["Elsewhere, Perhaps" was a book full of unease that was not allowed to surface, the tension smoothed over by the voice of the narrator, a voice level and interminable, sometimes smug or starched with disapproval, but always composed, never shaken. The unidentified narrator was a man soberly respectful of the principles of collectivism upon which the kibbutz was founded, yet cognizant of the difficulties in living up to these standards, a spokesman full of injunctions to will power and exemplary tales of changes of heart. Any unsettling doubts were contained and tempered by irony. Why, for example, the narrator asked, can't a man of sound principles control his nightmares? Wherever one went, the narrator stood between the reader and the unfolding drama, much as a tour guide stands before, and defends against, a visitor's direct contact with a foreign scene.

"Where the Jackals Howl" is, in many respects...