Gundar-Goshen Ayelet - Liar

Gundar-Goshens second novel twists and turns like a thriller, and it is particularly impressive in its moral ambiguities

Sunday Times

The highly anticipated second novel [by Gundar-Goshen] proves its not every day a writer like this comes our way

Guardian

A classy, suspenseful tale of survival

The Times

A literary thriller that is used as a vehicle to explore big moral issues. I loved everything about it

Daily Mail

Brave and startling

Financial Times

A complex and affecting moral thriller

New Statesman

Exhilarating a sophisticated and darkly ambitious novel

New York Times

A marvellous novel What won me over from the first page is the exuberant generosity of Gundar-Goshens storytelling

Financial Times

A lush debut moving and satisfying

Guardian

Sensual, passionate A remarkable achievement

TLS

Wry, ironically tinged and poignant

Sunday Telegraph

Touching and funny infused with a rich and telling irony

Sunday Telegraph

A lively meditation on love and nationhood

Independent

T HOUGH IT WAS THE END OF SUMMER, the heat still waited outside front doors along with the morning newspaper, both boding ill. So sequestered in their air-conditioned homes were the people of the city that, when it came time for the seasons to change, they didnt feel the newly autumn-tinged air. And perhaps autumn might have come and gone unnoticed if the long sleeves suddenly appearing in shop windows hadnt announced its arrival.

Standing in front of one of those windows now was a young girl, her reflection looking back at her from the glass a bit short, a bit freckled. The mannequins peering at her from behind the glass were tall and pretty, and perhaps that was why the girl made off quickly. A flock of pigeons took flight above her with a surprised flapping of wings. The girl muttered an apology as she continued walking, and the pigeons, having already forgotten what had frightened them, returned to perch on a nearby bench. At the entrance to the bank, a line of people snaked its way to the ATM. A deaf-mute beggar stood beside them, hand extended, and they pretended to be blind. When the girls gaze momentarily met his, she once again mumbled an apology and hurried on, she didnt want to be late for her shift. As she was about to cross the square, a loud honk made her stop in her tracks and a large bus hurtled angrily past her. A poster on the back wished her a happy New Year. The Rosh Hashana holiday was still a week away, but the streets were already filled with promises of big sales. Across the street, three girls her age were snapping pictures in front of the fountain, their laughter ricocheting off the paving stones. As she listened, she told herself over and over again, I dont mind walking alone, I dont mind it at all.

She crossed the square quickly. Inside shops, red-haired saleswomen said, It looks lovely on you, adding, If I were you, Id take two, as they stole glances at the clock. Bladders bursting, they could barely wait for their break. A charming young man stood at the counter, ringing up sales on the cash register with fingers that had run through his boyfriends hair earlier that morning. Customers left the shops, their swinging bags twisting around each other, creating an urban rustling that was as much a harbinger of autumn as the rustle of leaves falling from treetops.

In the adjacent ice-cream parlour, the girl went behind the glass counter and began handing spoons of ice cream to those who wanted to taste, knowing that the summer vacation was about to end and no one had yet tasted her, the only girl in her class still a virgin, and next summer, when the fields yellowed, she would be wearing a soldiers army green.

Now she handed an ice-cream cone to the little boy standing in front of her and tried hard to smile as she said for the thousandth time that week, Here you are. The next person in line asked to taste the fig sorbet. Nofar knew right away that he wouldnt buy fig sorbet, he would only taste it, along with ten other flavours, and in the end hed ask for chocolate. Nonetheless, she scooped a bit of fig sorbet onto a plastic spoon and glanced quickly at the clock above the counter. Only seven more hours to go.

At that very moment, the door opened and they stepped inside. She had been waiting the entire summer for this moment and had even written about it in great detail in her notebook: Yotam would come in and be surprised to see her there. She would offer him ice cream free of charge, and in return he would offer her a ride home on his motorcycle. She would say that she still had a few hours left on her shift, and he would say that a few hours wasnt a long time to wait. But when the moment finally arrived, three days before the end of the summer vacation, Yotam didnt come in alone. He was surrounded by his crew of friends. And one of them was Shir, who, until four months ago, had still been Nofars friend. Nofars only friend, to be precise.

The five of them stood there, and although they werent particularly good-looking as individuals, standing there at the counter they seemed to Nofar to be incredibly beautiful. They shone with the glow of being a clique, as if the fact that there were five of them made each of them appear at least five times more beautiful. They examined the row of flavours spread out before them, trying to decide, and for a moment Nofar dared to hope they wouldnt recognize her. But finally Yotam raised his beautiful eyes from the ice cream to the counter, frowned slightly and said, Hey, you go to school with us. The others looked up. Nofar fought the urge to avert her eyes. Youre in Shirs class, right? Moran asked as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail in a gesture that was as ordinary as it was charming. Nofar nodded quickly. Yes. She was in Shirs class. In fact, she had sat next to Shir since the second grade, until that morning four months ago when she arrived at school to find that Shir had fired her without even a letter of warning.

There was a moment of silence before Yotam said, So, Ill take cookie dough. Nofar had already begun piling ice cream into a cup when he said, In a cone. And that, in fact, was all Yotam said to her because immediately after that the others began telling her what flavours and toppings they wanted, and Moran added in a tone brimming with insincere amiability that they needed to get their ice cream in a hurry because the film they wanted to see started in twenty minutes. And all the while, Shir stood silently looking at Nofar, a small expression of guilt on her face, until she finally said shed have vanilla. She didnt have to say it, Nofar knew what flavour Shir liked. Five minutes later they were already outside, on their way to the film. Nofar looked at the sorbets displayed under the counter in flowering layers of red and orange. Dozens of fingerprints covered the glass partition in front of her, all made by fingers pointing at the ice cream, never at her.

The glass door opened and a gang of noisy children burst inside. When this day was over, shed play music she liked, not the songs that Gaby insisted attracted customers. Shed still have to pick up all the napkins people had dropped and the sticky spoons parents hadnt felt like throwing away after their kids finished their ice cream. Shed still have to wash the floor, scrub the fingerprints off the partition and take out the waste bins, but it would be her music in the background. Then shed fill a styrofoam box with ice cream and take it to the homeless guy who stood near the fountain. Or maybe shed just put it down not far from him, because the last time she went up to him he had shouted some garbled words at her that she didnt completely understand.