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~4.5 stars.
“Rebekah” by Orson Scott Card is a superb example of how to use inner conflict to make even a slower, character-driven story riveting. Each of the main characters was sympathetic—at least, those who were meant to be. As in “Sarah,” the first in this series, Card still excels in his use of dialogue, but in this second novel—unlike the first—I had only the praise and none of the scriptural reservations. It’s true that Card interprets the repeated sister-wife narratives the same way as some literary critics do: Card assumes a singular event, which he already included in “Sarah,” so readers won’t find another here. A few liberties don’t concern me so long as the spirit of the Scripture remains intact—which I believe it did in this second novel. The Jacob painted in this story is compelling and lovable enough I’m curious to read the next book in the series to see how Card paints the rest of Jacob’s story.
I will say—though it doesn’t bother me—Card’s style in this series seems to be to add in—for lack of a better word—“diversions” from the Scripture. These diversions don’t contradict the biblical account. Readers can imagine these “diversion” are events that never got recorded. In “Rebekah,” these story threads are all plausible and interesting, even enhancing characterization. I enjoyed the additions in this book, though if you’re looking for something that adheres only to the biblical account, with no diversions or embellishments, this might not suit. Personally, I thought it was a well-written and interesting story that explains some of the questions that rise in my mind when I read the biblical account… like, for example, why Isaac didn’t revoke the blessing he’d given to Jacob in error. Furthermore, why bless him again, more intentionally, after Isaac became aware of his son’s deception? This novel provides plausible answers, as well as familial themes that will likely provoke deeper thinking of just what the original account means. As Card writes, inherited behaviors… “would show up in the way each treated his children. And so on, and so on, in a never-ending cycle that began with nothing worse than good people trying to do what was right and getting it wrong without meaning to.”
And indeed Jacob errs in the same way as his father. Just as Isaac favored Esau, reaping rivalry between sons, so too Jacob’s favoritism reaps discord.
“Rebekah” by Orson Scott Card is a superb example of how to use inner conflict to make even a slower, character-driven story riveting. Each of the main characters was sympathetic—at least, those who were meant to be. As in “Sarah,” the first in this series, Card still excels in his use of dialogue, but in this second novel—unlike the first—I had only the praise and none of the scriptural reservations. It’s true that Card interprets the repeated sister-wife narratives the same way as some literary critics do: Card assumes a singular event, which he already included in “Sarah,” so readers won’t find another here. A few liberties don’t concern me so long as the spirit of the Scripture remains intact—which I believe it did in this second novel. The Jacob painted in this story is compelling and lovable enough I’m curious to read the next book in the series to see how Card paints the rest of Jacob’s story.
I will say—though it doesn’t bother me—Card’s style in this series seems to be to add in—for lack of a better word—“diversions” from the Scripture. These diversions don’t contradict the biblical account. Readers can imagine these “diversion” are events that never got recorded. In “Rebekah,” these story threads are all plausible and interesting, even enhancing characterization. I enjoyed the additions in this book, though if you’re looking for something that adheres only to the biblical account, with no diversions or embellishments, this might not suit. Personally, I thought it was a well-written and interesting story that explains some of the questions that rise in my mind when I read the biblical account… like, for example, why Isaac didn’t revoke the blessing he’d given to Jacob in error. Furthermore, why bless him again, more intentionally, after Isaac became aware of his son’s deception? This novel provides plausible answers, as well as familial themes that will likely provoke deeper thinking of just what the original account means. As Card writes, inherited behaviors… “would show up in the way each treated his children. And so on, and so on, in a never-ending cycle that began with nothing worse than good people trying to do what was right and getting it wrong without meaning to.”
And indeed Jacob errs in the same way as his father. Just as Isaac favored Esau, reaping rivalry between sons, so too Jacob’s favoritism reaps discord.