A Conversation about Living Root Between Michael Heller and Burt Kimmelman BK A thematic and aesthetic agenda of Living Root is the uniting of, a making whole of what has been torn apart, a world of fragments, which is perhaps accomplished through the book’s ongoing meditation on ritual. Your own life, especially your early years, was one of dislocation and parental illnesses, which in a way parallels the history of your family’s passage across the Atlantic Ocean to America from Poland, which also, the book seems to suggest, is an artistic parallel to, even as it is a historic part of, the Jewish Diaspora. Indeed, this memoir finds ritual taking many forms, in your dis cussions of poetry, religious heritage, ethnic heritage, and personal relationships, as well as in your contemplation of ritual’s nature itself. Was the writing of Living Root, which took a number of years, now in hindsight a sort of ritual as well? MH Ritual and the undoing of ritual are at the heart of the book. I took ritual to be a kind of protection, like a soul being sheltered, placed under a bell jar, enclosed within the sacred. But I had come into that ritual space by the accidents of birth, upbringing, environment. It was not truly my own; in that sense, the bell jar also stifled. And given the life around me, my mother’s non-belief, my father’s uneasy relationship with his grandfather, the Rabbi, writ large, I was seeing cracks and flaws in that ritual space, in the conventions and acts of faith that I had not truly made my own. At the same time, the aspects of Jewish tradition which deeply drew my allegiance were those involving writing and rewriting, midrash, commentary upon commentary, all those activities which allowed one to re-imagine the meaning and space of the rituals. And, in truth, as I began and wrote, a kind of Proustian involuntary memory kept taking place, ignited into language, as it were, by the artifacts, the picture albums and letters, the detritus of my parents’ lives, which I had acquired after their deaths. And the parallels which you mention, the large-scale movement of the Diaspora, and the scattering of one, Michael Heller, outside the house of his received rituals, were part of the substance of that matrix of old yellowed paper, curling photographs and what came to me unbidden out of my past. BK In other words, from early on you have been an outsider—not unlike those in the scriptural tradition whose faithful are devoted to words, words that stand apart from things—even to the extent that the most intimate details of your own origins are both within you and apart from you somehow? [End Page 111] MH As I wrote in the memoir, “I am remembering then, not for the sake of what was, but, in a sense in order to be.” As I reflected on the sheer unaccountability of origins, their arbitrariness, their unchosen quality, the “quantum mechanics,” as I put it, of autobiography, I sensed also my going out toward much that is in tradition and in the histories I was exposed to of my family and of the Jews and of poetry. The act of reflection on the details of one’s life in this sense is dynamic in much the same manner that the literal words of the Bible become dynamic once subjected to the ongoing process of Talmudic or midrashic reflection. The Ba’al Shem Tov says that memory is the secret of redemption, and Yosef Yerushalmi, in Zakhor, reminds us that Jews, while not the fathers of history, are “the fathers of meaning in history.” I would hope that on a small, personal level, my work is in that tradition. BK But doesn’t this mean that you, as a Jew, as both a reader and writer, are begging the question implied by your memoir’s title: how is there a “living root” if one sees oneself as in some sense an indirect outgrowth of family and heritage? MH In the book I speak of “the juncture,” the “boundary membrane” of the root where “what is...