Posted on June 27, 2007 by Steve Pollak
A few years ago, I walked into my local public library and browsed through the new fiction shelves to find something to read. I came across a title that intrigued me almost immediately: Michael Chabon’s “The Final Solution.”
It was a short mystery, a little more than a hundred pages or so, but the book’s characters felt fully formed. The plot moved quickly and kept me absorbed in the story. I genuinely enjoyed it. Until the end.
That’s when I felt like I’d been ripped off.
I realize I didn’t pay anything to read the book since I got it from the library but I still expect something in return for my investment of time. Even by that standard, I felt shorted by this novella.
Chabon teased me with his brilliant writing throughout the book, producing a page-turning mystery and then ending it with a matter-of-fact resolution. It was almost the literary equivalent of “Here’s how the mystery ends. Thanks for reading.”
I have not read all of Chabon’s work but I’ve got to believe that “The Final Solution” must be him at his worst. Or, maybe it was Chabon at his best stylistically but he got bored with what he was doing and just decided to close the show by walking off stage instead of bringing the set to a rousing climax. In any event, it felt abrupt, like you weren’t sure that that was how it was supposed to finish but you knew it was the end because there were no more pages left in the book.
And so, it was with some hesitation that I went to my local bookstore – not the library – and purchased a copy of “The Yiddish Policeman’s Union.” After all, I’m running a Jewish book review Web site and, given the hype surrounding Chabon’s latest novel, I felt some obligation to include it as soon as possible and not wait until the library gets a copy. I’m sure readers will appreciate my sacrifice.
Anyway, I read the book and, while I felt like he gave me my money’s worth in terms of it being a good story, I still felt disappointed.
That’s because Chabon’s gifts as a writer are apparent and his good stories should be great ones.
He’s demonstrated that he can do it. Chabon won the Pulitzer Prize for his 2001 novel, “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.” Obviously, it was a high point in his career. Now, I’m not saying the guy needs to win a Pulitzer every time but if people expect him one day to join the ranks of Roth, Singer and Bellow, he needs to shoot higher than “The Yiddish Policeman’s Union.”
But, I’m not sure Chabon cares. He dabbles in a lot of different things other than serious novels, such as comic books and editing pulp fiction-inspired anthologies. He seems content to explore other avenues of creativity without worrying about labels or what critics might think about his lowbrow endeavors.
He intended for “The Yiddish Policeman’s Union,” to be taken as a serious novel but it didn’t leave me with a lot to chew on afterward. Its ending was not abrupt like “The Final Solution.” However, if I could borrow from the parlance used throughout the book, you might say it was parve: it was neither here nor there. It ended and I appreciated the good yarn. Maybe it will make a good screenplay one day.
Maybe that was all Michael Chabon aimed for.
It’s funny because the murder victim in the book was a lowly heroin addict once hailed as the tzaddik ha dor, the Messiah who comes in every generation but, thus far, has found the people unworthy of redemption. With some remarkable talents and gifts for blessing, this man had been the heir to a glorious destiny but he rejected the role, abandoning his bride on the day of their wedding and wandering away from what others wanted him to become.
So, maybe it’s the same with Michael Chabon. He doesn’t want to have a label forced on him. Maybe he doesn’t want to be measured against Bellow. I know I wouldn’t want that kind of pressure.
It is fun to watch Chabon have fun with whatever he’s doing at any given time. “The Yiddish Policeman’s Union” brought to life a wonderful fictional history of a Jewish homeland in Alaska where Jewish cops solve mysteries in classic noir fashion.
But, I’ve got to wonder what would happen if Chabon went deeper with his talents. It can’t be easy to deal with being called the next giant of Jewish literature. He's got a lot to consider before his next book. What does Michael Chabon want to be remembered for?
“The Yiddish Policeman’s Union” is published by HarperCollins (426 pages, $26.95).