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196 pages, Paperback
First published March 28, 1981
Two longer stories sandwich the other nine like bookends. The one called “Scheuderspitze” imagines a photographer in his twenties grieving the loss of his family and escaping to the Alps for a couple of years. The tale exaggerates the rigors by which he strengthens himself to scale the towering, icy peak. It intensifies his asceticism and embellishes his grandiose dreams, which feel more real to him than actual experience.
The final story, which gives the volume its title, follows a young man from his winter voyage across the North Atlantic to Ellis Island and then to Brooklyn. For a while, everything seems realistic and possible, but eventually, the story takes off in surreal flights of farcicality. It was this story that first attracted my interest because it was bound to be about immigrants and immigration.
Parts of these stories are funnier than anything in the repertoire of Groucho Marx or the buffoonery of Mister Bean. In the story “Letters from the Samantha” he describes an ape which the sailors have rescued out of the ocean. Once they have him aboard, though strictly against regulations, the captain and his crew face the dilemma of what to do next. The story presents the reader such a mixture of humor and sadness that the story if unforgettable.
A key to Helprin’s humor is his familiarity with the storytelling traditions of Jews, especially of rabbis. He neither promotes nor disparages Judaism or Jewish people, but he obviously has immersed himself in their culture. He served in the Israeli infantry and air force, and he has dual citizenship with Israel and the U.S.A.
Overall, it’s not plot structure that makes Helprin’s writing so marvelous, but style. To cite just one example of his style, consider this passage (p. 125) from the story, “Tamar.” The character has shown up late to a dinner party, and the only seat left for him is with “the children,” who are, in fact, teenagers.
They spoke as seriously as very old theologians, but ever so much more delicately; they pieced together their sentences with great care, the way new skaters skate, and when they finished they breathed in relief, not unlike students of a difficult Oriental language and must recite in class.
Reviewers have compared Helprin to other great authors—Joyce, Tolstoy, Kafka, and more. However, I prefer to call his writing incomparable or inimitable.
I didn’t know the writing of Mark Helprin before reading these stories even though he has published seven books, of which two others are story collections. I wonder how his writing has changed over the past 45 years. I now know that he has been a conservative pundit and is associated with the Heritage Foundation and the Claremont Institute. Does he support Project 2025? In Ellis Island he wrote:
For hardened hearts and dead souls are left to those who do not understand that we sometimes do grave damage to those whom we love. Hardened hearts and dead souls are left to those who harm an innocent and then do not embark on a life of careful amends. (p. 201)
When I read those words, I wonder if Mark Helprin favors seizing immigrants, detaining them in prisons, and deporting them to the places they fled. Like Thomas Jefferson, who wrote of equality while enslaving hundreds of people, Helprin might compartmentalize his values. This question leaves me troubled but answering it is beyond the scope of my review of his playful book of stories, which I recommend without reservation.