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The Book of Lights
Gershon Loran, a quiet rabinical student, is troubled by the dark reality around him. He sees hope in the study of Kabbalah, the Jewish bok of mysticism and visions, truth and light. But to Gershon's friend, Arthur, light means something else, the Atom bomb, his father helped create. Both men seek different a refuge in a foreign place, hoping for the same thing....
From the Paperback edition.
From the Paperback edition.
370 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1981
55 people are currently reading
1581 people want to read
About the author
Chaim Potok
69 books1,859 followersHerman Harold Potok, or Chaim Tzvi, was born in Buffalo, New York, to Polish immigrants. He received an Orthodox Jewish education. After reading Evelyn Waugh's novel Brideshead Revisited as a teenager, he decided to become a writer. He started writing fiction at the age of 16. At age 17 he made his first submission to the magazine The Atlantic Monthly. Although it wasn't published, he received a note from the editor complimenting his work.
In 1949, at the age of 20, his stories were published in the literary magazine of Yeshiva University, which he also helped edit. In 1950, Potok graduated summa cum laude with a BA in English Literature.
After four years of study at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America he was ordained as a Conservative rabbi. He was appointed director of Leaders Training Fellowship, a youth organization affiliated with Conservative Judaism.
After receiving a master's degree in English literature, Potok enlisted with the U.S. Army as a chaplain. He served in South Korea from 1955 to 1957. He described his time in S. Korea as a transformative experience. Brought up to believe that the Jewish people were central to history and God's plans, he experienced a region where there were almost no Jews and no anti-Semitism, yet whose religious believers prayed with the same fervor that he saw in Orthodox synagogues at home.
Upon his return, he joined the faculty of the University of Judaism in Los Angeles and became the director of a Conservative Jewish summer camp affiliated with the Conservative movement, Camp Ramah. A year later he began his graduate studies at the University of Pennsylvania and was appointed scholar-in-residence at Temple Har Zion in Philadelphia.
In 1963, he spent a year in Israel, where he wrote his doctoral dissertation on Solomon Maimon and began to write a novel.
In 1964 Potok moved to Brooklyn. He became the managing editor of the magazine Conservative Judaism and joined the faculty of the Teachers’ Institute of the Jewish Theological Seminary. The following year, he was appointed editor-in-chief of the Jewish Publication Society in Philadelphia and later, chairman of the publication committee. Potok received a doctorate in philosophy from the University of Pennsylvania.
In 1970, Potok relocated to Jerusalem with his family. He returned to Philadelphia in 1977. After the publication of Old Men at Midnight, he was diagnosed with brain cancer. He died at his home in Merion, Pennsylvania on July 23, 2002, aged 73.
In 1949, at the age of 20, his stories were published in the literary magazine of Yeshiva University, which he also helped edit. In 1950, Potok graduated summa cum laude with a BA in English Literature.
After four years of study at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America he was ordained as a Conservative rabbi. He was appointed director of Leaders Training Fellowship, a youth organization affiliated with Conservative Judaism.
After receiving a master's degree in English literature, Potok enlisted with the U.S. Army as a chaplain. He served in South Korea from 1955 to 1957. He described his time in S. Korea as a transformative experience. Brought up to believe that the Jewish people were central to history and God's plans, he experienced a region where there were almost no Jews and no anti-Semitism, yet whose religious believers prayed with the same fervor that he saw in Orthodox synagogues at home.
Upon his return, he joined the faculty of the University of Judaism in Los Angeles and became the director of a Conservative Jewish summer camp affiliated with the Conservative movement, Camp Ramah. A year later he began his graduate studies at the University of Pennsylvania and was appointed scholar-in-residence at Temple Har Zion in Philadelphia.
In 1963, he spent a year in Israel, where he wrote his doctoral dissertation on Solomon Maimon and began to write a novel.
In 1964 Potok moved to Brooklyn. He became the managing editor of the magazine Conservative Judaism and joined the faculty of the Teachers’ Institute of the Jewish Theological Seminary. The following year, he was appointed editor-in-chief of the Jewish Publication Society in Philadelphia and later, chairman of the publication committee. Potok received a doctorate in philosophy from the University of Pennsylvania.
In 1970, Potok relocated to Jerusalem with his family. He returned to Philadelphia in 1977. After the publication of Old Men at Midnight, he was diagnosed with brain cancer. He died at his home in Merion, Pennsylvania on July 23, 2002, aged 73.
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May 4, 2020
Mysticism Demystified
Anarchism is a visionary politics
Mysticism is the anarchism of religion
Mystics don't rely on structure
- William Everson
Mystics, as William Everson suggests in his poem, are anarchists. This does not mean that they throw bombs, at least any more frequently than other people. But it does mean that they have little regard for dogmatic religion or hierarchical pronouncements. They are also entirely ordinary and lack any notably heroic qualities, which makes them particularly unsuitable as fictional protagonists unless the author can find a hook. Chaim Potok finds his hook in the Jewish mystical study of Kabbalah. Kabbalah is rather heroic in ways that Kabbalists are not.
Kabbalists are Jewish mystics who study the Torah. For some Jews, this is an affront, not only to the Torah, but to the Talmud which is the traditional scholarly, some would say scholastic, method of exegesis and explication of the Torah in rabbinic Judaism. Such exegesis requires years of patient study in order to become intimately familiar with the various historical opinions and interpretations of every nuance of the Torah as Law.
Kabbalists take the Torah no less seriously than Talmudic scholars. But like all mystics, secular as well as religious, what interests them is not historical opinion but novel connections which may occur not as the result of painstaking research but as spontaneous insight. It is the making of connections - among words, ideas, incidental comments, or events - that is what mystics do. They do it randomly, unconsciously and sometimes even unwillingly. They are unable to stop themselves. It's as if their nervous systems are wired to notice important associations that reveal the Torah as Reality.
This Kabbalistic spontaneity of interpretation appears as lack of discipline and egotistical eccentricity to Talmudic scholars. In Kabbalah the text of the Torah is interpreted through meditations on the Sefirot or divine names which call the world into existence. Tradition, precedent, doctrine are merely suggestions for unrestrained interpretation. The Book of Lights is a fictional attempt to understand how the mystical mind works and why it's important for the rest of us that it continues to do so. It's protagonist, Gershon, is a typical, garden-variety mystic: introverted, awkward, untalented in expression, appearing somewhat lost and perpetually distracted in a society which can only find him ill-suited to the routine tasks of making a living.
Surprisingly perhaps, mystics may be obsessive but they are rarely 'en theos', that is they have little feeling of being infused in any special way by the divine; they are not enthusiasts. They have little tendency toward the occult, magic, or superstition. They do what they do not out of passion or calling but because it is what they do. Like Gershon, they may appear to be apathetic simply because their talents of associative insight are so little valued. It is suggested often by parents, relatives, friends, particularly girl-friends, that they should get a grip and buckle down to something serious, which means an established profession or discipline that keeps them 'home' more, that is spending less time on making random connections. They are rarely good prospects for marriage. And they mostly end up pursuing a career in Wal-Mart or as a corporate bond salesman unless they happen to encounter a sympathetic mentor.
By definition, potential mystical mentors are themselves rather unsympathetic characters, thus presenting a difficulty in the establishment of any continuous mystical academic or religious line. The sectarian in-fighting and fragmentation of many Hasidic communities seems to be standard mystical practice. Gershon's mentor, Keter (the name itself is from Kabballah, the top most name of God), overcomes his natural reticence around other human beings and notices Gershon because of his associative talents.
The dark heart of Kabbalah is death and the necessary evil of death. Death is an essential part of existence, not to be overcome as in Christianity, or temporised as in some other parts of Judaism, but incorporated as one of the inherent contradictions of the Divine Life and its creation. Gershon's parents are dead, killed before WWII in a terrorist attack in Tel Aviv. Entirely random therefore. His intimate cousin is killed as a fighter pilot in the Pacific. A systematic death one might say. But their deaths and consequent absence means the consecration of memories that would otherwise be lost. Death creates living memories, Gershon's life, which contains his parents' and cousin's deaths. This is Kabbalah for Potok.
Decay, moral evil, and potential destruction constitute the context of Gershon's life, as it does for virtually everyone else. His is the era of Senator McCarthy in domestic politics and the Korean War in international affairs. Israel is fighting for its survival and the hydrogen bomb hangs over everything. His Brooklyn neighbourhood is deteriorating before his eyes. As are his aged aunt and uncle. His room-mate in the midst of a breakdown. All of this is of course noticed by Gershon but never spiritualised or rationalised as 'God's will' or 'ultimately for the best'. He is mildly resentful but he neither drops out nor commits to 'making the world a better place'. He is badgered to 'choose' among defined alternatives. But to him the choices generally seem unimportant. Such ills are part of Potok's Kabbalah.
There is no doctrine of Kabbalah. There is no definition of correct or incorrect Kabbalah. Consequently, Kabbalah frequently verges on the heretical and the despairing. Each epoch has its own Kabbalah - of exile, of persecution, of dispersion, of grief. Each Kabbalist has his own version of the meaning of the divine names and their connections. Gershon's Kabbalah is both intellectual and emotional. It includes theoretical physics as well as dream-like visions (or visionary dreams, the distinction is irrelevant) of his classmate, teacher, and family. The concrete things he encounters from faulty boilers to crosses on the army's Jewish chapel have significance because they can be interpreted. With an infinity of connections to be made, each interpretation is unique. So each Kabbalist is in a certain sense entirely alone, particularly on a cold Korean hillside in an ill-equipped Army tent. Complete responsibility for one's interpretation of the situation is an aspect of Potok's Kabbalah.
Most of the words, in speech or print, that are encountered in everyday life are empty. They have as much significance as an army logistics memorandum. These empty words must be noted for practical reasons but otherwise unheeded as unimportant to life. If a form is made available, use the form. If not write a letter. But recognise that some words are important to life and should be allowed to 'touch' us, as they occur. These are words of love and regard and friendship and attachment, as well as the loss of these things. These are versions of the Sefirot, the divine names, as they occur naturally, as it were, in the course of continuing creation. This is where Kabbalah and Talmud converge: in Rabbi Akiva's (and Jesus's) dictum that the love of God and the love of one's fellow is the entirety of the Law. Such discernment is also part of Kabbalah a la Potok.
Kabbalah does not make better automobile drivers, soldiers, lovers, Jews, or better human beings. Kabbalah is not presented as a retreat within which one can hide from the ills and insanity of the world. Kabbalah is not a technique of psychic or moral healing that can be aspired to or taught or learned except as experience, in this case as the only Jewish army chaplain in Korea. It does not seek to prove or convert, not even Mormons, not even fundamentalist Jews. Kabbalah offers nothing (ayin), which is to say the reality that is everything (God). At this Kabbalah is effective; for anything else, it is useless. Kabbalah, therefore, is rarely comforting and always unexpected. Its revelations are hardly momentous - the vastness of creation in the night-sky, the fascinating act of birth.
The language Potok uses to convey the experience is simple, direct, and un-defensive. The Book of Lights is prosaic; in parts it is aesthetically tedious; there are no profound aphorisms, no elegant constructions, no poetic interludes. Just a story of maturation. The mystical is not mystified. It is not made mysterious. It is normal, at least for a certain class of human beings. Mystics are ordinary. So is their experience, which is one of homelessness but not isolation. There is no certainty but there is trust in something beyond oneself. The diffuse anxiety of passion appears to give way to a deliberate calm. These are consequences, however, not intentions. The state Potok describes is too muscular to be Zen, too low-key and routine to be Christian mysticism, too chaotic to be Sufism. This is Potok's Kabbalah
[An editorial aside: Mystics only incidentally belong to religious groups. Some mystics, by birth or circumstances, get lucky and therefore famous in secular life. Neils Bohr was a mystical physicist; Albert Einstein was not. Walt Whitman was a mystical poet; T. S. Eliot on the other hand merely wrote mystical poems. Eleanor Roosevelt was a political mystic; Mother Teresa was a mystical politician not a mystic. Chaucer and Petrarch, despite their differences were mystics; Dante, despite his similarities to both, was not. Immanuel Kant was a philosopher-mystic; William James was a pragmatist who wrote about mystics. Not all mystics are likeable: Donald Trump is a (very possibly malign) mystic; Barack Obama is not. The Identify the Mystic Game is an interesting way to make the time pass on a long journey. Potok knows how to play this game and so is able to avoid cliché:]
Some additional references for Kabbalah in literature:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Anarchism is a visionary politics
Mysticism is the anarchism of religion
Mystics don't rely on structure
- William Everson
Mystics, as William Everson suggests in his poem, are anarchists. This does not mean that they throw bombs, at least any more frequently than other people. But it does mean that they have little regard for dogmatic religion or hierarchical pronouncements. They are also entirely ordinary and lack any notably heroic qualities, which makes them particularly unsuitable as fictional protagonists unless the author can find a hook. Chaim Potok finds his hook in the Jewish mystical study of Kabbalah. Kabbalah is rather heroic in ways that Kabbalists are not.
Kabbalists are Jewish mystics who study the Torah. For some Jews, this is an affront, not only to the Torah, but to the Talmud which is the traditional scholarly, some would say scholastic, method of exegesis and explication of the Torah in rabbinic Judaism. Such exegesis requires years of patient study in order to become intimately familiar with the various historical opinions and interpretations of every nuance of the Torah as Law.
Kabbalists take the Torah no less seriously than Talmudic scholars. But like all mystics, secular as well as religious, what interests them is not historical opinion but novel connections which may occur not as the result of painstaking research but as spontaneous insight. It is the making of connections - among words, ideas, incidental comments, or events - that is what mystics do. They do it randomly, unconsciously and sometimes even unwillingly. They are unable to stop themselves. It's as if their nervous systems are wired to notice important associations that reveal the Torah as Reality.
This Kabbalistic spontaneity of interpretation appears as lack of discipline and egotistical eccentricity to Talmudic scholars. In Kabbalah the text of the Torah is interpreted through meditations on the Sefirot or divine names which call the world into existence. Tradition, precedent, doctrine are merely suggestions for unrestrained interpretation. The Book of Lights is a fictional attempt to understand how the mystical mind works and why it's important for the rest of us that it continues to do so. It's protagonist, Gershon, is a typical, garden-variety mystic: introverted, awkward, untalented in expression, appearing somewhat lost and perpetually distracted in a society which can only find him ill-suited to the routine tasks of making a living.
Surprisingly perhaps, mystics may be obsessive but they are rarely 'en theos', that is they have little feeling of being infused in any special way by the divine; they are not enthusiasts. They have little tendency toward the occult, magic, or superstition. They do what they do not out of passion or calling but because it is what they do. Like Gershon, they may appear to be apathetic simply because their talents of associative insight are so little valued. It is suggested often by parents, relatives, friends, particularly girl-friends, that they should get a grip and buckle down to something serious, which means an established profession or discipline that keeps them 'home' more, that is spending less time on making random connections. They are rarely good prospects for marriage. And they mostly end up pursuing a career in Wal-Mart or as a corporate bond salesman unless they happen to encounter a sympathetic mentor.
By definition, potential mystical mentors are themselves rather unsympathetic characters, thus presenting a difficulty in the establishment of any continuous mystical academic or religious line. The sectarian in-fighting and fragmentation of many Hasidic communities seems to be standard mystical practice. Gershon's mentor, Keter (the name itself is from Kabballah, the top most name of God), overcomes his natural reticence around other human beings and notices Gershon because of his associative talents.
The dark heart of Kabbalah is death and the necessary evil of death. Death is an essential part of existence, not to be overcome as in Christianity, or temporised as in some other parts of Judaism, but incorporated as one of the inherent contradictions of the Divine Life and its creation. Gershon's parents are dead, killed before WWII in a terrorist attack in Tel Aviv. Entirely random therefore. His intimate cousin is killed as a fighter pilot in the Pacific. A systematic death one might say. But their deaths and consequent absence means the consecration of memories that would otherwise be lost. Death creates living memories, Gershon's life, which contains his parents' and cousin's deaths. This is Kabbalah for Potok.
Decay, moral evil, and potential destruction constitute the context of Gershon's life, as it does for virtually everyone else. His is the era of Senator McCarthy in domestic politics and the Korean War in international affairs. Israel is fighting for its survival and the hydrogen bomb hangs over everything. His Brooklyn neighbourhood is deteriorating before his eyes. As are his aged aunt and uncle. His room-mate in the midst of a breakdown. All of this is of course noticed by Gershon but never spiritualised or rationalised as 'God's will' or 'ultimately for the best'. He is mildly resentful but he neither drops out nor commits to 'making the world a better place'. He is badgered to 'choose' among defined alternatives. But to him the choices generally seem unimportant. Such ills are part of Potok's Kabbalah.
There is no doctrine of Kabbalah. There is no definition of correct or incorrect Kabbalah. Consequently, Kabbalah frequently verges on the heretical and the despairing. Each epoch has its own Kabbalah - of exile, of persecution, of dispersion, of grief. Each Kabbalist has his own version of the meaning of the divine names and their connections. Gershon's Kabbalah is both intellectual and emotional. It includes theoretical physics as well as dream-like visions (or visionary dreams, the distinction is irrelevant) of his classmate, teacher, and family. The concrete things he encounters from faulty boilers to crosses on the army's Jewish chapel have significance because they can be interpreted. With an infinity of connections to be made, each interpretation is unique. So each Kabbalist is in a certain sense entirely alone, particularly on a cold Korean hillside in an ill-equipped Army tent. Complete responsibility for one's interpretation of the situation is an aspect of Potok's Kabbalah.
Most of the words, in speech or print, that are encountered in everyday life are empty. They have as much significance as an army logistics memorandum. These empty words must be noted for practical reasons but otherwise unheeded as unimportant to life. If a form is made available, use the form. If not write a letter. But recognise that some words are important to life and should be allowed to 'touch' us, as they occur. These are words of love and regard and friendship and attachment, as well as the loss of these things. These are versions of the Sefirot, the divine names, as they occur naturally, as it were, in the course of continuing creation. This is where Kabbalah and Talmud converge: in Rabbi Akiva's (and Jesus's) dictum that the love of God and the love of one's fellow is the entirety of the Law. Such discernment is also part of Kabbalah a la Potok.
Kabbalah does not make better automobile drivers, soldiers, lovers, Jews, or better human beings. Kabbalah is not presented as a retreat within which one can hide from the ills and insanity of the world. Kabbalah is not a technique of psychic or moral healing that can be aspired to or taught or learned except as experience, in this case as the only Jewish army chaplain in Korea. It does not seek to prove or convert, not even Mormons, not even fundamentalist Jews. Kabbalah offers nothing (ayin), which is to say the reality that is everything (God). At this Kabbalah is effective; for anything else, it is useless. Kabbalah, therefore, is rarely comforting and always unexpected. Its revelations are hardly momentous - the vastness of creation in the night-sky, the fascinating act of birth.
The language Potok uses to convey the experience is simple, direct, and un-defensive. The Book of Lights is prosaic; in parts it is aesthetically tedious; there are no profound aphorisms, no elegant constructions, no poetic interludes. Just a story of maturation. The mystical is not mystified. It is not made mysterious. It is normal, at least for a certain class of human beings. Mystics are ordinary. So is their experience, which is one of homelessness but not isolation. There is no certainty but there is trust in something beyond oneself. The diffuse anxiety of passion appears to give way to a deliberate calm. These are consequences, however, not intentions. The state Potok describes is too muscular to be Zen, too low-key and routine to be Christian mysticism, too chaotic to be Sufism. This is Potok's Kabbalah
[An editorial aside: Mystics only incidentally belong to religious groups. Some mystics, by birth or circumstances, get lucky and therefore famous in secular life. Neils Bohr was a mystical physicist; Albert Einstein was not. Walt Whitman was a mystical poet; T. S. Eliot on the other hand merely wrote mystical poems. Eleanor Roosevelt was a political mystic; Mother Teresa was a mystical politician not a mystic. Chaucer and Petrarch, despite their differences were mystics; Dante, despite his similarities to both, was not. Immanuel Kant was a philosopher-mystic; William James was a pragmatist who wrote about mystics. Not all mystics are likeable: Donald Trump is a (very possibly malign) mystic; Barack Obama is not. The Identify the Mystic Game is an interesting way to make the time pass on a long journey. Potok knows how to play this game and so is able to avoid cliché:]
Some additional references for Kabbalah in literature:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
April 5, 2023
Apr 3, 845am ~~ Review asap.
Apr 2, 8pm ~~ Chaim Potok's 1981 novel The Book Of Lights is as intense as his previous books. Main character Gershon Loran has had a great deal of pain in his life. Is that why he feels disconnected from the world? Is that why the reader feels disconnected from him? I never did feel that Gershon was as real to me as the main characters in Potok's earlier books. I have tried to work out why that was, but the best I could come up with is that Gershon was simply not as present in his own world and so could not be as present in mine as Asher Lev, Reuven Malter, and Daniel Saunders were.
Daydreaming through school and yet somehow turning out to be a brilliant scholar, Gershon is troubled by losses both personal and tribal during his youth. He is not sure of what he wants to do in life, doesn't seem to be interested in much of anything. But two of his teachers see more in him than even he is aware of, and they try to guide him, but often on conflicting paths.
He faces his own personal demons, but also the atomic demons unleashed upon the world in the final days of World War Two. He is closer to the source of the bombs than he realizes: his college roommate was the son of one of the men who developed the atom bomb and called Albert Einstein Uncle. Gershon never fully understood the guilt Arthur feels, but he begins to feel it himself just the same.
And he wonders, while part of the occupying Army at the end of the Korean War, how it was possible for a huge part of the world's population to appear quite happy in their beliefs of their own God, never knowing of the existence of his own. How to explain this? How to accept it?
With nearly every book Potok has written I have wondered just how much of his own life is portrayed in the main characters. After finishing this book I read that it was intended to be somewhat autobiographical, because Loran faces dilemmas Potok himself dealt with while he was in Korea as a chaplain. I suppose all writers put their own selves on paper, how else could they follow the rule about writing what you know?
This book was moving and thought provoking on a grander scale than merely the events that happen to one man during his life. It tries to open the reader's eyes to an issue that affects the entire world. And leaves us with the question: What can I do about this?
Apr 2, 8pm ~~ Chaim Potok's 1981 novel The Book Of Lights is as intense as his previous books. Main character Gershon Loran has had a great deal of pain in his life. Is that why he feels disconnected from the world? Is that why the reader feels disconnected from him? I never did feel that Gershon was as real to me as the main characters in Potok's earlier books. I have tried to work out why that was, but the best I could come up with is that Gershon was simply not as present in his own world and so could not be as present in mine as Asher Lev, Reuven Malter, and Daniel Saunders were.
Daydreaming through school and yet somehow turning out to be a brilliant scholar, Gershon is troubled by losses both personal and tribal during his youth. He is not sure of what he wants to do in life, doesn't seem to be interested in much of anything. But two of his teachers see more in him than even he is aware of, and they try to guide him, but often on conflicting paths.
He faces his own personal demons, but also the atomic demons unleashed upon the world in the final days of World War Two. He is closer to the source of the bombs than he realizes: his college roommate was the son of one of the men who developed the atom bomb and called Albert Einstein Uncle. Gershon never fully understood the guilt Arthur feels, but he begins to feel it himself just the same.
And he wonders, while part of the occupying Army at the end of the Korean War, how it was possible for a huge part of the world's population to appear quite happy in their beliefs of their own God, never knowing of the existence of his own. How to explain this? How to accept it?
With nearly every book Potok has written I have wondered just how much of his own life is portrayed in the main characters. After finishing this book I read that it was intended to be somewhat autobiographical, because Loran faces dilemmas Potok himself dealt with while he was in Korea as a chaplain. I suppose all writers put their own selves on paper, how else could they follow the rule about writing what you know?
This book was moving and thought provoking on a grander scale than merely the events that happen to one man during his life. It tries to open the reader's eyes to an issue that affects the entire world. And leaves us with the question: What can I do about this?
November 18, 2015
This is a beautiful book, one of Potok's best as far as I'm concerned, and I love them all. At first the subject seems to be the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This would be a great novel even if it were only a meditation on those events, because it manages to bring in so many viewpoints, thanks to one of the main characters whose father was involved in developing the bomb and whose mother had something to do with a city that was rejected as a target. It also manages to bring in some Japanese perspectives, something not heard very often in this country. Those are all subplots that are fantastically realized by Potok and thoughtfully written without being politicized; if anything he goes out of his way to not make political judgments. But what I love about the book more than anything is how it reduces the atomic bomb to a motif in relation to its real subject, which is the mystical impulse in human nature. Not every human has this tendency, but Potok's main character does, and that makes him a literary rarity. Novels are more apt to explain what's going in a character's mind, detailing motivations so the reader doesn't have to guess. Of course I generalize. Here, on the other hand, Potok's main character seems almost incidental; he spends so much time not making any decision you almost feel he isn't part of the action. He is a half-heartedly observant Jew named Gershon Loran. His parents are dead, so he lives with and then takes care of an aunt and uncle, lets himself be pushed here and there in his studies without seeming to have much direction, lets himself be drafted into the Korean war in hopes of finding some meaning. He's frustrating in lots of ways, but at the same time he's listening to himself and the people and situations that come into his life apparently randomly, listening to everything as though he were expecting a message. The things he "lets" himself be pushed into are things that capture his attention, or you might say his ear, where he thinks there might be answers to his unformulated questions. What he basically is is a mystic, and fortunately for him Judaism has, however reluctantly, a place for people who have some academic inclination but also a strong mystical tendency, called the Kabbalah. I think Madonna and others like her have in recent times managed to make the Kabbalah seem like an attractive destination for bored celebrities who want to be associated with the cachet of resurrecting a "lost" spiritual system (Theosophy can't be far behind), but in fact the history of Jewish mysticism is ancient, a tendency in the "Jewish character," if there is such a thing, that can be traced back almost as far as Judaism itself. So despite the disapproval of some of his more sober teachers, Loran has a "legitimate" place to focus his energies, and he is attracted to Kabbalah without really pursuing it. In a sense it pursues him, and that gives this book something like an extra character who moves the plot along as much as or more than any of the others. Loran's mystical tendency, which he accidentally discovers on a tenement rooftop when he's barely more than a child, is really the driving force of this novel. The significance of the atomic bomb is not so much the appalling destruction of human life or the moral questions asked by its makers (although those subjects are discussed) but the light itself. Kabbalah is filled with images of light, and the atomic bomb is maybe the brightest light humanity has ever seen after the sun. The unbearable irony of the brightest light being the source of the greatest destructive power we've ever invented is Potok's main subject, but if my description is tedious, the novel isn't at all. It really is a great book.
September 22, 2012
Chaim Potok may well write the best books I've ever read. He has the capacity of creating a world and filling it with detail but also of probing deeply into the human heart. His characters feel alive. Their thoughts are profound, moving, changing, and growing. Their hearts are huge, empathetic, yet aware of their shortcomings. Religion and politics form firm foundations in their lives but do not disrupt their personal and emotional growth. One comes away with the feeling that any other characters or institutions that are touched by his characters are better for it. I am constantly amazed by Potok's writings and hope to revisit all of them many times in my future.
January 30, 2023
Chaim is one of my fave novelists. My review of My Name is Asher Lev is on Goodreads somewhere. I like his style and I like his ongoing theme of breaking away from constrictive and restrictive religion and being free to find Light that is real and inclusive.
“The Book of Lights is a 1981 novel by Chaim Potok about a young rabbi and student of Kabbalah whose service as a United States military chaplain in Korea and Japan after the Korean War challenges his thinking about the meaning of faith in a world of "light" from many sources.” (Wiki)
“The Book of Lights is a 1981 novel by Chaim Potok about a young rabbi and student of Kabbalah whose service as a United States military chaplain in Korea and Japan after the Korean War challenges his thinking about the meaning of faith in a world of "light" from many sources.” (Wiki)
June 15, 2020
This book is the story of a young man who was too young to fight in World War II but came of age in time to get caught up in the Korean War.
Actually, the Korean War ended in '53, but the troops were still there. Policing the demilitarized zone? I'm not quite clear, but there they were.
The description of Gershon Loran is quaint, in that the fact of his unsuspected talent is heralded by visions, mystical experiences, and mood issues. Helpfully, I had just read a Kierkegaard write-up in The New Yorker in which Adam Kirsch reminds us of how that has changed. Kierkegaard's out-of-whack temperament, which these days would be a ticket to therapy -- in hopes of more normal functioning -- served in those days as annunciation of his genius. But that was a while ago, while this book was published in 1981, in other words, practically yesterday, relatively speaking.
I enjoyed the quaintness. But the contrast of Talmud studies with Kabbalah in the book proved a stumbling block for me as I approached p. 100, the one being described as dry and legalistic while the other is mystical and magical. That may be somewhat dated, too, given books like If All the Seas Were Ink: A Memoir and given the thousands taking up Daf Yomi. Never fear, though: within the scope of the book, the dichotomy is resolved, what with both his mentors, professor of Talmud as well as of Kabbalah, coming to inhabit his mystical visions as his guides.
Somehow the book remains realistic despite the occasional visions and visitations, since the goings on remain just that, rather than magical realism.
There was another interlude toward the end, some sort of visitation that didn't resonate with me, but that, too, passed, and the story caught me up once again.
I enjoyed the characterization, despite having to laugh a little at the number of times in the first part of the book that Gershon says or does something without knowing how, as though sleepwalking into success. He writes impressive, even award-winning academic reports without realizing it! Later, after academic success and rabbinical ordination, he goes off to Korea as a Jewish chaplain and comes into his own. What this reminded me of, more than anything, is Annie Proulx's protagonist in The Shipping News. That's what I remember, anyway, from 25 years ago, a man whose strength is revealed to himself and the reader simultaneously. Of course, Proulx does it more efficiently and with fewer words, but still, this one's good, too.
The Book of Lights contained other themes as well, but this is what was important to me.
Who knew how cold it gets in Korea! And, with the Army still there in 1956, that there was a sudden spurt of antisemitism (the only such in the book) along with fear of World War III that accompanied the Suez Canal crisis.
The ending met my criteria, too. Not sure what those criteria are; not necessarily happy, but good; meets the demands of the character and the story.
Note: the Jewish chaplains had had to be more or less drafted since, according to the book, enough Protestants and Catholics had volunteered for duty, in contrast to Jews. Reminds me a little of the Philip Roth story Defender of the Faith.
Second note: throughout the book I kept meaning to look up Jamesway. "Hey Google" has made me lazy; all she could tell me this time was that it was a line of department stores. So I just did look it up: it's a particular brand of Quonset hut, WWII-era prefab housing for the military.
Actually, the Korean War ended in '53, but the troops were still there. Policing the demilitarized zone? I'm not quite clear, but there they were.
The description of Gershon Loran is quaint, in that the fact of his unsuspected talent is heralded by visions, mystical experiences, and mood issues. Helpfully, I had just read a Kierkegaard write-up in The New Yorker in which Adam Kirsch reminds us of how that has changed. Kierkegaard's out-of-whack temperament, which these days would be a ticket to therapy -- in hopes of more normal functioning -- served in those days as annunciation of his genius. But that was a while ago, while this book was published in 1981, in other words, practically yesterday, relatively speaking.
I enjoyed the quaintness. But the contrast of Talmud studies with Kabbalah in the book proved a stumbling block for me as I approached p. 100, the one being described as dry and legalistic while the other is mystical and magical. That may be somewhat dated, too, given books like If All the Seas Were Ink: A Memoir and given the thousands taking up Daf Yomi. Never fear, though: within the scope of the book, the dichotomy is resolved, what with both his mentors, professor of Talmud as well as of Kabbalah, coming to inhabit his mystical visions as his guides.
Somehow the book remains realistic despite the occasional visions and visitations, since the goings on remain just that, rather than magical realism.
There was another interlude toward the end, some sort of visitation that didn't resonate with me, but that, too, passed, and the story caught me up once again.
I enjoyed the characterization, despite having to laugh a little at the number of times in the first part of the book that Gershon says or does something without knowing how, as though sleepwalking into success. He writes impressive, even award-winning academic reports without realizing it! Later, after academic success and rabbinical ordination, he goes off to Korea as a Jewish chaplain and comes into his own. What this reminded me of, more than anything, is Annie Proulx's protagonist in The Shipping News. That's what I remember, anyway, from 25 years ago, a man whose strength is revealed to himself and the reader simultaneously. Of course, Proulx does it more efficiently and with fewer words, but still, this one's good, too.
The Book of Lights contained other themes as well, but this is what was important to me.
Who knew how cold it gets in Korea! And, with the Army still there in 1956, that there was a sudden spurt of antisemitism (the only such in the book) along with fear of World War III that accompanied the Suez Canal crisis.
The ending met my criteria, too. Not sure what those criteria are; not necessarily happy, but good; meets the demands of the character and the story.
Note: the Jewish chaplains had had to be more or less drafted since, according to the book, enough Protestants and Catholics had volunteered for duty, in contrast to Jews. Reminds me a little of the Philip Roth story Defender of the Faith.
Second note: throughout the book I kept meaning to look up Jamesway. "Hey Google" has made me lazy; all she could tell me this time was that it was a line of department stores. So I just did look it up: it's a particular brand of Quonset hut, WWII-era prefab housing for the military.
October 24, 2012
I haven't wept over the ending of a book in a long time. Today I cried as I finished reading The Book of Lights. I ask myself why I haven't read this one before and can't answer myself. I have read and re-read Asher Lev and the Chosen many times; I've read so many Potoks that I am infused by them. Book of Lights is slightly auto-biographical and conveys to me Potok's almost didactical urgency to commit his memories of the Orient to the written word. His terse prose relentlessly pulls me through passages that, in any other less adept hands, would have been dull, chronological. I love the way Potok paints details with a dry brush: sparse, clear, just the right amount of detail. He contrasts the gray reality of academia and day to day life with brilliant passages of mysticism and transcendence. And, as in nearly all his works, Potok introduces us to giants of faith, art, and science. He affirms the gifts given to men, that they are burdens of inestimable weight and glory that only a few are able to bear. I am always inspired, by reading his works, to kindle whatever tiny flame has been given to me, to bear it with hope and dignity and truth.
June 21, 2016
This is a very heavy, intense book, different in many ways from the other Potoks I've read. A dark cloud of what can only be described as hopelessness and doom hangs over the whole book, which is understandable because it's about darkness of the human soul and atomic bombs and builds towards a visit to Hiroshima. He uses very little plot in The Book of Lights, relying instead on inner struggle and psychological studies. The effect is quite dreamlike.
Two Jewish rabbinical students become chaplains after the Korean war and struggle with their own demons and doubts. The Jewish mystical elements are interesting, but not too well explained -- I guess that's part of mysticism, isn't it?
Not my favorite read, but if you like Chaim Potok, it's worth it. Don't read it during the winter, though, that would be too depressing!
Two Jewish rabbinical students become chaplains after the Korean war and struggle with their own demons and doubts. The Jewish mystical elements are interesting, but not too well explained -- I guess that's part of mysticism, isn't it?
Not my favorite read, but if you like Chaim Potok, it's worth it. Don't read it during the winter, though, that would be too depressing!
June 9, 2024
I am in constant admiration of the works by this author.
Last year, inadvertently, I went to see the “Oppenheimer” film in a theatre. I seldom go to view films.
I was familiar with the man from my readings, but I was completely unaware of this brand-new cinematic offering.
I did not enjoy the movie.
Fast-forward to today and I have just read this new (to me) installment by Potok.
The background of this novel is the association of its characters with the creation and destruction of two large cities in Japan during World War two.
But beyond this, the author is a servant to, and a processor of, humanity beyond the event.
He creates the character’s mindsets to interpret the action that occurred, for us, its’ audience.
These protagonists are Talmudists and Kabbalists. One can be both.
Therein lies the conflict, devotion v. Actions.
The delivery is noble and sincere and satiates this reader’s palate.
Unlike the movie.
Last year, inadvertently, I went to see the “Oppenheimer” film in a theatre. I seldom go to view films.
I was familiar with the man from my readings, but I was completely unaware of this brand-new cinematic offering.
I did not enjoy the movie.
Fast-forward to today and I have just read this new (to me) installment by Potok.
The background of this novel is the association of its characters with the creation and destruction of two large cities in Japan during World War two.
But beyond this, the author is a servant to, and a processor of, humanity beyond the event.
He creates the character’s mindsets to interpret the action that occurred, for us, its’ audience.
These protagonists are Talmudists and Kabbalists. One can be both.
Therein lies the conflict, devotion v. Actions.
The delivery is noble and sincere and satiates this reader’s palate.
Unlike the movie.
March 28, 2008
I re-read Potok’s Book of Lights. I picked it up because Sunday I am preaching on light and I thought it would help me. The Kabballa is a major charcter, and is only one illusion of light. It is a difficult book. Much of the story centers around Arthur Leiden’s struggle because his father is one of the Jews who made the A-bomb. Much takes place in Korea. I couldn’t help but think about Charlie's distress at having worked at Oak Ridge during that time. One paragraph kept calling me back in which a professor is speaking to Gerson (Arthur’s best friend) after Arthur is killed in a plane crash “what is of importance is not that there may be nothing. We have always acknowledged that as a possibility. What is important is that if indeed there is nothing, then we should be prepared to make something out of the only thing we have left to us – ourselves
May 2, 2015
Gershon Loran and Arther Leiden are rabbinical students and roommates. Each wrestles with his own demons along with his studies. For Gershon, it is the abandonment issues by family. For Arther, it is his relationship with his father who was part of the team that developed the atomic bomb. A declaration is made that all rabbinical students must serve in the US military for two years following graduation. This is set in the years of and just after the Korean War. Gershon finds himself posted to Korea working with the US troops, especially the Jewish members.
I enjoyed this but not as much as other Potok books I've read set exclusively in the NYC boroughs. But it was interesting to read of the Jewish military ranks and the efforts to maintain the festivals. I've read other novels that have dealt with war military service, but none specifically with a Jewish perspective.
I enjoyed this but not as much as other Potok books I've read set exclusively in the NYC boroughs. But it was interesting to read of the Jewish military ranks and the efforts to maintain the festivals. I've read other novels that have dealt with war military service, but none specifically with a Jewish perspective.
March 5, 2018
Conservo bei ricordi legati a varie letture di Potok - “Danny l'eletto”, “Il mio nome è Asher Lev”, “La scelta di Reuven” -, ma “Il libro delle luci” non mi è parso all'altezza: sempre formalmente buona la scrittura, se non ottima, la storia che Potok racconta è una lunga promessa, con filoni potenzialmente interessanti che presto si spengono e personaggi perennemente incerti che sempre subiscono. Restano i bei ricordi.
September 28, 2011
My review of The Book of Lights, written in the manner of The Book of Lights:
Gershon Loran drifts through life. He awaits kabbalistic revelation. Meanwhile, he sees visions and lets others choose his path. He is boring, boring. Arthur Leiden whines. He manipulates. He becomes obsessed with Japan. Because of this obsession, Arthur Leiden dies. I am not sorry.
Some years ago, I read other books by Chaim Potok. The Chosen, The Promise, My Name Is Asher Lev, The Gift of Asher Lev. I read with my head down, enthralled, carried to other worlds. Now I read Book of Lights. I read two paragraphs. I look out the window. I read two paragraphs. When will this torment end? I do not know.
A page-long descriptive paragraph begins. All dialogue stops. Potok tells and does not show. A section of dialogue begins. All description stops. Who is speaking now? I do not know. Are they happy? Scared? Having an orgasm? I do not know. I read a paragraph. I flip ahead. Is the ending retreating? I do not know. I am waiting.
Gershon Loran drifts through life. He awaits kabbalistic revelation. Meanwhile, he sees visions and lets others choose his path. He is boring, boring. Arthur Leiden whines. He manipulates. He becomes obsessed with Japan. Because of this obsession, Arthur Leiden dies. I am not sorry.
Some years ago, I read other books by Chaim Potok. The Chosen, The Promise, My Name Is Asher Lev, The Gift of Asher Lev. I read with my head down, enthralled, carried to other worlds. Now I read Book of Lights. I read two paragraphs. I look out the window. I read two paragraphs. When will this torment end? I do not know.
A page-long descriptive paragraph begins. All dialogue stops. Potok tells and does not show. A section of dialogue begins. All description stops. Who is speaking now? I do not know. Are they happy? Scared? Having an orgasm? I do not know. I read a paragraph. I flip ahead. Is the ending retreating? I do not know. I am waiting.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 14, 2020
It had been a long time since I read a Chaim Potok book. I recently read In The Beginning, which followed along for me the same path as most of his other books. A story about an Orthodox family set in a certain period dealing with life, Antisemitism and the challenges of the times.
The Book of Lights is a much different book set eight years after the the end of WW II. It gives the feeling of a lost generation. One of the protagonists in the story feels great guilt over the dropping of the atomic bomb.
This was Potok 2.0. Extremely cerebral, very slow in movement. The book is broken into three parts and centers around two Seminary room mates who are doing rabbinical studies together. The first part is about their time at the seminary. For me it was very long and tedious reading. The second part dealt with their time in Korea as Army chaplains and the third part deals with their Journey to Hong Kong and Japan.
My impressions of the book are mixed, first I think you will get more out of the story if you have a knowledge of Kabbalah and/or Torah. I did not. What I did find interesting was the perspective of one who had lived in Los Alamos as a child and then had to deal with the aftermath of having a father who was one of the architects of the Atomic bomb. The Book of Lights is a book about two men trying to find their place in the world and at the same time deal with the demons that haunt them.
The Book of Lights is a much different book set eight years after the the end of WW II. It gives the feeling of a lost generation. One of the protagonists in the story feels great guilt over the dropping of the atomic bomb.
This was Potok 2.0. Extremely cerebral, very slow in movement. The book is broken into three parts and centers around two Seminary room mates who are doing rabbinical studies together. The first part is about their time at the seminary. For me it was very long and tedious reading. The second part dealt with their time in Korea as Army chaplains and the third part deals with their Journey to Hong Kong and Japan.
My impressions of the book are mixed, first I think you will get more out of the story if you have a knowledge of Kabbalah and/or Torah. I did not. What I did find interesting was the perspective of one who had lived in Los Alamos as a child and then had to deal with the aftermath of having a father who was one of the architects of the Atomic bomb. The Book of Lights is a book about two men trying to find their place in the world and at the same time deal with the demons that haunt them.
February 5, 2013
Imagine what life would be like if your parent helped to invent the atomic bomb.
Anything Potok writes is sure to be breathtaking, but it took a good 300 pages for me to get into this one. Gershon is so emotionally unavailable that I had a hard time liking him. He wanders thru life with no passion or purpose. He simply goes thru the motions of living.
I liked the way Gershon encounters new people once he gets to Korea. While Gabriel Rosen, a fellow Jew, appalls him, his Mormon assistant gives him a since of security. In Hong Kong a Muslim family welcomes him. In Japan he encounters his shared humanity and devotion to the divine with people once thought to be a great enemy.
Finally it is Arthur's desparation to do or say something, (yes, do or say something Gershon!) that finally brings a little humanity to the story, for me anyway.
I loved how Potok juxtaposed opposites: light and dark, rich and poor, Talmud and Kabbalah, science and mysticism, east and west. Arthur's father tries to uncover the secrets of the universe through physics, Gershon tries through the study of Kabbalah. The atomic bomb goes off in such a light that even the blind can see it, and yet it brings the darkness of death. Was the bomb good because it ended the war, or was it simply evil.
Beautiful, thoughtful read.
Anything Potok writes is sure to be breathtaking, but it took a good 300 pages for me to get into this one. Gershon is so emotionally unavailable that I had a hard time liking him. He wanders thru life with no passion or purpose. He simply goes thru the motions of living.
I liked the way Gershon encounters new people once he gets to Korea. While Gabriel Rosen, a fellow Jew, appalls him, his Mormon assistant gives him a since of security. In Hong Kong a Muslim family welcomes him. In Japan he encounters his shared humanity and devotion to the divine with people once thought to be a great enemy.
Finally it is Arthur's desparation to do or say something, (yes, do or say something Gershon!) that finally brings a little humanity to the story, for me anyway.
I loved how Potok juxtaposed opposites: light and dark, rich and poor, Talmud and Kabbalah, science and mysticism, east and west. Arthur's father tries to uncover the secrets of the universe through physics, Gershon tries through the study of Kabbalah. The atomic bomb goes off in such a light that even the blind can see it, and yet it brings the darkness of death. Was the bomb good because it ended the war, or was it simply evil.
Beautiful, thoughtful read.
October 11, 2007
I began reading Potok as a teen, beginning The Chosen. It was like a fascinating peek into a world I had never known existed. I read this book earlier and didn't like it as much. But, I picked it up again as an adult and knowing more about Los Alamos and the history of the bombs and the people who grow up with their parents connected to the making of them provided me with a different level of connection.
I feel this book is one of his very best, different from The Chosen, and his Asher Lev's, and Davita's Harp. I marvel at Potok's ability to bring forth the beautiful layers of culture, faith, and humanity all while stretching the fabric of his similar themes.
I feel this book is one of his very best, different from The Chosen, and his Asher Lev's, and Davita's Harp. I marvel at Potok's ability to bring forth the beautiful layers of culture, faith, and humanity all while stretching the fabric of his similar themes.
May 16, 2011
Potok never ceases to amaze me. When I finish one of his books I'm always left speechless, with a ridiculous grin on my face. This one is certainly one of his more insightful and provocative- there were moments where his rhetoric tended toward broader, perhaps overly-romanticized statements-- but I don't care because I love him, and he can't do any wrong in my eyes. My favorite quote:
[Truth said]: "Why do you shield your eyes behind your hands? Is my darkness too keen, too bright?...There is some merit in darkness. There are times when light is a menacing distraction...
"I leave now. It is almost light; your illusions will soon return."
[Truth said]: "Why do you shield your eyes behind your hands? Is my darkness too keen, too bright?...There is some merit in darkness. There are times when light is a menacing distraction...
"I leave now. It is almost light; your illusions will soon return."
July 6, 2016
I was struck with his patience in writing. His patience lets you enter deeply into the story. I think some would describe his books as slow, but I don't find that accurate. He is willing to let many, many little moments build toward powerful insights into life.
This book has another Jewish seminary student, Gershon Loren, but this one studies Kabbalah. His roommate, Arthur, and later friend is the son of one of the physicists who worked on the atomic bomb with Einstein and others. He stands and tries to live in that great shadow. National defense needs Jewish chaplains for the Korean conflict which has come to a standstill but with US army still occupying. They are conscripted into service.
(Chaim Potok was a chaplain in the Korean conflict). The seminary student, now chaplain sees a truly foreign place and a foreign land. He sees beauty and pain and suffering. He asks whether his God hears when the old Korean man prays in his temple. And he asks questions like this one:
Why do you make them suffer so, these people, this land [Korea]? Jews suffer because many think them to be the reconnaissance troops for the world, and such troops take the highest casualties. But to suffer merely because you are in the path of empires! How meaningless such suffering! Explain it. Please. [These are his prayers].
There was no answer.
Gershon remained silent. One does not act rudely toward a guest. They sat together in the darkness until the air grew cold. (200)
There is much here to discuss and much that impressed and struck me, but I will rush on to the culmination. The Chaplain is eventually joined by his roommate and together they take a trip to Japan. Arthur wants to visit Kyoto and Hiroshima. One city was saved and one was lost ... There is a vision and a voice "from the other side" which questions the chaplain about how it is to live in the shadows of the giants of the early part of the century ... to be the children and grandchildren of these giants who broke the world. And did he not flee to the ends of the earth, flee these shadows? This is the question he must answer.
One of his professors puts it this way at the end:
I will tell you, Loran. What is of importance is not that there may be nothing. We have always acknowledged that as a possibility. What is important is that if indeed there is nothing, then we should be prepared to make something out of the only thing we have left to us--ourselves. I do not know what else to tell you, Loran. No one is in possession of all wisdom. No one.(364-365)
This echoes something earlier when he is leading the festival of booths and sitting in his succah he has a vision and two of his professors visit him in this vision and one says to him:
Do you read, Mr. Loran? Do you study?
Yes, I'm trying.
Do not stop studying, Mr. Loran. In a place where there is no people, you be a person. (199)
I know this was a good book because I already can't wait to read it again.
This book has another Jewish seminary student, Gershon Loren, but this one studies Kabbalah. His roommate, Arthur, and later friend is the son of one of the physicists who worked on the atomic bomb with Einstein and others. He stands and tries to live in that great shadow. National defense needs Jewish chaplains for the Korean conflict which has come to a standstill but with US army still occupying. They are conscripted into service.
(Chaim Potok was a chaplain in the Korean conflict). The seminary student, now chaplain sees a truly foreign place and a foreign land. He sees beauty and pain and suffering. He asks whether his God hears when the old Korean man prays in his temple. And he asks questions like this one:
Why do you make them suffer so, these people, this land [Korea]? Jews suffer because many think them to be the reconnaissance troops for the world, and such troops take the highest casualties. But to suffer merely because you are in the path of empires! How meaningless such suffering! Explain it. Please. [These are his prayers].
There was no answer.
Gershon remained silent. One does not act rudely toward a guest. They sat together in the darkness until the air grew cold. (200)
There is much here to discuss and much that impressed and struck me, but I will rush on to the culmination. The Chaplain is eventually joined by his roommate and together they take a trip to Japan. Arthur wants to visit Kyoto and Hiroshima. One city was saved and one was lost ... There is a vision and a voice "from the other side" which questions the chaplain about how it is to live in the shadows of the giants of the early part of the century ... to be the children and grandchildren of these giants who broke the world. And did he not flee to the ends of the earth, flee these shadows? This is the question he must answer.
One of his professors puts it this way at the end:
I will tell you, Loran. What is of importance is not that there may be nothing. We have always acknowledged that as a possibility. What is important is that if indeed there is nothing, then we should be prepared to make something out of the only thing we have left to us--ourselves. I do not know what else to tell you, Loran. No one is in possession of all wisdom. No one.(364-365)
This echoes something earlier when he is leading the festival of booths and sitting in his succah he has a vision and two of his professors visit him in this vision and one says to him:
Do you read, Mr. Loran? Do you study?
Yes, I'm trying.
Do not stop studying, Mr. Loran. In a place where there is no people, you be a person. (199)
I know this was a good book because I already can't wait to read it again.
Read
October 22, 2007In all my Jewish exploration this is my first Chaim Potok book. A housemate lent it to me and I am excited about the juxtoposition of Kabbala and Nuclear doomsday and its not even sci-fi! Thanks Cold War.
The book was clear and straight forward but dragged. The guilt of the Nuclear bombing of Japan was salient but at times seemed melodramatic and the use of light as a symbol of divinity, through Kabbala, and death, through nuclear explosion, seemed forced.
The most valuable elements were the descriptions of life of a New York Jewish chaplain on a military base in Korea and his relationships with the rabbis at his seminary. It demonstrated that back in the 1970s Conservative Judaism was not so far from Modern Orthodox Judaism nowadays. A very academic Judaism that is devotionally observed but not completely isolating.
The book was clear and straight forward but dragged. The guilt of the Nuclear bombing of Japan was salient but at times seemed melodramatic and the use of light as a symbol of divinity, through Kabbala, and death, through nuclear explosion, seemed forced.
The most valuable elements were the descriptions of life of a New York Jewish chaplain on a military base in Korea and his relationships with the rabbis at his seminary. It demonstrated that back in the 1970s Conservative Judaism was not so far from Modern Orthodox Judaism nowadays. A very academic Judaism that is devotionally observed but not completely isolating.
May 24, 2008
This is my fourth Potok and he remains a favorite, to be sure. This book didn't disappoint, but unlike the other novels I've read, I probably won't read it again. If I could, I'd actually give it 3.5 stars.
This book deals with war--but (again) unlike the other books I've read and reported on here, it doesn't mix it with religion as a paradox like the Lev books did with art and Davita's Harp did with politics. Instead we get a book about the ethics of Atomic war from the perspective of those who created the technology and their progeny.
We even get a cameo from Uncle Albert Einstein.
The religion is still there, though. In this book Potok explores a different thread of Judaism, the mystical Kabbalah.
This book deals with war--but (again) unlike the other books I've read and reported on here, it doesn't mix it with religion as a paradox like the Lev books did with art and Davita's Harp did with politics. Instead we get a book about the ethics of Atomic war from the perspective of those who created the technology and their progeny.
We even get a cameo from Uncle Albert Einstein.
The religion is still there, though. In this book Potok explores a different thread of Judaism, the mystical Kabbalah.
January 15, 2013
Have you ever been reading an author that you hold in high esteem--and you're pretty sure that you've already read his best stuff--and then he blows your mind? THAT was my pleasant experience with this novel.
I've read both Asher Levs, The Chosen, and The Promise. In terms of Potok I was pretty confident that his best work lay behind me. I also felt as if I knew what to expect from his novels. Book of Lights, however, showed me a completely different side of this literary master. In this novel Potok explores the mystical side of Judaism, which is a topic that I found intriguing before reading this book.
Book of Lights is engaging, fascinating, and a delightful departure from anything else that I have read by this author.
I've read both Asher Levs, The Chosen, and The Promise. In terms of Potok I was pretty confident that his best work lay behind me. I also felt as if I knew what to expect from his novels. Book of Lights, however, showed me a completely different side of this literary master. In this novel Potok explores the mystical side of Judaism, which is a topic that I found intriguing before reading this book.
Book of Lights is engaging, fascinating, and a delightful departure from anything else that I have read by this author.
July 8, 2018
I read the Book of Lights when I was a 20 year old college student. It was the absolute right book for that moment in my life and that moment in time.
January 20, 2016
Sometimes when you run out of things to read, you can go back through all the books you really like and pick up the other books the authors wrote. I did that with Chiam Potok’s books and was delighted with The Book of Lights.
The story is an interweaving of two men and the way that greatness touches on both of their lives. On one student the greatness exists as an external source, he is surrounded by it. He is handsome, wealthy, intelligent, confident, a lightweight Jew; he carries the DNA and future-hope of those truly great persons around him. The other is orphaned, poor, a product of Eastern European slum mentality, introverted and is an Orthodox Jew because it is the path of least resistance. He encounters greatness and must decide how he will address greatness.
Through a series of events where fate is definitely lending a hand, the men end up at an Orthodox Rabbinical school and then roommates. Their relationship is odd. They are very different men, wildly different one might say. It is interesting that they both date the same girl, one prior to entering the seminary, the other during his studies there.
A new teacher comes to the seminary. A man who is a legend, but a rebel in the eyes of his more traditional colleagues. The man teaches Kabbalah, the forbidden book of Jewish mysticism. It is taught in his class as an academic subject to be studied, the history of the Jewish soul he calls it. Gershon, our introverted student begins to find in Kabbalah a scholarship that speaks to his soul. Charles the favored student begins to flounder a bit.
The Korean War intrudes upon the seminarians. The military has made a plea to the Jewish community for Rabbis to enter the military service. Compared to the other religions the Jewish people are not sending their fair share of chaplains. The seminary in effect drafts the graduating class of which these men are students. They will sign up for military duty or not graduate.
The section on the Korean War is a detailed description of life as a chaplain in a county where we have a declared official peace, but have not actually left. Korean makes a huge difference in the lives of the men and is a pivotal point in the under story of greatness.
The polemic I would like to add to the end of this review is about Kabbalah. It seems to have become a popular fad. How distressing and well, crass this must seem to the Orthodox Jewish community to whom this knowledge belongs. To be allowed to even study Kabbalah a student used to have to be utterly proficient in his or her traditional Jewish studies, at his point he would be ready to study the intimate soul of his ancestry. Seeing Madonna and the like swanning around with a bit of red string on her left wrist (they could just as easily get some red string from an ancient book of Celtic magic to protect themselves from evil spells.) was I must admit disrespectful to my mind. My sense of it being irreverent was of much heightened after reading Rabbi Potok’s book and gaining some understand about how Orthodox Jews view their history and this work’s place in it.
I believe I will save my spoilers in this review and let the reader find the outcome both men reach after the brush of greatness has passed near enough to be grasped. It is well worth the read.
The story is an interweaving of two men and the way that greatness touches on both of their lives. On one student the greatness exists as an external source, he is surrounded by it. He is handsome, wealthy, intelligent, confident, a lightweight Jew; he carries the DNA and future-hope of those truly great persons around him. The other is orphaned, poor, a product of Eastern European slum mentality, introverted and is an Orthodox Jew because it is the path of least resistance. He encounters greatness and must decide how he will address greatness.
Through a series of events where fate is definitely lending a hand, the men end up at an Orthodox Rabbinical school and then roommates. Their relationship is odd. They are very different men, wildly different one might say. It is interesting that they both date the same girl, one prior to entering the seminary, the other during his studies there.
A new teacher comes to the seminary. A man who is a legend, but a rebel in the eyes of his more traditional colleagues. The man teaches Kabbalah, the forbidden book of Jewish mysticism. It is taught in his class as an academic subject to be studied, the history of the Jewish soul he calls it. Gershon, our introverted student begins to find in Kabbalah a scholarship that speaks to his soul. Charles the favored student begins to flounder a bit.
The Korean War intrudes upon the seminarians. The military has made a plea to the Jewish community for Rabbis to enter the military service. Compared to the other religions the Jewish people are not sending their fair share of chaplains. The seminary in effect drafts the graduating class of which these men are students. They will sign up for military duty or not graduate.
The section on the Korean War is a detailed description of life as a chaplain in a county where we have a declared official peace, but have not actually left. Korean makes a huge difference in the lives of the men and is a pivotal point in the under story of greatness.
The polemic I would like to add to the end of this review is about Kabbalah. It seems to have become a popular fad. How distressing and well, crass this must seem to the Orthodox Jewish community to whom this knowledge belongs. To be allowed to even study Kabbalah a student used to have to be utterly proficient in his or her traditional Jewish studies, at his point he would be ready to study the intimate soul of his ancestry. Seeing Madonna and the like swanning around with a bit of red string on her left wrist (they could just as easily get some red string from an ancient book of Celtic magic to protect themselves from evil spells.) was I must admit disrespectful to my mind. My sense of it being irreverent was of much heightened after reading Rabbi Potok’s book and gaining some understand about how Orthodox Jews view their history and this work’s place in it.
I believe I will save my spoilers in this review and let the reader find the outcome both men reach after the brush of greatness has passed near enough to be grasped. It is well worth the read.
July 30, 2012
I've read several books by this author and I have to say that the style was very different but still effective. There are a lot of tonal shifts that reflect Gershon's drifting thoughts. It's a much more experimental style.
The book provided insight into how the wars affected young Americans at home and then in the service. Gershon's friend is guilt-ridden by his family's involvement in developing the atomic bomb. He is consumed by his guilt, driven to obsession with Japan and the Japanese people, taking a station in Korea just to spend as much leave time as possible there.
I had the feeling that neither main character was entirely well. Instead of coming across as weak, however, they were rendered with compassion and purpose. I felt like I understood what made them tick as people. I have always thought that Potok's great strength as an author is his ability to depict relationships between people and Gershon and Arthur's friendship is a great example of this.
The book provided insight into how the wars affected young Americans at home and then in the service. Gershon's friend is guilt-ridden by his family's involvement in developing the atomic bomb. He is consumed by his guilt, driven to obsession with Japan and the Japanese people, taking a station in Korea just to spend as much leave time as possible there.
I had the feeling that neither main character was entirely well. Instead of coming across as weak, however, they were rendered with compassion and purpose. I felt like I understood what made them tick as people. I have always thought that Potok's great strength as an author is his ability to depict relationships between people and Gershon and Arthur's friendship is a great example of this.
February 3, 2013
While The Chosen is much more widely known than this book, I found that The Book of Lights has stayed with me more closely through the years and is the one I claim as a guiding force. For me, it is a book that transcends the Jewish perspective and presents a meditative/contemplative experience that people from multiple faiths can identify with. In the years since I've read the book, I've found it interesting to compare it to works from other traditions such as The Cloud of Unknowing, a Christian contemplative work from the Middle Ages.
The Book of Lights is not for everyone--many people may well find it boring. Others will find its historical aspect, its convergence of cultures and beliefs, and its depiction of mysticism to be deeply rewarding. The scenes on the rooftop and the scenes with Gershon and his Mormon driver travelling through war-torn Korea portray what it is like to make that fleeting realization that something does indeed lie beyond the veil. . .
The Book of Lights is not for everyone--many people may well find it boring. Others will find its historical aspect, its convergence of cultures and beliefs, and its depiction of mysticism to be deeply rewarding. The scenes on the rooftop and the scenes with Gershon and his Mormon driver travelling through war-torn Korea portray what it is like to make that fleeting realization that something does indeed lie beyond the veil. . .
November 18, 2015
This is my favourite Potok book so fa. I liked it much better than The Chosen, My Name Is Asher Lev, and The Promise,more than Wanderings, and even than Davita's Harp. ;I became immersed in the story, cared about the major the characters including the Kabbalah, wondered about others, accessible mysticism (it even made sections of The Zohar understandable!), history, fascinating debates and ambiguity. I kept finding quotes that I want to remember, but soon realized that I'd have to underline lines on almost every page. There were a few loose ends, hints of further aspects to these family histories, but these loose ends didn't detract from the novel. In real life, the stories we tell each other or even ourselves don't include every detail. If they did, we'd never be able to leave the conversation.
I'm glad I read this, and will probably read it again.
I'm glad I read this, and will probably read it again.
August 5, 2020
This is honestly one of my favorite books of all time. I first read it decades ago, and with all the current crises, I found myself picking it up again. Cover-to-cover it still was thrilling, for its careful inquiry into moral and religious issues surrounding human evil and the damage done. Those who believe they are doing right--here in their involvement in the development of nuclear weapons--can end up on the wrong side of history, doing damage even to their own children. And finally, the whole problem of the Jewish religious approach of the Talmud, with all its rules, in contrast to a mystical approach, which allows a process for wrestling with the mystery of an anthropomorphic god who allows, and perhaps has even created, aspects of human existence so troubling it becomes difficult even to believe in G-d. All done with good fiction-writing skills. I just love this book!
June 11, 2008
Like many Potok novels, the philosophical debate between the Talmud and Kabbalah underlines the action. However, in this case Gershon, our hero, has decided to follow the path of the Kabbalah "light". What I really loved about this book was the evolution of the protagonist: seeing Gershon transform from a guilty, sad, powerless young man to a leader and source of strength to those around him.
As the book moves into Korea and then Japan, we get to glimpse the Far East in the 1950's. I've never read a book about the Korean War nor one about the dropping of the bomb in Japan. I enjoyed this part of the book as well, but ultimately, it was Gershon's relationship with his "New England" friend Arthur, and his personal spiritual struggle that kept me fascinated.
As the book moves into Korea and then Japan, we get to glimpse the Far East in the 1950's. I've never read a book about the Korean War nor one about the dropping of the bomb in Japan. I enjoyed this part of the book as well, but ultimately, it was Gershon's relationship with his "New England" friend Arthur, and his personal spiritual struggle that kept me fascinated.
December 5, 2021
Maybe not fully a five, but I give it the benefit of the doubt. The book has a spiritual quality of a different flavor, perhaps derived from the Kabballah, which is quoted throughout, perhaps from the visions which appear to Gershon, the protagonist, and the voices with which he battles, perhaps from the ambivalence and aimlessness which surrounds him.
But a Potok novel is always a fine read. The prose is easy, the characters well drawn and interesting, and even if the first half has the lethargy of a New York summer, it all builds up to a powerful ending. A shame there is no sequel ... or can we invent one for ourselves?
But a Potok novel is always a fine read. The prose is easy, the characters well drawn and interesting, and even if the first half has the lethargy of a New York summer, it all builds up to a powerful ending. A shame there is no sequel ... or can we invent one for ourselves?
January 20, 2020
An incredible, mesmerizing book...I've bought copies and given it to friends who I thought absolutely must read it because it's just that good. I don't even think I own a copy anymore because I keep giving it away. The world, the characters, how Potok so brilliantly and intricately deals with the themes of friendship, family, love, guilt, war, and the aftermath of an atomic history...all within the gripping context of a student of Kabbalah, and his fascinating professor...made this one of my favorite books of all time. If any of these issues speak to you, read it. You won't be sorry.
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