Another way to consider this book is as a contrast between American Judaism(s) and Israeli Judaism. Netanyahu represents the strain of Israeli Judaism that believes in the necessity of the continued existence of the Jewish state if Judaism is to continue to exist. He also sees Israel as the only place where "Jews can be Jews" without the sneering and disdain that Jews endure in the United States. Israel, in many ways, transplants Judaism as his religion. Blum is the assimilated, superficially observant but materially successful American Jew whose anxiety about all of that makes him a Woody Allen character. His father is disappointed-in/ frustrated by America, but still clings to observance and his religious Jewish identity. Edith's parents have adopted the educated, high-culture Jewish spot as Heidi observed. The greatest contrast is between all of these American Jews and the Israeli family that Cohen draws. What is it to be a Jew in America when there is a Israel trying to survive?
Are Netanyahu and Blum meant to be archetypes of the modern (20th century) Jew? They seem to be the extreme ends of a culture that, having existed under oppression for so long, turns against itself rather than its oppressors. If they are archetypes, the cartoonish chaotic nature of the last portion kind of makes sense to me.
In the q and a I would also love a little bit of historical explanation if possible- adding to and explaining the appendix stuff.
What a great book and one that makes me very motivated to learn the historical context better!
Heidi’s column about nihilism really opened up this book for me. If nihilism can be understood as destroying in order to revise, reconstruct, or redefine, then it is ALL OVER this book - practically every character and governing authority that is mentioned destroys something in order to construct something else, with varying levels of violence. So I would say this book is definitely *about* nihilism.
My original question was going to be: do you think that Cohen is promoting nihilism or warning us against it? But now I’m wondering: Does it even matter what Cohen thinks, or is the important thing the fact that his art exposes nihilism for what it is, and now we as readers can decide how to respond? Do we judge the book based on what the author’s conclusions might be or based on what it allows us to see for ourselves?
Tzila Netanyahu. Oh my. As the saying goes: I just can't even... Have I run into a more odious literary character? Nope. She takes the cake! So the question is, in your reading, who is hands-down the most odious literary character you've ever met?
We've discussed the differences between Blum and Netanyahu. What are their similarities? Both displaced, men who don't belong, men without a home?
Do you think Cohen pairs belief with incivility (in Netanyahu) and unbelief with civility (in Blum) for a reason?
The chapters The Netanyahus toggle between college episodes, musings on Jewishness, company at the Blum residence, letters. I'm wondering if there is rhyme and reason behind this toggling (an overarching form) or if the toggling simply suits the content of each chapter.
Regarding your last paragraph… It didn't occur to me to ask a timely question about Blum's narrative. Curious: it seems that he is writing this from a current day perspective, which would make him about 100+ years old, and still, apparently, in his position in academia. I don't remember.... But doesn't this timeframe include a few bits of our own culture? And this would make his narrative a bit like that of the novel Laurus?
The Netanyahus isn’t about anything– just as its main character, Rube (who, ironically, despite his education, is a rube) doesn’t believe or stand for anything. What man, with the parents of a kid who raped your daughter, drives around looking for the kid who raped your daughter and just goes home after? But this nothingness, apathy, nihilism, whatever it is, draws you in, draws disgust, baffles your brain, leaves you questioning what good writing is, yet most of all makes you think deeply. So, I ask, what part of the book made you think the most?
Here’s the sole quote very early on about Woody Allen:
As a city boy who also happened to be the newest faculty member of the History Department just beginning the second of two probationary years preliminary to a verdict on tenure, I was the bloated, hypertensive, and above all apprehensive and even dread-fueled embodiment of the under-coordinated, overintellectualizing, self-deprecating male Jewish stereotype that Woody Allen, for instance, and so many Jewish-American literary writers found outlandish financial and sexual success lampooning (Roth in the generation younger than mine, Bellow and Malamud in the generation older).
Did anyone else see the last scene as an objective correlative? I thought maybe it was symbolic of the (older) non-religious American-Jew and the (younger) non-religious Zionist Jew perhaps trying to become one, and yet ultimately not being able to. Or is that overthinking it?
At the end, all of a sudden, Reuben tells the sheriff that his guests were Turkish, "just Turks." This seemed to me to be an effort to distinguish himself from them...like they don't represent Judaism and I (Reuben, an American) are more like you, Sheriff. Is that right? What else is going on with that comment? It seemed really important but I'm not sure I'm fully comprehending .
David's comments on the ending / scene with Judy and Jonathan were SO helpful. I still feel like a deer in headlights on unpacking the abuse the American assimilated Jewish culture and the Zionist cultures perpetuate against one another. Can you explore that more?
At any point, did you feel that you were really just reading well-written propaganda? The introduction of the Netanyahu family felt to me like such a caricature of how secular Jews portray both political and religious zealots in Israel. The book was very well-crafted, but felt very false for its reliance on hateful stereotypes.
As I try to process Blum as a character, I keep thinking about the night he finished writing Judy's college entrance essay. It didn't bother him, he just did it like he was picking up her slack for a chore she hadn't been able to complete under the circumstances. In the last episode you dug into Blum's failings a bit, which sheds some light on the essay writing for me (Have his experiences in higher ed dulled him so thoroughly that he 'knows' it doesn't matter that she didn't write the essay?), but I'd still love to hear if any of you had thoughts about what that detail reveals about Blum, as well as what it suggests about his relationship with Judy.
One of the greatest things about the Jewish culture is that they have Yiddish, and it is a language that gets very granular when it comes to having words for specific types of losers.
For example, I think the difference between Netanyahu and Blum is that the former is a beheymah and the latter is a schmendrik.
Beheymah (H: cattle) An ill-mannered, ox-like person; a bull in a china shop.
Schmendrik (Y: from a fictional character) A useless, ineffectual person.
Do you think you could find better terms for these two characters using the following link?
Is Peretz Levavi, the letter writer of chapter five, a foil for Ruben?
He himself chooses, kind of, to write the letter of supposed recommendation and tactfully tells the truth. He seems to be doing the right thing. Whereas Rube fearfully fulfills, kind of, his assigned task. And I’m never sure what he’s actually doing if anything.
Does Levavi represent a call to something higher in Rube?
He wrote that he was “convinced that you are a passionate and intelligent man; and man with ears that can hear and eyes that can see as well as additional soul-sensitivities beyond the animal senses.”
Of course it’s funny too. But reading chapter five, I felt like the writer of the letter was “on par” with Rube in some way.
Is there more to chapter five beyond a way for providing background on Netanyahu and building the anticipation of his arrival? The whole chapter almost feels like a deus ex machina move (not quite the right term) because it’s so incredibly thorough. And gets it’s own whole chapter.
I had this same thought...but is the author of Chapter 5 a little better off because he's not facing pressure to assimilate into American culture? Or is he just as paralyzed by the Zionist dilemma living in Israel?
How much longer would this book have been if it hadn’t included a real historical figure and all the assumptions and background that even non-Jewish readers can bring to that figure? I kept thinking that’s why Cohen felt he had to use a real Netanyahu--because it would have been a very different novel to explain him even more.
Sorry, one more question -- What do you think is the role of Ruben's parents in this novel? I find it interesting that Netanyahu is the sort of "centerpiece" we're all supposed to have our eyes on, but that a good part of the book chronicles the parents/in-laws. Is it just to give more context to Blum's broken Jewish identity?
Several things come to mind...1) stories that end with something shocking, 2) meaning that is difficult to grasp if the reader is not part of the particular tradition, 3) finding meaning in the vulgar/dark episodes of life - O'Connor's "dark grace" idea, while also...4) seeing the humor in these dark episodes. What are your thoughts?
Thanks to the hosts for navigating us through this book! It's outside my normal taste, but I enjoyed it.
I get the sense that Ruben is a bit static throughout the book. David mentioned his inability to see the world as it is, so is he just stuck? Is that the point?
What I'm asking really is whether Ruben has had any kind of movement. (Even Edith seems to have a realization when she recalls how the couple used to take things seriously)
What do you make of Ruben's thoughts at the end of the book, 'I felt false. My suit, my tie, my pipe, my skin all felt a costume.'? Is this the only time that Ruben takes his situation seriously rather than trying to numb the pain with humor? If so, could this be a moment of redemption, a moment that Ruben does in fact change? I am trying to understand my experience reading this book; for some reason these sentences felt pivotal and gave me a kind of footing as I finished the book. It felt like an acknowledgment of the numbing emptiness that might exist in the life of a cynic.
Thank you for three great episodes about this book. A comment about the use of the word "birthright." I think when Netanyahu says "... you have traded your birthright away for a bowl of plastic lentils" he is challenging Blum to give up on America and go to Israel where, he implies, his life will become consequential because he will be engaged in creating the Jewish state. For Jews, the word "birthright" refers to the right of every Jew to Israeli citizenship and residency.
Also, I wonder if Heidi can apply her theory of duty and desire to this book?
Is there any redemption in this book? I didn’t see any and that left a bad taste in my mouth...specifically in regards to Ruben and just how horrible of a father he is- even down to the subtitle of the book (calling it negligible when it was horrendous for his daughter and wife).
I might be reaching, but the fact that it's a memory novel seems to be a bit redemptive. Rube is recounting all of this to us from the present, and is just as honest about his own downfalls as about netanyahu's. That implies a growth in character, and maybe this was the insighting incident? It reminds me a bit of how Jonah in the bible writes down his own folly for everyone to see. He must have repented or started caring at least a little to be telling us this story in the first place.
How are we meant to view Judy? Sympathetically or not? She makes some bad choices OBVIOUSLY, but she’s also still a child in a sense. How much of her response and her choices are in part, due to the rather dysfunctional family history she has inherited as well as parents who are not necessarily the healthiest of people. I’m sure it’s complex- a combination of things that have happened to her and choices she has made, but I’m just wondering- how are we supposed to feel about her at the end? Especially after the end maybe-rape scene?
A Pulitzer fiction winner is, in theory, chosen because it’s a distinguished book capturing the atmosphere of American life. In what way do you think The Netanyahus is deeply American (as opposed to being deeply Jewish, which it is) and thus deserving of the award? And how does its Americana measure up to some of your other favorite Pulitzer winners?
Now that Heidi and Tim have had more time to think about the book, I'd like to hear more discussion on what makes this a great book, because I am missing it. I found it funny, there were lots of interesting contrasting opinions and thoughts playing out among the characters, and the prose was great. However, the ending killed it for me, which on the podcast you mention as a great ending to the book. It especially bothered me that none of the characters changed at all in the novel, and they were all pretty unlikable. Some of the scenes, especially the scene at the Blum house when the Netanyahus first show up, really echo episodes of the Office, which is a favorite of mine. I think what makes the Office work for me is that underneath the humor (sometimes extremely cringy humor), there's a real center to the show in the relationships, some of which are actually taken seriously and held up as valuable and good. I don't see that at all in this book. Tim's question on the 2nd episode about finding the "center" of the novel rings true for me still, because I don't see it. C. S. Lewis, when talking about Austen, says "unless there is something about which the author is never ironical, there can be no true irony in the work." Is there a "hard center" here that I don't see, is this quote too narrow/perhaps inapplicable, or is this a flaw in the book?
This isn't meant as a fighting question, I'm genuinely hoping to see the light on this book.
Yes, I kept thinking of the Office too--the beginning was cringe-funny like Diversity Day and Dinner Party, but overall I did find it hard to find it funny, especially by the end. I kept thinking of a quote/interview I saw about Mindy Kalinin and how part of what makes her writing great is that she genuinely seems to like her characters. Cohen definitely does not seem seem to, and I think that’s what bothered me the most, especially when I got to the end note--it seemed like he was mocking the real-life “Judy”
Great summary of my thoughts about this book. I’m unsure what the center or point of this book is? The ending scene ruined the book for me. I just don’t understand it at all. Could you elaborate on the purpose for the ending scene?
I’ve expressed my misgivings about the book before. In brief the first half was uproariously funny, harkening to some of the best of Bellow (whom I love and whom I hope will make the list one of these years). But I disliked the use of identifiable personages, yes Bibi but especially Yonatan, because the former association is political and the latter one is borderline iconoclastic. My question boils down to: how soon is too soon? Do connections like that undermine your affinity for a work of fiction or can you put them to the side?
Agreeing. I was reminded of Saul Bellow's style from the beginning. And he also used at least one identifiable real person plus himself in Humboldt Gift's. So, similar, but not so devastating. No emphasis on the Jewishness, but focus on the American Situation even 50 years ago— similar. Given the passion of our hosts in engaging with this book, I also wonder, might they like to give Bellow a chance?
Have not read that one, but am reading a Bellow novella, The Thief. I think these books revolving around academics and writers, literary stuff, are engaging. It might be fun to tackle Iris Murdoch's The Green Knight. Literary, academical, quirky, And with a touch of the Fantastic. (Way off-topic now.) My name is Asher Lev was interesting because it had these coupled with artistry and the hesitancy of a child. Nothing quirky, fantastical, however. The crucifixion art was too Great to be designated quirky.
I questioned the use of actual historical and contemporary characters in this work of fiction. Were the depictions of the fictional characters based on fact? Are we meant to think that they are? In the context of those questions, I've concluded I'm not alright with using a real person in an underage sex scene/aftermath. I'd appreciate hearing the crew discuss the ethics of such a decision on the author's part.
Appropriating real persons as opposed to ethnicities? It seems right to feel as you do, conscientiously. Since we believe God is making real persons, there is something about using them as “raw material” that doesn’t seem quite right. There’s no objection, maybe, to afixing snatches: personality characteristics, a physical feature, ideological stance, actions, from real life. Not a real live person. Could writers write without these fine-grain bits?
Kind of like piecing a quilt together from scraps of various materials cut from things no longer needed. Real people are not defamed or even recognized, nor should they be… because fictive characters are made up, not real persons. (Though some readers may speculate, misjudging the author.)
If his novel is conceived as satire… even of real events? …Punching up, down, sideways? Owing to his fame and prize winning, would we say Joshua Cohen is punching neither up nor down?
Distinguishing creative nonfiction: everything and everyone must be knowable, factually exact as possible.
…Might historical figures no longer with us be fictionalized in goodwill?
I also have a problem with the use of real historic individuals in this book. Why isn't this considered slander? It certainly put this family in a terrible light that had nothing to do with evaluating the truth or falsity of Netanyahu's academic research. I found the experience of reading this defiling, and questioned whether I should have finished the book.
I’d be curious to know in what ways this made you feel that way compared to, say, Tess of the D’Urbervilles. In this book, anything that happens, happens off screen and is skewered and revealed as deep folly if not evil. (But again, it doesn’t happen on screen, so to speak.)
But I have to admit to being a tad confused about the issue with using real people. This is not new; it’s actually fairly common in fact. The author never claims it’s a true account, and of course this is why any attempts to litigate have been unsuccessful.
Hi David, thanks for your response. I'm new to this group and joined because I wanted to expand my reading experience and benefit from the insights of others. I typically read history, biographies, and theology, but have a growing appreciation of how imagination can bring truth to life. I read Tess and found it powerful and engaging. My problem with Cohen's book is the way he took real people and used them as a vehicle for his own purposes. I can see the contrast in the two families: one has become indifferent to ideas and values to achieve success and thus become indifferent to each others as people needing care. The other is so passionate about an idea they also have no space to care about the people around them. But why build that case around a real family some of them still living? To me it felt mean, even vicious. How would it affect me if I met one of them in person? Would I be able to see them realistically? Or would the images Cohen created distort my view?
I've been thinking a lot about this book after I followed it with a dreadful popular literature read that I picked up only because of the hype (Colleen Hoover's book Verity, which I do NOT recommend!!). These two books are miles and miles apart in so many ways. Books by Hoover currently hold 3 out of the top 5 spots on the NYT bestseller list for paperback/E-book fiction and 4 out of 5 for paperback only. I found Cohen's book to far surpass Hoover's books in writing craft and overall depth. I kept thinking about the issues of the book long after I finished it (same case with Asher Lev).
I'm not supposing that 1) the NYT bestseller list is a good litmus test for a book or 2) that The Netanyahus is for everyone -- it certainly isn't. However, I'm wondering why popular books are not always GOOD books (good meaning that they demonstrate a depth of meaning, writing craft, etc.), and that GOOD books are not always widely popular. Does it have to do with the "tastes" of society? Is it a literacy issue? What do you think?
I don't know anything about Hoover or any of her books (to know if she it trying to be a "serious" writer or not), but there is definitely a difference between reading for entertainment/escape and "serious" reading...and entertaining reading is not necessarily a bad thing. It's certainly easier and usually more fun , which probably accounts for the popularity of certain books on the bestsellers list. A book is often fun/entertaining because it doesn't challenge the views of the reader, either with ideas that are simply higher/more difficult, or ideas the reader may not agree with. The same is true in film, music, visual art, etc...
I think it does have a lot to do with taste, but also education/literacy. Personally I love "serious" classical music, but I grew up listening to it, playing in orchestras, surrounded by my band and orchestra nerd friends who loved it too. I used to like a lot of popular-but-not-good books because that was all I really knew. Thanks to Close Reads and its community, my tastes (loves?) in the realm of literature are being re-educated. I'm trying to understand film better and sometimes I think I am beginning to be able to recognize a "Good" film when I see it, but I can't explain why, and growth in that area is harder for me because I currently don't have a community or a guide to help me understand the craft and see the meaning in it.
Long story short...yes, I think it is about taste (both personal and societal), and also a literacy issue. And it's hard to retrain our personal and cultural taste without surrounding ourselves with some people who 1) are after the same goal, and 2) are a little further along than we are...which kind of sums up "education."
Sorry for the long wordy reply...your question just got me thinking!! :)
I’ve mused in this for a long time. Society certainly enjoys the mediocre, and I suppose that is a form of taste- undeveloped taste, perhaps. Lack of proper imagination lies in there somewhere.
I was surprised that no one mentioned Woody Allen and his probably influence on the tone of the book? It seems like a lot of the humor in this book is this quintessential NYC Jewish neuroticism that was hallmark Allen. It likely stems from the insecurities of 20th century American Jews trying to carve their place in American society -- all the while other Jews were literally creating a nation for themselves in the Middle East.
I was reminded of the storytelling qualities of John Irving, but hadn't thought about Woody Allen. I feel like Rube mentions him near the beginning, though, unless I'm mixing this up with something else.
I need to go back and reread the beginning but I think you are right about mentioning Woody Allen earlier. I will try to download the e-book and do a quick search.
This was predicted in an earlier episode, but now that the book is finished any further thoughts on why the book is named after the Netanyahus? Also what is a campus novel (the obvious?) and what makes this book one?
I got the feeling that Netanyahu was not legitimately looking for a position at the college but just wanted a paid trip to spread his ideas. He was so very dismissive of the committee, like he had seen it all before and was weary of it, and very concerned about how soon he would be paid. Am I imagining that?
Same! I’d love to hear more about prize-giving. This is the second Pulitzer we’ve read, right? And many other recent winners are beloved by Close Readers.
Wait--it’s our third! And the other two could not be more different: Gilead and Confederacy of Dunces! But is Optimist’s Daughter coming up this year? Also a winner.
I hear such political ravings against the Pulitzer but I don’t find that they seem to pick only one type of book.
Is Ruben a covert narcissist? Is this a purposeful play on a common stereotype of Jews?
https://www.thejc.com/comment/comment/this-paranoid-stereotype-is-no-joke-1.64114?reloadTime=1677456000011
Another way to consider this book is as a contrast between American Judaism(s) and Israeli Judaism. Netanyahu represents the strain of Israeli Judaism that believes in the necessity of the continued existence of the Jewish state if Judaism is to continue to exist. He also sees Israel as the only place where "Jews can be Jews" without the sneering and disdain that Jews endure in the United States. Israel, in many ways, transplants Judaism as his religion. Blum is the assimilated, superficially observant but materially successful American Jew whose anxiety about all of that makes him a Woody Allen character. His father is disappointed-in/ frustrated by America, but still clings to observance and his religious Jewish identity. Edith's parents have adopted the educated, high-culture Jewish spot as Heidi observed. The greatest contrast is between all of these American Jews and the Israeli family that Cohen draws. What is it to be a Jew in America when there is a Israel trying to survive?
Are Netanyahu and Blum meant to be archetypes of the modern (20th century) Jew? They seem to be the extreme ends of a culture that, having existed under oppression for so long, turns against itself rather than its oppressors. If they are archetypes, the cartoonish chaotic nature of the last portion kind of makes sense to me.
In the q and a I would also love a little bit of historical explanation if possible- adding to and explaining the appendix stuff.
What a great book and one that makes me very motivated to learn the historical context better!
So was Judy raped or was in consensual?
Heidi’s column about nihilism really opened up this book for me. If nihilism can be understood as destroying in order to revise, reconstruct, or redefine, then it is ALL OVER this book - practically every character and governing authority that is mentioned destroys something in order to construct something else, with varying levels of violence. So I would say this book is definitely *about* nihilism.
My original question was going to be: do you think that Cohen is promoting nihilism or warning us against it? But now I’m wondering: Does it even matter what Cohen thinks, or is the important thing the fact that his art exposes nihilism for what it is, and now we as readers can decide how to respond? Do we judge the book based on what the author’s conclusions might be or based on what it allows us to see for ourselves?
A few questions:
Tzila Netanyahu. Oh my. As the saying goes: I just can't even... Have I run into a more odious literary character? Nope. She takes the cake! So the question is, in your reading, who is hands-down the most odious literary character you've ever met?
We've discussed the differences between Blum and Netanyahu. What are their similarities? Both displaced, men who don't belong, men without a home?
Do you think Cohen pairs belief with incivility (in Netanyahu) and unbelief with civility (in Blum) for a reason?
The chapters The Netanyahus toggle between college episodes, musings on Jewishness, company at the Blum residence, letters. I'm wondering if there is rhyme and reason behind this toggling (an overarching form) or if the toggling simply suits the content of each chapter.
Regarding your last paragraph… It didn't occur to me to ask a timely question about Blum's narrative. Curious: it seems that he is writing this from a current day perspective, which would make him about 100+ years old, and still, apparently, in his position in academia. I don't remember.... But doesn't this timeframe include a few bits of our own culture? And this would make his narrative a bit like that of the novel Laurus?
The Netanyahus isn’t about anything– just as its main character, Rube (who, ironically, despite his education, is a rube) doesn’t believe or stand for anything. What man, with the parents of a kid who raped your daughter, drives around looking for the kid who raped your daughter and just goes home after? But this nothingness, apathy, nihilism, whatever it is, draws you in, draws disgust, baffles your brain, leaves you questioning what good writing is, yet most of all makes you think deeply. So, I ask, what part of the book made you think the most?
Here’s the sole quote very early on about Woody Allen:
As a city boy who also happened to be the newest faculty member of the History Department just beginning the second of two probationary years preliminary to a verdict on tenure, I was the bloated, hypertensive, and above all apprehensive and even dread-fueled embodiment of the under-coordinated, overintellectualizing, self-deprecating male Jewish stereotype that Woody Allen, for instance, and so many Jewish-American literary writers found outlandish financial and sexual success lampooning (Roth in the generation younger than mine, Bellow and Malamud in the generation older).
Also... those long crafted sentences of Cohen’s!
Did anyone else see the last scene as an objective correlative? I thought maybe it was symbolic of the (older) non-religious American-Jew and the (younger) non-religious Zionist Jew perhaps trying to become one, and yet ultimately not being able to. Or is that overthinking it?
Sorry, last one: great book choice David. It's been an emotional and intellectual roller coaster, but that's a a good thing.
At the end, all of a sudden, Reuben tells the sheriff that his guests were Turkish, "just Turks." This seemed to me to be an effort to distinguish himself from them...like they don't represent Judaism and I (Reuben, an American) are more like you, Sheriff. Is that right? What else is going on with that comment? It seemed really important but I'm not sure I'm fully comprehending .
David's comments on the ending / scene with Judy and Jonathan were SO helpful. I still feel like a deer in headlights on unpacking the abuse the American assimilated Jewish culture and the Zionist cultures perpetuate against one another. Can you explore that more?
Is Cohen guilty of poisoning the well? Why or why not?
At any point, did you feel that you were really just reading well-written propaganda? The introduction of the Netanyahu family felt to me like such a caricature of how secular Jews portray both political and religious zealots in Israel. The book was very well-crafted, but felt very false for its reliance on hateful stereotypes.
As I try to process Blum as a character, I keep thinking about the night he finished writing Judy's college entrance essay. It didn't bother him, he just did it like he was picking up her slack for a chore she hadn't been able to complete under the circumstances. In the last episode you dug into Blum's failings a bit, which sheds some light on the essay writing for me (Have his experiences in higher ed dulled him so thoroughly that he 'knows' it doesn't matter that she didn't write the essay?), but I'd still love to hear if any of you had thoughts about what that detail reveals about Blum, as well as what it suggests about his relationship with Judy.
One of the greatest things about the Jewish culture is that they have Yiddish, and it is a language that gets very granular when it comes to having words for specific types of losers.
For example, I think the difference between Netanyahu and Blum is that the former is a beheymah and the latter is a schmendrik.
Beheymah (H: cattle) An ill-mannered, ox-like person; a bull in a china shop.
Schmendrik (Y: from a fictional character) A useless, ineffectual person.
Do you think you could find better terms for these two characters using the following link?
http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=8318&blogid=142#:~:text=Paskudnyak—%20%28Y%3A%20disgusting%29%20A%20cruel%20person%2C%20one%20who,the%20schlemazel’s%20lap.”%20Schlemiel—%20%28H%3A%20Shlomo%29%20A%20loser.
Is Peretz Levavi, the letter writer of chapter five, a foil for Ruben?
He himself chooses, kind of, to write the letter of supposed recommendation and tactfully tells the truth. He seems to be doing the right thing. Whereas Rube fearfully fulfills, kind of, his assigned task. And I’m never sure what he’s actually doing if anything.
Does Levavi represent a call to something higher in Rube?
He wrote that he was “convinced that you are a passionate and intelligent man; and man with ears that can hear and eyes that can see as well as additional soul-sensitivities beyond the animal senses.”
Of course it’s funny too. But reading chapter five, I felt like the writer of the letter was “on par” with Rube in some way.
Is there more to chapter five beyond a way for providing background on Netanyahu and building the anticipation of his arrival? The whole chapter almost feels like a deus ex machina move (not quite the right term) because it’s so incredibly thorough. And gets it’s own whole chapter.
I had this same thought...but is the author of Chapter 5 a little better off because he's not facing pressure to assimilate into American culture? Or is he just as paralyzed by the Zionist dilemma living in Israel?
How much longer would this book have been if it hadn’t included a real historical figure and all the assumptions and background that even non-Jewish readers can bring to that figure? I kept thinking that’s why Cohen felt he had to use a real Netanyahu--because it would have been a very different novel to explain him even more.
Sorry, one more question -- What do you think is the role of Ruben's parents in this novel? I find it interesting that Netanyahu is the sort of "centerpiece" we're all supposed to have our eyes on, but that a good part of the book chronicles the parents/in-laws. Is it just to give more context to Blum's broken Jewish identity?
Is Cohen a type of Jewish Flannery O'Connor?
Several things come to mind...1) stories that end with something shocking, 2) meaning that is difficult to grasp if the reader is not part of the particular tradition, 3) finding meaning in the vulgar/dark episodes of life - O'Connor's "dark grace" idea, while also...4) seeing the humor in these dark episodes. What are your thoughts?
I thought this several times throughout the book.
Thanks to the hosts for navigating us through this book! It's outside my normal taste, but I enjoyed it.
I get the sense that Ruben is a bit static throughout the book. David mentioned his inability to see the world as it is, so is he just stuck? Is that the point?
What I'm asking really is whether Ruben has had any kind of movement. (Even Edith seems to have a realization when she recalls how the couple used to take things seriously)
What do you make of Ruben's thoughts at the end of the book, 'I felt false. My suit, my tie, my pipe, my skin all felt a costume.'? Is this the only time that Ruben takes his situation seriously rather than trying to numb the pain with humor? If so, could this be a moment of redemption, a moment that Ruben does in fact change? I am trying to understand my experience reading this book; for some reason these sentences felt pivotal and gave me a kind of footing as I finished the book. It felt like an acknowledgment of the numbing emptiness that might exist in the life of a cynic.
Thank you for three great episodes about this book. A comment about the use of the word "birthright." I think when Netanyahu says "... you have traded your birthright away for a bowl of plastic lentils" he is challenging Blum to give up on America and go to Israel where, he implies, his life will become consequential because he will be engaged in creating the Jewish state. For Jews, the word "birthright" refers to the right of every Jew to Israeli citizenship and residency.
Also, I wonder if Heidi can apply her theory of duty and desire to this book?
Is there any redemption in this book? I didn’t see any and that left a bad taste in my mouth...specifically in regards to Ruben and just how horrible of a father he is- even down to the subtitle of the book (calling it negligible when it was horrendous for his daughter and wife).
What is true, good, or beautiful about this book?
I might be reaching, but the fact that it's a memory novel seems to be a bit redemptive. Rube is recounting all of this to us from the present, and is just as honest about his own downfalls as about netanyahu's. That implies a growth in character, and maybe this was the insighting incident? It reminds me a bit of how Jonah in the bible writes down his own folly for everyone to see. He must have repented or started caring at least a little to be telling us this story in the first place.
What was the idea behind changing Bloom to Blum but not changing Netanyahu in anyway? Why change Bloom?
How are we meant to view Judy? Sympathetically or not? She makes some bad choices OBVIOUSLY, but she’s also still a child in a sense. How much of her response and her choices are in part, due to the rather dysfunctional family history she has inherited as well as parents who are not necessarily the healthiest of people. I’m sure it’s complex- a combination of things that have happened to her and choices she has made, but I’m just wondering- how are we supposed to feel about her at the end? Especially after the end maybe-rape scene?
A Pulitzer fiction winner is, in theory, chosen because it’s a distinguished book capturing the atmosphere of American life. In what way do you think The Netanyahus is deeply American (as opposed to being deeply Jewish, which it is) and thus deserving of the award? And how does its Americana measure up to some of your other favorite Pulitzer winners?
Now that Heidi and Tim have had more time to think about the book, I'd like to hear more discussion on what makes this a great book, because I am missing it. I found it funny, there were lots of interesting contrasting opinions and thoughts playing out among the characters, and the prose was great. However, the ending killed it for me, which on the podcast you mention as a great ending to the book. It especially bothered me that none of the characters changed at all in the novel, and they were all pretty unlikable. Some of the scenes, especially the scene at the Blum house when the Netanyahus first show up, really echo episodes of the Office, which is a favorite of mine. I think what makes the Office work for me is that underneath the humor (sometimes extremely cringy humor), there's a real center to the show in the relationships, some of which are actually taken seriously and held up as valuable and good. I don't see that at all in this book. Tim's question on the 2nd episode about finding the "center" of the novel rings true for me still, because I don't see it. C. S. Lewis, when talking about Austen, says "unless there is something about which the author is never ironical, there can be no true irony in the work." Is there a "hard center" here that I don't see, is this quote too narrow/perhaps inapplicable, or is this a flaw in the book?
This isn't meant as a fighting question, I'm genuinely hoping to see the light on this book.
Yes, I kept thinking of the Office too--the beginning was cringe-funny like Diversity Day and Dinner Party, but overall I did find it hard to find it funny, especially by the end. I kept thinking of a quote/interview I saw about Mindy Kalinin and how part of what makes her writing great is that she genuinely seems to like her characters. Cohen definitely does not seem seem to, and I think that’s what bothered me the most, especially when I got to the end note--it seemed like he was mocking the real-life “Judy”
Great summary of my thoughts about this book. I’m unsure what the center or point of this book is? The ending scene ruined the book for me. I just don’t understand it at all. Could you elaborate on the purpose for the ending scene?
I’ve expressed my misgivings about the book before. In brief the first half was uproariously funny, harkening to some of the best of Bellow (whom I love and whom I hope will make the list one of these years). But I disliked the use of identifiable personages, yes Bibi but especially Yonatan, because the former association is political and the latter one is borderline iconoclastic. My question boils down to: how soon is too soon? Do connections like that undermine your affinity for a work of fiction or can you put them to the side?
Agreeing. I was reminded of Saul Bellow's style from the beginning. And he also used at least one identifiable real person plus himself in Humboldt Gift's. So, similar, but not so devastating. No emphasis on the Jewishness, but focus on the American Situation even 50 years ago— similar. Given the passion of our hosts in engaging with this book, I also wonder, might they like to give Bellow a chance?
And of course Ravelstein was about the other Bloom, Allan, but it was a tribute rather than a takedown.
Have not read that one, but am reading a Bellow novella, The Thief. I think these books revolving around academics and writers, literary stuff, are engaging. It might be fun to tackle Iris Murdoch's The Green Knight. Literary, academical, quirky, And with a touch of the Fantastic. (Way off-topic now.) My name is Asher Lev was interesting because it had these coupled with artistry and the hesitancy of a child. Nothing quirky, fantastical, however. The crucifixion art was too Great to be designated quirky.
I questioned the use of actual historical and contemporary characters in this work of fiction. Were the depictions of the fictional characters based on fact? Are we meant to think that they are? In the context of those questions, I've concluded I'm not alright with using a real person in an underage sex scene/aftermath. I'd appreciate hearing the crew discuss the ethics of such a decision on the author's part.
Appropriating real persons as opposed to ethnicities? It seems right to feel as you do, conscientiously. Since we believe God is making real persons, there is something about using them as “raw material” that doesn’t seem quite right. There’s no objection, maybe, to afixing snatches: personality characteristics, a physical feature, ideological stance, actions, from real life. Not a real live person. Could writers write without these fine-grain bits?
Kind of like piecing a quilt together from scraps of various materials cut from things no longer needed. Real people are not defamed or even recognized, nor should they be… because fictive characters are made up, not real persons. (Though some readers may speculate, misjudging the author.)
If his novel is conceived as satire… even of real events? …Punching up, down, sideways? Owing to his fame and prize winning, would we say Joshua Cohen is punching neither up nor down?
Distinguishing creative nonfiction: everything and everyone must be knowable, factually exact as possible.
…Might historical figures no longer with us be fictionalized in goodwill?
I also have a problem with the use of real historic individuals in this book. Why isn't this considered slander? It certainly put this family in a terrible light that had nothing to do with evaluating the truth or falsity of Netanyahu's academic research. I found the experience of reading this defiling, and questioned whether I should have finished the book.
I’d be curious to know in what ways this made you feel that way compared to, say, Tess of the D’Urbervilles. In this book, anything that happens, happens off screen and is skewered and revealed as deep folly if not evil. (But again, it doesn’t happen on screen, so to speak.)
But I have to admit to being a tad confused about the issue with using real people. This is not new; it’s actually fairly common in fact. The author never claims it’s a true account, and of course this is why any attempts to litigate have been unsuccessful.
Hi David, thanks for your response. I'm new to this group and joined because I wanted to expand my reading experience and benefit from the insights of others. I typically read history, biographies, and theology, but have a growing appreciation of how imagination can bring truth to life. I read Tess and found it powerful and engaging. My problem with Cohen's book is the way he took real people and used them as a vehicle for his own purposes. I can see the contrast in the two families: one has become indifferent to ideas and values to achieve success and thus become indifferent to each others as people needing care. The other is so passionate about an idea they also have no space to care about the people around them. But why build that case around a real family some of them still living? To me it felt mean, even vicious. How would it affect me if I met one of them in person? Would I be able to see them realistically? Or would the images Cohen created distort my view?
I've been thinking a lot about this book after I followed it with a dreadful popular literature read that I picked up only because of the hype (Colleen Hoover's book Verity, which I do NOT recommend!!). These two books are miles and miles apart in so many ways. Books by Hoover currently hold 3 out of the top 5 spots on the NYT bestseller list for paperback/E-book fiction and 4 out of 5 for paperback only. I found Cohen's book to far surpass Hoover's books in writing craft and overall depth. I kept thinking about the issues of the book long after I finished it (same case with Asher Lev).
I'm not supposing that 1) the NYT bestseller list is a good litmus test for a book or 2) that The Netanyahus is for everyone -- it certainly isn't. However, I'm wondering why popular books are not always GOOD books (good meaning that they demonstrate a depth of meaning, writing craft, etc.), and that GOOD books are not always widely popular. Does it have to do with the "tastes" of society? Is it a literacy issue? What do you think?
The NYT bestseller list is an editorial list, not a measure of books sold, necessarily.
I don't know anything about Hoover or any of her books (to know if she it trying to be a "serious" writer or not), but there is definitely a difference between reading for entertainment/escape and "serious" reading...and entertaining reading is not necessarily a bad thing. It's certainly easier and usually more fun , which probably accounts for the popularity of certain books on the bestsellers list. A book is often fun/entertaining because it doesn't challenge the views of the reader, either with ideas that are simply higher/more difficult, or ideas the reader may not agree with. The same is true in film, music, visual art, etc...
I think it does have a lot to do with taste, but also education/literacy. Personally I love "serious" classical music, but I grew up listening to it, playing in orchestras, surrounded by my band and orchestra nerd friends who loved it too. I used to like a lot of popular-but-not-good books because that was all I really knew. Thanks to Close Reads and its community, my tastes (loves?) in the realm of literature are being re-educated. I'm trying to understand film better and sometimes I think I am beginning to be able to recognize a "Good" film when I see it, but I can't explain why, and growth in that area is harder for me because I currently don't have a community or a guide to help me understand the craft and see the meaning in it.
Long story short...yes, I think it is about taste (both personal and societal), and also a literacy issue. And it's hard to retrain our personal and cultural taste without surrounding ourselves with some people who 1) are after the same goal, and 2) are a little further along than we are...which kind of sums up "education."
Sorry for the long wordy reply...your question just got me thinking!! :)
As a follow-up to this, I wonder has this always been true or is this unique to our time?
I’ve mused in this for a long time. Society certainly enjoys the mediocre, and I suppose that is a form of taste- undeveloped taste, perhaps. Lack of proper imagination lies in there somewhere.
I was surprised that no one mentioned Woody Allen and his probably influence on the tone of the book? It seems like a lot of the humor in this book is this quintessential NYC Jewish neuroticism that was hallmark Allen. It likely stems from the insecurities of 20th century American Jews trying to carve their place in American society -- all the while other Jews were literally creating a nation for themselves in the Middle East.
I would closely associate this book with Woody Allen, Mel Brooks, and Larry David.
He discusses the influence sitcoms had on the writing in this interview: https://youtu.be/gkYe5s7L0ew
(Including The Three Stooges.)
Yes I would totally see all three of those influences. I absolutely see the absurd humor of Mel Brooks as well.
I was reminded of the storytelling qualities of John Irving, but hadn't thought about Woody Allen. I feel like Rube mentions him near the beginning, though, unless I'm mixing this up with something else.
I need to go back and reread the beginning but I think you are right about mentioning Woody Allen earlier. I will try to download the e-book and do a quick search.
This was predicted in an earlier episode, but now that the book is finished any further thoughts on why the book is named after the Netanyahus? Also what is a campus novel (the obvious?) and what makes this book one?
I got the feeling that Netanyahu was not legitimately looking for a position at the college but just wanted a paid trip to spread his ideas. He was so very dismissive of the committee, like he had seen it all before and was weary of it, and very concerned about how soon he would be paid. Am I imagining that?
I definitely thought this as well, but can't figure out why he came then.
What’s the Close Reads consensus on A historian vs An historian?
Why do you think this book won the Pulitzer Prize?
Haha, came on here to ask the same, and it's the very first question. 🙂
Same! I’d love to hear more about prize-giving. This is the second Pulitzer we’ve read, right? And many other recent winners are beloved by Close Readers.
Wait--it’s our third! And the other two could not be more different: Gilead and Confederacy of Dunces! But is Optimist’s Daughter coming up this year? Also a winner.
I hear such political ravings against the Pulitzer but I don’t find that they seem to pick only one type of book.