New Fiction
Atlantic, The, December, 2005 by Joseph O'Neill
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The novel is such a noisy site of formal experimentation that it's easy to undervalue its long-standing, perhaps even quintessential, function as a describer of the bourgeois adventure—roughly speaking, the pursuit of plenitude in matters of love, work, and leisure. Indeed, it is nowadays oddly daring for a real artistic talent (that is, one properly attentive to considerations of language and truthfulness) to "confine" itself to this task. And yet when you read a book like Yael Hedaya's Accidents —a fine-grained, tragicomic, and always gripping portrait of adult love in the making—you wonder why so few such books are produced, and why they are not more fanfared.
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Of course, any summary of Accidents reduces it to banality. Suffice it to say that we are concerned with Yonatan—a widowed middle-aged writer living with his pre-teen daughter, Dana, in a Tel Aviv apartment ...
