I was looking forward to The Sound of Our Steps (Early Reviewers) but I just could not get into it. I did not care for Matalon's writing style...felt like she was trying too hard (this could have a been the problem with translation). Lastly, I was unable to connect with the characters. It is rare but I was unable to complete this novel.

"The Sound of Our Steps" doesn't tell a story; it paints a picture. And there lie both its strength and weakness. The picture is drawn in fragmentary, impressionistic vignettes by "the child" who lives with her Egyptian-Jewish immigrant family in a government-provided concrete box ("the shack") on the outskirts of Tel Aviv. The constant fear of attack that plagues modern-day Israel barely registers on the child's consciousness. Her world is circumscribed by her family -- older brother and sister, grandmother, mostly-absent father, and mother. It is "the mother" who dominates her life and the novel and the sound of whose steps is awaited with trepidation by children who are terrified of her violent outbursts.

The mother is Lucette, who speaks only French and Arabic and was uprooted from a privileged, protected life as a delicate beauty in Cairo. She is exhausted and now has hands made rough with callouses from cleaning a rabbi's house and other menial jobs and her determination to coax a garden out of sandy soil. Her primary connection to the refined life she knew is to read, reread and cry over "La Dame aux Camélias" as she struggles to support her children and wrestle the shack into some semblance of a home.

Maurice, husband and father, is a former revolutionary made bitter by the dominance in Israel of European Jews and the marginalization of the Mizrahi, or Jews from the Middle East. He makes only occasional appearances in the family's life and provides no support but looms large in the child's imagination.

Ronit Matalon is a distinguished Israeli novelist, critic, academic and journalist. This, her seventh novel, is the most explicitly autobiographical. It won several prizes in Israel and in French translation. It does create a harrowing, detailed picture of immigrant life but the lack of plot makes for tough reading, with only the pull of language to keep the reader engaged through tenuously linked short (some very short) chapters. I have little doubt that Dalyu Bilu, who translated the Hebrew into English, did so masterfully but whether the fault is in the original Hebrew or in the translation, I found the language sometimes stilted and self-consciously literary, albeit with lovely moments. It might have been more compelling in 250 pages rather than almost 400. ( )

So I don't know if I'm in the minority but I liked this book. I liked the unique perspective of the nameless child and the group think. I'm sure there's a official title for this kind of perspective. Regardless I liked it.

The short chapters and unreliable time take some getting used to for me. But once I let go of trying to understand where exactly we were in time I could enjoy the writing and the experiment.

This is really a beautiful story. Beautiful and difficult and ultimately healing and redemptive. I'm glad I read it.

This is a sad book. Not a lot of light in it. So it's good to start when you're prepared for that. ( )

This isn't a a bad book in any way but it wasn't my cup of tea. The chapters are very short and jump around in time a bit so it was difficult for me to stay focused on the book. I am currently about half way through it and I do intend to finish it but it won't be in time to do a review once I'm done. ( )

This translation was a more difficult read than I had expected it to be, in part because of the difficulty of translating a semitic language to English. It is a difficult task to achieve, as many words and grammatical styles do not coincide very well and it becomes quite daunting to follow. Ronit Matalon's style of writing was different even than many Israeli writer's than I have read. Still, I found Matalon to be talented and fascinating in her use of 'the child's' narrations to tell the grown up tales that unfolded in the tiny chapters through Ms. Matalon's novel. Who is 'the child'?

This is story is a family of French-Egyptian immigrants, three children and a mother, living on the outskirts of Tel Aviv, nearly altogether abandoned by the on-again-off-again, Father, Maurice, a proud Mizrahi. The Mother is a former aristocrat from Egypt that speaks mainly French and Arabic. She is prone to temper-tantrums.

The mother, the central character, raises three children by herself, in a government issued shack in an amm (quarter, neighborhood), in Tel Aviv, Israel.

The story is narrated by the youngest, 'the child' in a series of short-styled chapters.The child, the youngest of the three children, seems to be the closest to both of the parents and the most observant of her surroundings, particularly, the people she observes. In this way, the child tells the tale of growing up in a dysfunctional, family without being personally touched by it.

I was touched by the author's honest handling of this subject, and I was certainly not surprised how she handled thee description of her life, as I am Jewish myself and understand the taboos of dysfunctionalism and discussing family secrets in public. Such things are often swept under the carpet in many cultures. Too often at the risk of our children's physical and mental well being. I am very happy that Ronit Matalon had the courage to share her story(and her siblings) of personal child abuse and dysfunctionalism as well as healing with the world. It is a MIGHTY tale for those who have gone through it.

I highly recommend this book for ages 12 and over.

I received this book in exchange for an honest review. ( )