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Our Assessment:
A- : charming early-career/crossroads novel See our review for fuller assessment.
Review Consensus: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review: The Certificate is narrated by eighteen-year-old David Bendiger, a would-be author who begins by admitting: "I'd already lost the best years of my life reading books without much purpose". The Spinoza-obsessed young man has fled the backwater Byaledrevne where his father is a rabbi, the book beginning with his arrival in Warsaw, in 1922. He comes with practically nothing, but he knows: I had to do my best to stay in Warsaw. If I buried myself once more in Byaledrevne, I would be utterly lost.In fact, he has a possibly greater opportunity: a letter waiting for him opens the door to emigration, the possibility of him getting the much-sought-after certificate that would allow him to go to Palestine. David has some doubts -- he's turned to writing in Yiddish, and understands that there's probably not much need for Yiddish writers in the new Jewish homeland ("Yiddish, a language no one except a few primitives can understand. It's not a language at all. Only a dialect, a mishmash", he's reminded even in Poland) -- but there should be enough opportunities there. The certificate is good for a married couple, too, so David agrees to a sham-wedding with Minna, who wants to emigrate to join her waiting fiancé. But the getting and processing of documents takes a while, so David has to bide his time in Warsaw. As David repeatedly observes, these are tumultuous times. He notes that: "At eighteen and a half, I had already lived through entire epochs". The First World War and the still ongoing Russian Revolution have caused great changes in these regions -- not least in Warsaw itself. Much here is still oriented more towards the east than the west, with many drawn to the new Soviet Union; David's older brother is among those who ventured there (though over the course of the novel he too returns to Warsaw, with wife and child). In this time of great upheaval, David is trying to find himself, and to try to make some sort of a future for himself. Teaching didn't work out, and his writings are still early, unpolished efforts. He realizes he is inexperienced, and admits: "My own life seemed dreary, personally and ideologically". Like many, he no longer embraces religion, having distanced himself from his father's orthodoxy. He's hardly alone; as one person observes: The present generation is neither one thing nor the other. They don't want to be Jews, and they aren't allowed to be Gentiles.All this leaves him in without much of an anchor: I had the painful feeling I had ceased to be myself and was unable to become someone else.With little money, he struggles to get by, renting a windowless room from two women, trying to teach Minna Hebrew, and hooking up with an older woman from previous times in Warsaw. He has "intimate dealings" with some of these women -- though the intimacy only goes so far, as only later can he say he has: "tasted of the tree of knowledge, as they would say in Byaledrevne". And for all his personal turmoil, many of those he deals with are going through a great deal too: Minna's family's house is emptied out because of the debts the family supposedly owes; one of the women he rents his room from is arrested; and eventually both his brother and father show up in Warsaw. David does get to sniff the air in the Writers' Club, too -- a big event for him -- and finds some support for his literary efforts, but he is very much still a young author, and far from finding his way. The novel closes with David's departure from Warsaw -- though the journey he embarks on is not the voyage he, or readers, likely envisaged, a melancholy end to the tale. The Certificate is a bit of a jumble, but charming and vibrant, capturing that mix of youthful enthusiasm and numbing reality well. The unsettled times make for a great backdrop too, Singer capturing Warsaw anno 1922 very well. Singer keeps it light, too, but there's actually considerable depth to all this -- appropriately conveyed by a still-teen who registers but can't really fully digest everything that's going on around him. There's some debate about whether this is an early work that Singer waited until 1967 to revive (as suggested by translator Wolf in his Postscript, where he writes: "It is impossible to shake the feeling that one is reading a very young man's book") or a late autobiographical return to the author's beginnings. Certainly, Singer captures the feel of the young author -- but there's also considerable maturity here, more (self-)awareness than might be expected from a younger author still so close to the events. Regardless, it is a fine and enjoyable work. - M.A.Orthofer, 1 March 2017 - Return to top of the page - The Certificate:
- Return to top of the page - Yiddish-writing author Isaac Bashevis Singer (1904-1991) was awarded the 1978 Nobel Prize in Literature. - Return to top of the page -
© 2017-2022 the complete review
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