When awkward and painfully shy sixteen-year-old Assaf is asked to find the owner of a stray yellow lab, he begins a quest that will bring him into contact with street kids and criminals, and a talented young singer, Tamar, engaged on her own mission: to rescue a teenage drug addict.
A runaway bestseller in Israel, in the words of the Christian Science Monitor: "It's time for Americans to fall in love with (Grossman's) Someone to Run With."
When awkward and painfully shy sixteen-year-old Assaf is asked to find the owner of a stray yellow lab, he begins a quest that will bring him into contact with street kids and criminals, and a talented young singer, Tamar, engaged on her own mission: to rescue a teenage drug addict.
A runaway bestseller in Israel, in the words of the Christian Science Monitor: "It's time for Americans to fall in love with (Grossman's) Someone to Run With."
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Someone to Run With
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Someone to Run With
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Overview
When awkward and painfully shy sixteen-year-old Assaf is asked to find the owner of a stray yellow lab, he begins a quest that will bring him into contact with street kids and criminals, and a talented young singer, Tamar, engaged on her own mission: to rescue a teenage drug addict.
A runaway bestseller in Israel, in the words of the Christian Science Monitor: "It's time for Americans to fall in love with (Grossman's) Someone to Run With."
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9780312421946 |
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Publisher: | Picador |
Publication date: | 02/01/2005 |
Edition description: | First Edition |
Pages: | 352 |
Sales rank: | 986,226 |
Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.79(d) |
Age Range: | 14 - 18 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
SOMEONE TO RUN WITH
By DAVID GROSSMAN
FARRAR, STRAUS AND GIROUX
Copyright © 2000 David GrossmanAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0-374-26657-3
Chapter One
A dog runs through the streets, a boy runs after it. A long rope connects the two and gets tangled in the legs of the passersby, who grumble and gripe, and the boy mutters "Sorry, sorry" again and again. In between mumbled sorries he yells "Stop! Halt!"-and to his shame a "Whoa-ah!" escapes from his lips. And the dog keeps running.It flies on, crossing busy streets, running red lights. Its golden coat disappears before the boy's very eyes and reappears between people's legs, like a secret code. "Slower!" the boy yells, and thinks that if only he knew the dog's name, he could call it and perhaps the dog would stop, or at least slow down. But deep in his heart he knows the dog would keep running, even then. Even if the rope chokes its neck, it'll run until it gets where it's galloping to-and don't I wish we were already there and I was rid of him!
All this is happening at a bad time. Assaf, the boy, continues to run ahead while his thoughts remain tangled far behind him. He doesn't want to think them, he needs to concentrate completely on his race after the dog, but he feels them clanging behind him like tin cans. His parents' trip-that's one can. They're flying over the ocean right now, flying for the first time in their lives-why, why did they have to leave so suddenly, anyway? His older sister-there's another can-and he's simply afraid to think about that one, only trouble can come of it. More cans, little ones and big ones, are clanging, they bang against each other in his mind-and at the end of the string drags one that's been following him for two weeks now, and the tinny noise is driving him out of his mind, insisting, shrilly, that he has to fall madly in love with Dafi now-because how long are you going to try to put it off? And Assaf knows he has to stop for a minute, has to call these maddening tin followers to order, but the dog has other plans.
Assaf sighs-"Hell!"-because only a minute before the door opened and he was called in to see the dog, he was so close to identifying the part of himself in which he could fall in love with her, with Dafi. He could actually, finally, feel that spot in himself; he could feel himself suppressing it, refusing it in the depths of his stomach, where a slow, silent voice kept whispering. She's not for you, Dafi, she spends all her time looking for ways to sting and mock everyone, especially you: why do you need to keep up this stupid show, night after night? Then, when he had almost succeeded in silencing that quarrelsome voice, the door of the room in which he had been sitting every day for the last week, from eight to four, opened. There stood Avraham Danokh, skinny and dark and bitter, the assistant manager of the City Sanitation Department. (He was sort of a friend of his father's and got Assaf the job for August.) Danokh told him to get off his ass and come down to the kennels with him, now, because there was finally work for him to do.
Danokh paced the room and started explaining something about a dog. Assaf didn't listen. It usually took him a few seconds to transfer his attention from one situation to another. Now he was dragging after Danokh along the corridors of City Hall, past people who came to pay their bills or their taxes or snitch on the neighbors who built a porch without a license. Following Danokh down the fire stairs, then into the courtyard in back, he tried to decide whether he had already managed to defeat his own last stand against Dafi, whether he knew yet how he would respond today when Roi told him to quit stalling and start acting like a man. Already, in the distance, Assaf heard one strong, persistent bark and wondered why it sounded like that: usually the dogs all barked together-sometimes their chorus would disturb his daydreams on the third floor-and now only one was barking. Danokh opened a chain-link gate and, turning to tell Assaf something he couldn't make out over the barks, opened the other gate, and, with a flick of his hand, motioned Assaf down the narrow walkway between the cages.
The sound was unmistakable. It was impossible to think that Danokh had brought Assaf down here for just one dog; eight or nine were penned in separate cages. But only one dog was animated; it was as if it had absorbed the others into its own body, leaving them silent and a bit stunned. The dog wasn't very big, but it was full of strength and savagery and, mainly, despair. Assaf had never seen such despair in a dog; it threw itself against the chain links of its cage again and again, making the entire row shake and rattle-then it would produce a horrifying high wail, a strange cross between a whine and a roar. The other dogs stood, or lay down, watching in silence, in amazement, even respect. Assaf had the strange feeling that if he ever saw a human being behave that way, he would feel compelled to rush up and offer his help-or else leave, so the person could be alone with his sorrow.
In the pauses between barks and slams against the cage, Danokh spoke quietly and quickly: one of the inspectors had found the dog the day before yesterday, running through the center of town near Tziyyon Square. At first the vet thought it was in the early stage of rabies, but there were no further signs of disease: apart from the dirt and a few minor injuries, the dog was in perfect health. Assaf noticed that Danokh spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as if he were trying to keep the dog from knowing it was being talked about. "He's been like that for forty-eight hours now," Danokh whispered, "and still not out of batteries. Some animal, huh?" he added, stretching nervously as the dog stared at him. "It's not just a street dog." "But whose is it?" Assaf asked, stepping back as the dog threw itself against the metal mesh, rocking the cage. "That's it, exactly," Danokh responded nasally, scratching his head, "that's what you have to find out." "Me? How me?" Assaf quavered. "Where will I find him?" Danokh said that as soon as this kalb-he called it a kalb, using Arabic-calms down a little, we'll ask him. Assaf looked at him, puzzled, and Danokh said, "We'll simply do what we always do in such cases: we tie a rope to the dog and let it walk for a while, an hour or two, and it will lead you itself, straight and steady, to its owner."
Assaf thought he was joking-who had ever heard of such a thing? But Danokh took a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and said it was very important, before he gave the dog back, for the owners to sign the form. Form 76. Put it in your pocket-and don't lose it (because, to tell the truth, you seem a little out to lunch). And most important, you have to explain to the esteemed master of this dog that a fine is included. A settlement of one hundred and fifty shekels or a trial-and he'd better pay up. First of all, he neglected to watch his dog, and maybe that will teach him a lesson to be more careful next time, and second, as a minimal compensation (Danokh enjoyed sucking, mockingly, on every syllable) for the headache and hassle he had caused City Hall, not to mention the waste of time of such superb human resources! With that, he tapped Assaf on the shoulder a little too hard and said that after he found the dog's owners, he could return to his room in the Water Department and continue to scratch his head at the taxpayers' expense until the end of his summer vacation.
"But how am I ..." Assaf objected. "Look at it ... It's like, crazy ..."
But then it happened: the dog heard Assaf's voice and stood still. It stopped running back and forth in the cage, approached the wire mesh, and looked at Assaf. Its ribs were still heaving, but it moved more slowly. Its eyes were dark and seemed to focus intensely on him. It cocked its head to the side, as if to get a better look at him, and Assaf thought that the dog was about to open its mouth right then and say in a completely human voice, Oh yeah? You're not exactly a model of sanity yourself.
It lay on its stomach, the dog; it lowered its head, and its front legs slipped under the metal grid, begging with a digging motion, and out of its throat a new voice emerged, thin and delicate like the cry of a puppy, or a little boy.
Assaf bent in front of it, from the other side of the cage. He didn't notice what he was doing-even Danokh, a hard man, who had arranged the job for Assaf without much enthusiasm, smiled a thin smile when he saw the way Assaf got down on his knees at the blink of an eye. Assaf looked at the dog and spoke quietly to it. "Who do you belong to?" he asked. "What happened to you? Why are you going so crazy?" He spoke slowly, leaving room for answers, not embarrassing the dog by looking into its eyes for too long. He knew-his sister Reli's boyfriend had taught him-the difference between talking at a dog and talking with a dog. The dog was breathing fast, lying down. Now, for the first time, it seemed tired, exhausted, and it looked a lot smaller than before. The kennels finally fell silent, and the other dogs began moving again, as if coming back to life. Assaf put his finger through one of the holes and touched the dog's head. It didn't move. Assaf scratched its head, the matted, dirty fur. The dog began to whine, frightened, persistent, as if it had to unburden itself to someone right away, as if it could no longer keep silent. Its red tongue trembled. Its eyes grew large and expressive.
Assaf didn't argue with Danokh after that. Danokh took advantage of the dog's momentary calm: he entered the cage and tied a long rope to the orange collar hidden in its thick fur.
"Go on, take it," Danokh ordered. "Now it'll go with you like a doll." Danokh jumped back when the dog leaped up and out of the cage, instantly shaking off its fatigue and silent surrender. It looked right and left with fresh nervousness and sniffed the air as if it were listening for a distant voice. "See? You guys already get along great," Danokh said, trying to convince Assaf and himself. "You just watch out for yourself in the city-I promised your dad." The last words were thick in his throat.
The dog was now focused and tense. Its face sharpened, for a moment it was almost wolflike. "Listen," Danokh mumbled with misgiving, "is it okay to send you out like this?" Assaf didn't answer, only stared in astonishment at the change in the dog once it was free. Danokh tapped his shoulder again. "You're a strong kid. Look at you. You're taller than me and your father. You can control it, right?" Assaf wanted to ask what he should do if the dog refused to lead him to its owners, how long he should walk after it (the three lunchtime sandwiches were waiting for him in his desk drawer). What if, for instance, the dog had had a fight with the owners and had no intention of going back to its home-
Assaf did not ask those questions at the time, or at any other time. He did not return to meet Danokh that day, nor would he return over the next few days. Sometimes it is so easy to determine the exact moment when something-Assaf's life, for instance-starts to change, irreversibly, forever.
The moment Assaf's hand clutched the rope, the dog uprooted itself with an amplified leap and pulled Assaf with it. Danokh raised his hand in fright, managed to take a step or two after his hijacked employee, even started running after him. It was useless. Assaf was already being tugged outside City Hall, forced to stumble down the stairs. He broke into the streets, later smashed into a parked car, a garbage can, the people passing by. He ran ...
The big hairy tail wags energetically before his eyes, sweeping aside people and cars, and Assaf follows after it, hypnotized. Sometimes the dog stops for a minute, raises its head, sniffing, then turns down a side street, sweeping along its way, running. It looks as if it knows exactly where it's going, in which case this race will end very soon. The dog will find its home and Assaf will turn it over to its owners, and good riddance. But while it runs, Assaf starts to think about what he will do if the dog's owner doesn't agree to pay the fine. Assaf will say, "Mister, my job doesn't allow me any flexibility in this matter. Either you pay or you go to court!" The man will start to argue, and Assaf is already answering him with convincing responses, running and mumbling in his heart, pursing his lips decisively, and knowing all too well it will never work. Arguing has never been his strong suit. Eventually, it always becomes more convenient for him to give in and not make a fuss. This is exactly why he gives in to Roi, night after night, in the matter of Dafi Kaplan-just to keep from making a fuss. He thinks about it and sees Dafi in front of him, long and lean, and hates himself for his weakness, and notices that a tall man with bushy eyebrows and a white chef's hat is asking him a question.
Assaf appears confused-Dafi's face, very pale, with a permanent mocking gaze and transparent lizard eyelids, is morphing into a different face, fat and grumpy. Assaf quickly focuses his eyes and sees a narrow room in front of him, dug into the wall, a searing oven in its depths. Apparently the dog has decided, for some reason, to make a stop at a small pizzeria, and the pizza man bends over the counter and asks Assaf again, for the second, or perhaps the third, time, about a young lady. "Where is she?" he asks. "She disappeared on us-we haven't seen her for a month now." Assaf glances around, perhaps the pizza man is talking to someone standing behind him-but no, the pizza man is talking to him, inquiring as to whether she is his sister or his girlfriend, and Assaf nods in embarrassment. From his first week of working at City Hall, he's already learned that people who work in the center of town sometimes have their own habits and manner of speaking-and a weird sense of humor, too. Perhaps it was because they worked for odd customers and tourists from faraway countries; they got used to speaking as if they were in a sort of theater-as if there were always an invisible crowd watching the dialogue. He wants to get away and keep racing after the dog, but the dog decides to sit and looks at the pizza man hopefully, wagging its tail. The man gives it a friendly whistle, as if they're old acquaintances, and with one quick flick, like a basketball player-his hand behind his back and around his waist-throws a thick slice of cheese, and the dog catches it in the air and swallows it.
And the slice that follows it. And another one. And more.
The pizza man has pearly white eyebrows that look like two wild bushes, and they make Assaf feel scolded and uneasy. The man says he never saw her so hungry. Her? Assaf asks silently, baffled. It never occurred to him until now that the dog was a bitch. He only thought of it as a dog with a dog's speed and strength and decisiveness of motion.
Continues...
Excerpted from SOMEONE TO RUN WITH by DAVID GROSSMAN Copyright © 2000 by David Grossman. Excerpted by permission.
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Reading Group Guide
About this Guide
The following author biography and list of questions about Someone to Run With are intended as resources to aid individual readers and book groups who would like to learn more about the author and this book. We hope that this guide will provide you a starting place for discussion, and suggest a variety of perspectives from which you might approach Someone to Run With.
Discussion Questions
1. It seems like an unpleasant task to have to follow a frantic dog around the city on a leash looking for its owners. Why do you think Assaf agreed to do it? Do you think he was already looking for something even before he was given the leash? Do you think he was just accustomed to giving-in to people? Would you have agreed to do it? Why or why not?
2. Assaf seems to be dissatisfied with his life. What's wrong with Assaf? What are his difficulties with other people? Where do you think his shyness comes from? We learn later that he has very loving parents and comes from a happy home. How do you think someone like that becomes so shy?
3. What was your impression of Theodora, the nun who had never left the monastery? Does her life strike you as tragic, or is there something about her confinement that somehow suits her personality? How does her isolation remind you of Assaf and Tamar?
4. When we meet Tamar, we find out that she is shy too. Only she isn't shy in the same way as Assaf. She is actually bold, in spite of her shyness. Grossman describes it as "the arrogance of the shy, the deliberateness of those who are scared of their own shadows (p.72)." If Tamar is able to overcome her shyness in this manner, would you say she's truly shy? Or is her boldness always an attempt to overcompensate for a shyness that she can't get away from? Why do you think Assaf can't overcome his shyness like Tamar does? How do Assaf and Tamar compare to people you know who are shy? Can you personally relate to their difficulties with shyness?
5. Early in the novel, we learn that both Assaf and Tamar are ill-at-ease with other people, and that this leads them to live mostly in their imaginations. In what manner do they each have rich fantasy lives? What about their fantasy lives is dissatisfying to them?
6. As Assaf follows the traces of Tamar's life and learns more about her, the narrative switches back and forth between him and Tamar as we learn her story from her own perspective. What did you think about this method of revealing the story by only a piece at a time and switching between narratives? Does it make the novel more engaging, or create a kind of suspense? By the time Assaf actually meets Tamar, who do you think knows her better, him, or the reader?
7. When Tamar meets Sheli at the home for street performers, what is it about Sheli that Tamar likes so much? Does her friendship with Sheli prepare her to learn to trust people? Would she have been open to trusting Assaf in the end if it hadn't been for her friendship with Sheli? When Tamar talks and laughs with Sheli, she laughs differently with her than she used to with her friends Idan and Adi (p.139). What is the difference? Why do you think there is a difference?
8. Tamar tries to avoid thinking and feeling certain things, for example, reminiscing about her past, wondering about the future, dwelling on her feelings, et cettera. She feels she has to do this in order to save her brother. Sometimes, when things become unbearable, she "goes somewhere" in her head. Where does she go? Is this a necessary defense that everyone has, or only certain types of people? Is it a good or a bad thing to escape in this manner?
9. As Tamar begins her performances for Pesach, we find that her real home is her voice (p.153-4). This is the only safe way for her to express her feelings. Is this her only home? Can Tamar build on her comfort in her creative ability in order to extend this feeling of home? Or does her salvation lie in trying to feel at home outside of her creative ability? Will Tamar's singing always be deeply personal to her alone, or does her creative life give her the opportunity to commune with other people?
10. We learn that Theodora's was required to remain in the monastery in order to retain her innocence and purity. Do you think she's immaculate, uncorrupted? Does her lack of experience in the real world give her these qualities? Why does everyone think that Tamar's voice sounds so pure, innocent? In what way, despite how canny she is, does Tamar contain a sense of innocence?
11. What is it about Assaf that people find so trustworthy? How did Leah, who is protective of Tamar, become convinced of the need for him to meet Tamar despite the danger? What is it about Leah's interaction with Assaf that made her "overcome" by him (p.291)?
12. How does Assaf's journey parallel Tamar's? What do Assaf and Tamar have in common? When they finally meet each other, they both just notice their differences from, but what is it that we have learned about their characters throughout the story that that makes them so mysteriously compatible?
13. When Assaf finally meets Tamar, why does he decide to stay with her in spite of the difficulties involved? Did he have an inkling that he was going to fall in love with her? Did devoting himself to something cause him to feel more at home in the real world? What do you think is meant by the description of the change inside Assaf when he met Tamar, when the "new tenant" had moved into him (p.303)?
14. When Tamar finds out that Assaf had read her diary, it is described as the worst thing anyone can do to her (p.303-4). Why is it okay for her when she learns that Assaf read her diary? How did this incident facilitate their falling in love? Was she, in fact, actually dying to tell her innermost secrets to someone and she didn't know it? Does trust become for her a new form of expression in addition to her singing? Will Tamar love as well as she sings?
15. What do you think of Grossman's depiction of first love? Does it remind you at all of your first love? Does falling in love for the first time always involve overcoming some personal hang-ups or difficulties, like with Tamar and Assaf? Is there something about going on a quest, about searching after someone, about running like Assaf and Tamar were running, that expresses what it's like to search for love? Could you fall in love with someone like Assaf? Like Tamar?