Per my long-standing tradition I picked up “The Finkler Question” while doggedly avoiding any back-cover reading that might have hinted at what I was about to read. So the first and obvious interrogative is, of course, “What *IS* the Finkler Question?” Or, for those who like to leap forward, “Who *IS* this Finkler person anyway?” To encapsulate, and potentially spoil this little mystery that lasts for all of 5 pages within the book, Finkler is one of the triumvirate of protagonists in this novel and he represents the prototypical modern Jewish person. Rounding out the trio we have Treslove the goy and Libor the old-school Jew.
I will not belabor the reader with the characterizations of our Jewish main characters. They represent well the stereotypes one would expect on the surface. They’re erudite and intellectually immaculate individuals. I’ve noted in my brief survey of Biblical literature that the Jewish view on such matters is impressive in its completeness and honesty. The portraits drawn of that religion in this book strengthen my opinion on the topic. Our goyish third finds himself at a bit of a disadvantage time and again when standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his Jewish counterparts and later a Jewish girlfriend.
At first introduction I found the text a bit daunting. Coming off a long stint in the land of L. Frank Baum, it’s not surprising that my eyes were a bit crossed and my tolerance for long and winding tracks of prose a bit taxed. Finkler is a book best taken in long, savory gulps rather than short, winded sprints. If you cannot devote an hour or more, then do not bother even to begin. It is an immersive tome that requires an investment rather than a mere passing fancy. The rewards, however, are immense, especially for one such as me, who is a true goy among goys. If nothing else, a passing introduction to Yiddish is provided at no cost to the reader save a few trips to the dictionary.
Our gentile protagonist I can relate to well. The book begins trippingly and graphically with the descriptive passage:
“He was a man who saw things coming. Not shadowy premonitions before and after sleep, but real and present dangers in the daylit world. Lamp posts and trees reared up at him, splintering his shins. Speeding cars lost control and rode on to the footpath leaving him lying in a pile of torn tissue and mangled bones. Sharp objects dropped from scaffolding and pierced his skull. Women worst of all. When a woman of the sort Julian Treslove found beautiful crossed his path it wasn’t his body that took the force but his mind. She shattered his calm. True, he had no calm, but she shattered whatever calm there was to look forward to in the future. She was the future.”
I can feel Julian in my own life. For me, as with Julian, a good woman is not so much an entertainment or amusement so much as a lake to be jumped into, something to completely lose yourself in and maybe, if it’s terribly necessary, maybe something to eventually find your way out of. But that’s only if absolutely necessary.
Aside from Julian’s determined devotion to the gentler gender, the main crux of the book is to examine the world of what it means, exactly, to be Jewish.
“Maybe it wasn’t self-respect at all. Maybe self didn’t enter into it, maybe it was actually a freedom from self, or at least from self in the Treslove sense of self – a timid awareness of one’s small place in a universe ringed by a barbed-wire fence of rights and limits. What Sam had, like his father the showman parmaceutical chemist before him, was a sort of obliviousness to failure, a grandstanding cheek, which Treslove could only presume was part and parcel of the Finkler heritage. If you were a Finkler you just found it in your genes, along with other Finkler attributes it was not polite to talk about.”
As the reader we’re simultaneously privy to Julian’s thoughts on the matter as well as the actions of his Jewish friends that form those thoughts. What is most surprising and a new idea to me, is that as much as there may be groups around the world who dislike the Jewish faith, it seems the Jews are their own harshest critics. As Libor says…
“Oh, here we go, here we go. Any Jew who isn’t your kind of Jew is an anti-Semite. It’s a nonsense, Libor, to talk of Jewish anti-Semites. It’s more than a nonsense, it’s a wickedness.’ ‘Don’t get kochedik with me for speaking the truth. How can it be a nonsense when we invented anti-Semitism?’
‘I know how this goes, Libor. Out of our own self-hatred . . .”
“It’s not peculiar to Jews to dislike what some Jews do.’ ‘No, but it’s peculiar to Jews to be ashamed of it. It’s our shtick. Nobody does it better. We know the weak spots. We’ve been doing it so long we know exactly where to stick the sword.”
So again, going back to the honest and determined analysis, even the Jews themselves have problems with what their culture and their state of Israel is doing in the world. Finkler himself heads a group that calls themselves the “Ashamed Jews” and Libor, while less vocal, seems no less disillusioned. If these two represent the majority or even a sizeable faction then it is more than a bit unexpected. The book, though not by any means an easy read, brings the issues of Zionism and anti-Semitism onto a very personal level. No longer are the issues mere warring world views but have found homes in the embodiment of three people pushing ultimately for what is right rather than what is popular.
Waxing personal, I find myself on the side of Finkler and Julian. I fail to see what business Israel has in pushing itself into existence at the cost of more recent inhabitants. It cannot be surprising to anyone that this has stirred the ire of everyone in the region. While I don’t disagree that everyone deserves a place to live and prosper, I’m not personally of the opinion that one should get first choice merely because they happen to be Jewish. Countries come and countries go and any attempt to turn back history is bound to instigate conflict on a greater and greater note.
Julian is the embodiment of fascination with Jewish culture as we look in from the outside. I will admit that I agree whole-heartedly with him in that respect as well. I find the Christian faiths trite. The Muslims, while exotic hold little interest. The Eastern religions, while shrouded in mystery, still seem like mere toys. The Jewish faith, however, seems grounded in a sort of determined honesty and analysis that I find infinitely refreshing. They have traditions like any other group of people but I simply can’t help but respect them because they deal bare-facedly with the world around them and their relationship to their creator. I cannot help but think of a line from Fiddler on the Roof. Tevya asks, “How did this tradition get started?” and his quite acceptable response is, “I don’t know.” While other religions work fervently to construct a reason for everything, the Jewish faith is OK just shrugging its shoulders. That is as closely akin as religion gets to science. For that, it earns my respect, my admiration and my interest.
As usual however, I digress. The 2010 Booker Prize winner, “The Finkler Question” is well worth the read to those who have the grit and determination to power through it and really digest its message. To the hundreds of people on Amazon who gave it a right panning… perhaps you want the “young readers” section. The words are shorter and the messages simpler.
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