This almost feels like an inverted ARE YOU THERE, GOD? IT’S ME, MARGARET in a way. Jewish kid moves out of the city and into the suburbs in the early ‘70s (all the way to New Jersey in Margaret’s case.) There’s some culture shock, friends drama, existential crisis…
Granted, Futterman’s version is a bit more gritty, though I’m not sure I’d say that means this book isn’t young adult. It’s pretty firmly rooted in 12-year-old Adam’s perspective, complete with italicized thoughts where he ruminates over his reality (much like Margaret does when she appeals to God!) But this book does feel a little more outward-facing about the world.
Anywho. The story starts shortly after Adam and his family abruptly move to another part of Queens for reasons that aren’t fully obvious to our protagonist until he goes down long rabbit hole discussions about teacher unions and shifting ethnic populations (his father was a Jewish principal at a school becoming more heavily Black. See the 1968 New York teachers strike.) There’s also the issue of Adam’s older brother, Seth, who, between the plight of Soviet Jewry and dangers to Jewish institutions at home, joins one of the “Jewish defense” groups, Betar: still a far-right group, alive and kicking today. :/
Queens, and more broadly New York City, is kind of a battleground. Adam describes his overpopulated school as divided into rival ethnic groups with rules about who can use what bathroom and gangs that beat up on "outsider" stragglers. Adam and his friends are mugged on the subway after attending a Yankees game alone. This is where they run into an elusive, “old world” Jewish character, who becomes integral to Adam’s story later.
Adam is preparing for his bar mitzvah at his Conservative shul, and “the Cantor” is an Orthodox, Romanian-born Holocaust survivor. As Linda Gradstein writes in the Jerusalem Post, “The Cantor was on a personal mission to rouse the congregation of lawyers, doctors, store owners, accountants, insurance agents, and even one assemblyman (although not representing their district) to vigorous prayer. The Cantor was going to roar his way into heaven and take everyone with him.” He ends up specifically tutoring Adam, who is smart, sensitive and obviously the protagonist of the story. :P
Adam’s relationship with the Cantor extends beyond the synagogue or the subway car. The Cantor takes an active interest in Adam’s life, even accompanying him to some places around town. The Orthodox have a reputation for staying stuck in their insular world, but the Cantor’s experience in pre-to-Holocaust Romania was like Adam’s writ large. Dude definitely needed to know some street smarts.
In other avenues, Adam’s conflicts are a little more domestic, like Margaret’s. He has a falling out with his original friends group, with behaviors mirroring the passive aggressive gaslighting usually reserved for describing female relationships. He ends up befriending two new boys, Michael Mason and Suvan Chakrabarti, who are decidedly more “of color” characters. (Fun fact: my dad also rolled with an ethnically diverse group of boys in his New Jersey middle-to-high school, with my dad being the Italian American. They’re still friends to this day.)
Another recurring theme throughout the book is Adam redrawing his “bar mitzvah dais” seating chart, that is, the family and friends he wants to sit with him on the dais/bimah for lunch after his big day. The seating chart continues to shift as Adam has to deal with social norms: like the reality that his “camp girlfriend” (they held hands on the bus or something) doesn’t see their relationship in quite the same terms.
So yeah. There really is a mix of innocence and experience in here. Fans might argue that’s indicative of growing up, after all.
The pacing is also a little rapid and choppy; sometimes I had trouble keeping up with Adam’s altercations and what they meant in the social pecking order. Futterman also didn’t hold the reader’s hand much with the Jewish content, which Pamela Schoenwaldt noted in the Historical Novel Society. “A glossary would be helpful,” she opined.
The bar mitzvah was surely an anchoring point of the story (the actual date comprising the final chapter of the book.) I also like how that performance arguably ties in with the more significant throughline of Adam’s bildungsroman; his transition into a “theater kid.” That’s a little bit misleading, since he doesn’t join the school play; instead, he adapts, directs and stars in a two-person scene based off of an encounter in Elie Weisel’s autobiographical DAWN. This experience is more a way for Adam to ruminate on his Jewish identity and the broader context of life around him in Queens, more so than his future as a thespian. :P
Jessie Szalay, writing for the Jewish Book Council, is a little more forgiving of the novel’s faults. “It can sometimes be difficult to understand exactly what’s happening around Adam, but that is only because Futterman is brilliant at depicting the murkiness of the world of adolescence,” she says. I will say this melded a unique time and place with some universal realities, and I’m glad I read it.