Bernard Malamud is the kind of writer than doesn't "rock my world" but that I'd read every book of his. Here he wrote about a conflict between two writers, Jewish and black. Both are intense and pathetic, sensitive and persistent and live in a building destined for destruction. (Can't get any more symbolic...)

Libro portato a termine a fatica.
Una delusione dopo altri libri dello stesso autore.

***SPOILERS***

Before reading THE TENANTS, my only exposure to Bernard Malamud was his wonderful baseball novel THE NATURAL. That was almost ten years ago. To be honest, I had forgotten all about him -- even if I do think that THE NATURAL is one of the finest books of fiction about my favorite sport.

So let's come to the present. THE TENANTS.

The story centers on Harry Lesser, a novelist who has seen success with one novel, followed by a sophomore stinker. For the past ten years he has been laboring over his third novel, said to be his best. But things seem to keep getting in the way of him finishing this novel. His landlord, Levenspiel, wants to sell his building; in fact, Harry is the only resident in the building. The other residents have moved after receiving lucrative payoffs. Harry is a creature of habit. His novel was started here; it must be finished here. Just when Harry begins to find his groove, Willie Spearmint enters his life, squatting in an abandoned room downstairs. A past junky with a penchant for violence, Willie, too, is a writer looking for a place to free his inspiration. Willie is trying to write the great black novel. His disdain for whites (Jews especially) intensifies with the novel and culminates with a horrific conclusion. Malamud's social commentary throughout the novel had me shaking my head in disbelief. I wasn't born in the 60s, and only arrived with 6 months left in the 70s. I have never really seen the level of racial intolerance as Malamud conveys. But Harry cannot allow a fellow writer to wallow in their own creativity, so he begins the arduous task of mentoring Willie, even if this means being lectured by Willie about what being Black or White truly means. Willie seems to think he has all the answers. The relationship starts off rocky -- Willie has a difficult time accepting constructive criticism. For a good chunk of the novel, we are allowed access to what a writer thinks and does when preparing a scene or a sentence or a word. This part becomes a bit much, but is handled deftly by Malamud's technical skill and storytelling abilities.

When Willie and Harry's relationship progresses, Willie brings Harry into his circle of friends. They are an unsavory crew that only bolsters the racial tension of NYC in the 60s. Most of the characters are two dimensional, nothing more than dressing for set pieces. But even as unrealized characters, they add to the story. When Harry beds one of the crew's lady, after being invited to a party, Willie saves Harry by playing a game of insults. One person must out-insult the other. Basically, this is yo-mamma jokes beefed up on steroids. Harry stands his ground and leaves the party intact. But the collateral damage of the party is when Harry professes his love to Irene Bell, a white woman who has been dating Willie. They begin a sordid affair. At first, Irene and Harry make sense together. Harry can give Irene everything she is lacking in her relationship with Willie. But after Harry tells Willie the truth about him and Irene the wheels of the already strained and rickety relationship dissolve. Willie goes crazy and vandalizes Harry's apartment, including the destruction of Harry's only copy of his current manuscript. Harry is determined to recreate his novel, even it means subjecting Irene to the edges of his life. Irene can only handle so much and decides that writers are too limited in their desires and leaves Harry for her own sojourn to San Francisco.

The sequence of events that follow are like watching a train wreck to the soundtrack of Alice in Wonderland. What is real and unreal blend together, forming a false reality. This part is a perfect illustration of madness and art and is a lot of fun, if a bit confusing. When the smoke clears, Levenspiel is standing over the bloody bodies of Harry and Willie, confused and shocked and still only wanting Harry to move out of the building so he can sell it to some high-rise developers.

THE TENANTS is hard to classify. It is a gritty personal drama, with bits of absurdest comedy and fantasy thrown in at seemingly random intervals. Most of the scenes that occupied these seemingly random acts left me confused...until I read over them again, and then again. The constant, but seamless 3rd person limited to omniscient narrator can be a bit taxing and requires patience on the reader's part. As an experimental novel, this works. Only just barely. In the hands of a lesser writer, THE TENANTS would come across as a MFA assignment gone astray.

I will definitely be seeking out Malamud's other titles.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Supposedly about man's inhumanity to man, but really about one guy taking another guy's girl (when neither of them really give a shit about her), and one writer trying to destroy another's work (although both are insatiably intrigued at what the other one is up to). The ending COMPLETELY falls apart due to Malamud's inadequacies...and, no, I don't believe it was intentional just because the book was about a writer who couldn't finish his novel after working on it for the last ten years. Still, there was some great stuff in here. Some open windows into the mind of another person that are rarely seen (maybe by another master like John Fowles). Anyway, the movie was better. There was a movie made of this book starring Snoop Dogg and it adhered to the book, trimming some of the racism and the lousy ending. Overall: Book was OK, movie more so. On the bright side, it was a very quick read.

دوستش نداشتم یه کتاب متوسط معمولی بود

זה היה הספר השני של מלמוד שקראתי השנה. לא תכננתי לקרוא אותו דווקא, אבל מצאתי אותו בארגזי קרטון של תכולת דירה שנזרקה לרחוב והיה חבל לי עליו. הארגזים גם עברו השקיה מאיזו טפטפת של העירייה ואז התייבשו בשמש הקופחת. מאחר שהצטופף בצוותא עם עוד כמה "עם עובדים" כמוהו, נדבקה כריכתו, בגלל ההשקיה, לזו של "הכפיל" של דוסטוייבסקי. כשהפרדתי ביניהם נשא עמו חלק מהכריכה של זה. זה היה דווקא זיווג מוצלח כי הספר הזה הוא כל כולו "ספרות כפילים". ביתר דיוק הכפילים בספר הם כפילים מנוגדים, סימטריים – כלומר דומים אך גם שונים מהותית.

סופר יהודי, לבן, הארי לסר (פחות) מתבצר בבניין נטוש בניו-יורק של סוף שנות השישים ועמל במשך עשר שנים על כתיבת ספר שאינו יודע כיצד לסיימו. בשלב מסוים מופיע בבניין כפילו – סופר אפרו אמריקאי, שחור, ווילי ספירמינט (חנית שבטית), שגם הוא מתקשה בכתיבתו, דומה לו אך גם שונה להחריד. היחסים ביניהם יודעים עליות ומורדות עד שהם מוצאים עצמם במאבק תחרותי ואלים – חברתי, ארוטי וספרותי, מאבק המדגיש את אנושיותם אך גם את התהום העקרונית הפעורה ביניהם ואינה ניתנת לגישור.

הכתיבה האנושית, הצנומה והכנה של מלמוד, עשויה להטעות – מדובר בספר אלגורי פילוסופי להחריד. אלגורי משמות הגיבורים ועד לרעיונות שהוא מתחבט בהם, מתאורי החלומות וההזיות ��עד לדיאלוגים ולמעשים שהם מטרימים. המאבק הבין גזעי הוא רק חלק מן הסיפור, משולבים כאן כתמונת מראה התחבטויות בנושא מהות הכתיבה הספרותית, מהות האהבה (נושא ספרו של לסר, שהוא מתקשה להשלים) והחיים בכלל. צפות ועולות כאן בעיות שעדין שרירות וקיימות ובפרט בעידן הפרוגרסיבי, המבטל לעיתים (גם אם איני יודע כיצד מתקבל הרומן היום בציבור ובאקדמיה האמריקאית, אם בכלל קוראים בו). צורה מול תוכן, החיים עצמם מול הכתיבה, מהפיכה אלימה מול אוננות יצירתית, אוניברסאליות מול החוויה הפרטית ועוד.. לכל דבר כמה פנים, ראו למשל את השילוב בדיאלוג הבא (עמוד 66):

(השחור פותח) "... סיפורת לבנה אינה דומה לשחורה, לא יכולה להיות דומה."
"אין בידך להפוך חוויות שחורות לספרות רק על ידי העלאתן על הנייר."
"שחור אינו לבן ולא יכול להיות לבן. שחור הוא אך ותמיד שחור. זה לא אוניברסאלי אם לכך אתה מתכוון. אתם מרגישים אחרת ממה שאנחנו מרגישים. איכות הרגשות שלנו שונה משלכם. אתה תופס את זה? וככה זה מוכרח להיות. אני כותב כתיבת נשמה של אנשים שחורים הצועקים שהם עדיין עברים בארץ הזנונה הזאת, ויותר לא יהיו עבדים. איך אתה מסוגל להבין את זה, לסר, אם המוח שלך לבן?"
"גם המוח שלך לבן. אבל אם החוויה ענינה הצד האנושי שבנו והיא נוגעת אל ליבי, הרי עשית אותה לחוויה שלי. יצרת אותה גם בשבילי. אתה יכול להכחיש את קיומה של אוניברסאליות אבל אינך יכול לבטלה."
"הצד האנושי הוא חרא. הוא לא מעניק לכם שום זכויות כמו שלנו לא העניק."
"אם אנו מדברים על אומנות, הרי הצורה דורשת את שלה. בלעדיה היצירה חסרה סדר, ואולי גם משמעות. מה עוד חסרה היא אני מניח שאתה יודע בעצמך."
"האומנות יכולה לנשק לי בתחת העסיסי שלי. אתה רוצה לדעת מהי האומנות באמת? אני האומנות. וילי ספירמינט, אדם שחור, הצורה שלי היא אני בעצמי."

בשלב מאוחר יותר מגיע גם החורבן הבלתי נמנע ולאחריו, מתוך מעמקי הייאוש והניסיון חסר הסיכוי לחזור לחיים שהיו, הניגודים והמאבק הם אלו שתופסים את המושכות גם בתוך נשמתו של הארי עצמו ובאופן פוסט מודרני גם בכתיבתו של מלמוד. עד שגם הספר הזה נשאר פתוח, מוצעים לנו מספר סיומים הזויים, אך הגבולות בין ההזיה למציאות מטשטשים.

הספר הוא נהדר לדעתי. חכם מורכב ונוגע ללב. נהניתי מאוד לקרוא בו. לא הייתי ממליץ דווקא על התרגום הזה לעברית. עדיף לקוראו במקור האנגלי. התרגום ארכאי להחריד. זה ניכר במיוחד בתרגום הסלנג, העגה האפרו אמריקאית והקללות והתיאורים המיניים. ממש הייתי צריך לתרגם בחזרה לאנגלית את התרגום המילולי מידי של המתרגם. שפטו בעצמיכם: "אל תחריא לי, לסטר" = Don't shit me, Lester. וכיו"ב.

This is my first experience with Malamud. It isn't bad. I kind of get sick of the whole writer writing about a writer writing thing. It kind of gets tired. Still, he has some well developed, interesting characters. The pacing is good and the plot interesting. It reminded me of Henry Miller a little, though I think I like Malamud better. I'll be checking out his other stuff.

Sulla scrittura in un presente da demolire.

Ultimo abitante di una vecchia palazzina newyorkese che sta per essere buttata giù, lo scrittore ebreo Harry Lesser non ha nessuna intenzione di andarsene, o perlomeno non prima di aver finito di scrivere il suo nuovo libro, il terzo, quello più importante. Ma l’arrivo nel condominio di un nuovo inquilino abusivo, Willie Spearmint, anche lui scrittore, ma nero e molto più appassionato e autoconsapevole di Lesser, rimescolerà le carte in tavola.
La rivalità che si scatena tra i due uomini si gioca su più livelli: quello letterario, quello razziale e, con l’entrata in scena di Irene, la ragazza bianca di Willie, anche quello sessuale. Ma è l’ossessione per la scrittura a unirli e renderli in qualche modo simili: un mestiere che diventa una maledizione e può condurre alla pazzia perché, sembra dirci Malamud, in un mondo che si sgretola pezzo dopo pezzo, quanto a lungo riescono a resistere gli scrittori prima di finire le parole, prima di arrendersi e rimanere muti, inermi, svuotati della loro arte?

Gli inquilini è sì, un libro politico, ma politicamente scorretto: Willie non è il solito negro buono di cuore a cui ci hanno abituati molto romanzi. Non vuole mimetizzarsi, non vuole essere messo al pari dei bianchi, lui si identifica nella sua negritudine, è un negro è fiero di esserlo, è rivoluzionario, aggressivo, quasi un razzista al rovescio, mentre Harry è un pusillanime, indeciso e, se togliamo la sua passione per la scrittura, praticamente indifendibile.
Questo è un libro che provoca, che contrappone l’urgenza creativa alle condizioni imposte dalla società, che proietta nell’incontro/scontro tra i due scrittori diametralmente opposti un conflitto interiore che l’autore stesso ha sperimentato. Ma anche con tutta la sua disarmonia e cupezza, questo è senza dubbio anche un romanzo che ribadisce la necessità della letteratura e ne rivendica il ruolo di intermediario tra noi e la realtà che ci circonda, per quanto estenuante e dolorosa possa essere.

Not as good as earlier Malamud. Especially his short story collections "The Magic Barrel" and "Idiots First".

Probably was regarded as risky (and risque) material for a writer his age. He was probably approaching 60 when he wrote this book. The book deals with a white Jewish writer and an African-American writer who "work", i.e. do their writing, in the same crumbling tenement scheduled for demolition. By today's standards fairly stereotypical black/white portrayals. Occasional surreal passages of dream and poetry, but fairly conventional writing about the process of writing with attendant neurotic hang-ups vis a vis sex, the sexual act, and intellectual consummation.

Notes added after finishing:

This books seems to predict the falling out within the "progressive" or "liberal" movement between Jews and Blacks and would be an interesting work to consider in the overall trend toward what we might call "more conservative" mainstream trends over the course of the 1970's in the U.S..

With that said I would have to point out that American Jewish writers of the post WWII era like Malamud, Roth and Bellow have a take on their "minority" status that is more sophisticated and nuanced than a lot of knee jerk pseudo-liberals might like to believe.

In particular there is a hilarious Philip Roth short story about a Jewish sergeant serving in the army during WWII whose ambivalent attitude toward fellow Jews placed under his command who demand "special treatment" because of their religion turns to outright hostility. It turns conventional "liberal" attitudes and beliefs about "minorities" on their heads.

For context, I have only read "The Assistant" and "The Fixer," and none of Malamud's other books. I guess this just wasn't what I was expecting compared to the other two books I'd already read -- it is much more experimental in nature, and not as in depth about the characters. However, it wasn't just because it simply was this in this style that made me dislike the book (because I love other books that are both experimental and wider in scope) -- I just didn't feel as emotionally invested in this one, and ultimately, didn't particularly enjoy this book as much. But, I can see how others may like it, and my expectations definitely impacted my enjoyment of it as a whole. I would definitely just warn anyone who has the expectation that it's going to be like the two I mentioned that it is not at all, and to adjust your perspective before reading so that you don't feel disengaged, as I did.

In this book Malamud shows a gallows humor beyond any of his other books and in places it can only be described as grotesque. Malamud's choice of themes is not promising: The story of a writer struggling to turn ideas into a coherent novel has been the centerpoint of many a book and seldom delivers an inspiring and enjoyable work of art. Racial conflict (in this case between urban Jews and blacks) has also been covered many times. By combining those two themes, we get a double dose of both: two deeply troubled writers, one black, one Jewish, likely to destroy themselves and each other along the way.
It's a period piece, set in NYC in the midst of its darkest days of rent control and urban decay; its citizens tearing at each other in their frustration at the conditions in which they find themselves. The book has been decried by some as racist, depicting African-Americans as violent, irresponsible, anti-Semitic. I disagree; it strikes me as brutally honest about the interracial and socio-economic tensions that existed in US cities then -- and now.
Toward the end of the book there are times when the tale spins somewhat out of control as the protagonists descend in their own unique form of madness. But overall, it's a fine piece of work and in my view, Malamud's best.

3,5