reading

Focus during distracted times

As a freelancer, I often find interesting work opportunities that don’t pan out. I spent time in December applying for an editor gig that involved editing summaries of literature to provide students with educational support. I used to think these supports were “cheating,” using these kinds of guides, but now I know differently. Students with special needs deserve access to these stories. I recognize that every student has the right to learn, read great pieces of literature and access education, even if they struggle along the way. So, I dutifully filled out the form, sent off my CV and submitted an application. One application question irked me. “What’s your favourite piece of literature and why?”

Two things bothered me. One is that this response had a word limit on the form, so nobody could wax eloquent about whatever they chose. The second thing is that, as someone in mid-life who reads voraciously, I thought it was ridiculous to ask what someone’s all-time favourite was. I couldn’t possibly name only one, but I thought about it. I’ve been reading Talmud daily for about four years. I must like it. Further, it has helped me gain a lot of insight into the ancient world, and reflects further on ancient cultures, law systems and storytelling.

I tried to fit this into the form, but I had reservations. The organization had a big “We do not discriminate” statement on its page but, after Oct. 7, I wondered if I was risking something to say that the Babylonian Talmud was my current favourite. My concerns might have been warranted. On Dec. 25, in the morning, I received a vague form email telling me my application hadn’t been successful. My household laughed about the timing of the form letter. What were they indicating? That Jews should work as usual on Christmas, a North American statutory holiday? Or that my choice of literature was so egregious they couldn’t wait for a business day to reply? Perhaps something else about my qualifications didn’t meet their needs. It’s best not to work for a place that isn’t a good fit. Although this part-time gig had great potential, I wasn’t a contender. That’s OK.

This experience made me reflect on my lifelong relationship with reading. I’ve always loved to read. One of my undergraduate majors was in comparative literature. A favourite moment during my graduate work in English education came when the professor put different things on a table and asked us to list which things were “literature.” The professor included newspaper articles, fiction and nonfiction, plays and song lyrics, advertisements, and more. Her point was that we often couldn’t predict what piece of writing would stand the test of time. Further, all of us would have different answers to this question about how to define literature and its meaning. She was right.

Since Oct. 7, I’ve had a hard time focusing. For a long time, I couldn’t read a book. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve been glued to the news and social media, reading many articles and much political analysis. I listened to completely “fluffy” fiction audio books as I cooked but, eventually, I had to stop renewing a book I’d checked out from the public library. It was nonfiction, a book about the US Great Migration called The Warmth of Other Suns, by Isabel Wilkerson. It was well-written and engaging. I felt like apologizing to the author. I couldn’t focus enough to remember the various narrative threads or finish it.

Later, on Dec. 25, I managed to complete reading On the Way Home, the short diary of Laura Ingalls Wilder, which recounted her trip from South Dakota to her new home in Mansfield, Mo., in 1894. This brief chronicle transported me, giving me a window into travel during a period of US history that I could only imagine. Was it literature? Perhaps, because it worked the way literature should. I spent time in my imagination in a different place and time. It offered a brief respite. Perhaps it’s the start of being able to focus on reading again? I can only hope.

I wondered why I’d made it through this (admittedly short) volume I’d found at a neighbourhood Little Free Library. It made me reflect on what aspects of literature are valuable and what allows us to focus on it. Perhaps it’s about escape or the imagination. Maybe it helps us learn about relationships, history and culture.

Four years ago, I resolved to start Daf Yomi, reading a page of Talmud a day, on Jan. 5. It was my birthday and close enough to the start of the secular new year to be a “resolution” that truly stuck. After four years of reading a page a day, I am still immersed in this experience. Even though I read mostly in English, and barely skim the surface of each page, I’d argue this is a good read. I’ve learned a lot, but it has taken work and research to make meaning. Sometimes, I have to struggle with finding connections with the rabbis who lived 2,000 years ago. Even as the rabbis struggled with practical issues, I sometimes have to read commentaries and make a leap to figure out how the issues applied then as compared to today.

Great literature is about history and context, as well as mystery, and it’s all there, wrapped up for us like a big gift in Jewish literature. Religious texts like Torah and Talmud, as well as all the other Jewish stories that came afterwards, add meaning and depth to our lives. Surprisingly, I haven’t had trouble focusing on these narratives.

Here, too, is another lesson that literature is teaching me – we Jews are a small people but have incredibly rich literary and spiritual resources. As Israel struggles physically with war, these texts remind me what we’re fighting to maintain. Doing the work to understand these texts offers us so much history, context and tradition, I’m grateful to have the opportunity. It’s the least I can do when so much is at stake.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Artificial just got real

Jews have been called “the people of the book.” It was the power of and devotion to the received and unfolding written word that ensured the Jewish people’s unity (and diversity) across almost 2,000 years of exile. But who reads books anymore?

If you are perusing these pages, you probably belong to what has become a somewhat exclusive club – readers. Beginning with the advent of radio, picking up speed with the development of television, then supercharging connectivity while reducing attention spans with the advent of internet and social media, books have, for many people, ceased to be the primary go-to source for entertainment, pastime, learning or self-improvement.

When social media took off, in the early 2000s, most people, experts and us ordinary folks, didn’t really fathom the impact it would have on our society or on our physiology. Now, a few short years later, science is demonstrating that the speed with which images and ideas flash into our senses may be literally changing how our brains work.

It may be safe to say that giant leaps in artificial intelligence just in the last few months will have at least the same breadth of impact on societies and individuals.

Skeptics among us, who have dabbled a little in public interfaces like ChatGPT, have come away gobsmacked by the capabilities we have discovered – which are clearly just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps the most wondrous (and scary) thing about artificial intelligence is that it may represent the beginning of an exponential, self-sustaining explosion. The Industrial Revolution began less than 300 years ago. Every modern convenience – practically everything we have outside of turnips and animal-skin garments – is a result of that explosive growth in human capability. For better and worse. For all the incredible advancements we have made, the price we are paying appears to be the future of our planet itself. All this in a mere three centuries. Artificial intelligence, even if we do not understand it now, will likely speed up change in ways that make today’s offerings look like the cotton gin.

The written word is just a small part of what artificial intelligence can do. Because it is one of the easier things to access for most laypeople, this component of ChatGPT is the one that most of us have probably played around with. Professors, employers and others are suddenly confronted with uncharted moral territory in dealing with brilliantly written submissions from students, employees and other correspondents, any of which may or may not have been written by human hands and minds. As one professor commented in media recently, what tipped him off to the problem was how dazzling some of the essays he received were.

And the time-saving! Artificial intelligence can write a letter to a recalcitrant employee, a grandparent, an old friend or a government official in a tiny fraction of the time it would take the ordinary person to draft a letter of far lower quality.

But who is going to read all these words?

Already, plenty of people have largely abandoned books. Even Jews, the people of the book, find much to do beyond reading. Just a little microcosm in our own community tells us this. Look at the corners of the Vancouver JCC that are the busiest at any given time. History and stereotypes should suggest that the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library would be packed with people from morning to night. It’s got a devoted and steady clientele, do not misunderstand, but, judging by foot traffic, you might think 21st-century Jews would be better known as the “people of the gym,” “the people of the pool” or “the people who gab endlessly in the boardroom.”

The bigger issue is, at some point with the advent of technology that just keeps producing more words, we will reach a tipping point at which there are more “writers” (human or otherwise) than there are readers. If a tree falls in the forest and there is nobody to hear it fall, it has been asked, does it make a sound? If words are put to paper (or screen) and never read, might it be as well if they had never been written at all?

Again: we use words as an example here because that is the field we know best. AI is set to upend almost every facet of our society. It feels like we are at a moment much more significant than that time 20 years ago when we first encountered social media, or 30 years ago, when most of us first ventured onto the World Wide Web. We can only barely fathom the good and bad (and indifferent) changes imminent.

Good reads, good talks

Helen Pinsky still chairs Waldman Library’s Jewish Book Club, which she started in 2015 when she was librarian there. (photo from Helen Pinsky)

Helen Pinsky founded the Waldman Library’s Jewish Book Club in 2015, when she was the librarian there. She has since retired from the position but stays on as the book club chair.

“We started it as a drop-in,” Pinsky told the Independent. “Always once a month, on a last Thursday. People drifted in gradually. Some were library volunteers who wanted to discuss their recent reads. Others were readers who wanted to talk about books. Waldman had book clubs before, on and off for years, but this one has lasted the longest.”

She defined the club’s goal: to foster the love and understanding of books written by Jewish authors or featuring Jewish content. “We try to select books that are entertaining, interesting to many readers. Mostly we read fiction,” she said. “Rarely, we try non-fiction books, but unless they are memoirs, not many people are eager to read or discuss them. We even attempted a separate non-fiction club, but it didn’t work.”

The books selected come from different sources. “I’m a librarian. I listen to what people want to read,” said Pinsky. “Sometimes, I select the books myself. Other times, the library staff might make a suggestion, or the group would vote on the title or author.”

The books that club members have read so far are divided between English-language writers and translated novels. “There are so many outstanding Israeli writers,” said Pinsky. “Our chosen books are not always new. Some of them were published a number of years ago. Often, they are not easy reads.”

But new or old, easy or sophisticated, they are always books with brilliant writing and complex ideas – “great literature exploring universal themes,” she said.

Generally, the club reads mainstream fiction. “We often read historical literature,” Pinsky said. “Not so much about the Holocaust and wars, but stories about Jewish life in other centuries and other countries. Some of our most captivating recent novels talked about the post-Holocaust decades, about the survivors rebuilding their lives.”

To find books for the club, Pinsky regularly scours the Jewish Book Council website. She reads reviews on Goodreads and Amazon. She seeks recommendations from the National Council of Jewish Women.

“We always choose books with multiple copies at the Waldman, as well as at the VPL [Vancouver Public Library] and the Richmond library, so people are not forced to buy them. Occasionally, the book was donated. Then it makes a round on a goodwill system, so every member of the club can read it. We usually announce the titles three or four months in advance, to give people time to read the books.”

The club’s facilitator from the beginning, Pinsky tries to make every meeting interesting in a different way. “I do my research about every book. Usually, in the beginning of a meeting, I would do a bio sketch of the author. Then, before we open a discussion, I would list the main points of the story, maybe a quote or two from the reviews to demonstrate something that caught other readers’ interest,” she explained. “Then we go around the table. Everyone who wants to speak raises their hands. I would ask questions to nudge the conversation. Who is your favourite character? Why? What lesson did you learn from the story? Some people enjoy talking at the meetings. Others keep quiet; they come to listen. I keep a list of speakers, but if someone new, who rarely participates, raises their hands, I bump them to the top of the list.”

In her experience as the club moderator, people are interested in different aspects. “Some read for the plot,” she said. “Others are fascinated by character development or emotional issues. Still others pay the most attention to the quality of writing.”

She said that, occasionally, even if you don’t like a book, it could provide a valuable insight. “We once read a book about Alzheimer’s. I didn’t want to read it,” she admitted. “It seemed too close to my private life. I had a personal experience with this dreadful disease. My mother had Alzheimer’s for years. It was very hard. But the book was written in a remote way that allowed me to maintain emotional distance. Otherwise, I probably couldn’t have read it.”

She shared her opinions about that book with the club, and the discussion was lively. It also veered from that particular book into more personal territory, as everyone had a story to tell.

Besides discussing books, sometimes the club has the privilege of meeting the authors. “If the author is local, I would invite them to speak to us,” Pinsky said. “Often, we tie our book selection to the Jewish Book Festival and organize the club nights to coincide with the author’s public appearances.”

According to Pinsky, the number of participants in the club fluctuates from month to month. Some people come for several months and then stop for various reasons. Some realize they are not interested, while others are devastated to leave the club but have no choice. Sometimes, more than 20 people attend the meetings, but the optimal number is around 10 or 12, said Pinsky.

“As we meet in the daytime, most of our members are retired,” she said. “Although we have younger participants if they are students or have flexible working hours, or if they are library staff. Some of the members are writers themselves. Newcomers to Canada also occasionally join the club to read and discuss Canadian Jewish authors.”

Pinsky stressed that COVID changed the book club atmosphere a lot, as it changed everything else. “During the pandemic,” she said, “we couldn’t meet in person, of course. We had our meetings on Zoom for almost two years. Only the last few months, we resumed out meetings in-person, and some longtime members are still not comfortable meeting face-to-face. New people come in. We might institute some changes to reinvigorate the club.”

The July selection of the club is The Last Rose of Shanghai by Weina Dai Randel, published last year. Everyone is welcome. Send a message to [email protected] if you’d like to join the discussion.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Books foster identity

Sifriya Pijama has created approximately 100 books in Hebrew and Arabic. (photo by David Salem)

Keren Grinspoon Israel promotes literacy through the gift of books to young children in Israel. Last fall, KGI was chosen by the U.S. Library of Congress as a Literacy Awards Program Best Practice Honoree, “in recognition of the organization’s long-standing achievement in promoting literacy and the development of innovative methods and effective practices in the field.” This past December, KGI’s founding director, Galina Vromen, retired, and the organization welcomed Andrea Arbel to its helm.

photo - Keren Grinspoon Israel’s new executive director, Andrea Arbel — Keren Grinspoon Israel’s new executive director, Andrea Arbel. *(photo by David Salem)*

The Harold Grinspoon Foundation started PJ Library in 2005 in the United States. According to its website, the program now sends “free books to more than 230,000 subscribers throughout the United States and Canada” and “is an expanding global community linked by shared stories and values that spans across five continents and more than 670,000 subscribers.”

The program reached Israel in 2008, when the foundation’s director of special projects, Vromen, moved back to Israel. She said Harold Grinspoon jumped at the opportunity to extend the program. “He basically said, ‘OK … if you’re going back to Israel, see if you can start PJ Library there,’” Vromen told the Independent. “We were giving away about a million and a half dollars’ worth of grants each year there. He said, ‘I don’t think I need a full-time person to watch over those grants in Israel … so I can assure you full-time employment for six months.’” The job lasted much longer than that, of course.

According to Vromen, the PJ Library book delivery system needed to be different in Israel, as mailboxes there are too small for books. But, on the plus side, unlike in North America, where Jewish populations are spread out, in Israel, you can reach practically every Jewish kid through the public school system.

In 2009, a pilot program was launched with Israel’s Ministry of Education, starting with 3,500 children in the Gilboa region.

“People knew me [in that area] and I came to them and said that we wanted to do a book program,” explained Vromen. “They asked, ‘What books?’ And we answered that we didn’t know yet. So, they basically said, ‘Well, if Grinspoon says he’s going to do it, he’s going to do it.’ And they gave me a lot of support.”

After the first year, the numbers increased to 40,000 children, with funding being split between the foundation and the ministry. The program – called Sifriya Pijama – continued to expand and, eventually, in 2014, the foundation started a program in Arabic.

“Harold Grinspoon, when he started PJ Library, he was inspired by Dolly Parton – a program called Imagination Library, which was really one that served inner-city families, gifting books,” said Vromen.

In Israel, Sifriya Pijama gives kids a shared experience, as they start learning to read.

“Whether it’s a religious or secular school, they get the same books, with the same parent suggestions, for teachers to implement the program within the classroom and, so, it has become quite a bridge-builder,” said Vromen. “I think that children coming from religious homes and those from secular or non-religious homes in Israel don’t normally read the same books or authors. It’s not like in America, where everyone grows up reading Dr. Seuss.

“So, in that way, we’ve managed to make it so that kids now, across the board, are really experiencing the same kind of books. And, with the Arabic program, one could say … What’s a Jewish foundation group dedicated to Jewish education doing running a book program with the Ministry of Education in Arabic? But, the truth of the matter is that, for Israel’s Arab minority, language is an issue.”

Spoken and written Arabic differ. Formal Arabic, which is found in books, unifies Arabs around the world, and the books for kids in formal Arabic begin to build language skills, said Vromen. Just like Sifriya Pijama, Maktabat al-Fanoos is a program about identity, she said.

Many PJ Library books in North America focus on Jewish holidays and Jewish values. The books in Israel focus less on holidays and more on values, like hospitality, taking care of the sick, and honouring your parents.

“We have a book about a bear that is sick and someone takes care of him, and then they all get sick and he takes care of them,” said Vromen. “That’s a perfectly good story for the programs. Another good example is a story we have about a mother koala bear who is very, very busy, but the little koala bear wants to play with her all the time … and the little koala bear learns to do things by himself, eventually deciding to make mud pies, and they come together at the end. It’s a cute little story and a way of discussing an important issue that, when you’re 4 years old is a big concept … giving mom a little bit of mom time and you needing to play by yourself for now … explaining values to a child in a child’s world.

“What’s really important is choosing books that open up a conversation,” said Vromen. “This is a book you can have a conversation about between parents and children. Basically, we’re trying to create opportunities for parents and children.”

Since the program in Israel is school-based, however, the education process starts with the teacher introducing the book to their class, reading it aloud a couple of times. Often, there is an activity included. Then, eventually, the kids take the book home.

“Each child takes home a copy and they keep it,” said Vromen. “There are eight books per year, per child, for three years in preschool. There are four books in first grade and in second grade. And so, by the time the child goes into third grade, they already will have received 32 books from us over the years.”

While most schools are either Jewish or Arab, a small minority are mixed. In mixed schools, the program starts by delivering four Hebrew books in the first half of the year, then four Arabic books in the second half of the year.

So far, the program has created approximately 100 books in Hebrew and Arabic, with nearly 30 of them being translated into English and other languages.

COVID-19 posed a challenge in Israel when schools were closed, but the younger kids were the first to be sent back to school, so the program has more or less caught up on the missed books and is now running as normal.

“For the Arab program, about 90% of the books they receive are the only children’s books they have in their home. In Hebrew-speaking families, it’s about 47%,” said Vromen. “We’re the largest book-giving program in Arabic in the world.”

The program reaches about “70% of Hebrew-speaking children,” she added. “So, we’re talking about 80% of children in public schools in Israel – that’s quite extraordinary.”

Late last year, Vromen retired and, on Dec. 1, Andrea Arbel stepped in to lead KGI, after having worked for 18 years at the Jewish Agency.

“I relate to PJ Library on several spheres – as a published author who believes in the positive power of the written word on children; as someone who cares about strengthening Jewish culture in Israel and overseas Jewish communities; and as a mother of three who understands the critical importance of nurturing young minds and how much these efforts put children on a successful trajectory,” said Arbel.

Together with KGI’s leading partners and other supporters, Arbel is hoping to expand Sifriya Pijama and Maktabat al-Fanoos in both scope and depth, and to widen their sphere of influence on the broader community in new ways. For more information, visit hgf.org.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.