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Rebekah
by Orson Scott Card
Reviewed
by Jennie Hansen
Orson Scott
Card's highly imaginative series Women of Genesis
is into it's second book with Rebekah, and as with the first
book, Sarah, this Genesis woman is not treated too kindly.
While Sarah was unseated as the epitome of a woman of faith, Rebekah
becomes a shrew and a nag. Card creates more sympathy for Esau and
Ishmael than for Jacob and Isaac.
Though an interesting
series, written with great dramatic flair, readers should not mistake
these accounts of Sarah and Rebekah, or of their husbands, Abraham
and Isaac, for doctrinal or true historical accounts of these Biblical
figures' lives. If a reader is looking for something of the covenants
between God and Abraham's people, it won't be found here. Neither
is there anything to show how following God was in any way superior
to the worship of the false gods the other nomadic tribes of the
period ascribed to. There is something reminiscent in these books
of the Broadway musical "Hair" which reduces Jesus to "just a man"
and the treatment of these revered Old Testament giants, who in
Card's portrayal, become just another group of too-human, squabbling,
covered-with-warts people.
If the reader
is looking for a means to enhance his/her study of the Old Testament
Women of Genesis might not be a positive choice.
This series lacks spiritual depth though it does bring to life the
conditions and day-to-day life of the nomadic Middle Eastern people
of three thousand years ago. These books cannot be placed in the
same category as the carefully researched and doctrinally based
historical novels of Gerald Lund and David G. Woolley.
Card's Women
of Genesis is in a category of fiction seeing a resurgence
of popularity in recent years. Books in this category include popular
romances and historicals such The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
which place a Biblical character in a reasonably accurate historical
setting, then proceeds to "fill in the gaps" left in the Biblical
account by inventing thoughts and actions which plausibly could
have led to the brief scriptural accounts given in the Bible. Many
readers find something distasteful in an author presuming to place
his own thoughts and feelings inside the mind and mouth of persons
with the stature of Abraham and Sarah or Rebekah and Isaac. These
people, who are much more than characters in a book, deserve the
dignity of being viewed through the eyes of parallel characters.
Card clearly
states in his preface that his books in this series are loosely
based on the Biblical accounts of three great women, and that the
stories he has written are largely speculation. A reader would do
well to keep this point in mind.
Card's Rebekah
is a strong-willed woman, daughter of Abraham's nephew, Bethuel.
She has had the running of the women's portion of her father's camp
for most of her life since her father had no wife to assume this
role. She has been raised believing her mother dead. Her simple,
child-like cousin, Deborah, fifteen years older than herself, and
her indulgent, deaf father have raised her to this point. She is
close to her brother, Laban, and the two concoct a plan to learn
to read so they can communicate with their deaf father.
Rebekah is
beautiful and sought as a bride by many powerful men, and it is
through her efforts to avoid marriage to one such man, that she
discovers her mother is not only alive, but a worshiper of idols
who was sent away by her father because of her idolatry. Since scriptural
accounts of Rebekah's background are few in number and reveal very
little about her, Card invented a background for her loosely based
on the circumstances which might have shaped her life.
Card candidly acknowledges that most of the first half of the book
is his own invention. I would say this disclaimer should extend
to the second half of the book as well.
The scene where
Abraham's servant meets Rebekah at the well is well written and
plausible, but readers who take the story of Abraham's near-sacrifice
of Isaac as a triumphant test of faith by both Abraham and Isaac
will have trouble, as I did, with Isaac as an angst-ridden, insecure
mama's boy who interpreted this test as a sign that his father loved
his older brother Ishamael more than he loved him. It also supposedly
fosters resentment in Isaac that his father loves God more than
he loves his son.
Rebekah is
at odds with her husband and father-in-law from the time her twin
sons Jacob and Esau are born. People both in and outside of the
Church have been troubled by the story of these two boys since their
birth, and it is impossible to assign the blame for the animosity
that continues to this day between the descendants of these two
brothers to one cause. The biblical account indicates that the two
were at war before their birth and even the most casual scholars
recognize the formula for resentment and jealousy that existed between
the two because Isaac, their father, favored Esau while Rebekah,
their mother, preferred Jacob. Brother Card assigns much of the
responsibility for this animosity to Abraham by having the old prophet
take over the training and rearing of Esau while neglecting and
excluding Jacob.
Isaac is portrayed
as a weakling, so anxious to have his father's approval, that he
goes along with Abraham's spoiling of Esau. He also ignores his
son, Jacob, because the boy has the misfortune of resembling Isaac,
himself, while Esau is more like his own adored older brother Ishmael.
Rebekah, like
her mother-in-law Sarah, has been held up to generations of women
as a woman of great faith and loyalty. It is somewhat disturbing
to discover Card's Rebekah is stubbornly arrogant, a modern day
feminist, and a woman who acts from impulse rather than direction
from God.
Card is an
intriguing story teller who holds his reader's attention, providing
great entertainment. Though he has written a superb book on writing
technique and teaches writing at North Carolina Chapel Hill, he
frequently ignores his own advice. In this series he breaks out
of point of view and often shifts from first person to third person.
His interior dialogue (character thoughts) are not always tied to
the immediate scene which causes some distraction. His modern dialogue
may be easier to understand, but it serves to make Rebekah sound
like a feminist of this time period rather than a woman of her own
time. If anyone can break the rules and still make it work; that
person is Card. Like Piccaso, he paints his picture with enough
flair and excitement that he creates his own unique style and develops
his own following.
This series
is a cut above Card's previous forays into writing for the LDS market,
but it is obvious he intended it to also appeal to his more worldly
following, too. Card fans will enjoy the book, the rest of us probably
won't read book three.
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