VALIDATION

Artists of any sort require only to know the work they are creating has a sort of resonance, not just within themselves but to those that partake of their vision. Perhaps the reader of a book, the viewer of a movie, the observer of a painting or sculpture might not “get it” in terms of what the artist specifically had in mind. But there has to be something that is both communicated and received.

If, as a writer, I come up with an idea that is not commercial in the sense it doesn’t have existing comparables, past or present, I have to determine to what degree it is worth it to proceed. How deeply invested am I in the idea in its formative stages to devote a lengthy period of time toward development and refinement? A quaint notion can sometimes be a viable artistic entity. Or not.

Years ago, I came up with an idea based on my speculation on the need for a reader to truly know the biography of a writer in order to appreciate the work. To that end, I began to fashion the fictional biography of a fictional author named H.B. Berlow, written by another fictional author named (coincidentally) H.B. Berlow. Then, while formulating how I would write this decidedly non-traditional story, I learned of the genre of metafiction. I determined that I was not as way off base as I initial considered myself to be.

Currently, I am immersed in an historical crime fiction series, The Wichita Chronicles, in which the main character is Jewish. A former police officer and World War II veteran, Harold Bergman, upon returning from the war, can no longer arbitrarily consider the absolutes of either the laws of man (as embodied in the police department) or the laws of God (symbolized by his father’s desire for him to become a rabbi). His transition into private detective is as much a spiritual journey as an exploration of criminal cases.

I have embraced the historical aspects of this series and have almost eschewed much of the hard-boiled genre on which such a character is based. Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, and all the pulp writers informed my desire to venture into this style. I stopped on their road and forged my own path.

It was by consciously seeking out other Jewish detective fiction that I came across Faye Kellerman and her Peter Decker/Rina Lazarus series. Peter is a Viet Nam vet, in his forties, and a police detective in California. He learned his birth parents were Jewish which is a factor when he meets the lovely younger widow Rina and decides to fully embrace Judaism.

Kellerman is an Orthodox Jew. This series includes investigations into very serious crimes, some of them (as in “Milk and Honey”) extremely violent in nature. There is also highly descriptive aspects of Orthodox Judaism and the traditions as they exist in contemporary life. Rina is highly observant; Peter is trying very hard to be.

Now, I am not an Orthodox Jew. If anything, I might consider myself to be more of the Reform nature. But I am a Jew at a time in the world where aspects of antisemitism are prevalent. It can be difficult to embrace your faith in the midst of turmoil. But that is what these characters are doing. Now, Harold Bergman is doing so as well.

I wondered in the first book (“The Day of Calamity”) and the forthcoming second book (“The End of the Treachery”) whether I was infusing two much of the religious aspect within, especially given these are rooted in the hard-boiled tradition, as opposed to Kellerman who is clearly contemporary. Yet, reading her work has given me the validation that I am on the right track in presenting a character who is not to be found within the standard tropes. Would I hide my pride at being a Jew simply because I didn’t feel comfortable with what others may think? These characters are as real as the writer makes them. They are who they are. In some fashion, their existence on the page validates who we are as writers and human beings.