Israel is one of the few countries with mandatory military service for women.
It lasts 24 months, one year less than that of men.
Paulina Tuchschneider (Zabrze, Poland, 1987), who arrived in Tel Aviv at the age of two from Warsaw, was also trained in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF).
She never completed her service.
She deserted.
“I'm like an alien.
My place did not belong to the army.
That's why I have written about a heroine immersed in another battle, the feminine one, in which you see yourself surrounded by bodies and feeling that you are not like the others," she explains in a video call from her apartment in Ramat Gan, near Tel Aviv, where he lives with his partner and his cats, who appear on stage at some point in the interview.
More information
The Soldier', an essential autobiographical shot by an Israeli to the absurdity of war
Editor of the journalistic investigation program
Hamakor
(The Source), Tuchschneider has debuted with
The Soldier
, a fiction that ignited many conversations in Israel by exposing the absurdity of war and questioning what no one dared to reveal: the mental havoc of recruiting to practically teenagers who, overnight, find themselves holding an M16 in one hand and a shampoo in the other, while they queue to access the communal showers.
Translated into Spanish by Esther Cross in Periférica and with a biting style that takes the reader between laughter and horror, Tuchschneider has been inspired by her own life to imagine a fiction about the psychological deterioration of an 18-year-old soldier who believes she is more list than the others and ends up immersed in the Lebanon War of 2006. A fan of Gargabe, Hole and Marilyn Manson, the heroine of this story is assigned to the north of Israel, to a military base where she cannot stand those docile young women who With their berets with beaded beads, they never question anything in that brotherhood imposed towards an unwillingly shared destiny.
Ask.
The soldier
opens many debates.
How was she received?
Answer.
In Israel, many men did not like it.
Others loved it, but many called me hysterical and whiny for exposing the anxiety of being a soldier.
Even in Argentina, where it has also been translated, I have found comments from men along those lines.
And it does not have to be that way.
Many Israeli women wrote to me and told me: “Until I read you, I felt like I was alone, that I was the only one to experience it like this.
I was also scared in the army.
“I didn’t know what to do nor did I ever belong there.”
In general, beyond those specific criticisms, it has been incredible to know that there were many more in that position.
Q.
More than between bombs or shots, the story moves between the pimples that the soldiers explode, the cellulite exposed by lights as white as they are hostile or the terror of urinating on the bunk.
Why does the body dominate tone?
R.
_
Because not enough has been said about him.
We already have enough books about war.
I wanted to talk about anxiety, and this is a war within the body, trying to contain itself, trying to survive.
The soldier tries to do everything she can to do so, until war comes and everything is too much for her.
Her body betrays her.
This is the interesting thing.
Sometimes the body teaches you things that the mind is not able to tell you.
The author Paulina Tuchschneider, in a photo provided by the Periférica publishing house.
Q.
Shame is another protagonist.
The heroine understands that, over the years, some of the soldiers she trained with withdraw their greetings when they meet her.
A.
I live in a problematic country when war comes.
If you're a soldier, you're expected to do your job.
I wanted to talk about those who are not good soldiers, because this, precisely, can happen when everyone is forced to be recruited.
And there shame is crucial.
She has failed as a soldier, but not as a person.
When you are in a group and you are the one that no longer works, the one they can't control;
When they ask you to leave, you understand that you are not strong enough to endure it.
I don't want to say this is right or wrong, but you do feel like you've failed.
I believe this is the end of the State of Israel.
I have Hamas at my door, I feel like they can kidnap or kill me
Q.
At one point in the novel, the protagonist thinks that it is not fair that in Tel Aviv there are people making decisions for her, that she is experiencing war.
A.
The point of view of the text is that of a very young person.
It's about what you think when you're 18 years old and you just want to party, drink, have a good time and even though you know you have to be a soldier, you hope you don't experience a war.
It is normal for her to think: “Are they doing what is best for us?”
If you have that thought going around, it is very difficult to be a good soldier because you are afraid and you become cynical.
Q.
At a certain point in the war, she wonders: does anyone have a plan?
A.
Yes, that was criticized a lot after the Second Lebanon War.
Now, with this war, we feel exactly the same: but doesn't anyone have a plan for the day after?
Are you doing your best to protect our lives?
Sometimes you feel like no, everything is very complicated.
Q.
What has changed now?
A.
I have never been as afraid as I have been since October 7 [the date of the Hamas attack].
I believe this is the end of the State of Israel.
I have Hamas at my door, I feel like they can kidnap or kill me.
This is the end.
In 2006 I didn't feel that way.
There were missiles, but now those missiles are in Tel Aviv.
This is the worst thing that has happened to us since the Holocaust, it is a very different war.
Now, in both Israel and Palestine we have the worst government we could have.
Nobody is looking for a solution.
Q.
What do you think the soldiers think now?
R.
I think about them a lot.
They are brave women, I am in contact with them through my work and I hear stories that leave me speechless.
It is the first time that women have access to tanks, and that has been a big issue in Israel.
People said they couldn't do it.
On the one hand, I see all these incredible women defending their country in such a raw time.
On the other hand, I can't help but think: are there women who are afraid, who just want to go home?
I think about them and that side, about those women who say to themselves: “I don't want to fight.
I'm afraid".
Q.
Your protagonist says that he has never thought about the enemy or the lives of the Palestinians.
Do you think it is a feeling that also occurs now?
A.
We have a problem in Israel that we are not facing.
Hamas is horrible.
But there are also two million people living in Gaza.
Their leaders are the worst and our leaders are the worst.
We all have the worst government we could have because no one is looking for a solution.
That doesn't mean that people here are cruel to Palestinians, but sometimes we ignore the problem.
We want to live like the protagonist, escaped and without having to deal with this.
Only now you can't because it blows up in your face.
You can't ignore what happens in your neighborhood, you can't ignore what surrounds you.
Q.
And what can be done?
A.
This is a ticking time bomb.
I had never been so sad, I had always believed that what we had left was that there were good people on both sides, that one day we would meet to find a solution.
But right now all I can think about is an escalation of violence.
How this war is going to grow.
Q.
Your novel is going to be adapted to film, how do you imagine it?
A.
You know all those images from movies like
Save Private Ryan
, with the grenades falling in an epic way?
Well, it's not going to be like that at all.
I just want to highlight scenes like the one in the shower, with women taking out tampons, struggling to place their towel in a dry space and putting shampoo in their hair.
I already have it all written and my husband will be the director, so he will be perfect.
Cover of 'Las soldada', published in Periférica and with translation by Esther Ross.Periférica
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