The Girl Who Rode the White Lion

  • Review
By – June 9, 2026

Yishay Ishi Ron’s lat­est nov­el, The Girl Who Rode the White Lion, is a propul­sive, heart­break­ing read. This is a book of mod­est length, but one that is full of big ideas. It is a sto­ry, root­ed in some mea­sure of his­toric truth, that com­pels you to sus­pend your sense of the pos­si­ble in order to fol­low its sto­ry of tor­ment, grief, com­pas­sion, and love. All of which is over­lain with the evil of Nazism, the force furi­ous­ly push­ing events forward.

The nov­el moves from 1938 Ger­many, with the open­ing salvos of Kristall­nacht, to New York City in the late 1950s, and from the ear­ly days of World War II to post-war France and Israel. Along the way, we are intro­duced to char­ac­ters whose moti­va­tions are not always clear to us, giv­en some of the deci­sions they make. There is one char­ac­ter, how­ev­er, whose moti­va­tions are quite clear: an inse­cure, mea­ger man who uses his new­found pow­er as an SS offi­cer to tar­get a Jew­ish fam­i­ly whose great­est crime— in his dam­aged psy­che — was to wel­come him into their home on numer­ous occa­sions, and treat him as a friend.

Beyond that SS officer’s venge­ful, geno­ci­dal ambi­tions lies a mys­tery: how did his Nazi ring wind up in the stom­ach of a deceased lion, the sub­ject of an autop­sy at the Cen­tral Park Zoo in Man­hat­tan years after the Nazis were van­quished? The vet­eri­nar­i­an who dis­cov­ers the ring — and brings it to an his­to­ri­an friend for iden­ti­fi­ca­tion — finds him­self unable to shake his desire to iden­ti­fy the ring’s own­er, and to unlock the sto­ry and solve the mys­tery of how the ring came to be inside the lion.

Unex­pect­ed twists and turns keep the read­er won­der­ing not only who will sur­vive the chaos of World War II, but how the cru­el cat and mouse game of Jews seek­ing to escape the Nazi maw will play out. In this larg­er ecosys­tem of cru­el­ty, how­ev­er, Ron’s nar­ra­tive zooms in on the fate of a sin­gle child, giv­en shel­ter along the way in a remark­able act of com­pas­sion by a per­former in a vis­it­ing circus.

Each act of courage or kind­ness in the sto­ry seems to be exceed­ed by an act of cru­el­ty met­ed out by the uncon­strained SS offi­cer. As we tog­gle between loca­tions and decades, we are remind­ed of how life is not always about delib­er­ate, well-planned deci­sions. In fact, the most con­se­quen­tial of deci­sions can—and some­times must—be made in an instant. Whether that deci­sion is to destroy or to save, to love or to lose, or to some­how accept and move on, each deci­sion presents the read­er with pow­er­ful exam­ples to con­sid­er and to strug­gle with, just as the char­ac­ters brought to life by Ron are com­pelled to do. 

With­out reveal­ing the full unfold­ing of the mys­tery, suf­fice it to say that this is a sto­ry that grabs you and does­n’t let go. This is the result of how the sto­ry reveals itself cin­e­mat­i­cal­ly in images and actions that have a tru­ly larg­er-than-life qual­i­ty. All of which leave a last­ing imprint on the read­er long after the last page has been turned.

Nina Mogilnik left a long career in phil­an­thropy, non-prof­it, and gov­ern­ment work to focus on fam­i­ly, on caus­es dear to her, and on her own writ­ing, which she pub­lish­es on Medi­um, at the Blogs of the Times of Israel, and elsewhere. 

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