Category Archives: Book Reviews

H.W. Brands. The Strange Death of American Liberalism.

Leave a reply

H.W. Brands. The Strange Death of American Liberalism.

For me a five-star book is something that either I want to read again or something that is so profound it makes an immediate impact. There are lots of ways that books can be compelling: a unique idea, an interesting set of characters, a complex plot, an artistic use of the English language and more. Reading is also a subjective experience, so what appeals to me as a reader may be very different for you. I read a lot for both pleasure and work, but these short reviews are a way for me to show my appreciation for the work and the craft of the author of the reviewed work.

H.W. Brands is a prolific writer and historian who teaches at the University of Texas at Austin. I first encountered his work while I was on sabbatical and became fascinated with the story of the American West and his Dreams of Eldorado: a History of the American West was an insightful introduction to many of the people and places of the history of the west. I picked up this book because the title intrigued me, but I did not expect this twenty-five-year-old book to be so insightful for our present moment in the life of America. Brands argues that going back to the founding of the United States most American were skeptical of a centralized government and Jeffersonian populism enjoyed more support than Hamilton’s view of a strong centralized national government. Liberalism in Brand’s argument is the belief that government can do many things to benefit the population which includes not only programs like Social Security or Medicare but also large infrastructure projects like the Interstate Highway System. He argues that the United States is a nation skeptical of strong government except when they need the government to protect them from enemies. During wartime Americans have accepted the necessity of the government consolidating authority that they would not accept in any other situation. In the aftermath of World War II the United States entered the Cold War which allowed the government to continue to operate with expanded powers with broad support from the people and leaders in both political parties. Brands places the death of American liberalism in the Nixon administration as the distrust in the government engendered during the Vietnam War and the disclosures of the manipulations and deceptions during the Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon administrations are revealed. This skepticism found it’s popular voicing in Reagan’s famous statement about the nine most terrifying words in the English language, “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help.” Yet, even Reagan utilized the threat of the Soviet Union to expand the foreign policy and defense spending of the United States.

H.W. Brands’s framing of American liberalism as the belief that the national government can and should do many things on behalf of the American people rather than state and local governments is helpful even if many will find it controversial. The book was published in November 2001, shortly after September 11 created another crisis which allowed the Bush and later administrations to expand the power of the government and gave birth to a short rebirth to a liberalism that could underwrite both a neo-conservative increase of government’s role in the policing of American life as well as the government’s expanded role in the healthcare system during the Obama administration.  But it also explains the rise of the tea party movement in the Republican party and the eventual rise of Trump populism. It also helps to explain the isolationism that is rising among portions of the American populace that want a pull-back from American commitments to the post World War II order. Brands’s argument is provocative, and many people disagree with his conclusions, but it was insightful for me to understand why many citizens may not see the same value in the federal government’s role on behalf of its people that I do.

Review of Empire of the Vampire by Jay Kristoff

Leave a reply

For me a five-star book is something that either I want to read again or something that is so profound it makes an immediate impact. There are lots of ways that books can be compelling: a unique idea, an interesting set of characters, a complex plot, an artistic use of the English language and more. Reading is also a subjective experience, so what appeals to me as a reader may be very different for you. I read a lot for both pleasure and work, but these short reviews are a way for me to show my appreciation for the work and the craft of the author of the reviewed work.

Empire of the Vampire was my introduction to Jay Kristoff and I was immediately hooked as a reader. This is my third reading of this book and even knowing how the plot unfolds the book still is phenomenally enjoyable. This initial volume introduces us to Gabriel de Leon, the last Silversaint (vampire hunter), Jean-Francios the vampire recording Gabriel’s story and Dior le Chance who Gabriel assumes a protective role over. The story jumps around as Gabriel reaches portions that are too painful to deal with at the moment, but this gives a sense of reality as the story jumps from his narration to the moments where he breaks the fourth wall with Jean-Francois.  The story is dark, the narration of the conflict scenes so rich I could imagine them as a manga or anime (I think that is the only way you could faithfully replicate the speed and damage of these vampire vs Silversaint fights). The world cloaked in darkness, the place of religion and mysticism, the rich imagery in a perilous world, there is so much to love in this long but engaging story of a world where vampires are no longer consigned to the night and humanity hangs on the precipice. But beyond the incredible plot, worldbuilding, and hard driving action are the characters and their interactions with one another. There were so many times the dialogue between the characters echoed the pattern of conversations I had with people in the army, the way men rib each other to show they care, the language, and verbal duels that went along with the physical trials. There were countless times I would look up from the page and say, “Damn. Jay Kristoff can write.”  I have listened to the audio versions of the three volumes in the trilogy but reading the physical novel you have the benefit of Bon Orthwick’s illustrations scattered throughout the chapters.

Each of the volumes of this trilogy were the best read of the year they were released and there is some regret in coming to the end of this massive journey. Jay Kristoff will not be for every reader: his language is the language of fighting men which includes frequent swearing (and he has some really interesting ways of utilizing the coarser parts of the English language) and there are several very spicy erotic scenes throughout the books. It is a dark world (literally and metaphorically) where no human character or animal character is safe. It is fantasy with horror and romantic elements set in a beautifully imagined world. It is a poignantly human story of characters who walk through the hell of war, betrayal, death, and times that seem hopeless. Even on a third read I did not want to put this almost eight-hundred-page book down, each time I picked it up it hooked me. I loved this dark gothic story of faith and fighting in a world struggling against four vampiric armies. The symbology and the myth, the conversations and the combat, the characters and the plot all come together to form the favorite trilogy I have ever read.

Reflection on Notes on Being a Man by Scott Galloway

Leave a reply

Reflections on Notes on Being a Man by Scott Galloway

This is a part of a selection of readings I gathered to reflect on what a healthy approach to masculine identity would look like. I navigated my own journey into a version of manhood in my late teens and early twenties successfully, but now in middle age I see a lot of young men struggling to navigate this journey and for a variety of reasons failing to launch into life. I come to this with humility and curiosity seeking those who may be able to articulate more clearly the journeys that may lead young men to discover a fulfilling life of work and relationships and to help those moving into the space of elders to support and guide them in this journey.

Scott Galloway has one of the larger media footprints of individuals who have written on masculinity recently and if you have ever heard him speak, his writing is similar. He is a good storyteller who brings together his personal experiences with the broader research that others have done on men. Notes on Being a Man is a combination of an autobiography/memoir with a frame looking at the advantages he had as a mediocre white man because society invested in him—advantages no longer present for the current generation of men.

Galloway stakes out two positive aspects of masculinity: providing and protecting. The traditional role of masculinity was to provide for their family and by extension their society. Galloway uses the shorthand of providing excess value throughout the book to talk about how an adult man should repay both their family and society for the resources invested in them as they grow. Protection is the way he reframes the strength that masculinity provides. In a world where cruelty is mistaken for courage, Galloway points to the positive value of protection that is a part of masculinity.

Notes on Being a Man is a very approachable and easy read. The cadence of the writing makes it sound like the author is having a conversation with the reader. If you are looking for something that is heavier on research this is probably not where you want to start, but if you are looking for something to have a conversation with a young man this is probably far more beneficial. I know in my own life I learned a lot from the stories of the men around me as well as the biographies of people I respected. So much of the online conversation around masculinity has been dominated by politically conservative voice and I appreciate Galloway as a political moderate contributing his thoughts to how we support and mentor the next generation of young men.

Review of Lord of the Flies by William Golding

Leave a reply

Time Magazine Top 100 Novels

Book 52: Lord of the Flies by William Golding (1954)

This is a series of reflections reading through Time Magazine’s top 100 novels as selected by Lev Grossman and Richard Lacayo published since 1923 (when Time magazine was founded). For me this is an attempt to broaden my exposure to authors I may not encounter otherwise, especially as a person who was not a liberal arts major in college. Time’s list is alphabetical, so I decided to read through in a random order, and I plan to write a short reflection on each novel.

The Lord of the Flies is a novel I encountered in either late middle school or early high school as required reading and reread now as an adult. The novel follows a group of boys who crash on an island during a war, perhaps even a nuclear war, and find themselves alone and isolated from society. The novel is an exploration of the darkness of the human, particularly male, heart when isolated from the civilizing influence of society. The rules on the island quickly breakdown when Ralph, the boy initially selected by the boys as chief, is unable to maintain control over both the hunters, led by Jack, and the little ones who tend to do their own thing. Eventually Jack and his hunters continue to devolve into a violent and savage tribe that results in the death of two of the boys and the story ends with their hunt of Ralph before an officer of the Royal Navy arrives on the island to rescue the boys.

The Lord of the Flies is a story about children, but it also exhibits the author’s low view of humanity apart from the civilizing restraint of law and order. It might be this book’s place within the assigned reading of my childhood, but this felt like a book you were supposed to read and not enjoy. It felt like the theme of the book was more important than the characters. While there are some cleverly written plot ideas in the book, like the alluding to biblical language with the Beast from the Sea and the Beast of the Air or the Lord of the Flies, it just felt like the narration and dialogue fell flat. The individual children were more types than developed characters: Ralph was the somewhat slow protagonist, Piggy the overweight, asthmatic scared know it all, Simon the introverted and spiritual one, Jack the bully always needing to be right. It probably didn’t help that I listened to the audiobook version read by the author, and the author’s narration did not help the story.

Review of the Confessions of Nat Turner by William Styron

Leave a reply

Time Magazine Top 100 Novels

Book 22: The Confessions of Nat Turner by William Sty

This is a series of reflections reading through Time Magazine’s top 100 novels as selected by Lev Grossman and Richard Lacayo published since 1923 (when Time magazine was founded). For me this is an attempt to broaden my exposure to authors I may not encounter otherwise, especially as a person who was not a liberal arts major in college. Time’s list is alphabetical, so I decided to read through in a random order, and I plan to write a short reflection on each novel.

The Confessions of Nat Turner is a historical fiction reconstruction of Nat Turner’s life and the rebellion he led in Virginia prior to the Civil War. The book begins with a final reading of Nat Turner’s confession prepared by his lawyer Thomas Grey but quickly moves into a flashback which walks through the life of Nat as a young slave who is taught to read and occupies a world between his white masters and the slaves who work in the fields. Nat Turner is briefly promised a path to freedom by Samuel Turner, his master at the time who educated and saw him apprenticed as a carpenter, but Turner is unable to fulfill this promise when his fortunes fail. Nat is still promised a path to freedom when he is given to Reverend Eppes, but Eppes is far from a paragon of holiness and Nat finds himself serving not only Eppes but his entire congregation. Nat finally ends up as the slave of a hardworking and honest owner named Travis who allows Nat to utilize his skills, but Nat also begins to have visions which lead him to believe he is a prophet called to lead the black people in revolt. Nat gathers a group of loyal subordinate leaders around him and plans his revolt which occurs in August 1831.

The revolt never reaches its ultimate objective for several reasons. Just as the revolt is beginning an unruly and violent slave named Will requests to join but refuses to maintain the ideals Nat Turner established of not getting drunk or raping white women. Nat is also unable to kill the people he is asking his followers to kill and that leads to conflict over his leadership, particularly by those following the violent Will, and eventually he does kill the one white person he hoped would not be present. Finally, they anticipated the slaves from the surrounding plantations joining their revolt, but some fought with their masters against the revolt and many who did join quickly became drunk and were unreliable fighters.

William Styron’s book is thought provoking, although it was hard for me to view Nat Turner as a heroic figure. I struggled with the bloodthirsty reading of the prophets which is very different than my own reading of them. Nat was given opportunities and education that few slaves could ever imagine and although his life did have betrayals and abuses, his experiences were far less abusive than many of his fellow slaves. I do think William Styron did a good job of portraying the experience of a black slave and some of the ways they had to carefully navigate their interactions with white people.

Review of Muscular Christianity by Clifford Putney

Leave a reply

Review of Muscular Christianity: Manhood and Sports in Protestant America, 1880-1920 by Clifford Putney (2001)

This is a part of a selection of readings I gathered to reflect on what a healthy approach to masculine identity would look like. I navigated my own journey into a version of manhood in my late teens and early twenties successfully, but now in middle age I see a lot of young men struggling to navigate this journey and for a variety of reasons failing to launch into life. I come to this with humility and curiosity seeking those who may be able to articulate more clearly the journeys that may lead young men to discover a fulfilling life of work and relationships and to help those moving into the space of elders to support and guide them in this journey.

I first encountered the term ‘muscular Christianity’ in a biography of Theodore Roosevelt, and I heard echoes of some similar questions which seem to be surfacing today being a part of the rhetoric of one hundred years ago. Clifford Putney’s Muscular Christianity is an adaptation of his doctoral dissertation for his PhD studies in American History at Brandeis University. Prior to the Civil War much of the population was still engaged in agricultural or manual labor, and during the Civil War men had demonstrated their manhood in military service. But in the years at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century the population began to move into the cities. As the culture and churches began to embrace more feminine and peaceful virtues there was an increased incidence of ‘neurasthenia’-the diagnosis of the day for hysteria, depression and anxiety. In Putney’s words, which could be echoed by many Conservative voices today, “If the immigrant, the city, and rural depopulation constituted the first three horsemen of the nativist apocalypse, many considered the “modern woman” to be the fourth.” (29) Yet, one critical thing to understand about muscular Christianity in the United States is that it was a progressive movement linked to political reformers like Theodore Roosevelt, and social gospel preachers like Walter Ruashenbusch. It was a response to the “spiritual blandness” and “moral impotence” (33) of the culture of the time. Muscular Christianity was less a theological movement than a cultural one attempting to recapture both participation from men in the life of the church but also attempting to rediscover a connection between the physicality of men and faith.

Although the YMCA existed prior to the emergence of muscular Christianity, it flourished and grew phenomenally during this time. The Boy Scouts and several other nature groups for boys and young men also emerged as a way for boys to return to nature and to build character in these boys. Yet, the movement also helped to reenergize the missionary movement in the United States, particularly in encouraging young men to consider being a missionary overseas. It also led to a parallel movement for women which led to the formation of organizations like the YWCA, Girl Scouts, Campfire Girls. 

The movement would decline in the aftermath of World War I, at least among liberal Christianity. Some of this was due to the poor reception of YMCA among soldiers serving in the war who were criticized of,” using up gasoline over here to warn us fellows against the skirts, when he ought to be down here in the trenches where he belongs or get the blazes our ‘o here.” (191) Many of these muscular Christians were divided on the war, some were passivists, others began to see the war as a moral crusade. Yet, by the end of the beginning of the 1920s the movement was in decline among mainline Protestant circles. However, by the 1930s it had moved into the fundamentalist churches which encouraged the development of Christian athletes establishing Youth for Christ (1945), the Fellowship of Christian Athletes (1954) and Athletes in Action (1966).

I find Clifford Putney’s exploration of this movement in Christianity and the broader culture a helpful historical perspective for our current moment. To see the concerns of a century ago reflected in slightly different language today is an opportunity to learn from the past. I find it encouraging that muscular Christianity was a progressive movement at the turn of the century and it gives me some hope that there can be a healthy masculinity that can be involved in attempting to make the world a better place. There was an anti-intellectualism that was present in the muscular Christianity of the 1880s until 1920, even though some of its practitioners were in elite education institutions, but it did lead to organizations that led to a rediscovery of nature, a president and others who created a national parks system, and a healthier approach of physicality for both men and women. When culture and religion can feel bland or impotent for its detached intellectualism, those who explored the strenuous life promised by muscular Christianity sought a more embodied solution. Those solutions would need to look different today than a century ago, but it is helpful to realize that many of the questions and fears of today have been a part of our society and religious spaces before.

Review of The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune

Leave a reply

Five Star Book Review

TJ Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

For me a five-star book is something that either I want to read again or something that is so profound it makes an immediate impact. There are lots of ways that books can be compelling: a unique idea, an interesting set of characters, a complex plot, an artistic use of the English language and more. Reading is also a subjective experience, so what appeals to me as a reader may be very different for you. I read a lot for both pleasure and work, but these short reviews are a way for me to show my appreciation for the work and the craft of the author of the reviewed work.

The House of the Cerulean Sea surprised me. It started out as a book with a pretty standard anonymous dehumanizing government agency and a main character, Linus, who as a case worker is both completely committed to the rules of the Department in Charge of Magical Youth and yet maintains the ability to see the magical youth as human. On the one hand the story is full of tropes: the dehumanizing bureaucracy, the rule follower who learns to trust his heart, an orphanage that attempts to provide children with a home, the inability of non-magic people to accept those different from them, finding one’s true family and love. The tropes are there and the story is predictable and yet sometimes tropes work because they express something fundamental to the experience of being human. Most people have experienced dehumanizing environments in some shape, not everyone is a rule follower but those who are typically find a time when the rules do not work, the desire for love, home, and acceptance are universal human needs. Sometimes we need characters that are not traditionally human to remind us of what humanity is all about.

It is the children in the story that really shine more than the two adult characters. Linus and Arthur, the caretaker of the orphanage, each have their roles to play in the protection of the children, the island, and the orphanage, but it is the way the children form a relationship with Arthur that transforms him more than anything else. Talia, a gnome, Sal, a shape shifting boy, Phee, a forest sprite, Chauncey a creature who may look monstrous but has a heart of gold, Theodore, a wyvern, and Lucy, an antichrist each in their own way and with their own language open themselves to this outsider who has come to inspect their home. Each bear their own scars from the way they have been treated by the outside world, but they help Linus find his own humanity which has been slowly smothered by his environment before coming to the island. There is an element of a love story between Arthur and Linus which they both struggle to voice and understand but for most of the story this is in the background and the children and their interactions with Linus and Arthur are in the foreground.

This is a book that at moments makes you feel. It can make you feel the desire for home, love, acceptance, and hope for a better future. It is quirky and it is not a story everyone will love. Others may be put off by the same sex relationship between Linus and Arthur. This is a quick read and seeing the children through the eyes of Linus and Arthur, I quickly found them endearing. Despite its tropes and predictability, it was really enjoyable in a comfortable and homey way.

Review of Alchemy of Secrets by Stephanie Garber

Leave a reply

Five Star Book Review

Stephanie Garber, Alchemy of Secrets.

For me a five-star book is something that either I want to read again or something that is so profound it makes an immediate impact. There are lots of ways that books can be compelling: a unique idea, an interesting set of characters, a complex plot, an artistic use of the English language and more. Reading is also a subjective experience, so what appeals to me as a reader may be very different for you. I read a lot for both pleasure and work, but these short reviews are a way for me to show my appreciation for the work and the craft of the author of the reviewed work.

I am a fan of Stephanie Garber’s Caraval and Once Upon a Broken Heart series with their magical worlds, incredible but dark magic, and dangerous relationships. Alchemy of Secrets is her initial adult novel and while it still retains the magical elements of her other writing, the world is contemporary Los Angeles. For much of the story the magical elements are more subdued than her previous young adult novels. Her description of an early moment of the story could apply to the book in general:

It almost felt like magic. Not big, miraculous magic but the simple magic of timeless things. Of two-dollar bills and handwritten letters, typewriters and rotary phones. (9)

There are certainly times where big, miraculous magic is also a part of this story, but most of the story feels like this simple magic of timeless things. She has a phenomenal gift of describing places in the book as she leads you on this treasure hunt full of unreliable allies and lost knowledge. Sometimes it feels like you as a reader are impacted by the devil’s ability to make a character forget in the story and yet, as you begin to know the protagonist’s, Holland St. James’s, backstory it becomes woven into her life-or-death search for the Alchemical Heart.

Stephanie Garber’s work is comfort reading for me because it makes me believe and feel and wonder with the characters. In her words, “What is magic, if not something that makes you believe and feel and wonder?” (237) To ape the mysterious professor at the beginning of the book, “I came to this book because of her earlier stories and now she has told me another one.” There are still young adult elements to the story, but the protagonist is still young, naïve, and inexperienced and pulled by characters with a lot more experience in the magical side of the world she has sought but not truly encountered before the beginning of the story. The writing is beautiful, almost magical and the treasure hunt is an enjoyable trek through the unique architecture of Los Angeles.

Review of Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson (1981)

1 Reply

Time Magazine Top 100 Novels

Book 44: Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson (1981)

This is a series of reflections reading through Time Magazine’s top 100 novels as selected by Lev Grossman and Richard Lacayo published since 1923 (when Time magazine was founded). For me this is an attempt to broaden my exposure to authors I may not encounter otherwise, especially as a person who was not a liberal arts major in college. Time’s list is alphabetical, so I decided to read through in a random order, and I plan to write a short reflection on each novel.

Marilynne Robinson use of the English language is artful and poetic. I read Gilead several years ago and when I began Housekeeping, I was immediately struck by the beautiful way in which she can write. The novel is told from the perspective of Ruth Stone, normally called Ruthie throughout the book, who is left at a young age with her grandmother, Sylvia Foster, along with her sister Lucille. Ruthie’s mother after leaving her daughters at their grandmother’s house drives into the lake and dies and for several years Sylvia cares for the two girls until her death. When Slyvia dies suddenly, she arranges for her sisters-in-law, Lily and Nona Foster, to come care for the girls but these older women are uneasy with the girls and eventually locate Sylvie Fisher, the girls’ aunt and their mother’s sister, to come to the home in Fingerbone, Idaho where their grandmother was raising them. Sylvie attempts to raise these two girls, but she is ill equipped for this responsibility, and the household slowly devolves into dysfunction from the perspective of the surrounding community.

Although the book never names it there is some type of mental illness that seems to pervade the family and impacts the generations of women who compose this dysfunctional home. From the suicide of Ruthie’s mother to the transient lifestyle of Sylvie and her lack of awareness of the needs of Ruthie and Lucille. In the end Ruthie also begins to exhibit the characteristics that Sylvie possesses. Hearing the innocent perspective of Ruthie, it is apparent that she and her sister live with an absence of attention and provision that children need. Yet Ruthie is also desperate to keep Sylvie close to her since she is the only adult, in age if not maturity, who shows her any attention.  

As mentioned above the use of the English language in this book is beautiful but it also seems at odds with the character who narrates the story. There is a chasm between the dysfunction and mental illness of the characters and their elevated language. As a father I struggled with the neglect and isolation of Ruthie and Lucille, but I also struggled with Ruthie as a believable narrator who speaks like a highly educated literary author but struggles to attend school and reflects on the experience of being a young girl and teenager. There were also times when the language prevented the story from moving, the narration became so struck with their thoughts that they lost track of their place in their story and their world. There was a disorientation to this book that reminded me of Caitlin Kiernan’s The Drowning Girl. Not as severe but reading Housekeeping gave the feeling of looking through the world through eyes and perceptions shrouded in some type of mental distortion.

Review of the Assistant by Bernard Malamud (1957)

1 Reply

Time Magazine Top 100 Novels

Book 8: The Assistant by Bernard Malamud

This is a series of reflections reading through Time Magazine’s top 100 novels as selected by Lev Grossman and Richard Lacayo published since 1923 (when Time magazine was founded). For me this is an attempt to broaden my exposure to authors I may not encounter otherwise, especially as a person who was not a liberal arts major in college. Time’s list is alphabetical, so I decided to read through in a random order, and I plan to write a short reflection on each novel.

The Assistant is a story that centers around a struggling grocery store in Brooklyn, its owner Morris Bober, his wife Ida, daughter Helen, and the assistant Frank Aspen. It is a story that reflects upon the Jewish identity of the Bober family in a predominantly non-Jewish neighborhood, an identity that doesn’t involve the practice of the Jewish religion but still maintains a connection to the cultural and ethnic reality of Judaism. In the mind of Morris Bober to be a Jew is to suffer and his view of his life is one of suffering imprisoned in his grocery store and unable to provide for his wife and especially his young adult daughter the way he would like. Frank Aspen enters the story as ‘a hold-upnik’ when he is a part of a robbery of Morris’ grocery store. Frank is a twenty-five-year-old drifter who has recently arrived in Brooklyn and in the aftermath of the robbery begs Morris to let him work in the store for no pay to gain experience. Frank also finds Helen attractive and his presence as a non-Jewish admirer of this Jewish girl is one of Ida Bober’s greatest fears.  

Bernard Malamud gives us four characters whose fears, disappointments, strengths and weaknesses are apparent and believable. It is a story of great wrongs, the search for reconciliation and forgiveness. The story inhabits both a Jewish and non-Jewish world between the Morris family and Frank Aspen and can show appreciation for both. This along with Herzog and Call it Sleep are stories of Jewish existence in the United States in the middle third of the 20th Century, yet this was my favorite of these three novels. The story has an easy flow as Frank enters the orbit of the Bober family and its business occasionally despite the traumatic events that occur in the family. Frank is a flawed person seeking redemption and he comes off as likeable despite his pattern of bad decisions.

I enjoyed The Assistant. It is a character driven story and Bernard Malamud gives us believable characters in a well-articulated world. He allows the reader to get to know the characters through their thoughts and actions and it is an easy read. Frank Aspen as the assistant in the story is the driving character but he is also the outsider to the family, while the Bober family as Jews are outsiders to their surrounding world. Ultimately, the story ends abruptly, and I would have enjoyed hearing a little more about how Frank navigates the world and his relationship to the Bober family after Morris’ death and his conversion to Judaism, but the author leaves the story at this point leaving the reader to wonder about Frank, Helen, and Ida.