ENTERTAINMENT

Words To live By

Former Detroiter Chayym Zeldis,

he ending to Torn
Apart shouldn't
have been a sur-
prise to Chayym
Zeldis. After all,
the former Detroiter had
written the book that in-
spired the film, a love story
between an Arab and a Jew.
But Torn Apart, which
opened nationwide last mon-
th, was not exactly what Mr.
Zeldis expected. That's be-
cause the film makers opted
to have one of the main
characters killed by an
Israeli soldier and not an
Arab, as was the case in the
book.
Like the film based on his
novel, A Forbidden Love,
Chayym Zeldis has lead a
life that's anything but
predictable. Now a pas-
sionate Zionist who lives in
Israel, he grew up isolated
from any pro-Israel sen-
timents. He knew no
Zionists, "and in our home,
`Palestine' was an alien
word — of course that's
when Palestine meant a
Jewish state."
A poet, novelist and
playwright, Mr. Zeldis was
born in 1927 in New York.
His father was a klezmer
musician who met his wife
while performing at a wed-
ding. In later years, when
she and her husband would
argue, Mrs. Zeldis would
sigh, "If only I hadn't gone
to that wedding!"
When his father took a job
as a traveling salesman,
young Chayym found
himself moving from city to
city. He hated it. "They
called us the Gypsies," he
said.
One of the cities where the
family stopped — and even-
tually stayed —was Detroit.
They found a home near
Central Street and Chayym.
attended Roosevelt Elemen-
tary School. Later, he went
to the University of Mich-
igan where he studied Heb-
rew, joined the school's Quill
and Scroll club and national
literary society and won the

Hopwood Award for poetry.
Mr. Zeldis has few fond
memories of Detroit. He
recalls the anti-Semitism
fostered by Father Charles
Coughlin. From his Royal
Oak studio, Father Coughlin
made worldwide broadcasts
claiming Jews were involved
in an international con-
spiracy to control the world.
"The anti-Semitism was
terrible," Mr. Zeldis said.
"When we went to shul, my
father had to hide his tallit
and Machzor in a news-
paper."
Mr. Zeldis believed so-
cialism was "the most sane
and humane way of living."
As such, he could think of no
more appropriate place to be
in 1948 than at a kibbutz in
what was about to become
the new State of Israel. He
would live there for 12 years,
serving in the armed forces
in the 1956 Sinai campaign.

ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM

Assistant Editor

He loved the life, describ-
ing the kibbutz as a place
where "You have to give a
lot of yourself. You can't go
looking for a handout." But
he remembers being sur-
prised what happened one
day after he drank a soda
pop.
Mr. Zeldis and another
kibbutznik were "drinking a
gazoz, soda, when suddenly
he took out money and paid
for the drink. I couldn't
believe it. I'd always
thought Israel was a
classless, moneyless socie-
ty."
In 1958, Mr. Zeldis return-
ed to the United States and
began a writing career that
would include poetry, short
stories and such novels as
Brothers and Golgotha. He

attended the New School for
Social Research, where he
won the John Day Novel
Award. Among the students
in his class were future God-
father author Mario Puzo
and William Styron, who
wrote Sophie's Choice.
Mr. Zeldis married, had a
family and remained in the
United States for 30 years.
But he always felt he
belonged in Israel, he said,
and the intifada convinced
him it was time to go.
"The intifada really did
it," he said. "It became ab-
solutely impossible for us to
sit here and watch the media
coverage."
Mr. Zeldis said he does not
hesitate to let Israel's critics
—especially Jews — know
his views. He explains: "He
who is kind to the cruel ends
up being cruel to the kind."
In Israel, Mr. Zeldis took a
position teaching creative
writing and American Jew-
ish literature at Tel Aviv
University, as well as screen
writing at the Israel
Cinematheque.
Mr. Zeldis, who describes
himself as "a Jewish writer
first and foremost," said he
does not wait for inspiration
to begin writing.
"It's like milking a cow,"
he said. "The more you milk
a cow, the more you get. If
you don't write, it dries up."
Some of his books have
been a struggle to write, Mr.

Chayym Zeldis.. "We need
nourishm ent
our spiritual
rial
as much as our mate
t."
n ourishmen

Zeldis said. Brothers, one of
his most popular works, was
not. "I wrote that every-
where — on the bus, in line
at the bank."
Mr. Zeldis is interested to
see reaction in Israel to Torn
Apart, which he said is "very
different from the book." He
turned down the chance to
work on the film's
screenplay, saying he felt
"too close to the book" to do
so.
He compared his writing
style to "following a trail. I
don't do outlines; that's too
constricting. What is crucial
in writing is the imagina-
tion."
His books are written
longhand, then edited by his
wife. Mr. Zeldis recalls once
writing a book with such in-
tensity that "I couldn't keep
the left-hand margin
straight."
When teaching, Mr. Zeldis
tries to transmit his fervor
for the written word. "The
real purpose is to get
students to understand, to
respond to and to love litera-
ture," he said. "Literature is
often presented in a way
that separates the readers
and writers. But that's a
myth. I teach students that
writers are people just like
themselves."
Mr. Zeldis often cites a
poem by Yiddish writer Ab-
raham Sutzkever, who dur-
ing World War II was
interned in the Vilna Ghetto.
In the ghetto, Mr. Sut-
zkever watched a terrible
scene: a young man passed
by a corpse, a stale piece of
bread in its cold hand. The
man grabbed the bread from
the dead soul, then dashed
away. Mr. Sutzkever wrote:
"May my words feed
others."
"We need our spiritual
nourishment as much as our
material nourishment," Mr.
Zeldis explained. "We're not
only the People of the Book;
it's much more basic than
that. We're the people of
poetry."

❑

THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS

77

ARTS & ENTE PTAINMENT

Hopes His Writing Feeds The Soul.

