In a way, it is ironic that the Israeli writer Yoram Kaniuk is underappreciated in America, and arguably in Israel as well: Writing was not even Kaniuk’s initially chosen vocation. On the other hand, given that Kaniuk’s failures as an artist in America—as an American artist—forged in him the character that has produced more than a dozen acclaimed volumes in the ensuing years, perhaps our underappreciation is his creative spark. Either way, you shouldn’t underappreciate Sam Munson’s excellent review today in Tablet Magazine of Kaniuk’s most recent work, a memoir-as-novel called Life on Sandpaper.

Bohemian Rhapsody