by Avshalom Halutz
A French comics journalism book of interviews with Israelis and Palestinians on intimacy, compiled before October 7, is to be released in English. Meanwhile, singer and activist Achinoam Nini releases the hopeful first single from her new album and a Facebook spat between creatives highlights divides in Israeli society.
The climax of "Love and Desire in the Promised Land: The Private Lives of Israelis and Palestinians," the comics journalism book by Paris-based journalist Salomé Parent-Rachdi and illustrator Deloupy, arrives unexpectedly. Originally published in French six months before the October 7 attack, the book, set to be released in English by Fantagraphics this year, is largely unchanged, despite the catastrophic events that have unfolded since.
Parent-Rachdi traveled through Israel, the occupied West Bank and Gaza, meeting people from a wide range of backgrounds willing to share their experiences of intimacy with her. For the English edition, she and Deloupy added a preface, in comic form like the rest of the book, reflecting from Paris on October 7 and the war in Gaza, and debating whether the book should be revised. Ultimately, they choose to leave it intact, preserving it as a record of life before the war and emphasizing the broad spectrum of humanity they encountered.
For much of its length, the book follows a predictable route. Parent-Rachdi moves between Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and the West Bank, meeting a Palestinian woman who discusses her odd dates with Jewish men, a mixed Palestinian-Jewish couple (Muslim TV journalist Lucy Aharish and her Jewish husband, actor Tsahi Halevi), an Orthodox woman teaching women about their bodies, and Palestinian women describing how occupation and social pressure combined can cause "sexual starvation."
At times, the comics format reduces participants to types – almost caricatures – representing their groups rather than being full individuals. It is also less about sex and erotica and more about the ways in which politics, repression and religion can lead to a lack of intimacy and desire.
It is only when Parent-Rachdi arrives in Gaza, crossing three checkpoints operated by Israel, the Palestinian Authority and Hamas, that the book shifts from the expected to something searing.
Suddenly, we get to see a portrayal of Gaza in its last moments of life. One of the world's most densely populated places, suffocated by both Hamas and Israel, is depicted with buildings still standing, streets filled with life and the Al Deira Hotel on the Gaza shore still intact. Without ever setting out to do so, "Love and Desire in the Promised Land" becomes a rare and important rendering of Gaza before its total destruction.
From this point on, the book also grows less predictable and more challenging. We meet a young gay Gazan now living in Canada, who describes Hamas' persecution and blackmail of gay men, a Palestinian woman who smuggled her imprisoned husband's sperm out of an Israeli jail, and scenes in which the Israeli military creeps into the bedrooms of both Israelis and Palestinians such as – for example – in the case of a Palestinian woman who can't stop imagining the Israeli military patrolling her bedroom.
In light of the war in Gaza, even the book's title now feels uneasy. The original cover image, a woman seated on a bed between men draped in Israeli and Palestinian flags, has been replaced for the English edition with a more somber illustration. Yet despite these initial dissonances, the English edition emerges now as a truly gripping and unsettling read.
The book recalls Joe Sacco's "Palestine," the landmark work of comics journalism that uses travelogue to reveal the region in dense detail. Like Sacco, Parent-Rachdi and Deloupy use comics for reporting and bring conversations and events in a form that makes complex politics more digestible. Yet unlike Sacco, Parent-Rachdi and Deloupy express considerable empathy toward Israelis, and don't judge them harshly for the reality they inhabit. At a time when Israeli society is often demonized, this approach only strengthens the book's critique of the occupation and the Israeli military, which grows more pronounced as the book unfolds. Like skilled seducers, the authors do not rush. They draw the reader in gradually, until their message finally lands with full force.
Only last week, Haaretz's Bar Peleg reported that Israeli singer Achinoam Nini revealed in a Facebook post that she was among left-wing activists who filed a police complaint against far-right social media influencer Roi Star, alleging that he came to their homes to harass them. She also wrote that he pepper sprayed participants at a gathering she attended.
And this week, Nini, sometimes known as Noa and one of the most successful Israeli musical exports, has something positive to celebrate. She has announced the release of the first single from her upcoming album, "The Giver and the See." In a video uploaded to YouTube, Nini explains that the name is a play on the river and the sea in the phrase "From the River to the Sea," which she wanted to change from something polarizing to something positive, about community and generosity.
The first single, "There's a Song," is soothing and heartwarming, its non-apologetic optimism is hard to react to with cynicism. It seems like the perfect gift after a cruel war. The song carries a lightly Disney-inflected tone, tempered by Joni Mitchell-style influences. The new album also marks a dramatic change for Nini: after 36 years of collaborating with guitarist Gil Dor, this album was created with producer and writer Ruslan Sirota. Dor appears on the album, but was not part of the creative process.
Do we live in the Amedi era?
After being badly injured during the Gaza war, musician Idan Amedi has become a militarized Israeli society's sweetheart and a new role model for the Zionist Muscular Judaism. But not everybody is happy with the Amedi phenomenon.
In a social media storm last week, filmmaker Shira Geffen, an established creator in her own right with a very famous Israeli family (her father was songwriter Yehonatan Geffen, her brother is rocker Aviv Geffen, and her husband and sometime collaborator is author Etgar Keret), published a scathing Facebook post about Amedi, criticizing his prolific public profile since being injured.
"We are, without a doubt, in the Amedi era," wrote Geffen, herself a vocal critic of the war in Gaza. "Now he's modeling literature," she wrote, referring to an ad campaign featuring Amedi for a Sapir Literary Prize initiative seeking submissions for books memorializing war victims. "A moment ago it was real-estate ads, two moments before he was heading to Gaza to rescue the last hostage. …. Just choose – Amedi with the rifle, Amedi with the guitar, Amedi with the bandage."
Amedi was quick to reply, and accused Geffen of Hamas support. "Sorry, I didn't inherit millions like you. I need to work to make a living and I also try to contribute to my country and my people – I love them. Try it sometime, you might like it. Zionism is addictive. I know you're more on Hamas' side – from experience, I can tell you they're not very fond of you over there."