conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Palestinian, Jewish, Salim with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Literary?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Ishmael's Oranges'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Ishmael's Oranges
  Over dinner they talked about the family. Tony had recently taken a job at his father's law offices. He showed Jude a picture of a young paralegal he was interested in, a Jewish intern from Switzerland. Her face beamed out of the image, all white teeth and rich brown hair.
  She felt oddly deceived by Tony. He talked like a rebel but he'd slipped into his father's life like a hand into a silken glove. You joined your father's company, you'll marry this Bec from Switzerland and you'll move to Regent's Park and set your table with crystal. And you'll go to Shul and wear the yarmulke and host your own Passovers with that twinkle in your eye that says it's all a joke to you. But it isn't a joke. It's you, it's who you are and who you always have been.
  At last they took their coffee over to the soft leather sofa, and Jude knew that the moment had come. So she told him, in halting words, what she had come to say.
  It was easier than she'd imagined. He was an Israeli and a British citizen, nothing like the dangerous men of Uncle Max's nightmares. He had many Jewish friends, in Israel and here. He was destined for great things, one of the best students in his class. He understood more about Jews than most English goyim ever could. He spoke Hebrew. And he loved her. He loved her more than anything, and she loved him.
  Tony sat as still as stone in his chair, until she'd finished. After the first silence fell, he put his head to one side and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Jude waited, her throat tightening.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs. End with the sentence '''.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He took off his glasses, and turned to face her. She felt his gaze like prickles of heat on her skin.
  They pulled up outside a shop that looked as if it sold gold, not clothes. But Rafan jumped out quickly and said, 'Five minutes, I promise.'
  As she waited, Jude rested her head on her arm. Outside the car, a man herded goats across the busy road, cars roaring their complaints.
  She'd married Salim knowing they could make one home out of two: each brick an act of courage – Jude confronting Dora's rage, Salim defying Arab disapproval. But Rafan was right – something had changed. Over the years Salim had turned his 'betrayal' at work into something more destructive – a reliving of all the betrayals of his past, a fear that he himself was a traitor – to his own heritage. All those disapproving Arab faces, all those miserable nights in front of the television watching their peoples tear each other apart. The doors of their home had slowly opened to the world outside, and something dangerous had entered – ghosts of loss and disappointment.
  Rafan shook his head. 'You're so naïve, you English. Who wants peace? Let me tell you a truth. The goal of fighting is to keep fighting. Once you win, you get less money and more responsibilities.' He laughed. 'That's what the Jews are finding out now.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last four paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: To my agent Gordon Wise, for his faith. To Juliet at Oneworld for rolling the dice and to my editors Ros, Eléonore and Jenny for helping me bring a long-sleeping story to life.
  To Paolo Hewitt, the Don of north London, for that all-important introduction, and to Jenny Fairfax for opening the door.
  To Stephen Vizinczey, for his friendship, for letting me steal that line from An Innocent Millionaire and for every other word he's written – which still dazzle me as they've dazzled millions before me.
  Finally and above all, to my husband – who, while saving the world, gave me the space and the love to take this long journey. Thank you, sweetheart. You know what it meant. And to my daughter, who at last gave me the reason. Delilah, my love. Here is your story.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: To my agent Gordon Wise, for his faith. To Juliet at Oneworld for rolling the dice and to my editors Ros, Eléonore and Jenny for helping me bring a long-sleeping story to life.
  To Paolo Hewitt, the Don of north London, for that all-important introduction, and to Jenny Fairfax for opening the door.
  To Stephen Vizinczey, for his friendship, for letting me steal that line from An Innocent Millionaire and for every other word he's written – which still dazzle me as they've dazzled millions before me.
  Finally and above all, to my husband – who, while saving the world, gave me the space and the love to take this long journey. Thank you, sweetheart. You know what it meant. And to my daughter, who at last gave me the reason. Delilah, my love.