In his fast-paced and moving new novel, Doron Rabinovici stirs up concepts of origin, identity and belonging as he describes the shifting, twisting relationships in a Jewish family. Old skeletons are dragged out of cupboards, new secrecies are closely observed. By the end of this gripping story, only one thing is certain: home is wherever you feel most like a stranger.

Why would Israeli cultural studies expert Ethan Rosen engage in controversy over an article he wrote himself? Does he not recognise his own writing? Or has he been set up by his colleague Rudi Klausinger, who is vying for the same professorship at Vienna University? Ethan Rosen and Rudi Klausinger are luminaries in the same field of research, but otherwise they are like chalk and cheese. Rosen can live anywhere but has no real home. He does not even give the woman he loves his real name. Klausinger, a golden boy who can adapt to any situation, is always restless. A bastard child, his search for his biological father is what drives him, and what ultimately leads him to Ethan Rosen. Rosen’s father, an old Viennese Jew who survived Auschwitz, desperately needs a new kidney, and the entire family has become obsessed with finding the right donor. The very strange Rabbi Berkowitsch also develops a sudden interest in the Rosens: he thinks that Ethan’s father’s genes can help him bring the Messiah back to life.

»Why did he, of all people, have to sit next to this revenant, thought Ethan, this ruminant of the scriptures, who, with his sidelocks, his woolly hair and his long beard, reminded him of a sheep. Such men only wanted to pray; he would rock back and forth during the entire flight. How was he supposed to work then? A week ago, on the way from Vienna to Tel Aviv, he had also sat next to a devout man but the ceremonials had not disturbed him: on the contrary. They had both been immersed, each in his own world. What made this religious believer different from the other? On that occasion, he had been looking at the Original Jew, had kept an eye on him, ready to protect him from any disapproving stares, ready to oppose anyone who wrinkled his nose at the black caftan and the broad-rimmed hat. Now, in the opposite direction, from East to West, he noticed the fusty, sweetish odour of this man who was dressed too warmly and the whiff reminded him of the cemetery, of the rabbi and the cantor he had seen at Dov’s grave, of the prayers and laments that they had chanted.«

The Search for M