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“By putting James at the mercy of those who already know the truth, Ball suggests that no truth worth knowing is gained by
being merely smart and curious.”
Review One of life's greatest challenges is reconciling individual perceptions and memories of the world with the world as it truly
exists. James Sim (one wonders if the author had the word "simulacrum" in mind), the main narrator of Jesse Ball's mesmerizing
first novel, Samedi the Deafness, and a mnemonist by profession, confronts this disparity head-on after unwillingly hearing a dying man's cryptic remarks concerning a cultish
conspiracy with undefined ambitions. Unable to ignore what he's heard, James allows a series of odd incidents to become a trail of breadcrumbs
and soon finds himself as a guest in the home of the man he suspects is masterminding the doomsday plot. James spends the
rest of the book at this home communing with other "guests," who provide him with contradictory explanations for the unfamiliar
surroundings and unique experiences. On top of this, James expends considerable time investigating his surroundings, snooping
around like an amateur detective, albeit one with a perfect memory. Thus, the facts, as James sees and hears them, don't always
add up to a coherent whole, and his impeccable memory only succeeds in exposing minor points of confusion in the glaring sunlight.
The book vacillates between two versions of reality. In one, James has stumbled upon a dangerous plot that's motivated by
what the conspirators consider dire socio-economic conditions (chronic lying and the injustice it wreaks on the lower classes); in the other, he's simply stumbled upon an eccentric retreat set up to
help individuals with a particular mental illness (again, chronic lying). Relying to a fault on memories of his experiences
in the house, James trusts others and makes quick deductions about the true nature of the house and the "plot" — all despite
being told, at one point, "A man goes to live in the kingdom of foxes and he survives only by believing that which is not
told him."
By putting James at the mercy of those who already know the truth, Ball suggests that no truth worth knowing is gained by
being merely smart and curious — more often than not, it's gained only if someone else wants and needs you to know it. Pitting perceptions against reality, Ball seems to confirm the obvious fact we often, and perhaps wisely,
ignore: competing versions of reality cannot merge into one, and yet will always coexist. - Tom Roberge
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| ART |
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Testimony by Gillian Laub with essays by Ariella Azoulay and Raef Zreik
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| Published: |
May 2007 |
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| Pages: |
103 |
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| Publisher: |
Aperture |
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Links: Artist website
GOOD magazine review
Guardian review |
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“Her rich color photographs capture teenagers and young parents in intimate settings, simultaneously exposing their vulnerability
and honoring their strength.”
Review In the introduction to Testimony, Gillian Laub describes a beach in Tel Aviv where the division between Jews and Arabs momentarily dissolves. Women with headscarves and heavy robes relax
next to girls in skimpy bikinis, willfully oblivious of the conflicts raging nearby. The beach provides a sliver of hope for
Laub, whose intimate portraits of Jews and Arabs living in Israel expose the devastation of religious warfare.
As a secular American Jew, Laub began photographing in Israel in 2002 to obtain a deeper understanding of the Israeli-Palestinian
conflict. Moving away from public confrontations, she entered private homes to speak with and photograph young Jews and Arabs.
Laub asked each individual to write about how violence affects his or her life and snapped a raw and riveting portrait. Her
rich, color photographs capture teenagers and young parents in intimate settings, simultaneously exposing their vulnerability and honoring their
strength. Similar in style to her portraits of celebrities and her family, the Testimony images seem to break open the individual for a revealing moment, and the pairing of these portraits with the personal statements
conveys appalling tragedy.
Among the subjects of Testimony are young girls playing in their backyard, twin sisters on leave from the army, and a young man blinded in a terrorist attack. The youngest of them live in sanctuary from warfare, one girl even describing her life as
a "fairytale," but age brings exposure to violence, either through required army service or the shock of a suicide bombing.
The amputees and burn victims featured in Laub's book, both Jews and Arabs, were maimed during their commute to work or on
a trip to the mall. One particularly devastating photograph features Kinneret, a young woman with burns on 70% of her body. Her statement, touching on the difficulties of rehabilitation, expresses a
quiet sorrow and a steely determination to heal. Surprisingly, none of the victims of terrorism harbor hatred or vengefulness
— they just hope for peace.
Besides the vividness of Laub's portraiture, Testimony reveals specific, private experiences of a much-publicized conflict. The personal pain and exhaustion evident in the images,
and further discussed in essays by Ariella Azoulay and Raef Zreik, convince the reader, more than any political argument could,
of the importance of peace in Israel. - Bryony Roberts
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