Novel brings to life Old Testament's Rebekah

Associated Press Writer

"Rebekah: Women of Genesis" (Shadow Mountain, 413 pages, $22.95) by Orson Scott Card.

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A near deity in sci-fi circles, Orson Scott Card is perhaps best known for writing about intergalactic battles and the moral explosions that can occur when civilizations collide.

In his "Women of Genesis" series, Card turns to ancient human history and the Bible, whose stories few have dared to novelize. Any reader, religious or secular, might wonder at the sheer audacity of a male writer who tries to imagine the inner life of Rebekah or the other matriarchs.

But Card avoids both preachiness and puffiness, creating a surprisingly subdued tale of a woman struggling to balance family demands and a new covenant with a mysterious and invisible God.

Rebekah, the beautiful daughter and treasured pet of the desert nomad Bethuel, is a precocious girl who never knew her mother and whose father becomes deaf in an accident. In the beginning, her protofeminist strengths seem almost too good to be true: As a girl, she learns to read and scratch letters in the sand to help her father manage his servants and flocks, and as a teen-ager she deftly manipulates tribal politics to avoid marrying a rich but idolatrous suitor.

Later, as Isaac's wife, she reasserts her parental rights against the demands of her father-in-law Abraham, while never fully violating the strictures of modesty and obedience. Fortunately, just before Rebekah almost collapses beneath the weight of her wise virtues, the biblical story kicks in. Our girlish heroine becomes a complex adult, continually tested in her loyalties to husband, tribe and God.

Card's strength lies in characterization, not description. The reader may be disappointed by the lack of visual details of the biblical landscape, animals, clothing, food, and even the tents and campsites where most of the action occurs. Though the book consists almost entirely of family discussions and conversations with God, Card manages to bring some drama and realism to the conflicts that flare up between fervent Rebekah and gentle Isaac, and between the arrogant hunter Esau and the gentler shepherd and scholar, Jacob.

Card also manages to infuse psychological suspense into a story almost everyone knows. The question then becomes not will Rebekah trick Isaac and Esau, but why? What are the ancient wounds and divine promises that she must confront?

Card's attempt to bring voice to the Bible's women is commendable, if a bit forced. Rebekah's life frames the drama, but interestingly, the nature of manhood becomes the real theme. Isaac, psychologically scarred by his near-sacrifice at Abraham's hands, must contend with his competitive and charismatic half-brother Ishmael. Isaac's fathering skills frustrate Rebekah, and the contrasting personalities of their two sons drive a deep wedge into the family. At moments, the family struggle about inheritance of the sacred "birthright" threatens to become a tower of psychobabble, pitting tough alpha males against sensitive New Age prophets.

But perhaps that's the point: For Rebekah and her family, this was a new age. Card shows us that God's covenant with Abraham was not just a story of religious rupture and change. It also meant a revolution in the personal realms of family, marriage and parenthood.