his wife and distant teenaged daughter, and eventually pierced by a chance meeting with an Orthodox rabbi who takes an interest in this unique man and peppers his newfound view of the world. The effect that these two men have on each other and how they change their perception of the world is rich and magical. Krygier, who lived in Israel, is able to capture the Israeli personality and lifestyle to a tee, from physical mannerisms to social reactions.
A wonderful story and hopefully one of many yet to come from Leora Krygier.

Rating:
Summary: FTR May Change a Reader's Perspective
Review: Authors of fiction rarely choose to tell a story because it is timely and that it especially true of fine literary fiction. Somehow, "First the Raven" appears in print just when interest in its subject matter is high, precisely when its message is needed.

The characters in this lovely first novel by Leora G. Krygier are Israeli transplants on Los Angeles soil. Their experiences in America are so germane to this moment in geopolitics it is difficult to imagine a more perfectly timed release. It is as if this little volume was sent to us so that we might better understand not only the immigrant experience, but also that we might see Israeli divisions that we have never before observed-at least not up close and personal as this story presents them.

The narrative centers on a journey of redemption for Amir that begins when he befriends Rosenberg, an elderly Holocaust survivor who he identifies with the Israeli politics that Amir was only too happy to leave behind. Amir's relationship with a wife he loves is unraveling and his daughter is entangled with the kind of legal and moral morass that every parent fears the most. Amir longs for the freedom he once felt as a parachuter, feels a vague disease with his new home, a longing for his old.

Amir's new friend is also emotionally detached from his wife and his son. The two strangers come together in a small restaurant in a Jewish section of Los Angeles only because it is so popular they must share a table. In spite of Amir's reluctance to associate with the old Orthodox Jew, Amir slowly accommodates Rosenberg's loneliness and in so doing finds someone who has just the right connections and character to help him through the explosions that he must face in the days ahead.

In turn, Amir's virility, common sense and vulnerability combine to offer something the elderly Rabbi is not finding in his other relationships. We see how differences can heal rather than divide, a very real lesson for today's world.

Krygier tells this story with sensitivity and with a command of language not seen in many mainstream novels. Consider this poetry in prose:

"(Amir) remembered his first jump, looking up into the fullness of the canopy, its lined geometry, the softness of its membrane. The flapping fabric was gossamer-thin, like a wing..."

"....she flirted with him...with competence, as if she were following her grandmother's recipes for yeast cake-just a little but not too much."

"Through the peephole...he could still see her, sitting on the step, round, through the fisheye, as if she were floating in an amniotic sac."

"It was an altered sky, cloudless and mute, tinted with faint paper-white strokes."

Part of the power of Krygier's passages may be credited to experience. She was born in Tel-Aviv and grew up in Philadelphia. She now lives in Los Angeles, and descriptions of that city ground the work; there is not a city street or a vista out of place. Her experience as a referee in the juvenile division of the Superior Court of the County of Los Angeles also gives her first-person insight into the system that young offenders must confront when they stray.

First the Raven is the kind of story that gives us something to take away with us once we have turned its last page. It may or may not change a readers' perspective, but it certainly will give her comfort and confidence in the future. It's hard to imagine that we could ask more.

Carolyn Howard-Johnson, author of "This is the Place"


Rating:
Summary: Great book!
Review: Leora Krygier  has the ability to entice this reader into caring about and following the lives of two men (Amir and Rosenberg, a pair of unlikely friends) and their families as though these characters are real people --and maybe they are?  FIRST THE RAVEN is a powerful story -- one that drained me emotionally in a very satisfying way.

Rating:
Summary: wonderful little book
Review: The title refers to the Raven that Noah sent out from the ark to find dry land. He never returns, lost forever. Only later will the dove leave and return with the olive Branch.
Amir is like that Raven, searching for solid ground. An immigrant from Israel he is somewhat lost in Los Angeles. He feels that he is losing touch with his wife and teenage daughter.
A chance meeting with Rosenberg, a holocaust survivor opens his heart. Slowly the two forge a relationship, which also helps Amir realize that it is up to him to find solid land. He cannot get lost forever never to return.

Rating:
Summary: Leora G. Krygier --- A New Voice in Literary Fiction
Review: This slim novel, filled to the brim with exquisite metaphors and beautiful language crafted in layers of meaning and thoughtfulness, signal the debut of a gifted new writer of literary fiction. The richly drawn characters of Amir, a young Israeli ex-paratrooper (also a husband and a father of a troubled teenager) who has had his fill of the fighting in his homeland, but who fights an internal war instead and his �accidental� friend, Rosenberg, an Orthodox rabbi and Holocaust survivor, draw the reader deep into the novel from two perspectives. Who could have predicted that these two men, on different ends of the religious, emotional, philosophical and age spectrum could become close enough to form a bond stronger than friendship? Secrets and lies� and promises fold open like an illustrated fan, revealing what the reader may not want to know, but feels compelled to discover. The �accidental� friendship (is anything really an accident? Krygier seems to ask) changes Amir and Rosenberg and impacts the lives of their families. The novel, set in present day Los Angeles, is contemporary right down to Amir�s fifteen-year-old daughter Maya who becomes mixed up in a gang shooting� yet history, recent and not so recent, bubbles beneath the surface. A compelling story for all -- teenagers to octogenarians. More like this from Leora Krygier would be most welcome.

Rating:
Summary: Leora G. Krygier --- A New Voice in Literary Fiction
Review: This slim novel, filled to the brim with exquisite metaphors and beautiful language crafted in layers of meaning and thoughtfulness, signal the debut of a gifted new writer of literary fiction. The richly drawn characters of Amir, a young Israeli ex-paratrooper (also a husband and a father of a troubled teenager) who has had his fill of the fighting in his homeland, but who fights an internal war instead and his 'accidental' friend, Rosenberg, an Orthodox rabbi and Holocaust survivor, draw the reader deep into the novel from two perspectives. Who could have predicted that these two men, on different ends of the religious, emotional, philosophical and age spectrum could become close enough to form a bond stronger than friendship? Secrets and lies' and promises fold open like an illustrated fan, revealing what the reader may not want to know, but feels compelled to discover. The 'accidental' friendship (is anything really an accident? Krygier seems to ask) changes Amir and Rosenberg and impacts the lives of their families. The novel, set in present day Los Angeles, is contemporary right down to Amir's fifteen-year-old daughter Maya who becomes mixed up in a gang shooting' yet history, recent and not so recent, bubbles beneath the surface. A compelling story for all -- teenagers to octogenarians. More like this from Leora Krygier would be most welcome.