Months prior to the signing of the Camp David Accords, Lady Antonia Fraser and Harold Pinter traveled to Israel in May 1978. Our Israeli Diary, 1978: Of That Time, Of That Place is the published version of the journal she kept during that trip. As a journal, the piece is “raw,” unmediated by revision but filled with reflections. What we see is Lady Antonia Fraser's fierce honesty, which provides us with details of life in Israel during that time and the details of traveling with Harold Pinter. Ultimately, the piece reminds us of the fleeting passage of time—could it have been forty years ago?As a travel journal, the structure is simple. Entries are dated from May 8–22, 1978. The opening chapter begins with a delay at the airport and two revelations about Pinter: (1) he was focused on footwear for the trip; and (2) he did not bring any books about Israel to read on the plane. Lady Antonia, however, was armed with many, including Larry Collins and Dominique Lapiere's O Jerusalem! and a book by Moshe Dayan. While she reads, “H., I sense, is just thinking …” (7). As the trip progresses, Pinter picks up his books and both read extensively. There are many references to bookstores, a detail that sadly documents the decline of such entities in our current culture.Pinter refused a guide, so the two stumble around the city at times, but they soon get their bearings and begin meeting many important people, including the mayor of Jerusalem, Teddy Kollek. They attend performances and parties with Mstislav Rostropovich, Zubin Mehta, Jean-Pierre Rampal, and Leontyne Price. Even Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis makes an appearance, but in a Pinteresque way—Lady Antonia discovers that Kennedy Onassis is visiting, but she decides not to meet her because their relationship was established through her ex-husband Hugh Fraser and Lady Antonia fears the meeting would be uncomfortable given the recent divorce. So, Jackie Onassis is there and not there in a Pinteresque way. In addition to the Israeli glitterati, Pinter and Lady Antonia track down a long-lost cousin of Pinter's who is living on a kibbutz. The cousin left London illegally after World War II, and he had not seen Pinter in many years. The reunion is a happy and simple one, quite different than the parties with the rich and famous. In this way, the book provides an expansive view of Jerusalem at this time, from celebrity to ordinary citizen.The purpose of the trip is not immediately apparent. Several comments, however, indicate that the two were hoping to escape the scandal of their affair. In addition to Lady Antonia's decision not to meet Kennedy Onassis, she tells a story about an encounter with a woman who asks her what she does for a living. Lady Antonia humbly answers, “Well, I'm a writer, sort of biographer.” But the woman is not convinced. When relating the story to Pinter, Pinter says, “You should have said, ‘Well, I left my husband for Harold Pinter and there was all this scandal in the newspapers” (30). And later, as they are leaving Israel, they are asked to define their relationship by a young customs agent. Much to the young person's embarrassment, Pinter, with an “Anew McMaster,” gesture exclaims, “We're lovers!” (148).But elsewhere, another purpose emerges, a search for answers regarding religion and identity. Lady Antonia is quick to point out her Catholicism, and she frequently visits Catholic sites such as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where Catholics and other Christians believe Christ was buried and rose, as well as the Church of the Dormition, where Mary, mother of Christ, supposedly stayed until she was brought into heaven. She is also quick to notice any “twinges” from Pinter regarding his Jewish heritage, but if there are any, they are secular and very understated. After several days, she reports that “H. says he is very happy to be in Israel…. He is very happy at both the place and above all the intelligence that we find” (55).For Lady Antonia, however, the journey highlights the mysteries of religions, identity, and life. Amid the city of many world religions, Lady Antonia concludes that the old adage is true: “the longer you live in the Holy Land, the easier you find it to believe that the Bible both did—and didn't—happen” (20). And she revels in the “ultimate unknowability” of the place (43). The journal closes with a wry anecdote to underscore the point. As Pinter signs a bill, the saleswoman comments on his name, “Just like the writer … including the spelling” (149). Pinter does not identify himself to the saleswoman. He, too, revels in unknowability. And in many ways, Lady Antonia's journal is “just like the writer” who through his art chronicled unknowability and challenged our own sense of security and search for meaning, offering us only observation, suggestions, and deep silences, but never a definitive answer, because for him, there is no guide.