Far from home, Liat and Hilmi’s relationship thrives in New York. One night, Liat burrows so deeply into the sleeping Hilmi’s body that she feels she almost knows what it is like to be him. Still, alarm bells go off. The conflict between Israel and Palestine has shaped them both and their political identities are in constant tension. Liat knows she has been raised to fear Arabs when she hears Hilmi speaking in Arabic on the phone: it suddenly sounds ‘menacing, crude and violent’.

When Hilmi, son of an atheist, finds a bible (given to Liat during her time with the IDF) next to their bed, he comments that it is just like Hamas with the Kalashnikov and the Qur’an. Liat is affronted, but she understands the weakness of her arguments. As a child, Liat tells him, she and her friend armed themselves with sewing pins in case Arabs tried to kidnap them. Hilmi recalls some Jewish kids from a settlement fleeing from him and his friends, shouting ‘Arabs, Arabs’, as if ‘they’d seen a wolf’.

When Hilmi describes his time in an Israeli military jail, Liat becomes apprehensive about terrorism, but the teenage Hilmi was only serving four months for painting the Palestinian flag on a wall in the forbidden colours of red, green, white, and black. Relieved, Liat is then shocked to learn that Hilmi was humiliated by prison guards.

At dinner in a restaurant with Hilmi, his brother, and some Palestinian intellectuals, Liat realises how embedded she is in the Zionist narrative that dominated her education. However, she does not become a sympathiser for the Palestinians; rather, she examines her political attitudes. Hilmi is devoted to one state; Liat believes in two.

The cold in New York worsens as their love and political difficulties grow. Liat keeps the relationship secret from her family; Hilmi is offended by the way she conceals it. Liat lets her sister in on the secret in phone calls during which Hilmi is asked to leave the room, even though he does not understand Hebrew. Liat feels some remorse at the way she treats him, but the dreamy Hilmi adores Liat and gives no thought to the difficulties that the future holds for them.

Dorit Rabinyan

Finally, they prepare to leave New York. Liat already has her return ticket to Tel Aviv, and Hilmi will spend the summer in Ramallah with his family. Liat understands the transience of their love. Her Jewish identity is ultimately too strong to allow her to be with an Arab. She builds a wall between herself and Hilmi, fearing that if they stay together her Jewishness will dissolve into Hilmi’s Arab identity.

Even though Hilmi stays in touch by phone, they are physically separated by the conflict and the newly built separation wall. Liat tries to imagine Hilmi’s parallel universe in Ramallah, which she cannot see. Standing on the roof of his family’s apartment, Hilmi watches the lights of Tel Aviv at night.

In Hebrew, the title is Gader Haya, literally Hedgerow, a fence of living vegetation. The word has a number of associations which are lost in translation. It refers to the hedgerows of prickly pears once used to mark the borders between villages. It also alludes to the West Bank barrier, which is either the ‘separation fence’ or the ‘separation wall’, depending on who is using the term. Borders and boundaries are at the heart of the story: borders between people and nations.

It is ironic that a book banned for promoting miscegenation suggests in the end that these borders are impermeable. Liat and Hilmi’s love is untenable, for it is intertwined with the nationalistic feelings that stand between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Rabinyan has found in fiction a powerful form to explore this intractable conflict. Her compelling tale strikes a perfect balance between the personal and the political.