The Sacrifice and Beauty of Motherhood: A Review of Ilana Kurshan’s “Children of the Book”
Ilana Kurshan, author of the memoir “If All the Seas Were Ink,” recently released a new memoir titled “Children of the Book.” Those who have read “If All the Seas Were Ink” will find familiarity in Kurshan’s distinct style and literary references. At the same time, “Children of the Book” tells a vastly different story.
“If All the Seas Were Ink” details Kurshan’s life in Jerusalem in the aftermath of her divorce. Kurshan, already a literary scholar, decides to study daf yomi (the daily study of a page of Talmud), which gives her days meaning and structure and provides a framework for the memoir itself. Each chapter is named after a different tractate of the Talmud, and Kurshan connects events in her life to events in the Talmud. The memoir follows her journey from beginning daf yomi with Tractate Yoma right after her divorce to returning to Tractate Yoma in the next cycle, then remarried and with three children. Interwoven with stories from the Talmud are also references to classic literature. Kurshan is clearly well-read, and describes herself as constantly walking around with her nose in a book.
But all of that changes in “Children of the Book.”
In her second memoir, Kurshan is a mother of five; her life is busy, and she rarely has time to read. This change initially felt negative: Motherhood seemed to suck away all that made Kurshan herself. But over the course of the book, Kurshan demonstrates that she treasures the relationships formed with her children through reading books on their level as much as she savors having time to read on her own.
“Children of the Book” is split into five sections, each following the theme of one of the books of Moses. Genesis, the beginning, focuses on Kurshan reading with her children during the early years of their lives. By the end, Kurshan’s children have learned to read on their own, a journey that parallels the Israelites finding freedom from Egypt. Kurshan, like Moses, is ultimately left watching from afar as her children forge on without her, reading new stories and leaving her behind.
This organization is a clever one; it gives each section of the memoir a distinct flavor, and allows Kurshan to parallel biblical stories as she paralleled Talmudic ones. However, this book seems to contain fewer Biblical references than the previous book’s Talmudic references. Each section has the overarching Biblical book it corresponds to, but the connections sometimes feel a bit lost.
Most striking is the shift in literary connections. Where previously Kurshan’s work is full of references to the huge body of academic literature she’s read, the references in this book are to stories such as “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” “Fancy Nancy” and “All-of-a-Kind Family.”
This demonstrates what the memoir truly is: a memoir of motherhood.
Before being a mother, Kurshan was constantly reading. As a mother, she is barely able to find time to pick up a book. And who is Ilana Kurshan if not the bookworm of “If All the Seas Were Ink?” In short: She is still the same bookworm, only with different books. Instead of reading books for herself, Kurshan is constantly reading to her children.
Kurshan doesn’t shy away from discussing the hardships of motherhood. She details difficult moments with her children; she gives voice to the fear that she is not a good mother; she writes about regrets in her interactions with family members; she wishes she had more time to read.
Kurshan describes a Shabbos when her husband and children visit a different family member, leaving her alone. She spends hours reading. Her reflection afterward: “I didn’t miss them for a second, no. But when they returned, I was overjoyed to be reunited … The knowledge that they would all be back enabled me to relish the solitude.” In this first section of the book, Kurshan describes the dichotomy between loving her children and loving her books. And there are moments in which readers, especially those who know Kurshan from “If All the Seas Were Ink,” may feel resentful of the children who have taken Kurshan away from something that she loves.
But as the book progresses, it is clear that Kurshan’s children have only enhanced her life. With each new section of the book, readers are drawn closer into Kurshan’s family, until at moments it seems that readers are right there with them, sitting against the couch as Kurshan reads aloud to her children. Readers are there as Kurshan uses books to teach her Israeli children American culture. As Kurshan excitedly introduces her children to books from her childhood, readers feel the same excitement in recognizing books from their own childhoods.
By the end of the book, readers and Kurshan’s family have gone on a journey from board books to chapter books, from dependent readers to independent readers. Kurshan describes the process of her children becoming independent readers as though she is weaning them again. She writes, in the conclusion, “I miss snuggling together in bed, being part of the same story. But there is the rediscovered pleasure of sustained time to read to myself, instead of just stealing a glance at my poetry book while the soup simmers.”
“Children of the Book” is a story of motherhood told through the lens of books. It is a story of development. In the first section, Kurshan seems sad to lose out on time to read to herself, and readers of both of her memoirs are sad for this necessary shift in lifestyle. But by the conclusion, both Kurshan and readers have come to cherish her time reading with her children, and even to regret it ending. One chapter of Kurshan’s experience with her children has closed. But, as demonstrated through this memoir, there is always another book to be read.
Photo Caption: Ilana Kurshan’s memoirs
Photo Credit: Brooke Kohl
