City of Oranges, which was published in 2006, must have been a difficult book to write, even in the comparatively less fraught time of the early 2000s. Adam LeBor — whom I knew a little bit many years ago in Budapest, so I will refer to him as Adam — attempts an open-minded and honest reckoning with the history of the city of Jaffa from the early 20th century to the early 21st. Inevitably, the twenty years that have passed since the book’s publication have made it a piece of history as much as a record of history, but the years have not erased the book’s value. Given the large number of people Adam interviewed in their old age, many of them have passed on by now, making their recorded recollections all the more valuable.
This is a book of people and personalities. As Adam writes in his introductory author’s note, “This book is based on hours of interviews with several generations of Jaffa families, their recollections of parents and grandparents and their memoirs, letters and personal archives, reaching back to the early twentieth century. These are their stories of their lives as they remember them. This is what they want to say, and the quotes of every interviewee have been checked back with them for accuracy.” (p. xxiii) Jaffa today is a part of the larger Tel Aviv conurbation. At the beginning of City of Oranges, it was very much the other way around. Jaffa was the political and cultural center of Palestine, which in the aftermath of the Great War was placed under a British mandate. “[Jaffa’s] oranges, especially the sweet and juicy Shamouti, were famed the world over and kept many thousands in gainful employment, including the Jewish traders who bought and sold the fruit.” (p. 2) Adam has consciously chosen to write a small-scale history, in which he can always focus on individuals. The larger currents of history are inescapable, and their ebb and flow are clearly visible in the personal stories he tell. One thing that the book really brings home is that the tides of history are never uniform; there are always exceptions; sometimes even within the same family, people will have different perspectives on the same events. Adam writes, “I hope the people featured in this book give a sense of [the Israeli-Arab conflict’s] complexity and its human dimension. They are Muslim, Christian and Jewish. They are middle class and working class. They are artisans and intellectuals, artists and businessmen. Some are left-wing, others right-wing. In short, human beings, in all their variety and contradictions.” (p. 3)









