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nairam1173 's review for:
My Name Is Asher Lev
by Chaim Potok
I forgot how brutal the last thirty pages of this book are.
Potok manages to build incredibly quiet, slow stories, frequently with conversations that teeter on the edge of stilted, into narrative conclusions that suddenly and painfully draw everything into focus.
I first read this book in high school. As I was reading it these last couple of months, I admit I was not "getting" why high school me had thought so highly of it that it still sat on that "great books I really need to re-read" mental shelf. I still was underlining as I went, adding to the dutiful commentary of an AP Lit student, finding Potok's precision and seeing his quality, but not understanding how it had held up to The Chosen at all in my esteem.
And then Asher was painting, and
oh.
OH.
This is not a happy book. And it doesn't really have the moments of cathartic release and comfort of a close friendship that makes The Chosen more bearable.
But yeah, high school me was right. It's good.
Potok manages to build incredibly quiet, slow stories, frequently with conversations that teeter on the edge of stilted, into narrative conclusions that suddenly and painfully draw everything into focus.
I first read this book in high school. As I was reading it these last couple of months, I admit I was not "getting" why high school me had thought so highly of it that it still sat on that "great books I really need to re-read" mental shelf. I still was underlining as I went, adding to the dutiful commentary of an AP Lit student, finding Potok's precision and seeing his quality, but not understanding how it had held up to The Chosen at all in my esteem.
And then Asher was painting, and
oh.
OH.
This is not a happy book. And it doesn't really have the moments of cathartic release and comfort of a close friendship that makes The Chosen more bearable.
But yeah, high school me was right. It's good.