Ruby Namdar is an exquisite literary talent making his U.S. debut with The Ruined House, a nuanced and provocative tale of materialism, tradition, faith, and the search for meaning in contemporary American life. The Ruined House already won Israel's Sapir Prize, so we're very excited to bring this work to a U.S. audience. This mesmerizing novel blends elements of Saul Bellow, Phillip Roth, and Bernard Malamud with the modern sensibilities of The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P. and the Coen brothers’ A Serious Man and is sure to impress and delight readers across generations.
We were honored to have Ruby stop by LLF to share the tale of his first literary crime.
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My First Literary Crime
By: Ruby Namdar
Even now, forty years since the deed was done, I can still feel the tingling, guilt-laced thrill of my first literary crime. It was a late spring day, during recess. My classmates, brimming with the energy pent up in their young, vigorous bodies during the long hours of class, were in the school yard, playing sports or chasing each other around. But I had a different plan. Instead of joining my friends in the yard, I snuck into the quiet, dusty, almost deserted space of our school’s library where I proceeded, like I did almost every day, to immerse myself in the reading of the serious, complex and demanding novels that no one assumed would be interesting for a boy of my age. I remember it all so well: the dusty, golden glow of the sunbeams trickling through the windows; the strict, yet strangely welcoming librarian; the gray metal shelves, stacked with books whose jackets were covered with an extra layer of nylon for protection; and most of all, my awe and joy at seeing so many books in one place. I was like Aladdin, in The Book of One Thousand and One Nights, exploring the magic cave in which grew trees whose fruits were made of magnificent gems. I couldn’t get enough of this magical space. It was there, in the school library, that I first read Dostoyevsky’s Crime and punishment—because the girl on whom I had a huge crush (she is a famous writer now…) told me that I “simply must” read it. It was there that I also read The Stranger by Albert Camus—because I heard it was “important” and because its name sounded so solemn and mysterious. And indeed, my crime was much more in the style of the hazy, sun dazed one in The Stranger than the frantic, deliberate one in Crime and Punishment. The shrill, rattling ring of the bell tore me away from the book I was reading, and suddenly I was staring at my surroundings in bewilderment as if awakened in the middle of a particularly vivid dream. I couldn’t, simply couldn’t detach myself from the book in which I was so immersed. Swiftly, without thinking, I looked around to see that no one was watching, slipped it into my backpack and left the library hastily in order to make it on time to the next session (where I proceeded to read the book, holding it on my knees, hidden by my desk.) I then took it home with me, promising myself I’d return it the next day, which I didn’t. As a matter of fact, I never did return it. It remained on my bookshelf, a small reminder of my transgression, for years, until it vanished somewhere during some spring cleaning or another, never to be found again.
But this is not the end of the story. Years later, as an aspiring young writer, I attended a literary event celebrating the life and work of the very same author whose book I snuck out of the library without permission and never returned. I approached him, shook his hand in excitement, told him how much his work meant to me and then, without planning to and without considering the consequences, I confessed my sin. “I once” I told him, well aware of the absurdity of the situation “stole one of your books from the library because I couldn’t bear to part with it.” I didn’t know what to expect, and for sure did not expect what happened next. “Young man” he said, pulling me towards him as if he wanted to embrace me “this is the best complement I have ever gotten! Thank you, young man, you simply made my day!”
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Thanks, Ruby! The Ruined House goes on sale in November, so make sure to grab the egalley from Edelweiss and dive in before it hits shelves! Voting ends for the November LibraryReads list on September 20.
-Amanda
