MORE THAN I LOVE MY LIFE

Three generations of women confront a shared legacy of trauma.

When Nina was 6 years old, her mother was imprisoned on Goli Otok, an island off the coast of what was then Yugoslavia, after refusing to denounce her husband for his allegedly Stalinist sympathies. Nina and her mother, Vera, survived the three-year ordeal, but with lingering scars. Grossman’s latest novel is an account of their belated attempt to confront those scars and the extent to which they might have contributed to their own suffering. In the mid-1950s, Vera and Nina took off for Israel, where Vera remarried, becoming the matriarch of a sprawling family, and Nina launched a disparate, sexually promiscuous life. The first part of Grossman’s novel, in which Vera’s family holds a 90th birthday party for her and Nina’s adult daughter, Gili, reflects on her own parents’ relationship, is the most moving. As the novel progresses, though, it begins to feel overdetermined. The device Grossman uses to tell the story—Gili is a documentary filmmaker recording conversations about the past—isn’t an entirely necessary one. In fact, all the asides about turning cameras on or off, zooming in or out, distract from the more important—and more interesting—details. Worse is the way that Grossman pushes the pathos of the story to its breaking point, and then beyond. Together with her mother, father, and grandmother, Gili visits Goli Otok, where they all confront not only the climax of their shared story, but also a literal storm that leaves them stranded overnight. Grossman, a justly celebrated Israeli novelist, could have done a lot more with a lot less.

Occasionally moving but more often overwrought, Grossman’s latest novel is not his finest.