Product Description

Moshe Benarroch was born in 1959 in Tetuan/Morocco, between Tangier and Gibraltar. He grew up in a mixture of cultures and languages, Spanish being his mother tongue, attending a French school, hearing the Arabic of the streets and praying in Hebrew. In 1972 He emigrated to Israel and lives since then in Jerusalem. He has published 5 books of poetry and prose in Hebrew and one in Spanish. His poetry has been published in hundred of magazines all around the world. In his first collection of poems in English, "Horses And Other Doubts", Moshe Benarroch touches the themes of immigration, the confrontation with a new country, discrimination against minorities, Bukowski, Paris, Zionism, Israel, love, the family, poetry, poets and life in general. All the poems in this book appear for the first time in book form. In his omnivorous all encompassing poetry, he takes an honest approach, putting truth and honesty above everything.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #4645777 in Books
• Published on: 2000-09-04
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 124 pages

Review
"THE ISRAELI BUKOWSKI." -- YEDIOT AHARONOT , JULY 12, 2002

Benarroch is the raging bull of Israeli literature. -- Yaron abituv, Kol Hazman, march 2001

Moshe Benarroch is one the best Israeli poets writing today. -- Natan Zach, haaretz, Israel, 19 oct. 2000

Moshe Benarroch transforms permanent exile, the impossibility to adapt and the eternal escape, into

his vital poetics. -- Xulio Valcarcel, El ideal gallego, Spain, 25 feb.2001

Sometimes poetry is a bit more, or a bit less, than poetry: A document. -- Clarin no. 30, Spain, Nov.-Dec 2000.

There are no holds barred in this honest look at life as a human being. -- Jo Ann Miller, poetrytodayonline.com january 2001

From the Author
In his first collection of poems in English, Moshe Benarroch Touches the themes of immigration, the confrontation with a new country, discrimination against minorities, love, the family, poetry, poets and life in general.

In his omnivorous all encompassing poetry, he takes an honest approach, putting truth and honesty above everything.

About the Author
Moshe Benarroch was born in 1959 in Tetuan/Morocco, between Tangier and Gibraltar. He grew up in a mixture of cultures and languages, Spanish being his mother tongue, attending a French school, hearing the Arabic of the streets and praying in Hebrew. In 1972 He emigrated to Israel and lives since then in Jerusalem. He has published 5 books of poetry and prose in Hebrew and one in Spanish. His poetry has been published in hundred of magazines all around the world.

Customer Reviews

Horses and more horses
"Horses and other doubts" is another great book by multilingual Israeli poet Moshe
Benarroch. But it seems to me that some of the poems, as it happen with great poems,
have changed their meaning since sept. 11. Here are the first two poems from the book:

Horses

~~~~~~



And

they will come running

galloping galloping

gray black blue horses

forgotten horses

horses from all the centuries

will come

to crush everything they see

women men and children

and donkeys and foxes and dogs and cats

Come they will Come

horses and more horses

and nobody will be able to stop them

not atomic bombs

nor gases nor chemicals nor viruses

they will be the strongest horses that ever existed

horses that recall all

the injustices made and to be made

and the man will ask

Why in my time

Why in my house

Why my family and my children

and nobody will be able to answer

the blue horses, the celestial horses

those will be the worst

destroying 200 story buildings

destroying tanks and planes

blowing them apart

and the president will calm

and the specialists will analyze

and the televisions will speak

but nothing will help

more and more horses will come

out of nowhere

horses appearing suddenly

in front of people walking on the streets

and you, in bed, you'll look at me

despaired, waiting for rescue

I will look at you and suddenly

I will become

a red horse.

We Count Our Dead

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



When we go to sleep

we count our dead

When we wake up

we count our dead

When we end the century

we count our dead

When we kill

we count our dead

When we live

we count our dead

When we eat

we count our dead

When we pray

we count our dead

When we celebrate life

we count our dead

When we write a poem

we count our dead.

I wouldn't call this prophecy but maybe it's not far from it. It shows how far words can
go, and how the infractsructure of language can carry the future in it. The book goes on
with poems of decaying cities (old cities like Paris) life and immigration, a poem about
a Hamass terrorist and a terrorist attack in Tel Aviv, when the poet was a free blocks

away. But Benarroch's poetry is not pessimistic, it is cynical, maybe we can call it
cynical optimism. There is always a grain of hope, in the darkest moments, and a grain
of despair in the brightest ones.
A poet to follow, read and reread.
I think that the poem "Horses" (first printed in Galaxy mag. in 1999) , is bound to
become a classic as "Ithaca" or "Howl", any day soon. It has been traveling the world
through thousands of emails...

Which Ones to Write, Which Ones to Leave
Moshe Benarroch's title for his first book of poems in English, Horses and Other Doubts, seems ironic, because this is a poet with an established international audience, charging headlong into a wide range of subjects, love, war, discrimination, Zionism, and poetry, a poet who writes in "The Poem"

"they {poems} all want to be written/ screaming at me/ convincing me/ asking and begging/ but I have to make the choice/ which ones I write/ which ones to leave."

and maybe "which ones to leave" is the poet's dilemma, the other doubts in his title.

Benarroch's a prolific writer with five books to his credit; in this one he leads with "Horses," the powerful steam-roller he's best known for. He writes:

"horses from all the centuries/ will come/ to crush everything they see..."

and asks:

"Why in my time/ Why in my house/ Why my family and my children/ and nobody will be able to answer..."

There's a memorable line in almost every poem: (he's mastered the poet's toughest problem - all poets pray for just one good line in a poem; more than one is considered a miracle)

In "The Evening Before," he inquires about death - asking: "what is the color of this angel, the shape of the shoes/ does he run, or is death just the moment when the/ angel of life/ tires of us, and goes for another soul..."

In "Zionism" he is resolute: "... you made me/ a master forgetter/ Till I forgot you/ and remembered all this."

Benarroch's a realist too, understanding the artist's angst, especially the poet's; I suspect he, like many other poets, would write twenty-four hours a day, given the chance, yet given the reality all poet's face, he must work at something else to keep the wolf away from the door, so he pines: "There is no job that fits a poet."

Benarroch's accesible, and worth reading; most of his poems chew on the bones of human experience, much of which is raw. Finally, he's refreshingly demanding, much like a prof in a Lit class. In "The Reader" he addresses the "good reader:"

"...his interaction/ creates the/ echo/

that brings/ to the poem/ someone who's/ never read poetry./ He's the best."

From a Writer Who Deserves a Large Worldwide Audience
Moshe Bennaroch has a unique voice and writes like no one else. He brings to us his truth of many diverse geographies and truly writes as a citizen of the world, and as one who has heart and feeling for populations that transcend borders and ideologies. The title of the book is lovely and quirky -- and like a Zen Koan it intrigues and rather short circuits the reader's left brain, leading him or her into a world where poetry rules, where indeed poetry succeeds in making sense of life, which often gives us a reality of senselessness and chaos. Moshe Bennaroch brings us a poetry of uncanny sensibilities, of insight, of music of the desert, the oasis and the clouds that touch everywhere -- and ultimately he gives us a poetry of peace. May the world have ears.

Maria Jacketti Jacketti_M@spcvxa.spc.edu