Fascinating. I must have picked this up used decades ago, and lugged it from dwelling to dwelling with nothing but the vague idea that Bernard Malamud might be someone I was supposed to read (perhaps I was thinking of The Natural? The Fixer?). The sticker on the back says UCSD Bookstore, but I don't think I've ever been ther? Perhaps I found it in my own college bookstore while I was pursuing my fruitless MA in American Literature? Anyhoo, I was looking for some bedtime reading, and pulled this off the shelf.

Such an odd little novel. It's funny, very perceptive and self-effacing about writers and the writing life, and really ambitious in its exploration of racial relations in the Big City. I won't say that exploration is particularly successful, and it does hold the kind of cringey language you'd expect in a novel written by a White man in 1971 ("the black," used repeatedly to refer to Willie Spearmint - ick), and the dialect and descriptions of the Black characters can certainly come off as racist. Sometimes the racism is the protagonist's, sometimes the writer's, but the White characters are not spared from critique and stereotype, either. I don't know that a White man could write a successful analogue for race in the US, but I still admire the effort. Ultimately, it is Lesser's (ahem) dehumanization of Willie that starts the ball rolling to the ultimately humorous, but touching, internecine conclusion.

I don't know that I'd recommend it, but I wouldn't discourage anyone, particularly writers, from reading it.

un palazzo in attesa di demolizione in cui harry lesser continua a vivere sperando di finire il suo romanzo, l'arrivo di willie spearmint- anche lui scrittore e la rivalità fra i due uomini che sarà letteraria, razziale (uno è ebreo e l'altro afroamericano) e anche sentimentale. romanzo abbastanza tardo di malamud (è del 1971) e anche molto diverso dalle altre cose sue che ho letto- eppure particolare e interessante nel raccontare l'ansia creativa che diventa quasi una gara e le differenze tra due persone alla fine quasi simili.

Parts of this book are breathtaking, parts are incredibly funny (I have a soft spot for writers writing about writers -- the original autofiction?). But there is something just... heartbreaking about this book. The hamfisted social commentary and its place within the Malamud canon only make things worse. It's like an elegy, except written when the composer's power is fading, like a last, bitter, longing gasp.

Perhaps I should've read Malamud's works in order, because I just jumped through time into a completely different author. I've read Malamud's first two books and loved them; I even loved the crazy debut novel about baseball for crying out loud. Then I stepped over five other books and landed in the 1970s. 1970's Malamud is not the same as 1950's Malamud. Gone is the easygoing, beautiful prose that glimmers; in its place is a noisy, experimental tale that felt more like cocaine on the brain. Hey, it was the seventies.

Had I not known this was written by Malamud, I wouldn't have had the faintest idea from the writing. Maybe I should pretend it wasn't Malamud and approach it as an unknown author. There's some wonderful conflict in this story. The novel is largely about two writers at war with one another. Now, I roll my eyes almost anytime a story is written about writers, but I'll grant each and every author one token to play the writer card (but only one). The characters themselves are sort of cliché, but I think the author did a wonderful job making them believable and original within their caricatures.

Truth is, this story is all over the place. I couldn't tell what was dreams, what was imagined, what was novel. Did any of this really happen? Was some of what I read the novel that was being written by one of these imagined writers? Were there even two writers, or was this all merely the internal struggle of one writer? The author of The Tenants seems angry, confused, and hopeless, a person with a negative view of the world. And this is not how I remember Malamud.

So back to Malamud: I get the feeling that maybe this was a very personal story for the author. I get a sense that maybe his own personal life and writing life were unraveling. There's a sense that everything is falling apart, not only for these characters, but for the author as well. And maybe that wasn't the case, and if so, Malamud did a wonderful job painting chaos without having to be submersed in it. I don't know, I'm just trying to find the positive. Knowing this is Malamud, it sort of sucked, but even if I didn't have preconceived notions of the author, I still would've found The Tenants to be jarring, strained, and little more than okay. So, that being that case, I have decided to get back in my time machine and journey to the year I left off at: 1958. Maybe by the time I read through the sixties, 1970s Malamud will make complete sense. Or maybe it would be better to skip over the seventies altogether.

Interesting short novel of two writers. One Jewish and one black. Both very stubborn and obsessive. One is the last remaining tenant of an apartment building that the landlord is desperate to sell. The other is an interloper. The two start on a relationship that seems mutually beneficial until they fall out over a woman. There is a sub plot about the difficulty they both have in finishing their respective novels. I think Malamud struggles too. I wasn't convinced with the wrap up and the humour seemed to disperse in the second half.

کتاب قبلی که از مالامود خونده بودم کتاب تعمیرکار بود که ساختار فوق العاده ای داشت بخاطر همین انتظارم ازین کتاب شاهکاری در حد تعمیرکار بود اما این کتاب نسبت به کتاب تعمیرکار خیلی متوسط و معمولی بود و پایان گنگی داشت ترجمه هم چنگی به دل نمیزد.
کتاب ، کتاب بدی نبود اما من از مالامود انتظار چیزی بیشتر ازین داشتم

Execptional one! The way Malamud used a very sharp and direct words to comment on the racism is amazing. The characters are well developed with extreme intricacy among them. I loved the ending. All the lines of reality and imagination were blurred. I couldn't just stop turning pages. Grip witting, soul wrenching and wonderful!

Incredible. I was very surprised to find that The Tenants is so different from The Fixer in style, period and mood.

Mallamud disguises this book. He tricked me into believing that it was a story about self realization in which the hero ties up all of his loose ends after learning his lesson the hard way. It's not that I don't enjoy that kind of story, but The Tenants is just so much more than that. Mallamud does not miss one opportunity to create profound art with his words. His message is so important, but he conveys it in such a clear and easy way. I have to see his vision. I have to believe in his ideals.

Kiracı Bernard Malamud’un altıncı romanı. 1971’de yayınlanmış. Roman biri Yahudi, diğeri Afro-Amerikalı iki yazarın arasındaki dostluk ve rekabet hakkında olsa da bizim için çok güncel bir konuyu da işliyor. Çünkü ‘Kiracı’ bir yanıyla bir kentsel dönüşüm öyküsü.
Harry Lesser, New York’ta, Brooklyn'de yıkılmak üzere olan bir apartmanın son kiracısıdır. Apartmanın tüm daireleri boşaltılmış geriye sadece Harry Lesser’in yaşadığı daire kalmıştır. Lesser, daireden çıkmamak için direnir. Bu direnişi hem yasaları, kiracı haklarını iyi bilmesi hem de iyi avukatlar sayesinde olur.
Malamud’un çıkış noktası, 1969’da New Yorklu ev sahiplerinin binalarını yıkıp yeni ofis binalarına dönüştürme çabaları sırasında kiracılarının başlarına gelenleri okuduğu bir dizi haber olmuş. Ev sahipleri inatçı kiracıları su, ısıtma, telefon, asansör gibi apartmanların temel hizmetlerini keserek evlerden çıkmaya zorluyormuş. Lesser’in ev sahibi Levenspiel de benzeri şeyleri yapmanın yanı sıra yalvarma, kendini acındırma ve rüşvet teklif etme gibi yöntemleri de deniyor.
Daha önce biri başarılı, diğeri başarısız iki romanı yayınlanmış olan Harry Lesser’in oturduğu daireden çıkmamasının nedeni on yıldır emek verdiği kitabını bitirmek istemesidir. Lesser yeni ev bulma, taşınma gibi sorunlarla uğraşmak, yeni yere alışmak derken dikkatinin dağılacağından, zaten zar zor yazabildiği romanının yarım kalacağından endişe etmektedir. Kitabını bitirmeden hiçbir yere gitmeye niyeti yoktur.
Lesser, bir yandan romanını yazmaya çalışır, diğer yandan dairesini boşaltmaya zorlayan ev sahibi Levenspiel ile mücadele ederken terk edilmiş binada kendisinden başka biri daha olduğunu keşfeder. Bu ilk kitabını yazmak için kendine gözlerden uzak, uygun bir yer arayan Afro-Amerikalı yazar adayı Willie Spearmint’dir.
Eserlerini yazma sürecinde olan iki yazarın biraraya gelmesi zaten bir çatışma yaratacakken bir de yazarlardan birinin Yahudi, diğerinin Afro-Amerikalı olması daha büyük sorundur. İki yazar bir yandan sanat anlayışları, estetik bakışlarıyla kişilik çatışması yaşarken diğer yandan etnik bir kavganın da aktörleri olmak üzeredir.
Siyahlarla Yahudilerin çatışmaları Malamud için yeni bir konu değilmiş. 1955 ve 1963’te yayınladığı iki öyküde de Siyahlar ve Yahudiler arasındaki gerilim ve çatışmalara değinmiş. 60’ların sonunda siyah aktivizimindeki yükseliş, öğretmen grevleri gibi olayların Siyahlarla Yahudilerin çatışmasını yeniden gündeme getirdiğini görünce bu konuyla ilgilenmeye karar vermiş ve Yahudi ve Afro-Amerikalı kahramanlarını biraraya getirmiş.
Henry Lesser, bir yandan sanatsal kaygılar yaşayarak romanını tamamlamaya çalışır, diğer yandan binada kalmak için mücadele ederken Yahudilere hiç sempati duymayan ama Yahudi bir sevgilisi olan siyah yazar adayı Willie Spearmint ile yeni bir çatışma alanına girer. Henry ve Willie sanatsal rakipler ve huzursuz komşular olarak kendilerini gerilim ve zoraki dostluğun yaşandığı garip bir ilişki içinde bulurlar. Willie’nin sevgilisi Irene’in de dahil olması ve ortaya bir aşk üçgeni çıkması ile gerilim amansız bir çatışmaya dönüşür.
Seda Çıngay Mellor’un Türkçeye çevirdiği Kiracı’da Bernard Malamud, kişisel ve sanatsal rekabetten yola çıkarak iki yazarın dostluklarını ve çatışmalarını anlatırken ırk, kimlik ve bir arada yaşamak gibi insanın temel meselelerini ustaca tartışmaya açıyor. Siyahlar ve Yahudiler arasındaki gerilimli ilişkiyi ele alırken yıkılmaya çalışılan bina örneğinde kent yaşamına dair keskin gözlemler de yapıyor.
Malamud’un "Kiracılar"da ele aldığı insan doğası, önyargı ve sanatsal ifade arayışı gibi temalar yazıldıkları yıllarda olduğu kadar bugün de geçerli olan evrensel konular. Malamud, insan ilişkilerinin inceliklerini ve çatışan kimliklerden kaynaklanan içsel çatışmaları ustaca anlatıyor. Diğer yandan da kahramanlarının temsil ettiği kimliklerle bağnazlık ve ayrımcılığın yıkıcı sonuçlarını örnekliyor. Okurları kendi önyargılarıyla yüzleşmeye ve insan deneyiminin doğasında var olan karmaşıklıklar üzerine düşünmeye zorlayan duygu yüklü bir roman Kiracı.

I wanted to give the book 4 stars at the opening; then 3 stars about halfway; 5 3/4 of the way through and 2 stars by the end. It's quite...unstable. Perhaps that's intentional on the part of the author and I missed the subtle evidence of that fact. Either way, it's a book I would probably re-read in a few years time to see if maybe I missed something.

I recall reading this novel shortly after it had come out in 1971. I had fallen in love with his “The Natural” and admired the “The Assistant,” but I recall that I didn’t know how to appreciate this particular novel. I’m better prepared this time around, after having read “Dubin’s Live” and the “Complete Stories of Bernard Malamud” back in November 2013. I can now see that he’s working some of the same artist-as-subject material he covers in that novel and in all of the Fidelman stories. In all this, there is always a woman, a love interest, a muse, a spark that inflames the artist’s passions and commits the artist to act in a way that forces him to deal with his emotions and his morality.

What’s new in “The Tenants” is the introduction of another artist/writer, one who seems to be working side by side and in competition with the protagonist artist, thirty-six year old Harry Lesser, who is the sole paying occupant in a Brooklyn apartment building that the owner wants to tear down. Harry refuses the owner’s financial enticements to leave, insisting that he not be disturbed with moving because it will interrupt the completion of his third novel, which to date has taken ten years (whereas his first two novels were completed rapidly, within three years). Into this abandoned building another writer appears, Willie Spearmint, a mid-twenty-year-old black who initially uses the building as an “office” to do his writing and by novel’s end is living there as well.

While acknowledging one another, Willie and Harry try to stick to business and remain very aloof, even cold towards one another. Eventually, however, Willie reluctantly asks the more experienced Harry for advice. Harry is also reluctant, as he fears that anything he might say will rouse Willie’s quick ire. There is some resistance to Harry’s suggestions, but Willie finds himself attempting to adopt some of the formal techniques that Harry recommends. Eventually he becomes angry with Harry for robbing him of his ability to write naturally, as he has become more and more aware of esthetic difficulties. Add to this Willie’s mission to write “black,” to reveal the unique perspective and experience of blacks, how they’ve been misshapen by whites, especially Jews such as Harry.

To further complicate things, Harry falls for Willie’s girl, Irene Belinsky, a dyed-blonde actress manqué who only seems to have recovered her footing after having met Willie. The two pussyfoot around for a while, both of them reluctant to speak the truth to Willie because he is too absorbed in his writing and has had little contact with Irene as a result. After Willie asks for further advice on a re-write of his work, Harry dispenses that advice and follows with an announcement of his love for Irene. Willie explodes, shortly afterwards destroys both copies of Harry’s ten-year-old incomplete novel, then apparently vanishes.

Harry and Irene remain committed to staying together, though Irene wonders that he will not take from the landlord the money that will enable them to move, since at this stage Harry still insists on writing in the doomed tenement building, seeing Irene at her place only on weekends. Harry works feverishly to re-write the book, and he nears the point where he’d been blocked before Willie’s appearance. Malamud’s novel towards its close takes the form of several discarded (?) endings that Harry has worked into his novel, which explicitly depict Harry, Willie, and Irene. Thus, inconclusively, “The Tenants” ends with what is probably a balled-up draft that either Harry or Willie have pulled from the trash and carefully flattened in order to read, neither sure whether it’s worthy of print.

An interesting, thoughtful book, whose structure mimics the inconclusiveness of these particular artist’s relationship to their art and to each other.

A master of the written word, Malamud confuses in this installment.
Two young men, one black and one white, both writers working on their manuscripts, occupy a tenement in Manhattan during the 1960s.
The landlord wants both out of the building to raze it and erect a new one.
He, BM, veers away from his safety zone, creating this story.
There is symbolism related to isolation and love, the writer's terrain, racial interactions, men and women.
Malamud lies somewhere between Bellows and Roth in tone, but not either.
Nu? Life is small, and there is only so much to expand—a quandary for these two neighboring authors.
Otherwise, advanced age becomes a factor in readers who read a lot and writers who constantly write.
We know the limitations of life and what can be said about it, even from the better phalanx of writers.
And this, the author imparts.
Technically, though, I enjoyed it.