The Yiddish Policemen's Union

by Michael Chabon

book data

10,133 ratings, 3.64 average rating, 2,559 reviews (more data...)

rating	frequency	%
5		18%
4		41%
3		27%
2		8%
1		3%

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published

May 1st 2007 by HarperCollins

binding

Hardcover, 414 pages

setting

The United States

literary awards

Hugo Award for Best Novel (2008), Nebula Award for Best Novel (2007), Locus Award for Best Science Fiction Novel (2008), The Sidewise Award for Best Novel (2007)

isbn

0007149824 (isbn13: 9780007149827)

description

For sixty years, Jewish refugees and their descendants have prospered in the Federal District of Sitka, a "temporary" safe haven created in ...more

[close] For sixty years, Jewish refugees and their descendants have prospered in the Federal District of Sitka, a "temporary" safe haven created in the wake of revelations of the Holocaust and the shocking 1948 collapse of the fledgling state of Israel. Proud, grateful, and longing to be American, the Jews of the Sitka District have created their own little world in the Alaskan panhandle, a vibrant, gritty, soulful, and complex frontier city that moves to the music of Yiddish. For sixty years they have been left alone, neglected and half-forgotten in a backwater of history. Now the District is set to revert to Alaskan control, and their dream is coming to an end: once again the tides of history threaten to sweep them up and carry them off into the unknown.

But homicide detective Meyer Landsman of the District Police has enough problems without worrying about the upcoming Reversion. His life is a shambles, his marriage a wreck, his career a disaster. He and his half-Tlingit partner, Berko Shemets, can't catch a break in any of their outstanding cases. Landsman's new supervisor is the love of his life—and also his worst nightmare. And in the cheap hotel where he has washed up, someone has just committed a murder—right under Landsman's nose. Out of habit, obligation, and a mysterious sense that it somehow offers him a shot at redeeming himself, Landsman begins to investigate the killing of his neighbor, a former chess prodigy. But when word comes down from on high that the case is to be dropped immediately, Landsman soon finds himself contending with all the powerful forces of faith, obsession, hopefulness, evil, and salvation that are his heritage—and with the unfinished business of his marriage to Bina Gelbfish, the one person who understands his darkest fears.

At once a gripping whodunit, a love story, an homage to 1940s noir, and an exploration of the mysteries of exile and redemption, The Yiddish Policemen's Union is a novel only Michael Chabon could have written. [close]

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05/06/07

Anne rated it:

Read in June, 2007

recommends it for: those who "weary of ganefs and prophets, guns and sacrifies, the infinite gangster weight of God"

"I don't care what is written," Meyer Landsman says. "I don't care what supposedly got promised to some sandal-wearing idiot whose claim to fame is that he was ready to cut his own son's throat for the sake of a hare-brained idea. I don't care about red heifers and patriarchs and locusts. A bunch of old bones in the sand. My homeland is in my hat. It's in my ex-wife's tote bag."

The Yiddish Policeman's Union is one of those rare, rare novels of ideas that is also c...more "I don't care what is written," Meyer Landsman says. "I don't care what supposedly got promised to some sandal-wearing idiot whose claim to fame is that he was ready to cut his own son's throat for the sake of a hare-brained idea. I don't care about red heifers and patriarchs and locusts. A bunch of old bones in the sand. My homeland is in my hat. It's in my ex-wife's tote bag."

The Yiddish Policeman's Union is one of those rare, rare novels of ideas that is also character-driven, and the people of this book are warm-blooded and quirky; they do not stand for ideologies, and this is no morality play. Chabon manages to write a top-notch piece of mystery-detective-novel-noir that simulatenously parodies and celebrates the genre. The plot is a page-turning thrill, and his prose throughout is gorgeous -- suitably hard-boiled to give his nozzes clout, ripe with metaphors (pastiche or fresh), always delicious enough to taste Literary. This is speculative fiction that makes you feel, not just think: Will Meyer and Bina reunite? Will Meyer ever be OK? What did it feel like to be blessed by Mendel Shpliman, to play chess with him?

And of course Chabon's book makes you think. It's full of Big Questions... What would have happened if countries had -- however reluctantly -- opened their doors to European Jews during WWII, sparing 4 of the 6 million killed? If Zionists had botched things in Israel and instead found themselves in Alaska, disputing land with Native Americans, dreaming up terrorist plots to win back the holy land? Characters and readers alike must wonder, can a people who have been driven from place to place, who have been massacred and betrayed, who are desperate...can they make good moral choices? Can they choose to live by the book, "the book," or any book at all?

The Yiddish Policeman's Union is about horrible things done to and by Jews, to and by people all over the world. It's about entitlement and destitution. In ways both obvious and subtle, it examines the Problem of Israel, the real one we face, and America's role in it -- the dangers of fundamentalism, of a "Jewish" state, of the lack of one, of the pain of believing in nothing and the stain of believing in anything. It cracks open the possibility that we do not and cannot understand everything around us. While the story is painful and the outlook for the characters often grim, Chabon helps us believe in miracles, blessings...even the crumbs of salvation. They taste, I think he'd tell us, like a shtekeleh.*

*an Alaskan-Jewish Filipino-style Chinese doughnut(less)

Like this review? yes (17 people liked it)

2 comments

11/28/08

Edan rated it:

(review of isbn 0007149832)

Read in December, 2008

You know that fashion rule where, before you leave the house, you're supposed to quickly turn to a mirror and then take off the first accessory that catches your eye? Well, I feel like Chabon should have done that with his prose, which is sometimes so ridiculously overwritten and boastful that it ruined an otherwise pretty interesting story.

With some writers, I want them to put on another accessory or two--please, would some bangle bracelets kill you?--but with Chabon I'm like, Dud...more

Like this review? yes (11 people liked it)

4 comments

05/07/08

Lena rated it:

bookshelves: fiction

recommended to Lena by: Moonrat

When I first heard about this novel, I found its premise too fascinating to resist: it's a noir-inspired murder mystery set in an alternate universe in which refugees from the failed state of Israel are living in a section of Alaska temporarily loaned to them by the US government. At the beginning of Chabon's novel, their lease on this land is about to expire, signs of the messiah's imminent arrival are accumulating, and a dead man has inconveniently turned up in the fleabag hotel of broken dow...more When I first heard about this novel, I found its premise too fascinating to resist: it's a noir-inspired murder mystery set in an alternate universe in which refugees from the failed state of Israel are living in a section of Alaska temporarily loaned to them by the US government. At the beginning of Chabon's novel, their lease on this land is about to expire, signs of the messiah's imminent arrival are accumulating, and a dead man has inconveniently turned up in the fleabag hotel of broken down detective Meyer Landsman.

The narrative revolves around Landsman's quest to solve this murder despite growing evidence that there are quite a few people who would strongly prefer he mind his own business. The story is a complex one, the basic murder mystery woven through with issues of religion and race, politics and love, loss and redemption.

Despite the intriguing premise, it took me quite some time to get into this novel. Though I felt a certain amount of detached pity for Landsman, I simply didn't find him involving enough as a character to really care that much about him. It wasn't until the identity of the dead man was revealed that I really felt myself begin to get invested in just where this story was going. Unfortunately, that didn't occur until 100-plus pages in.

Chabon's writing may have contributed to my difficulty engaging with this story. Though he is clearly a highly creative prose stylist, there were times when he shifted between past and present in a way I found very confusing. In addition, he would go on such long expositional passages between brief lines of dialogue that I would forgot what the main thread of the conversation was about and have to go back and re-read. Perhaps this is all very literary, but quirks like these repeatedly took me out of the story.

Despite those problems, I did enjoy this novel in a detached sort of way. I found the themes it explored and the way it explored them intellectually interesting. But it just didn't grab me emotionally as much as I expected it to from the premise. I think my taste and Chabon's style are perhaps not the best match.
(less)

Like this review? yes (10 people liked it)

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08/16/08

Sandi rated it:

(review of isbn 0007149832)

bookshelves: 2008, cross-genre, hugo-nominees-2008

Read in September, 2008

I picked up a copy of “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” by Michael Chabon purely out of curiosity. This novel was nominated for, and won, the prestigious Hugo Award. The Hugo Award is for outstanding science fiction and I have never seen “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” on the science fiction/fantasy bookshelves in any bookstore. It’s only been in the mainstream fiction section. Now that I’ve read it, I still don’t understand how it won the Hugo. True, it is an alternate hist...more I picked up a copy of “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” by Michael Chabon purely out of curiosity. This novel was nominated for, and won, the prestigious Hugo Award. The Hugo Award is for outstanding science fiction and I have never seen “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” on the science fiction/fantasy bookshelves in any bookstore. It’s only been in the mainstream fiction section. Now that I’ve read it, I still don’t understand how it won the Hugo. True, it is an alternate history; but it’s a socio-political alternate history rather than a technological one. Any differences in science and technology due to the events that veer off from real history aren’t covered in the course of this novel. In addition to it not being science fiction, I’m surprised it won the Hugo because it’s really not that good. I know that saying this book is not good, or is merely okay is heresy, but I’m saying it.

My problems with this book stem mainly from the semantics and the fragmented storytelling. I liked that Chabon implemented Yiddish into the telling of the story. I liked that he used sentence structure that mimicked Hebrew/Yiddish sentence structure. I thought the use of present tense was unusual and interesting. I know that in Hebrew, present tense is often used in storytelling to make it more immediate. What I disliked about the semantics of this novel was they way it went back and forth between present tense and past tense. I figured out that the present tense was used when the story was focusing on Landsman and what he was doing. The past tense was used for telling about things that were happening. That sounds pretty straightforward, but it isn’t. There were a few times when Chabon would be telling about something that happened to Landsman in past tense then pick up on the present and switch to present tense. The tense would change from one paragraph to the next.

Now, just the fact that I was analyzing verb tenses should tell you how tedious I found the story. It had so much potential. The murder mystery was a good one. Landsman had a lot of potential as a protagonist. The alternate history of millions of Jews being relocated to Alaska in 1948 because of the failure of the Jewish state in Israel was intriguing. The impending reversion of the Jewish territory to the United States and the uncertainty of what would happen to the Jews in Sitka added dramatic tension. However, none of the individual element gelled into a compelling narrative. It seemed like a lot of great ideas strung together with no real connection. The language had the potential to enhance the story, but ended up detracting from it. The characters seemed to be two-dimensional symbols rather than three-dimensional people. The author would go of on expository tangents that had nothing to do with the story. Towards the end, solutions to different aspects of the mystery came out of the blue. A heretofore-unseen character would show up and hand Landsman and the reader a huge piece of the puzzle, no deduction necessary.

For me, “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” was a book that had a heck of a lot of potential and a lot of great ideas. It just failed to put it all together in a way that was compelling and/or comprehensible.
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Like this review? yes (8 people liked it)

6 comments

06/15/08

Kersplebedeb rated it:

Read in June, 2008

recommends it for: people interested in Jewish culture and speculative fiction.

Imagine a crazy world in which, following the Holocaust, Jewish survivors languished in DP camps in Europe, were often still barred or discouraged from immigrating to the various "democracies", and found themselves pushed into emigrating to the Middle East where, through a variety of historical coincidences, they founded a new society based on dispossessing the indigenous Arabs and acting as imperialism's pit bulls in the region.

That's the crazy world we do live in.

...more

Like this review? yes (10 people liked it)

1 comment

10/18/07

Deidra rated it:

Read in October, 2007

recommends it for: noir fans who aren't expecting much

Had a pretty lengthy review, which was deleted when I made the mistake of changing the shelf. Yeah, I don't get it either.

Long story short: I still don't get why Michael Chabon is supposed to be one of the great writers of the 21st century. "Wonder Boys" was an enjoyable read. Nothing life-changing, but smart, fast, and chock full of quirky characters.

"Kavalier & Clay"....not so good. I am a fan of the comics industry, and I have to say the beginning...more Had a pretty lengthy review, which was deleted when I made the mistake of changing the shelf. Yeah, I don't get it either.

Long story short: I still don't get why Michael Chabon is supposed to be one of the great writers of the 21st century. "Wonder Boys" was an enjoyable read. Nothing life-changing, but smart, fast, and chock full of quirky characters.

"Kavalier & Clay"....not so good. I am a fan of the comics industry, and I have to say the beginning describing it's birth had me riveted. And then the characters' hardships begin. And then they continue. And keep going. The depressing acts were so unrelenting that it started to border on the melodramatic, one long dirge on the suffering and pain humanity inflicts on itself.

Now "The Yiddish Policemen's Union". I have to admit that I only made it through about 3/4 of this book. See, Chabon seems to have done the same thing all over again: taken an interesting, original concept and then populated it with contrived, formulaic plot lines and tired characters. Example: A mystery set in an alternate reality where the Jewish population has been relocated to Alaska after the atrocities of WWII. Sounds good, right? Well, it would be if he didn't just drag out the tired old noir cliches: the alcoholic, loner detective on a destructive downward spiral who won't give up the case; his family-man, responsible partner, there to pull him from the messes he makes; his estranged ex-wife who he still loves. Give me a break. I couldn't get enough of an investment in these characters to actually care where the plot was going.

There are some interesting scenes and it's obvious Chabon is well-educated in the areas of Jewish ritual and history. But even with a couple of unforseen twists, it wasn't enough to keep me reading.

Also, as a sidenote: I have to say the book jacket for this edition is one of the most obnoxious I've ever seen. Could his name get any bigger? The entire spine of the book is taken up with "PULITZER PRIZE WINNING AUTHOR" which completely overshadows the actual TITLE of the book. I know Chabon had nothing to do with this design, but it's pretty bad.

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Like this review? yes (8 people liked it)

2 comments

09/21/07

Emma rated it:

Read in October, 2007

recommends it for: fans of speculative fiction and/or Michael Chabon

Jews, Alaska, chess, and murder: usually these subjects don’t have much in common. That's until you read Michael Chabon’s new novel “The Yiddish Policeman’s Union” where these elements come together to create the core of this quirky noir story.

Chabon’s novel is based on an interesting conceit: What if Jews had not been able to settle in Israel after World War II and, instead, were granted temporary residency on the Alaskan panhandle?

The original plan was set ...more

Like this review? yes (7 people liked it)

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09/10/07

Nick Holt rated it:

bookshelves: desert-island-books

(Not really a review. Nor something I wrote. But funny!)

"Michael Chabon has spent considerable energy trying to drag the decaying corpse of genre fiction out of the shallow grave where writers of serious literature abandoned it."— Ruth Franklin (Slate, 8 May 2007)

Something woke her in the night. Was it steps she heard, coming up the stairs — somebody in wet training shoes, climbing the stairs very slowly... but who? And why wet shoes? It hadn't rained. There...more (Not really a review. Nor something I wrote. But funny!)

"Michael Chabon has spent considerable energy trying to drag the decaying corpse of genre fiction out of the shallow grave where writers of serious literature abandoned it."— Ruth Franklin (Slate, 8 May 2007)

Something woke her in the night. Was it steps she heard, coming up the stairs — somebody in wet training shoes, climbing the stairs very slowly... but who? And why wet shoes? It hadn't rained. There, again, the heavy, soggy sound. But it hadn't rained for weeks, it was only sultry, the air close, with a cloying hint of mildew or rot, sweet rot, like very old finiocchiona, or perhaps liverwurst gone green. There, again — the slow, squelching, sucking steps, and the foul smell was stronger. Something was climbing her stairs, coming closer to her door. As she heard the click of heel bones that had broken through rotting flesh, she knew what it was. But it was dead, dead! God damn that Chabon, dragging it out of the grave where she and the other serious writers had buried it to save serious literature from its polluting touch, the horror of its blank, pustular face, the lifeless, meaningless glare of its decaying eyes! What did the fool think he was doing? Had he paid no attention at all to the endless rituals of the serious writers and their serious critics — the formal expulsion ceremonies, the repeated anathemata, the stakes driven over and over through the heart, the vitriolic sneers, the endless, solemn dances on the grave? Did he not want to preserve the virginity of Yaddo? Had he not even understand the importance of the distinction between sci fi and counterfactual fiction? Could he not see that Cormac McCarthy — although everything in his book (except the wonderfully blatant use of an egregiously obscure vocabulary) was remarkably similar to a great many earlier works of science fiction about men crossing the country after a holocaust — could never under any circumstances be said to be a sci fi writer, because Cormac McCarthy was a serious writer and so by definition incapable of lowering himself to commit genre? Could it be that that Chabon, just because some mad fools gave him a Pulitzer, had forgotten the sacred value of the word mainstream? No, she would not look at the thing that had squelched its way into her bedroom and stood over her, reeking of rocket fuel and kryptonite, creaking like an old mansion on the moors in a wuthering wind, its brain rotting like a pear from within, dripping little grey cells through its ears. But its call on her attention was, somehow, imperative, and as it stretched out its hand to her she saw on one of the half-putrefied fingers a fiery golden ring. She moaned. How could they have buried it in such a shallow grave and then just walked away, abandoning it? "Dig it deeper, dig it deeper!" she had screamed, but they hadn't listened to her, and now where were they, all the other serious writers and critics, when she needed them? Where was her copy of Ulysses? All she had on her bedside table was a Philip Roth novel she had been using to prop up the reading lamp. She pulled the slender volume free and raised it up between her and the ghastly golem — but it was not enough. Not even Roth could save her. The monster laid its squamous hand on her, and the ring branded her like a burning coal. Genre breathed its corpse-breath in her face, and she was lost. She was defiled. She might as well be dead. She would never, ever get invited to write for Granta now.

— Ursula K. LeGuin(less)

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11/02/07

Alex rated it:

bookshelves: books-read-in-2007

Read in April, 2007

THE YIDDISH POLICEMEN’S UNION BY MICHAEL CHABON: Michael Chabon is a writer that many other writers are envious of: he’s young, he’s brilliant, and his books will undoubtedly survive long after his is gone. Pulitzer Prize for The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay aside, Chabon’s writing seems almost effortless, but is pure craft and magic. Unlike John Irving, who plots out the complete story beforehand, and then meticulously crafts each sentence and paragraph to be perfect (whic...more THE YIDDISH POLICEMEN’S UNION BY MICHAEL CHABON: Michael Chabon is a writer that many other writers are envious of: he’s young, he’s brilliant, and his books will undoubtedly survive long after his is gone. Pulitzer Prize for The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay aside, Chabon’s writing seems almost effortless, but is pure craft and magic. Unlike John Irving, who plots out the complete story beforehand, and then meticulously crafts each sentence and paragraph to be perfect (which is why he can take up to five years to finish a book), Chabon has both the story and ability from the start in creating his piece of art.

The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, like his other books, takes you to a place you never could’ve imagined. In this alternate reality, during the time of the Second World War, two million Jews are transported from Germany to Alaska, where they invented their own small civilization meshed in the bitterness of their treatment in Germany and their treatment in Alaska, a cold and distant place from the contiguous United States. The main city is known as Sitka, but there is little independence, and any whisperings of nationalization are immediately quashed. Yiddish is the primary language, with very little American spoken. Little happens in this people’s history from World War II to the present, other than a pathetic World’s Fair that now only retains the constant reminder of the reaching stone structure known as the Safety Pin. Sitka is not a happy place for anyone, as they dream of Zion and their return to their true home.

Landsman is our main character, a policeman who’s been in the service for many years but has little to show for it, apart from a trashed hotel room, a failed marriage, a dead sister, and his own depression over the state of his life. And it is then that he finds out about the dead body in the room nearby. A man has been murdered and the case begins. With his partner, Landsman travels around the area, picking up clues, and trying to piece the every-growingly complex case together. At the same time, his ex-wife returns to the precinct now as his boss, with the news that big changes are happening and all outstanding cases must be dealt with post haste. But as Landsmen digs deeper, he finds a larger plot taking place, involving more bodies, and more importantly the death of his sister. The pressure increases from important people in high places, as Landsman with the help of his partner and ex-wife, who he is growing close to again, gets closer and closer to the truth.

While my hope is that Chabon will return to this incredibly developed world in future stories, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union is nevertheless a thrilling mystery; a Sherlock Holmes case with a Jewish twist, that keeps the reader hanging on until the end when the case is solved, and everyone seems happy. However, the state of Sitka and these many homeless Jews remains in jeopardy, to be resolved perhaps at a later date.

For more reviews, and writings, or to buy yourself a copy, please visit www.alexctelander.com.(less)

Like this review? yes (6 people liked it)

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05/15/07

Sam Thielman rated it:

Read in May, 2007

recommends it for: Hebrew detectives; Alaskans

Michael Chabon's latest novel manages to be both painfully specific (add [www.yiddishdictionaryonline.com] to your bookmarks list if you're going to read it) and generously engaging. Even with the chill of both murder and the Alaskan setting weighing down the proceedings, Chabon's hero Meyer Landsman gives off an unaccountable, wonderful warmth.

It doesn't hurt, either, that the writer's prose gets better and better with each successive novel. Chabon has championed genre fiction in in...more Michael Chabon's latest novel manages to be both painfully specific (add [www.yiddishdictionaryonline.com] to your bookmarks list if you're going to read it) and generously engaging. Even with the chill of both murder and the Alaskan setting weighing down the proceedings, Chabon's hero Meyer Landsman gives off an unaccountable, wonderful warmth.

It doesn't hurt, either, that the writer's prose gets better and better with each successive novel. Chabon has championed genre fiction in interviews and with a couple of recent anthologies, but he has never made a more convincing argument than The Yiddish Policemen's Union, a grab-bag of alternate-history sci-fi ideas mixed into a classically structured detective novel. It's nearly impossible to be modest about high-concept writing this extreme, but Chabon manages just that: he'd rather you were busy with an extended metaphor or a bit of slapstick than oohing and aahing over his historical gymnastics.

And those gymnastics are considerable. The Jewish refugees from Hitler's Western Europe, it seems, are holed up in Alaska, having failed in their attempt to take back the Holy Land by the Arabs some 60 years ago. Sitka, a little town near the coast, is the seat of Jewish authority, a place where Yiddish is spoken almost exclusively (the residents do take time to swear in English) and Hebrew is a foriegn language.

This is the backdrop for a good, old-fashioned homicide - a guy in a hotel room is killed, leaving a clue-free scene and a corpse who had been living there under onion-skin aliases, each of which peels away to reveal a little more of his character.

As happens occasionally in the higher class of detective novels, "Emmanuel Lasker" (the dead guy) becomes one of the book's most interesting characters. Who was he? Why was he killed? Does his life parallel Landsman's life? Why?

Chabon makes a point of answering all the logistical questions by the end of the book, which comes out of a strange place, frankly. The final supervillain team-up between fanatical evangelical Christians and fanatical Zionist Jews is a distant connection at which Chabon works perhaps a little too hard. There's also a series of eerie and frankly horrible 9-11 parallels in the final chapters about which I still don't know what to think. Still, his solution to the whodunit is deeply satisfying, and rooted thoroughly in both the rich characters and in the clues we've already seen Meyer uncover. It's a satisfying book, though it's less like the Pulitzer-winning The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay than his Sherlock Holmes pastiche The Final Solution. He may name-check Nabokov with the best of the current crop, but Chabon's heart lies in old-fashioned narrative, and that marriage between the highbrow and the lowbrow is what ultimately makes his work worth reading.(less)

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10/27/08

Logan rated it:

bookshelves: fiction, mystery-thriller

Read in January, 2009

This is a book that I didn't want to read. Once I actually acquired a copy it sat mouldering on my shelves for over a year before I got to it. Having only read Kavalier & Clay and having been only mildly whelmed by it, it didn't call to me at all. Then, madness of madnesses, it was not only nominated for, but won the Hugo Award, even when stacked up against such brilliant scifi writers as Ian McDonald and Charles Stross. Upset doesn't begin to describe my reaction. How dare this dabbler in ...more This is a book that I didn't want to read. Once I actually acquired a copy it sat mouldering on my shelves for over a year before I got to it. Having only read Kavalier & Clay and having been only mildly whelmed by it, it didn't call to me at all. Then, madness of madnesses, it was not only nominated for, but won the Hugo Award, even when stacked up against such brilliant scifi writers as Ian McDonald and Charles Stross. Upset doesn't begin to describe my reaction. How dare this dabbler in genre fiction, already with a Pulitzer under his belt, swoop in and steal this award (and accolades) from more-deserving authors struggling to break through that glass ceiling that genre writers toil beneath? It wasn't even true SciFi! The only fantastic element is that it's an alternate history type of story! To say that I was predisposed to hate this book is an understatement. I wanted to loathe this book, write a scathing review, inspire mass riots and book bannings. This affront to Science Fiction could not stand!

Imagine my surprise, then, when within the first 50 pages I was so deeply sucked in that I almost missed my connecting flight. The next 100 flew by so quickly that I didn't notice when the plane had even landed until everyone around me began standing up. The book was just that engrossing. Still, it's not Science Fiction.

Imagine, if you will, a world where Israel has yet to be established. Sure, there was a push for it after WWII, but the Arab nations made good on Amadinejad's oft-stated threat to "push the Jews back into the sea." So once again landless and reviled (apparently there were no Truth and Reconciliation committees) the scattered Jews turned to the Americans who offered them a 60 year lease on several ice-blasted scraps of islands up in Alaska. You can't help but think that it's a return to Shtetl living at its finest.

Once settled in Sitka the Jews go about solidifying their holdings, building up a major metropolis, dealing with the displaced Tlingit tribes (you'd think a group of people who had been chased from one corner of the world to the other would have more compassion for oppressed peoples), and quashing the militant zionists in their midst. All goes well for nearly six decades, until the time for Reversion comes. Then everything hits the fan.

Meyer Landsman is a washed-up disgrace of a policeman pulling a Leaving Las Vegas in a fleabag hotel until one of the other boarders is found in his room with a bullet in the back of his skull. For whatever reason, Landsman takes personal offense at this and begins investigating, against the direct orders of his new boss, his ex-wife with whom he shares a guilt-ridden past. Along the way he ventures deep into the heart of the very insular and very Orthodox crimes families that may or may not be planning for Civil War, into the frozen wastes of Alaska, and deep beneath the city itself.

To say that I was captivated is an understatement. This book grabbed me and would not let me go. This was no crisply polished apple of a story. It is dirty, it stinks of spoiled plum brandy and poor quality tobacco and it's falling apart from years of abuse. In other words, it hits my literary G Spot just right. Chabon mixes just the right blend of tradition, corruption, history and the eccentricities of a people who, reviled for no good reason throughout the world, have turned so insular and secretive that they no longer know themselves. I would be kicking myself for waiting so long to read this book, were it not for the fact that I finally got to enjoy it now and am still basking in the heady afterglow. But, still, it's not Science Fiction. Hugo selection committee, take note.(less)

Like this review? yes (3 people liked it)

11 comments

08/14/08

This Is Not The Michael You're Looking For rated it:

bookshelves: alternate-history, fiction, hugo-award, locus-award, mystery, nebula-award

Read in November, 2008

The one thing I kept thinking while reading this was Arkady Renko - if the story took place in Moscow and the protagonist's name was changed to Arkady Renko (the protagonist from Martin Cruz Smith's "Gorky Park" and related books) I don't think I would have noticed the difference. (Ok, the whole Yiddish thing would have been out of place, but otherwise...) The similarities were rather overwhelming.

All of that being said, The Yiddish Policemen's Union was a good read. In an...more

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02/15/08

Damian rated it:

Read in February, 2008

I usually bias my ratings to a 2 or a 4. A 3 just says "average" which isn't much help to folks looking for a good book to read. In the case of the Yiddish Policemen's Union I was so torn that I ended up sitting on the fence. I loved the concept: After the Holocaust and the shocking 1948 collapse of the fledgling state of Israel, the Jewish people are given a "temporary" safe haven in Alaska. I was annoyed by the lack of an understandable plot. I mean there's a plot of course...more I usually bias my ratings to a 2 or a 4. A 3 just says "average" which isn't much help to folks looking for a good book to read. In the case of the Yiddish Policemen's Union I was so torn that I ended up sitting on the fence. I loved the concept: After the Holocaust and the shocking 1948 collapse of the fledgling state of Israel, the Jewish people are given a "temporary" safe haven in Alaska. I was annoyed by the lack of an understandable plot. I mean there's a plot of course but it just seems like an afterthought. Maybe 1940's noir doesn't require a plot and it's more about the development of the characters. The characters are delightful and I found myself laughing aloud every 8-10 pages when a particular passage tickled my fancy. My favorite bit out of the whole novel involves sharing a bed with a toddler. Those of you who've never had this experience probably won't understand but trust me, you're not really missing anything.

"Sometime in the middle of the night, Goldy (a 4 year old) careers into the room. His tread is heavy and lumbering, a baby monster's. He doesn't just climb into the bed, he roils the blankets the way a wire whisk roils a batter. Its like he's fleeing something, panicked, but when Landsman (the main character) speaks, asks him what's wrong, the boy doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, and his heart beats steadily and low. What ever he was running from, he found shelter from it in his parents' bed. The kid is sound asleep. He smells like a piece of cut apple that's starting to turn. He digs his toes into the small of Landsman's back with care and without mercy. He grinds his teeth. The sound of it is like dull shears on a sheet of tin.
After an hour of this kind of treatment, around four-thirty, the baby starts to scream, way out on his balcony. Landsman can hear Ester-Malke trying to comfort him. Ordinarily, she would bring him into her bed, but that's not an option tonight, and it takes her a long time to settle the little grandfather down. By the time Ester-Malke wanders into the bedroom with the baby in her arms, he's snuffling and quieter and almost asleep. Ester-Malke dumps Pinky between his brother and Landsman and walks out.
Reunited in their parents' bed, the Shemets boys set up a whistling and rumbling and a blatting of inner valves that would shame the grand pipe organ of Temple Emanu-El. The boys execute a series of maneuvers, a kung fu of slumber, that drives Landsman to the very limit of the bed. They chop at Landsman, stab him with their toes, grunt and mutter. They masticate the fiber of their dreams. Around dawn, something very bad happens in the baby's diaper. It's the worst night that Landsman has ever spent on a mattress, and that is saying a good deal."

I guess I'd only recommend this book to folks who like the idea of Jews in 1940's America Noir or people who love the author. Otherwise I'd say you're pretty safe missing it.(less)

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05/22/07

Clidston rated it:

(review of isbn 0060823569)

Has a copy to sell/swap — Read in May, 2007

Wow, this is a hell of a book. The prose style is ravishing - Chabon is definitely a maximalist. His language is virtuosic, full of pyrotechnics and equally in love with the idiom of hard-boiled detective fiction and with Yiddish. It blows you away, and it's also funny.
The world that Chabon creates - the federal district of Sitka, Alaska which became a temporary Jewish homeland after the Holocaust and the collapse of Israel in 1948 - is so thoroughly, magnificently detailed that you nev...more Wow, this is a hell of a book. The prose style is ravishing - Chabon is definitely a maximalist. His language is virtuosic, full of pyrotechnics and equally in love with the idiom of hard-boiled detective fiction and with Yiddish. It blows you away, and it's also funny.
The world that Chabon creates - the federal district of Sitka, Alaska which became a temporary Jewish homeland after the Holocaust and the collapse of Israel in 1948 - is so thoroughly, magnificently detailed that you never question it for a moment. It's immersive - there is no blinking.
This book did for me what Tolkien's books did for so many people (and what no book has done for me since William Pene duBois' "The Twenty-One Balloons" in fourth grade) -- provided another world for the reader to enter and live in which has all the depth, flavor and texture as the real one, and is preferable. It makes your heart break to put the book down and remember that none of it is real. There are no Jews in Sitka.
Each character is vividly imagined and seemingly taken as an opportunity to have as much fun as possible with the premise - there's the detective's partner, a half-Tlingit-half-Jewish behemoth who wears a yarmulke and carries a tribal warhammer to aid in interrogations. There's the heavy, in this case a 400-lb hasidic rebbe. And there's the deceased, a gay, heroin-addicted, reluctant tzadik hador who uses tefillin to tie-off before shooting up for the last time and also happens to be a chess prodigy.
And it's deep, too! As if writing the first alternate-history-Yiddish-noir weren't enough for one book, Chabon also gets into some fairly heavy thematic territory: fathers and sons, faith and redemption, doubt and despair, alcoholism and drug dependency, marriage, messianism, homeland, and what I sense are the big questions for himself -- what is the birthright of the Jewish people? What is the inheritance of every Jew? What does it mean to be Jewish?
Do I have any problems with the book? Alright, maybe the pace slows a bit in the middle section (although I'm grateful to have spent more time with these characters). Maybe the solution to the mystery, the revelation of the grand conspiracy, feels less credible than the rest of the story. Maybe it seems like a stretch, but it also may be that it has to be as it is for thematic reasons.
I can't quibble with this thing. I loved it. It was a knockout. It's hard to be objective when a book is just two of my favorite things (Judaism and a murder-mystery) together at last, but I haven't gotten this much giddy joy out of a book since I was ten years old and reading about the diamond mines of Krakatoa. It carries you away - you put it down, and just like when you were a kid, you stare off, grinning, and say "wow..."(less)

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11/29/08

Manny rated it:

bookshelves: games, science-fiction

Read in September, 2007

My father's family is Polish-Jewish. My paternal grandmother was fluent in Yiddish, and whenever I see my parents they talk incessantly about Israeli politics. I must have read at least half of Isaac Bashevis Singer at one time or another. Also, I'm a chess player. I even knew the chess problem in question, and had read Nabokov's explanation in Speak, Memory of his thought processes as he constructed it.

So how would it be possible for me not to love this book? But my reasons for lov...more

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01/21/09

Jamie rated it:

bookshelves: hugo, science-fiction

Read in February, 2009

I love Chabon's prose, but I can't read it for more than an hour at a stretch, because it's exhausting. His writing is very sensual; he wants you to taste and smell and visualize every scene. There are no throwaway, transitory sentences, and no wasted opportunities for a vivid metaphor. Normally I don't have the patience for that kind of florid writing and admittedly it could be distracting sometimes. I was often pulled out of the story when I paused to admire the turn of a phrase. I can certain...more

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06/05/08

Alan rated it:

Read in June, 2008

On one level, this book is a standard detective story, with nods to noir film and at least one name-check for Raymond Chandler. The protagonist is a hard-drinking policeman who cracks wise and has trouble with dames (well, at least one dame), and takes an enormous amount of physical abuse in the course of performing his duties... duties which he often defines more broadly than his supervisors really expect. Sound familiar?

On another level, it's a science fiction novel, taking for...more

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02/21/08

Colinski rated it:

Read in March, 2008

recommended to Colinski by: The Week Magazine
recommends it for: Chess playing fans of detective fiction who are somewhat familiar with Jewish culture

OK, so it's certainly not the first hard-boiled detective novel set in an alternate reality. But what an inventive reality! Chabon created a parallel Earth that almost could have been. In the book's universe, a couple key events went very differently then they had in our own.

In 1940, there was a brief proposal from the Roosevelt administration to allow European Jews to emigrate to Alaska to escape the Nazis. In Chabon's universe, that proposal went through, in part thanks for an acci...more OK, so it's certainly not the first hard-boiled detective novel set in an alternate reality. But what an inventive reality! Chabon created a parallel Earth that almost could have been. In the book's universe, a couple key events went very differently then they had in our own.

In 1940, there was a brief proposal from the Roosevelt administration to allow European Jews to emigrate to Alaska to escape the Nazis. In Chabon's universe, that proposal went through, in part thanks for an accident of fate that killed the Alaskan territory's congressional delegate. The second key event in this universe was the collapse of the fledgling state of Israel in 1948, when the Palestinians drove the Jews out seemingly for good. So, Sitka, Alaska, on Baronof Island in the Alaskan Panhandle became the new Israel, and the Tlingit Indians the new Palestinians. Having been settled by European Jews, Yiddish is the official language, and over the latter half of the 20th Century the area briefly boomed before falling on hard times and high poverty and crime rates. 60 years later, the Sitka settlement, which has been an autonomous region akin to an Indian Reservation, is about to revert back to the state of Alaska, and all residents will be subject to normal US immigration policy, signaling the imminent end of the new Jewish homeland.

This is the world Chabon brings us into as we follow Meyer Landsman, our alcoholic protagonist, as he seeks answers to a mysterious murder of a chess-playing junkie in the fleabag hotel Landsman calls home. What he finds is bigger than Sitka and involves an Hasidic crime syndicate, chess, a rehab center, the US government, and... well, you'll just need to read it.

For those that like to know the meaning of every word you don't understand, you may want a Yiddish dictionary (there are online ones out there), since the dialogue and narration is peppered with it throughout. I was OK just gleaning meaning from context. A little familiarity with Jewish culture may be helpful but I don't believe it's necessary.(less)

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09/27/07

Marie rated it:

Read in September, 2007

I read this for an upcoming book club meeting - it's not the kind of story I'd usually go for. I found the writing style difficult and cumbersome. Chabon's constant similes are tedious and clumsy, and although I understand that the Jewish/Yiddish vocabulary was necessary to the themes of the book, I was stumbling over them, trying to pronounce them in my head or ask people what they meant. I got tired of the characters unmercifully belittling and insulting each other. Characters truly so bit...more I read this for an upcoming book club meeting - it's not the kind of story I'd usually go for. I found the writing style difficult and cumbersome. Chabon's constant similes are tedious and clumsy, and although I understand that the Jewish/Yiddish vocabulary was necessary to the themes of the book, I was stumbling over them, trying to pronounce them in my head or ask people what they meant. I got tired of the characters unmercifully belittling and insulting each other. Characters truly so bitter, jaded, angry and resentful, well, I'm not that interested in reading about it. That said, I give it three stars because it held my attention and I found some of the characters and history fascinating.

Edited to Add:

This week's book club book was The Yiddish Policemen's Union. I am embarrassed to say that I missed most of the irony of the book, did not get the sense of humor (although the red cow with painted white spots was rather silly), and didn't realize that some of the historical facts were fiction. I mean, I obviously know that Israel really does exist, whereas in the book it's still Palestine, and I know that we haven't gone to war with Cuba. And I know, or strongly suspected, that there was no Jewish State in Sitka, Alaska. But I didn't know that there isn't really a Verbover sect of Jews. I just don't know that much about the "black hats," as Chabon calls them. And the Yiddish was mostly completely beyond me.

I'm glad I went to the book club, because we explored the themes of the father-son relationship, identity, and redemption, all of which was fascinating. The most interesting, though, was the discussion about the promised land and the question Chabon raises about it - can a promised land created in violence and bloodshed truly be a promised land?

"Fuck what is written," Landsman says. "You know what?" All at once he feels weary of ganefs and prophets, guns and sacrifices and the infinite gangster weight of God. He's tired of hearing about the promised land and the inevitable bloodshed required for its redemption. "I don't care what is written. I don't care what supposedly got promised to some sandal-wearing idiot whose claim to fame is that he was ready to cut his own son's throat for the sake of a hare-brained idea. I don't care about red heifers and patriarchs and locusts. A bunch of old bones in the sand. My homeland is in my hat. It's in my ex-wife's tote bag."

Another thing I did not know - the Orthodox Jews do not believe that Israel is the promised land, because they believe that the Messiah must return first, and that only his return makes the promised land viable. Or something like that. And I learned a lot about Diaspora, which I didn't know about before. Is the promised land where you are? Like Meyer, is it in your hat?(less)

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07/28/07

John rated it:

Read in November, 2007

recommends it for: Crime & conspiracy fiction readers, religious readers, Jewish-interested readers, literary readers

It’s an alternative history novel about Jews in the 20th century that makes more references to Cuban politics than to the Holocaust. It’s a book with a rich use of language that references Looney Tunes more than it references William Shakespeare. It’s a hardboiled crime and conspiracy novel after the hearts of old detective stories, and one you read for the language. Chabon shamelessly abducts the world-weary, overindulgent prose of that genre from the 50’s and 60’s to explore the Engl...more It’s an alternative history novel about Jews in the 20th century that makes more references to Cuban politics than to the Holocaust. It’s a book with a rich use of language that references Looney Tunes more than it references William Shakespeare. It’s a hardboiled crime and conspiracy novel after the hearts of old detective stories, and one you read for the language. Chabon shamelessly abducts the world-weary, overindulgent prose of that genre from the 50’s and 60’s to explore the English language (with healthy doses of Yiddish), playing in kinetic and invigorating ways. The story could have filled ten pages; his wonderful words take four hundred. I barely even recognized characters, as I was so enchanted by the way he wrote, the way he weaved personality around characters and events. Now, sometimes he whiffs. Sometimes he’s just using twenty words to describe something two would do better. What kind of squeeze does a baby's foot have? Just exactly how does a dead messiah lie any different than anyone else? You can tell he's laid a stinker by rephrasing a questionable sentence, but you likely won't feel compelled to do so. That's because Chabon's language truly is beautiful. The frequent Yiddish isn't a problem to non-speakers -- if you read a sentence aloud, nine times out of ten you'll have a sense of the meaning. His narrative style is that meaty. He knows how to turn a great line, like, “If you have to waste the Sabbath, at least don't waste the sin,” or, “It doesn’t matter to the wind whether a flag is red or it’s blue,” or, “a sense of doom that is indistinguishable from peacefulness,” or, “Every messiah fails the moment he tries to redeem himself.” That ten pages of plot I mentioned is very interesting plot, stepping on religion, persecution, murder and conspiracies, so if you absolutely must have plot in your books, Chabon will deliver a satisfactory dose. But please, try this for the way he tells the story. I honestly think it’s easier to lose yourself in his storytelling than in his story.(less)

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quotes from this book

"Landsman recognizes the expression on Dick's face...The face of a man who feels he was born into the wrong world. A mistake has been made; he is not where he belongs. Every so often he feels his heart catch, like a kite on a telephone wire, on something that seems to promise him a home in the world or a means of getting there. An American car manufactured in his far-off boyhood, say, or a motorcycle that once belonged to the future king of England, or the face of a woman worthier than himself of being loved." More quotes...