Dora B, as its subtitle suggests, is a memoir of the author’s mother. The story, told mostly from the perspective of the child Behmoiras, starts off in France where Josiane and her Jewish mother Dora spend their lives moving from place to place. In between the odd jobs Dora finds to keep their heads above water, the pair spend their nights in railways stations and at Salvation Army hostels, their days filled with scavenging for food and personal possessions: ‘We sneaked into the courtyards of rich people, lifted the lids of rubbish bins and found our treasures’. Eventually they are arrested. Unable to produce documentation to prove they are not vagrants, the two are sent to Israel to begin a new life in the Promised Land.

Here, they are given a small, sparsely furnished hut in a Jewish settlement, and a few basic provisions to keep them going. ‘You will see,’ Dora says, ‘life is going to be beautiful’. This new place, however, does not bring the fresh start they hoped for. Josiane and her mother quickly find themselves ostracised and facing the merciless derision of their neighbours, which serves only to fuel Dora’s delusional mind. She becomes convinced the walls of their hut hold microphones planted by their countless ‘enemies’, and her life unfolds as a mixture of a ramblings to her foes through these microphones, and stories recounted to her daughter. But finally, Josiane tears herself away from her mother and leaves Israel for Australia. Their communication becomes intermittent as Josiane is increasingly distant. Though still guilty about her abandonment, Josiane builds her own life, returning to Israel only when her mother becomes ill in old age. 

The novel is enjoyable. There are no complexities of plot, and little in the way of hidden depths or meanings. But why should there be any of these things? It is, after all, both autobiographical and biographical, and Behmoiras tells her story with such raw, gritty emotion that little else is needed to portray her grim reality. Descriptive language is rarely found, but is not needed when the author’s life has been so full of pain, which alone suffices.

One feature of Behmoiras’ writing that sticks out is its erraticism. Some chapters are no more than a paragraph, and each chapter leads to a new place, a new part of her life, fragmented and chaotic. Josiane and Dora are constantly moving, trying to find the place they belong - but are persecuted wherever they end up.  What is perhaps most amazing about Dora B then, is the way Behmoiras tells the story seemingly without any bitterness, resentment or self-pity. She never questions Dora’s increasing paranoia, seems almost accepting of her family’s ill treatment, and never tries to condemn the behaviour of those that have hurt them, and this earns the Behmoiras a great deal of respect, both as an author and as a person. 

An interesting point is that Josiane and her mother don’t seem particularly Jewish. They are not religious, but it is the mere fact they ‘are’ Jewish that leaves them open to persecution, which raises the question of whether there is such a thing as a specific Jewish identity.

When examining the concept of Jewish literature as a whole, this question crops up time and time again, and it is certainly a prominent feature of Behmoiras’ story. It seems everything leads to it in the end: even in the title, Dora is referred to by just part of her name, giving her only a partial identity from the outset. We are presented with the idea of their identity throughout the book: Josiane and her mother never have a place to call home, and face hostility wherever they are, even in the so-called Jewish homeland of Israel. All are familiar themes and concepts related to the idea of Jewishness, and sadly, Behmoiras seems to come to the conclusion that, if such a thing does exist, it is being rapidly eroded: there is little unity even in the Jewish settlement – not even saying ‘this is not nice, we are all Jews’ is enough to stop the beating that leaves Dora bedbound.

Overall, Dora B is a compelling read. Touching and thought-provoking, it offers a fascinating insight into the unconventional relationship between a daughter and a mother slowly losing her wits. Unlike many of the childhood memoirs that fly off the shelves, this is obviously not a self-obsessed fest of tortuous acts, but it is nevertheless heartbreaking and gripping. Behmoiras’ writing has a beautiful simplicity which fits the storyline perfectly, allowing the extraordinary strength and bravery of both her and her mother to shine through, and making a worthwhile novel indeed.