#book report

Nod by Adrian Barnes

A masterpiece of a book

SPOILERS BTWS

So I just finished this book like 10 minutes ago and I’m still revelling in it.

So let’s start off first by saying this book is a fucking bittersweet soul wrenching masterpiece of a story that is honestly one of the most connected I’ve ever felt to when reading it, for me it’s on the same tier as never let me go, my favourite novel of all time.

The book is about Paul, a writer and his partner Tanya when one night not a single person gets a wink of sleep apart from a few thousand, Paul being one of them. The entire book is about seeing the world and everyone in it go to utter shit in the span of just 1 month as sleep deprivation and insanity takes over. But as our protagonist Paul is completely sane through all of this, he has to bare witness to the chaos in all his sanity including watching Tanya sink lower and lower into madness, as someone he doesn’t recognise.

I think the reason I love this book so much is because I can connect so clearly with Paul and even some of the other characters. From what I got while reading it, paul is a very aware man, he’s cynical and a down right pessimistic at times and even though I wouldn’t necessarily like to attribute those terms to myself I do understand him, this world he’s been thrust into shows his true thoughts with no filter as he feels no need for it anymore. No one has a filter in this world anymore.

It’s so heart wrenching watching his partner Tanya dissolve into someone you don’t know anymore, you don’t know whether she’s lying or saying what she’s always thought but social conventions stopped her from saying and it’s painful. Words are a motif with this story, as Paul is a writer everything comes back to words.

Theres so much more to this book but what I want to focus on as something that hit me like a shot to the heart was the ending, and authors note.

Nod ends with Paul finally succumbing to sleep, boarded up in his old Vancouver apartment . There’s nothing he can do for this world and the call of sleep is strong and peaceful after everything he’s been through.

The soul crushing goodbyes to everything mundane yet familiar and nostalgic in life, and also the things you will never get back at the end of the world and history is gone. But the kicker of this final entry is the fact that this is the final page.

It quite literally ends with Paul unable to finish his train of thought as he drifts of into eternal sleep, the golden dream; a peaceful yet sorrowful ending. When I tell you turning over the page to be started back at by a blank sheet was agonising.

Now after I finished this I went onto the authors note, an acclaimed essay by Adrian Barnes called “my cancer is as strange as my fiction” where he talks about being diagnosed with brain cancer just a year before Nod was to be published. He talks about how eerily similar Nods narrative is to his own experiences living with this tumour.

Barnes died in 2018 to his brain tumour with nod being his one and only novel published, it saddens me that we will never get anymore of his works especially after witnessing what he can create.

There’s so much more I want to talk about with this book but can’t formulate words right now haha, I want to do an essay on it in the future. Please please please give nod a go, it’s something that anyone can get into as it’s so undeniably human and it’s really not appreciated enough.

A d’var torah (plural divrei torah, literally “word(s) of Torah”) - is a kind of speech or essay delivered by Jews, for Jews. The speech usually refers to the Torah parsha of the week. I’ve shared a couple of my divrei torah here on this blog, including ones about Tamar in parsha Vayeshev and about Balaam in parsha Balak.

For me, divrei torah are a lot of fun to write. I think of it as a “holy book report.” But I know not everyone thinks of a book report as “fun.” Recently, some people have asked me how I write them, how I know what to say and make it interesting. So today I am sharing my thought process for writing a d’var torah.

Here are my four “steps” to writing a good d’var!

1. Explain the Text

This is the “book report” part. Often, a d’var is delivered right after the Torah is read aloud to the congregation, but this doesn’t mean that everyone knows what this week’s parsha is about. It can be difficult to follow along, both in Hebrew and in English. Even if you can follow along, sometimes it’s just not very clear what’s going on, especially once you get out of the stories in Genesis and Exodus that we love to tell our kids and get into the laws of Leviticus. A parsha needs some explanation, just to make sure everyone is on the same page.

Now, I’m not telling you to talk about EVERYTHING that happens in the parsha.  Each parsha contains a LOT. Bereshit, the first chapter of Genesis, is not just those first seven days - it also includes Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, a lot of family trees, and the beginning of the story of Noah! You could write a dozen essays on any one of these pieces of Torah, but remember, this is a ten-minute d’var torah, not a thesis paper. Vayeshev has one hundred and twelve verses in it, but for my d’var, I just talked about those thirty verses that Tamar is in, and I had plenty to say!

Read the parsha, find something that strikes you as particularly interesting, and share those details with your congregation in your d’var torah. But what, you may ask, makes a part of the Torah particularly interesting? That leads me to the second step…

2. Connect to Today

This is really the whole point of a d’var - connecting the ancient texts to today. Why does this matter? Why do we read the Torah today, and what can we learn from it? How can the text give us a new perspective on our lives - or, how can our lives give us new perspective on the text?

Sometimes the answer is obvious, and sometimes not. It’s easy to draw connections between Esau and Jacob’s rivalry and your own sibling squabbles, less so to draw connections to the laws of kashrut if you yourself do not keep kosher. Fortunately, you’re not alone here. You can look up divrei torah written by rabbis throughout the years and quote them (with proper citation!) in your talk. Feel free to share contradicting opinions - “Rabbi X said this, but Rabbi Y said that.” As the saying goes, “two Jews, three opinions.” We love critical thinking and debate!

But here’s the thing - you don’t NEED to tell your congregation what other people think about this parsha. You can say what YOU think about it. What does this parsha remind you of in YOUR life? When I wrote about parsha Balak, I connected Balaam’s treatment of the donkey to behavior I’d seen from theme park guests at work, and drew from that a lesson about not assuming that people who disobey you have malicious intent. When I wrote about parsha Vayeshev, I talked about the mind-blowing impact that Tamar’s story had had on me as a thirteen-year-old, showing me that our culture has much more potential for feminist liberation than I had previously believed.

Which brings me to the next step…

3. Be Vulnerable

When you write a d’var torah, you are a teacher. In this moment, you are the expert on the text, like a professor giving a lecture. But think about the connotations we have for the word “lecture.” A teacher giving you a lecture is a neutral thing, but a lecture can also be a parent scolding you. I don’t see a d’var as the time to scold. If your audience gets defensive, then they will disengage with you and won’t learn from you.

Yes, connect the Torah to the real world, and share what we can learn from it today. But be sure to include yourself in that “we”! If you say, “Here is what YOU should learn from the Torah,” people might get defensive. If you say, “Here is what I’VE learned from the Torah,” people will sympathize with you and learn with you. When I talked about Tamar, I could have used her example to critique the status quo; instead I used it as an opportunity to talk about how I had been wrong in the past and how grateful I was to be a part of this culture. When you are vulnerable, you become memorable and inspirational.

4. Find the Humor

This is something I’ve learned in guest service: if you can get people to laugh, then they’re more likely to listen and do what you say. It’s common speechwriting advice, too, to use humor to connect with your audience. I began my Tamar parsha with a slightly self-deprecating joke about musical theatre, and my bat mitzvah parsha for Bechukotai - which I have not yet worked up the courage to share here - was a completely unintentional stand-up comedy routine. (Honestly, at the time, I had no idea why everyone was laughing. Now I get it, and I cringe.)

Please note that I am NOT telling you to insert humor to non-humorous situations. If you’re talking about the plague of the firstborns in Exodus, that is NOT the time for dead baby jokes. What I’m saying is, when you find humor in the Torah, do not shy away from it. Don’t get so caught up with the idea that this is a holy text you must respect, or that you have the responsibility of teaching your community on your shoulders, that you write something completely dry and disengaged. The d’var that has the congregation zoning out and dozing off is, frankly, not a good d’var. The d’var that feels like an amiable human conversation is one that people will remember.

Explain the text, connect it to today, be vulnerable, and find the humor - and, ta-da! You have a d’var torah! Read it aloud to yourself before anyone else; you’ll find that things sound different when you say them with your voice than when you read it silently. Then go and teach!