United We Fall

I’m sure he had the best intentions when he wrote The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, but I’m not quite sure what those were. Michael Chabon, who most people probably know because of Wonder Boys (a decent book that was made into a movie), should definitely be known for writing the ambitious and fantastic novel, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Not only did the latter book win the Pulitzer (which I’m not sure is necessarily as big a deal as I’ve always thought, but in this case I certainly concur that a deserving book won – and I’m sure the people at Columbia University are breathing sighs of relief for my endorsement), it was simply one of the more well-conceived books of our time. A grandiose claim? Perhaps, but with all the elements Chabon brings into play in Kavalier and Clay – from comic books to World War II, Jewish mysticism to escape artists, homosexuality to magic – never once is there a moment that doesn’t work. For anyone who wants to write their own ambitious piece, remember: It’s not page count that matters, but how those pages add up to a whole. Kavalier and Clay, intermingling historical elements with Chabon’s imagination, is a complete book. It’s also funny and sad, touches upon very interesting topics that have both broad and narrow appeal, and doesn’t waste characters or characterization. What’s really cool is that they made a comic book based on the comic-book character the characters in the book create (The Escapist). It proves that Chabon is a skilled writer and storyteller.

Perhaps some of it left him when he wrote The Yiddish Policeman’s Union. Although not a terrible book by any stretch – there are some genuinely funny and innovative things going on with this book – it lacks something that is hard to ignore: connectivity. Essentially a murder-mystery, more elaborately a book of growth and redemption, its ambition is commendable. That said, the ambition is also its downfall, because it puts the reader so far from a zone of comfort that it is often quite hard to extricate oneself from the lack of information to get at the actual story. Hence, connectivity.

While I know one could always point out that this is a plot-heavy argument, I have two responses for such a person:

1) It should be a plot-heavy criticism. Say what you will concerning the role of the novel, this book is a piece of commercial fiction. Chabon is writing for a living and therefore needs to always be considering markets and audiences (more so audiences; it’s up to the publisher to consider markets). Luckily for him, he is an established author and can sell books on his name alone (see Stephen King and pretty much any Romance author). But that doesn’t mean people will like the book -- or that it’s any good.

2) First readings are always for plot. Anyone who says otherwise is either getting paid to read for something other than plot or has a motive behind their reading that eludes me. That is not to say you can’t read beyond plot on the first reading, but no matter what your ultimate goal is in getting something out of the book, the first time must include comprehension, and that means plot.

So what makes Policeman’s Union so disconnected? The fact that it takes its alien-ness for granted. Now, I don’t begrudge for Chabon for treating his readers with respect regarding their intelligence, but there are limits to that, and he goes beyond them. The book, set in Alaska in what seems like the present (your never quite sure what the exact date is), is at the same time not our present; it is an alternate history. So while it is Alaska, it is not Alaska the state, but a territory – in this case, a specifically Jewish territory composed of refugees from World War II (hence “Yiddish” Policeman).

But Chabon only gives us bits and pieces of this alternate history. This wouldn’t be so bad if that was the only “new” feature we have to deal with – sometimes it’s nice that the narrator doesn’t take time to explain things the characters take as a matter of course. Alas, the other features make this lack of information problematic, because we are now asked to not only accept the new history, but in doing so, get passed the mix of languages and cultures Chabon throws at us. Names and terms have a habit of blurring and in the end, perhaps worst of all, we’re not exactly clear about all the mysteries that are brought up.

And for a mystery novel, that’s egregious.

Read it; try it out. Maybe I’m being critical because I’m coming from a place of high expectations. But I think Chabon didn’t get it right on this one and I cannot recommend buying it, at least not in hardcover (and with paperbacks running about eight bucks, probably not that either).

I do Highly Recommend Kavalier and Clay, though.