"The Fixer" review

The most salient feature in Bernard Malamud's "The Fixer" is the way he depicts anti-Semitism through the Christ-like suffering of a Jewish man unjustly imprisoned. Yakov Bok, the protagonist, is falsely accused of murdering a Christian boy, hiding the body in a cave and draining the corpse of its blood (blood being a recurring motif) in tsarist Russia in 1911.

Bok undergoes several years in a rancid, rat and bug-infested solitary cell, regularly getting beaten and tortured, while awaiting trial. He's malnourished, confined in chains and subjected to incessant body cavity searches by sadistic guards. He lives in Solzhenitsyn-like conditions -- a foreshadowing of the Soviet gulags and Nazi concentration camps to come in the 20th century.

Hallucinating, contemplating suicide, the man is at the crucible of his existence, an existential affliction not unlike Job of the Old Testament. However, Jesus Christ is the Biblical character Bok most parallels. A "fixer," Yakov is a carpenter. His three-year personal journey begins at age 30. Like Christ, Yakov is railroaded on a trump charge, accused of subversion against the government and the religious leaders and establishment of his day clamor for his decimation. Yakov reads the Gospels in prison and feels an affinity with this man, whom his tormenters worship.

Here, in wonderful irony, is the key -- and most abstract -- parallel. Jesus, a perfect man, paid the penalty of death to atone for the sins of mankind. Yakov, ostensibly incarcerated for murder, is really being punished for a crime he's blameless of -- "Christ-killer." The fixer refers to it in a reference to "bloodguilt" and quotes like, "Since the crucifixion the crime of the Christ-killer is the crime of all the Jews."

However -- and this is where Malamud's writing shows expansiveness -- Yakov is an unlikely martyr. Calling himself a "freethinker," he eschews religion and keenly reads the works of Spinoza. Baruch Spinoza, a 17th century Dutch philosopher, was exiled from the Hebrew community for works deemed heretical, primarily his view of God as an abstraction, synonymous with nature.

An unlikely savior, Bok comes off as a caustic, unlikable man in the book's beginning. Bitter about his life and short on empathy, he stopped sleeping with his wife for her failure to bare any children (a “failure” more likely due to Bok). She leaves him for another man and Yakov calls her a "whore" to her father's face. Unmerciful, he's like a slave driver to his emaciated, old horse.

He's a character many can identify with. Yakov's bitterness could well be that of any of us -- toward a lover we feel betrayed by; living hand-to-mouth, while less intelligent people flourish; not being better educated; and a multitude of missed opportunities and disappointments. Yakov feels detached from history, the world and wants to connect -- tragically unaware of what that will mean for him.

Humanly flawed, an unlikely martyr for the children of Judaism, Yakov rejects his faith, culture and arguably shows cowardice. He leaves his shetl (Jewish community), shaves the beard identified with his culture, changes his name, stops speaking Yiddish and tries to pass himself off as a gentile, hoping it will lead to economic gain. When a ferryman goes on a Hitler-like rant against Jews, Yakov drops his sack of Jewish phylacteries into the river. It's a chilling scene -- the Dneiper River symbolizing the River Hades leading to the land of the dead, the ferryman going on a diatribe like the Holocaust put in words.

"I say we ought to call our menfolk together, armed with guns, knives, pitchforks, clubs -- anything that will kill a Jew and when the church bell begins to ring we move on the Zhidy quarter, which you can tell by the stink, routing them out of wherever they're hiding -- in attics, cellars or ratholes -- bashing in their brains, stabbing their herring-filled guts, shooting off their snotty noses, no exceptions made for young or old because if you spare any, they breed like rats and then the jobs to do all over again. And when we've slaughtered the whole cursed tribe of them...we'll pile up the corpses and soak them with benzene and light fires that people will see all over the world."

It's an excellent use of foreshadowing -- something Malamud does with dead-on effect throughout the novel. Not a word is wasted. Every mention of a sausage, crucifix, bloody eye...is made with deliberateness, the symbols and augurs communicating the novel’s themes and advancing its plot. The writing is taut, achieving depth through subtlety. "The Fixer" has a readability that is the fortunate result of clear pacing, scenes and conversations segueing into the next situation, the next insightful passage. Malamud provokes such thought through intelligently written dialogue that reveals interesting characters and relationships.

Yakov's relationship with his father-in-law, Schmuel, is the book's most endearing. The old man is something of a mentor to Yakov. His gentleness, patience and religious faith complement Bok's abrasiveness, impulsivity and ambiguous view of God. It's significant that, while in prison, Yakov says to himself, "If I must suffer, let it be for something. Let it be for Schmuel."

This resolve to sacrifice himself for another is key to Yakov's transformation. But the best example of his atonement is played out in the emotional scene when his estranged wife Raisl visits him in prison. Not entirely void of his bitterness, he is able to relate to her and acknowledge where he was at fault in the relationship. From a visceral level, this is the most significant scene in the novel. Raisl tells Yakov that she bore a child by the man she had an affair with, whom she has since left. She tells him of being ostracized in the shetl and by the rabbi (another excellent use of irony) for bearing a child out of wedlock, and Yakov signs a form, saying the child is his. The best thing about this magnanimous gesture is that it's made, not as some heroic sacrifice on behalf of an oppressed people, but as an individual act performed for someone with whom he had a tumultuous history.

The second best thing about this scene is Yakov's resolve. The authorities tell him that with a signed confession, he can be released, just as he was earlier told that if he accepted Christ, he could be set free. But he doesn't budge an inch. The show of courage marks a reversal of the cowardice he showed earlier, the denial of who he was. Along with the prison conversion to a bigger humanity, Yakov is shown to be a smarter character. It's a demonstration of Malamud's skill as a writer that he portrayed Yakov as stupid when he needed him to be and smart when the plot called for it. This is done in a subtle way that shows transformation, not inconsistency.

Early in the book, Bok enters the city of Kiev, an area forbidden to Jews. In one of his earliest acts of selflessness, Yakov helps an old drunk man who is passed out in the snow. One can argue over Yakov's judgment in performing this Good Samaritan deed. A button on the man's coat identifies him as a member of the Black Hundreds, an arch-conservative, anti-Jewish organization. From the relationship Yakov forms with this character, Lebedev, all the traps are laid that will ensnare him. Lebedev offers Yakov a job as a bookkeeper in his brick factory, requires that he live on the plant property (in an area forbidden to Jews) and his daughter, Zinaida, does everything to seduce him. As a reader, one can see all the landmines Yakov is blind to, and you want to yell at him to get out.

It's great plot construction. Malamud sets up the scenes with adeptness. Also, it's not without purpose that Malamud has Lebedev read the Bible’s Sermon on the Mount to Yakov. It's significant that Christ's poetic words are belied by the public railing for Yakov's destruction. Malamud goes beyond anti-Semitism to cast light on the human propensity for cruelty, its full-circle, regenerating ubiquity. In Yakov's world, what comes across is that: the piety is false, hatred of Jews is stronger than any professed faith in Jesus; the mass of people don't care about bringing the boy's real killer to justice, only pinning it on a Jew, and if he is acquitted, they'll find another Jew to sacrifice.

Based largely on an actual incident, the Beilis case, "The Fixer" was written some 50 years later in the 1960s. Now, 40 years after the book's publication, its themes are still relevant. For America, the obvious parallel is the long detaining of Guantánamo Bay prisoners denied due process. The issues raised in this novelistic treatment continue to reverberate in America, the world over: justice and humanity as casualties of political ambition; vilification of a group to inspire patriotism, national unity and deflect from societal dysfunction; and the press and religious establishment accommodation in the mass manipulation.

Consistently safeguarding his work from the maudlin, Malamud suggests there is potential for the oppressed to become oppressors. In one scene, Yakov "imagines himself tearing the deputy warden's face apart and kicking him to death." It's a shadowy, uneasy future Malamud hints at. Amid the sacrifice, the heroism, there lurks the danger of creating martyrs, saviors, idols. One can see how a Lennin or Trotsky can happen. Malamud doesn't let the reader off easy.

Gateway Literature: I think of "The Fixer" as part of a trilogy of books, the other two being Kafka's "The Trial" and Albert Camus's "The Stranger." All three novels involve the legal system and take an existentialist view of the absurdity of life. While all the books contain elements of each other, each takes its own focus. "The Stranger" raises the issue of finding meaning in an absurd reality. "The Trial" focuses on the surreal, impersonal nature of modern beuracracy. Significantly, it takes a secular view of man's guilt by nature of being human, while "The Fixer" refers to inborn Jewish "bloodguilt." Interestingly, you can take that back to the Christian view of inherited sin.

Outside the box gateway literature: “Winesburg, Ohio" by Sherwood Anderson. I always hated the line, "Everyone in the world is Christ and they are all crucified." It's so anathema to my beliefs. But after reading Yakov playing the martyr and hearing myself and other people in his complaining, I've come to the opinion that we all have a tendency toward self-pity. We all play the martyr and put ourselves on the cross.

Also, Anderson influenced Faulkner and Faulkner influenced Malamud so really, how far outside the box is it?

"The Razor's Edge" review

“The Razor’s Edge,” by W. Somerset Maugham follows the spiritual quest of a disillusioned World War I veteran probing life’s deepest questions: Does God exist? Why is their evil in the world? Does life have meaning?

Laurence “Larry” Darrell, aviator in the Great War, returns from France to America, a changed person. While his friends’ lives are wrapped around material pursuits, those things are unimportant to him. He turns down a lucrative job offer, leaves behind a fiancée and walks away from his affluent social circle in Chicago, becoming part of the expatriate scene in Paris. He immerses himself in books, and his search for knowledge leads to a spiritual sojourn through London, Germany and India where he finds inner peace in Eastern religion.

The overriding theme of “The Razor’s Edge” is spirituality versus materialism with Larry representing the former and Elliott Templeton representing the latter. Elliott left America for France as a young man and made his fortune as an art dealer. He’s an aristocratic gentleman – a gadabout who lives to attend high society parties and dine with the socially eminent, using them as stepping stones to advance his own profile. Maugham describes Elliott as an “archsnob,” but also as “the kindest and most generous of men.” At the novel’s opening, Larry is engaged to Elliott’s niece, Isabel Bradley.

The book’s main characters are introduced during a dinner party at the Chicago home of Louisa Bradley, Isabel’s mother and Elliott’s sister. Gray Maturin, Larry’s best friend, is among the guests. He’s an ambitious young man being groomed for a position in his father’s security firm, the company Larry declines to work for. Larry is in love with Isabel. Louisa and Elliott view Larry as unfocused and lacking direction. They want Isabel to marry Gray. The name, Gray Maturin, symbolizes that the character is adult and stable in contrast to Larry’s perceived unsettledness and immature refusal to conform.

Maugham takes a unique approach, placing himself in the story. He’s an excellent listener, to whom other characters confide. As narrator, he shows their perspectives through relaying their conversations with him. He’s a friend of Elliott’s, yet also develops a friendship with Larry. Maugham’s success as a novelist and playwright grants him access to the upper class, yet he’s also familiar with the seamier, bohemian side of Paris culture.

“The Razor’s Edge” spans from 1919 to 1944. Maugham develops his characters over that period with realism and acumen, most notably Isabel. Initially she is portrayed as “sparkling and vivacious,” a 19-year-old-girl with an engaging naiveté and budding sexuality. Years later, married to Gray, she is worldly, cynical, possessive and lusty – as materialistic as her uncle Elliott and more manipulative, but without his kindheartedness. Her shallowness has hardened in inverse to Larry’s personal growth.

Maugham depicted the conflict between the material and examined lives – the quick pursuit of financial security and the deep journey toward introspection. His literary exploration of Hindu polytheism was a departure for Western audiences of the 1940s. He wrote in the book’s opening pages that the characters were inspired by actual people. It has been speculated that he modeled Larry on Guy Hague, an American who took up Eastern religion in the ‘30s. Shri Ganesha, the yogi, whom Larry becomes a disciple of in India, is said to be modeled after Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi, a guru Maugham met during a 1938 visit to an ashram in India.

There is a recurring ephemeral theme in “The Razor’s Edge.” Youth is fleeting, customs change and Europe, a decaying empire, is being supplanted by America, a burgeoning world power with inexhaustible wealth. (The Depression shows the country is not so immune.) Amid the uncertainty, Larry seeks permanence and transcendence.

The pivotal moment in his life plays out with a Christ-like allusion. In the WWI, his friend Patsy fends off German fighter pilots endangering Larry. In the melee, Patsy’s plane is shot down. Hence, he sacrifices his life so another can live. There are other parallels to Christ in the novel.

Maugham melds worldly affluence with spirituality and sexuality. Elliott, a devout Catholic, profits financially from advice acquired through his connections with the Vatican. His piety, notwithstanding, he subscribes to the bawdy customs of French society.

Maugham reveals the sexual underbelly of Paris – kept women, infidelity, prostitution and homosexuality. He subtly – some may say not so subtly – reveals his own homosexuality. An older character, he remains single, takes women on platonic dates and is familiar with the “tough joints” in Paris. At Isabel’s request, he takes her to a dive where “men danced with podgy boys with made-up eyes.” Maugham also gives Elliott’s character a punctilious, effete quality, which hints that he is gay.

The “Razor’s Edge” is multi-layered, written with brevity and precision. Its exploration of war induced existential questions reverberated in the writings of Camus. The disaffection of post-war young people who disengage from Western materialism and draw toward Eastern thought would be played out in the beat writings of the 1950s. As long as war takes the lives and innocence of all-too-young people, “The Razor’s Edge” will have resonance.

Gateway Literature: “Talks With Sri Ramana Maharshi.” This collection of conversations, recorded by Munagala Venkataramiah, of the famous yogi and his devotees includes a brief account of Maugham’s encounter with the man in the 1930s.

Also, I recommend reading Henry James. Early in the “The Razor’s Edge,” there is a Jamesian quality to Maugham’s contrasting of social classes and cultures from the two sides of the Atlantic. Therefore, I would suggest checking out “Daisy Miller” written in the 1870s by Henry James, which contrasts the traditional Old World British customs with those of the youthful, brash emerging power of America.
I suspect that the character of Elliott Templeton was somewhat inspired by T.S. Eliot. Eliott Templeton was an American-born Francophile who moved to France and converted from Methodism to Roman Catholicism, the predominant religion in France. T.S. Eliot was an Anglophile who left the America for England and converted from Unitarianism to Anglicism. Therefore, I would recommend Eliot’s poem “The Wasteland,” his masterpiece lamenting the degradation of culture in the aftermath of World War I.
Interestingly, Maugham mentions Henry James and T.S. Eliot in “The Razor’s Edge.”

Out of the box gateway: At one point in “The Razor’s Edge,” Larry describes a spiritual experience “of the same order as the mystics have had all over the world through the centuries Brahmins in India, Sufis in Persia, Catholics in Spain, Protestants in New England.” This intelligent demonstration of religious knowledge and experience calls to my mind the classic “The Varieties of Religious Experience.” It was written in 1902 by the philosopher-psychologist William James. Henry’s brother.

Best line: “Darling, when it came to the point I couldn’t see myself being Mary Magdalen to his Jesus Christ. No, Sir.”
This line is spoken by a side character, Sophie MacDonald, and it sums up perfectly her relationship with Larry. She’s in the background, but the quietly intellectual, yet rampageous, self-destructive Sophie is my favorite character in the novel.

"Weakfish" review

Weakfish,” by Michael Dorn, takes the reader inside the tortured spirit of a child picked on by his peers. The book also probes the mindset of the bully -- a predatory figure adept at detecting the mildest vulnerability of person in the crowd, then closing in for the kill.

Dorn uses aquatic metaphors to describe the relationship between victims and bullies. The vulnerable child, he calls the “weakfish,” targeted by the “barracuda” the predator which preys on him. These fish are taken from the ocean (community) and placed in an aquarium (school) where watchful eyes can distinguish the predator and prey. Adults are responsible for maintaining a safety net for the weakfish.

Subtitled “Bullying Through the Eyes of a Child,” the books tells the true story of “Stephen,” a boy who suffers near death injury, sexual humiliation and getting robbed at knifepoint.
The barracudas in Stephen’s world thrived because adults weren’t paying attention. School was his “prison of fear” and the criminals were in charge. Bullies are masters of seizing on what Dorn calls “negligent privacy” – those moments when an adult isn’t looking or leaves the class unsupervised. That’s when class tyrant takes over. At this point in the book, Dorn delivers the most thought provoking passage in the book.

“A bully in a school can be but a smaller version of a bully of nations,” Dorn writes. “Adolph Hitler was one such bully. More than 11 million Jews and ethnic minorities would die so he could maintain control of his evil empire. Joseph Stalin would cause or allow the deaths of millions of his own people during his reign and was never reluctant to squelch any form of resistance, however slight. So it is with a bully in a classroom to a smaller extent.”

School, as Dorn points out, is a microcosm of the larger world. Is it that far of a stretch from the barracuda who forced Stephen to simulate sexual acts in the school bathroom to the soldiers who, for laughs, forced prisoners to pose in lewd, degrading sexual poses?

It’s beyond the scope of this thin book, yet the above mentioned quote and tales of schoolyard terrorists compel the reader to contemplate the link between childhood bullying and news accounts of rape, torture and war crimes.

The specific news stories Dorn cites are of school violence that parallel Stephen’s experiences. Many of these incidences ended in murder or suicide. Stephen’s encounters with bullies, fortunately, didn’t spiral into such tragic endings. Amazingly, he has gone on to live a happy, fruitful life. And this is where the book offers hope.

Stephen was encouraged by a few standout teachers who went the extra mile to encourage him. Scout leaders, church members, police officers and civic leaders also took an interest in him. Even with that extra boost from caring adults, it’s a miracle he could overcome the abuse he endured. Somehow, the helping hand altered his life toward a brighter future. It’s significant that his parents, albeit not without flaws, imparted him with some values. Many victims of bullying don’t have such resources, and as Dorn acknowledges, turn to drugs, crime and self-destruction.

A veteran law enforcement officer and school security expert, Dorn has been instrumental in enacting safety measures that have benefited schools throughout the United States. He strongly advocates the use of surveillance cameras, metal detectors and armed school resource officers and he’s quick to refute any argument that these things turn schools into police states.

However, he is adamant that these factors are no substitute for vigilance on the part of adults. High-tech surveillance, like a school’s location, has little bearing on a school’s safety. The one school where Stephen felt safe was located in a run-down neighborhood where he was one of only five white students, yet the principal was likely to show up unannounced in a classroom at any time and staff was quick to intervene if a student was being mistreated. The attitude of respect, demonstrated by the adults, filtered to the children. Working in the education field, I have witnessed similar success stories in schools where the top leadership has set high behavioral standards.

The message: Adults are responsible for creating a safe environment for our children. Dorn’s book is simple and concise. The tone is heartfelt, absent of bitterness and motivating, without being pollyanna. As a parent of two small children, I come away galvanized to impact their world, positively. Surely, that was Dorn’s intent.

Gateway Reading: For more information about how to stop and prevent bullying, parents, teachers, coaches and others who work with children would do well to read such acclaimed books as “The Bully, the Bullied and the Bystander: From Preschool to High School – How Parents and Teachers Can Help Bread the Cycle of Violence” by Barbara Coloroso and “Bully-Proofing Children: A Practical, Hands-On Guide to Stop Bullying” by Joanne Scaglione and Arrica Rose Scaglione.

Dorn’s book is an excellent resource on bullying within school, but that’s only part of the problem. In today’s world, kids can be bullied in their own living rooms by way of the internet, and adults need to be armed with the education to stop these predators. Two highly rated books addressing this problem are: “Bullying Beyond the Schoolyard: Preventing and Responding to Cyberbullying” by Sameer Hinduja and Justin W. Patchin, and “Cyberbullying and Cyberthreats: Responding to the Challenge of Online Social Aggression, Threats and Distress” by Nancy E. Willard and Karen Steiner.