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Living as an immigrant on the Lower East Side during the '30s was tough, and Gold isn't one to be shy about the oppressive nature of poverty. A lot of people complain that his communist political leanings can cut into the beauty of his prose--that his politics are in opposition to his artistry. I don't really have that same impression, but maybe I am looking at it from a different angle? In any case, the intensity and richness of immediate experience is wonderful and the pacing, unusual. It is a book of bursts more than a building narrative I think. (Perhaps a little in the Picaresque tradition?) There's a feeling that the writing's been soaked in the flavor of the time the way a cake might be soaked in brandy. The world erupts all around and it's tragic, comic, soulful and musical.

"The whole tenement was talking and eating its supper. The broken talk came through the airshaft window. The profound bass of the East Side traffic lay under this talk. Talk. Talk. Rattle of supper dishes, whining of babies, yowling of cats; counterpoint of men, women and children talking as if their hearts would break. Talk. Jewish talk."

As much as there is of brutality there is also wonderful humor. Here is a quote from a review in Jewish Ideas Daily (in which the reviewer thinks Gold is too obsessed with poverty.)

"The chattering of Mrs. Fingerman's parrot, who has been taught to curse in Yiddish, comes down the airshaft: 'Thief! Bandit! Cossack! I spit on you! A black year on you!' The family laughs, the father praises the parrot as a good Jew and drinks another glass of beer, and the reader is reminded that much more than poverty shapes the lives of even the most impoverished among us."



I read this book probably a year or two ago and want to read it again soon (and hopefully write a more in-depth review.) But I was thinking about it and thought I would jot a few notes in the mean time. So, that's all for now.