Isaac Bashevis Singer was a Polish American author of Jewish descent, noted for his short stories. He was one of the leading figures in the Yiddish literary movement, and received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1978. His memoir, "A Day Of Pleasure: Stories of a Boy Growing Up in Warsaw", won the U.S. National Book Award in Children's Literature in 1970, while his collection "A Crown of Feathers and Other Stories" won the U.S. National Book Award in Fiction in 1974.
Given that the latest book by Isaac Bashevis Singer I read ('The King of the Fields') turned out to be a big disappointment, I didn't lose my trust in one of my favourite authors overall.
With 'Love and Exile' the good old I.B. I knew came back to send his regards from a very special time: his formative years.
Although the cover of the book boasts that this is 'An Autobiographical Trilogy', what we have here is an account of the first thirty-five years of Mr Singer's long life. This means that the size of the book is a manageable 352 pages which won't put off any eager readers but with limited time on their hands.
On a personal note, I would have loved if Isaac Bashevis had written even more about his early years than he did here. Not to mention including something on his following fifty-three years. But I noticed how many great authors who flirted with their memoirs were somehow reluctant to include their more mature and successful years in those books. Vladimir Nabokov, Stefan Zweig, Gregor von Rezzori, Gyorgy Faludy, Witold Gombrowicz and Stanislaw Lem come to mind and I.B. Singer joins the club.
So, let's talk about what Isaac Bashevis chose to tell us. Yes, let's talk about 'Love and Exile' which is a very carefully chosen title indeed.
First comes love. You might not know or suspect this but young I.B. was no short than a womanizer. If you can picture a penniless, skinny, poorly dressed, red haired proofreader playing the Don Juan in Warsaw in the late 1920s this is what Mr Singer was. Some of his conquests were women who could have been his mother, others were communist tomboys, and others were nevrotic and opinionated beauties who were just looking for a cultivated lover. By reading about this women, I could recognise the hectic behaviors and sexual perversions of many a female character narrated by I.B Singer in novels such as 'Enemies', 'The Slave', 'Shadows On the Hudson' and - alas! - even from that awful 'The King of the Fields'. True, Isaac Bashevis Singer wasn't only going from a bed to another one in those turbulent years for him and for Warsaw alike. He was also talented a writer for his young age, but in the Yiddish-Polish circles of his time there were dozens of authors who had published more than him gaining money and reputation.
One of the shining stars of Yiddish literature in Warsaw was another Singer, Israel Joshua (I.J.) who happened to be Isaac Bashevis' elder brother. It was I.J. who brought home novels by Hamsun, Turgenev and Dostoyevsky along with scientific publications, newspapers. It was I.J. who contested the status quo of the Singer's household engaging in theological arguments with his father, a pious rabbi portrayed by Isaac Bashevis as a holy man twice removed from modernity. It was I.J. who introduced his younger brother in the Warsaw literary scene finding him the post of proofreader in the magazine where he was editor in chief. And again, it was I.J. who became the Polish correspondent for an American-Yiddish newspaper while Isaac Bashevis soon found out that he wasn't made for journalism.
The respect, admiration and awe that the future Nobel Prize for Literature felt for his elder brother are expressed umpteen times thorough 'Love and Exile'. Young Isaac Bashevis knew very well that he lived in the shadow of Israel Joshua's success to the point he was often confused with him and yet in this book one can only find words of gratitude for this brother.
Second comes exile. The exile from a country, Poland, that both the Singer brothers loved in a way, but that they couldn't fully perceive as their homecountry. Isaac Bashevis explains that he could read books in four or five languages (including Polish), but that Yiddish was the only language he spoke well admitting that 'women in Warsaw were constantly correcting my Polish'. Now I can certainly relate with such a statement myself, but I'm a foreigner while I.B. was born and bred in Poland. Well, bred to some extent as he spoke Yiddish at home, attended cheder instead of Polish school and later never went to university. The author here makes crystal clear that he's at the same time proud of his Jewish heritage and ashamed for having not had the possibility of learning Polish well which I've found touching.
Anyways. Let's go back to the exile. Guess what? It was Israel Joshua who moved first to the US and it was I.J. who sent his brother an affidavit to come and join him in New York City. Isaac Bashevis arrives in the United States with only one published book in his portfolio - 'Satan in Goray' - and out of fear for what he feels will happen to the Jews in Poland. As far as we know, he never looked at the US with keen or curious eyes before. Among the novelists he read the most, the future Nobel laureate mentions Aleichem, Peretz, Hamsun, Mann, Rolland, Turgenev, Dostoyevsky, not a single American one, save Twain.
And yet, because Israel Joshua migrated to the US - not before having his novel 'Yoshe Kalb' translated into Polish: quite an accomplishment - Isaac Bashevis goes with the flow and leaves Europe behind. The chapters regarding the trip to the US by ship are among the most interesting ones in this book. The sense of claustrophoby and discomfort felt by Mr Singer on board is described very well. He only pines for loneliness and gets discriminated for his asking to eat alone and for being a vegetarian. These pages are poignant and disturbing at the same time. One cannot help but asking themselves what I.B. Singer did for being treated so badly by the crew and the injustice of this treatment hurts.
The final part of the 'trilogy' depicts the arrival and the first years of the novelist in the US being hosted by (I bet you know by whom)...his brother Israel Joshua. Once more, it's I.J. who finds Isaac Bashevis a job in the newspaper he has been writing for and buys him an Yiddish typewriter. And later on I.J. will even rescue his younger brother from a writer's block crisis by helping him to put an order and give a sense to the drafts Isaac Bashevis is working on.
Unfortunately, 'Love and Exile' ends up before two crucial events in the life of I.B. Singer: the sudden death of his elder brother at the age of 50 and the publication of 'The Family Moskat' a masterpiece that will be dedicated to Israel Joshua, mentor and model for Isaac Bashevis.
I loved it. He's my favourite author anyway (is he? Is that true? Yes, I think he really is now) so I already knew I liked his style. This is his memoir; well, one of his memoirs, consisting of various other chunks of memoir brought together in one volume.
He was born in Poland, and emigrated to New York in the 1930s. He went on to be an incredibly successful writer, but this book ends when he's still poor and miserable and relatively unknown.
He writes about everything from the tiniest fly (hmm, there are actually quite a few tiny flies described in minute detail in this book, now I come to think about it) to the name of God, and is always trying to figure out what connects and differentiates the two. Basically, he's got issues with the Problem of Suffering - how can an omnipotent God allow such terrible suffering in the world? That old problem. (Probably most Jewish people in Poland in the 1930s had issues with the Problem of Suffering, all things considered. But most people don't write like Singer.)
It's not just about God though - it's also all about him growing up with his super-religious rabbi father and his adult life in Warsaw. To the east, horrible things are happening in Russia; to the west Hitler has come to power in Germany. Singer is more interested in his romantic problems and his ongoing issues with God than in politics, but he hangs out with lots of ideologically driven writers, so you get to hear about all the lefty infighting between, eg the Stalinists and the Trotskyites too. It's interesting and sad and funny - and you even get to meet his brother, Israel Joshua Singer! Also a famous Yiddish writer in his own right (wrote The Brothers Ashkenazi).
This is one of the first writer's memoirs I have really loved. Singer is a wonderful storyteller, and from the very beginning he brings you into the mind of an incredibly neurotic Jew in Warsaw in the years before World War Two. The memoir is deeply philosophical and personal. As the world is teetering on the edge of collapse, he can't help spending his time wondering about the impractical big questions: why is God so cruel? Why would he allow sin to exist? etc. He is also concerned with the little questions - How can I be less lonely? How can I sleep with my cousin and my girlfriend without getting in trouble?
Amazingly for such a memoir, Hitler is mentioned maybe ten times. Instead, the worldly events Singer focuses on are drawn to show the absurdity of human nature. The Yiddishist writers, big fish in a disappearing pond, constantly declare themselves communists and become rabid and bloodthirsty, waiting for the revolution to come. Several of them sneak into Russia, only to be sent off to Siberia and never heard from again.
Eventually, Singer makes it to New York, and gets terribly depressed. He says it is because he doesn't feel comfortable there. Could it maybe be because the holocaust has just destroyed everything and everyone he left behind? Who knows, the mind of a neurotic is a lovely thing to follow.
Oh, and I couldn't help wondering the whole time if the movie Love and Death was based on this memoir. Any thoughts anyone?
An incredibly honest autobiography from Singer鈥檚 pre-World War One childhood to his immigration to America between the wars. I couldn鈥檛 help but think how fortunate it was that Singer emigrated from Poland in 1935, otherwise we may not have had his writings.
Una novela autobiogr谩fica para reflexionar si perteneceremos siempre al exilio. El autor recorre las dudas que la mayor铆a de seres humanos hemos atravesado. Dudas que ni la religi贸n, ciencia, naturaleza o filosof铆a han podido despejar.
Por un lado, tenemos la sabidur铆a de la naturaleza, capaz salvaguardar cada estrella en el cielo, pero carente de compasi贸n. Por otro, la ciencia ofreci茅ndonos el consuelo de saber que las estrellas est谩n formadas por la misma materia que compone la Tierra, radiando enormes cantidades de energ铆a que se pierden en el espacio o que se transformar谩n alg煤n d铆a de nuevo en materia.
Aceptar el hecho de que algunas cosas han existido desde siempre, y eso vale tanto para la naturaleza como para Dios, no nos salva de la melancol铆a como resultado de la compasi贸n insoportable hacia quienes est谩n sufriendo o de que somos capaces de innumerables desgracias solo por escapar del aburrimiento.
Si bien podemos estar dotados de conciencia, sabidur铆a, belleza y misericordia; la aut茅ntica verdad no se ha sabido jam谩s, tampoco se sabe ahora ni nunca se sabr谩.
驴C贸mo es posible vivir en un mundo as铆? 驴C贸mo respirar cuando estamos condenados a no saber nunca de d贸nde procedemos, quienes somos ni adonde nos dirigimos?
Puede que los libros sean solo papel y tinta, escritos por personas. Pero mientras la llama arda, todo puede corregirse.
鈥淭al vez nuestro mundo tambi茅n forme parte de alguna cerilla c贸smica. Quiz谩s en el universo infinito existen seres capaces de meterse nuestro sistema solar en el bolsillo, y quiz谩s lo hagan realmente sin que nosotros lo advirtamos鈥︹€�
amazing that a writer can be so self absorbed, so honest, and yet have such empathy with the sufferring of others. his struggle with faith and his cultural history is very sensitive and i think expresses well the inner dialogue of the agnostic.
Singer's biography viewed through the lens of spiritual searching and artist endeavor. The book ends well before Singer wins the Nobel Prize, in fact it sort of ends in a nadir for him. But it has vivid descriptions of life in the old world, and a rare first-hand account of the immigrant experience.
What strikes me is I.B. Singer's complete honesty about his struggles and shortcomings. At the same time one must view with a critical eye his characterization of many of his contemporaries as bloodthirsty revolutionaries. It is possible that some might have been, but Singer never identified with those who looked to political revolution as a method for achieving social justice (as his brother did). As a result his portrayal of those who did, such as biographer Isaac Deutscher, is particularly unflattering.
The author is also to be credited with acknowledging the immense debt he owed to his brother I.J. Singer who facilitated I.B.'a literary career time and again, and literally saved his life by securing a visa to America for him. It is most curious and telling that the author's mental state was such that he could do nothing to save himself while in Poland and in the early months in America when he was in danger of being deported.
Critics have made interesting psychological observations to regarding the fact that I.B. was unable to emerge as a great writer while his brother was alive. But emerge he did, and his body of work is most impressive. For those who have not read I J. Singer I urge you to investigate his masterworks THE BROTHERS ASKENAZI, YOSHE KALB, THE FAMILY CARNOVSKY, and EAST OF EDEN (not to be confused with Steinbeck's work of the same name).
Hard to get through, but at the same time fascinating. The book's three parts, originally published separately in the 1970s, span Singer's upbringing in Poland and his early years in America. The book's "I" constantly reminds us that he is a physically modest person who is by nature fearful, shy and also a brooder and vegetarian with bad nerves. This refrain would have been tiring in the long run had it not been for his empathic writing about his Hassidic-Jewish family background, about Poland with its Yiddish culture in the interwar period and about his complicated love affairs. Despite Poland having its miserable aspects, life in the United States does not get any better - at least not at first.
The book differs from a traditional biography in that many of the characters, especially the women, are given fictitious names. Both dialogues and events are fictionalized, as also stated in the foreword. Like Stephan Zweig, Singer portrays a "world of yesterday." In this way, he not only gives us a self-portrait, but also an account of a way of life and culture lost during World War II.
This review is based on the Norwegian translation published in 1981/87.
Was mostly compelled by the early childhood religious education bits at the start of the book, the horny immigrant condemned to kafkaesque problems of bureaucracy, as fun as that sounds, didn't land as well. Part of me thinks it is because of the total absence of any ideological orientation. this is a good lesson though, in dissident art: the art comes first, the politics next. plenty of unreadable dissident art out there, at least Singer's sentences are tight
"Avevo sempre pensato che il racconto della Genesi in cui Adamo ed Eva mangiano del frutto dell鈥橝lbero della Sapienza e quindi prendono coscienza della propria nudit脿, esprimesse l鈥檈ssenza dell鈥檜omo, che 猫 l鈥檜nico a vergognarsi di essere ci貌 che 猫. Tutta la cultura umana 猫 un unico grandioso sforzo per coprire e abbellire se stessa; un鈥檌mmensa e complessa foglia di fico." (p. 141)
Som alltid f盲ngslas jag av Singers ber盲ttande. Det 盲r ytligt i n氓gon mening eller kanske snarare flytande och samtidigt utl盲mnande i dubbel bem盲rkelse - han ber盲ttar utf枚rligt som sina tankar och demoner samtidigt som det 盲r stora luckor i kronologin. Men men, en l盲supplevelse 盲r det.....
M艂odo艣膰 Singera, to przygoda okraszona walk膮 o ducha. Singer jest my艣licielem, nie jest czarno-bia艂y, d艂ugie lata sp臋dza na poszukiwaniu Boga, jednocze艣nie na pr贸bie spe艂nienia swoich lubie偶nych rz膮dz. W swojej ksi膮偶ce opisuje Polsk臋, a przede wszystkim Warszaw臋 XX-lecia mi臋dzywojennego. Jest to punkt widzenia, kt贸rego w obecnych wieku nie by艂oby mo偶liwo艣ci zobaczy膰, bo jest to spojrzenie 呕yda, kt贸ry s艂abo m贸wi po polsku. P贸藕niejsza ucieczka jest jedynie unikni臋ciem 艣mierci z r膮k nazist贸w. Singer momentami szuka 艣mierci, ale nie ma si艂y, aby przeciwstawi膰 si臋 偶yciu w formie ostatecznej. Odwleka swoj膮 艣mier膰 jak si臋 da w pewnych momentach, za to w d艂ugich fragmentach robi wszystko, aby 偶y膰 jak trup, jak sam o sobie m贸wi.
I love his children's books. This memoir describes growing up in Poland, in a poor but very religious family - his father a rabbi. He tells his thoughts and musings about God and life, and it's beautiful. In his teens it's after World War I, and there's so much political upheaval and conflict that he feels sure the world will erupt in war again. It's a fascinating description of all the factions and intense disagreements of that time period. He gets to the US, but that last part is relatively lackluster.