An evocative, elegiac love letter to New York City and the immigrant culture that continues to make it the most original and influential city in the world.
As the nineteenth century gave way to the twentieth, a surge of Jewish immigrants to New York City reshaped indelibly not only the culture of the metropolis but of America itself. Struggling to assimilate to a new world while reconciling it to the old one they had left behind, these men and women shared their most private hopes and fears in a series of letters submitted to "A Bintel Brief"—Yiddish for "A Bundle of Letters"—the enormously popular, deeply affecting and often hilarious advice column of the newspaper The Forward.
Conceived by Abraham Cahan, editor of The Forward, who answered every letter himself, A Bintel Brief transformed the fortunes of the paper, rapidly making it the most widely read Yiddish-language newspaper in the world. The letters that flooded into A Bintel Brief spoke with unparalleled immediacy to the daily heartbreaks and comedies of their bewildered writers' new lives, capturing the hope, isolation and confusion of assimilation, from intergenerational family politics and judgmental neighbors to crises of faith, unrequited love, runaway husbands, soul-crushing poverty and the difficulty of building an entirely new life from scratch.
Drawn from these letters—selected and adapted by Liana Finck and brought to life in her singularly expressive illustrations that combine Art Spiegelman's deft emotionality and the magical spirit of Marc Chagall—A Bintel Brief is a wonderful panorama of a world and its people who, though long gone, are startlingly like ourselves. It is also a platonic love story of sorts between Abraham Cahan and Liana, as they engage in a bittersweet dialogue that explores the pleasures and perils of nostalgia, even as it affirms the necessary forward movement of life.
Liana Finck is a cartoonist, illustrator and regular contributor to the New Yorker where she also authors the “Dear Pepper” advice-from-a-dog column. As the author of eight books, her work also frequently appears in The New York Times, The Atlantic, The Wall Street Journal, New York Magazine and more. She is the recipient of Fulbright, Guggenheim and New York Foundation for the Arts Fellowships. She teaches creative writing at Barnard College. www.lianafinck.com Photo credit: Jorge Colombo
There are already many reviews out there and I don't have much to add. I read a collection of A Bintel Brief letters and responses several years ago and loved it, and when I heard about this graphic adaptation (from a friend who is a Yiddishist and works for a Yiddish magazine) I immediately put it on hold at the library. This book is too short and the conceit (Abraham Cahan's silly, ghostly presence) a little distracting. But I still love the project -- the illustration of old forvartz letters -- letters written by immigrants trying to adjust to the 'new world', presented in a way that brings the humor, the tragedy, the existential angst and the time-period to life. I am not always in agreement with Cahan's advice. I think he cared a lot about people's struggles, and for the time-period he was writing in, he was fairly progressive. But as I read his more clear-cut responses, I wish I could reach back through the years and offer a little less "this is the answer plain and simple" and a little more "that sounds really complicated and hard." It is interesting to think about Cahan's almost rabbinic role as he responds to these letters, and his answers which are not always as talmudic as they might be, but maybe I wil read the book again with this question in mind (for it is short after all) and see if I can't find some hints of aggadah, and some questions answered with questions.
100+ years ago, advice columns were a thing, I'm thinking, this being the second book on them that I've read. It was the age of immigration, and many people were struggling to adapt. Here's my review of the psychotrauma-inducing Miss Lonelyhearts. But this present book, although also fictionalized, is not that. It's Liana Finck's tribute to the Jewish Daily Forward (Forverts in Yiddish) and its long-term editor's answers to the problems and stories of eastern European Jewish immigrants flooding into the country and, specifically, New York City at the end of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. That editor extraordinaire was Abraham Cahan, whom the author/artist reveres so highly that in her graphics his head is heart-shaped. The name A Bintel Brief means "a bundle of letters," every one of which the editor answered himself, even as the advice column rocketed the popularity of the paper upward. Advice columns were different than nowadays; the supplicants were often desperate, having nowhere else to turn and seeing the columnist (in this case, editor) as supremely wise and knowledgeable. This book is a sweet and loving picture of the immigrant New York of the past.
A Bintel Brief was published in 2014, but my read of it is timely, as Forward, having previously decreased in frequency and, in 2016, turned into a monthly magazine, has ended its 120-year print run and will henceforth be continuing in the digital mode only.
Abraham Cahan died at age 91 in 1951.
Kudos to the author! Her newer book, a graphic memoir which I have yet to read, is Passing for Human.
Jewish immigrants try to navigate a new world bravely; seeking advice that will connect them with traditional values. Haunting and humorous - a rare glimpse into a group of people coming to terms with finding a place in their new homeland. This is really a window into the past that is quite touching.
I grew up in Miami in the 1970s, when the southwestern suburbs were still heavily Jewish. But you don’t have to have a familiarity with Jews and the Old Country to love this slender book.
Liana Finck has crafted a beautiful book recording the heartfelt letters sent to The Forward, the Yiddish newspaper that introduced Jewish immigrants to their new homeland. Editor Abraham Cahan played Dear Abby long before Pauline Friedman Phillips (Dear Abby’s real name) was even born. Lovelorn ex-husbands, young emigres torn between the new world of work and the expectation of marriage, desperate shop clerks and many, many more turned to Cahan so that he advise them in the absence of the family they’d left in the Old Country. Even those with family here realized that a new land required new ways of doing things. Some of the letters are amusing; some are heart-rending; nearly all are universal. And Finck’s drawings, albeit modern, somehow add the perfect touch to this portrait of a most remarkable man. I wish I knew enough of the Kaddish to recite it for Cahan on the anniversary of his death, Aug. 31.
The plight of our world's refugees is a concern for all of us—or it should be, given that the vast majority of Americans stem from immigrant families who came to these shores for a better life. Each year, millions more are migrating around the world because of wars, poverty or climate change. As we respond to those families, we need to recall with compassion the sacrifices our own refugee ancestors faced for our benefit. That is especially true, I think, because most of them defined that "better life" they were seeking as a hope for their descendants.
That's us. And that's why I regard a book like this as "our story."
Today, I am adding this review to illustrate that I am not alone in feeling there is a deep connection with these men, women and children who either dared—or were forced to—leave their homes behind and circle half the world for a better life.
I won't detail my own family history here, except to say that some of my own ancestors fit this description.
Let me explain up front why I am giving 4 and not 5 stars to Lianna Finck's compelling collection of Bintel Brief letters transformed into a graphic novel. The reason is that some of the pages are printed in a light-blue ink and a good deal of Lianna's text (captions and narration) is tiny. I had to tilt my book and kept squinting through my trifocals to read some pages—so I need to be honest and give 4 stars because the creative team was not thinking clearly about "readability."
The overall plot in her book—the narrative that knits this together as a graphic novel—is a story about an old scrapbook she received from her grandparents that contained their favorite clippings from the Bintel Brief series. Liana tells us that, when she finally was able to read the personal stories in those clippings, they sprang to life so vividly that the spirit of the famous Forward editor Abraham Cahan seemed to leap out of the pages and talk to her.
As she chats with Cahan, they "read" various stories to us.
The first story is one of the most popular to Bintel Brief fans: the story of the family watch that was stolen by a neighbor.
I am familiar with that story, but what Liana adds to the tale is a vivid series of dark sketches in which the mother in the aggrieved family boils with rage at her neighbor's theft of their most precious possession. We really come to appreciate what a storm of emotions that poor woman experienced as she struggled with her feelings toward her neighbor. What makes this story so popular is that it does not end in that state of rage—or in vindictive violence. I won't spoil the story by revealing the ending, worthy of O. Henry, but I can say that the ending is a twist most readers won't expect. That's a major part of Bintel Brief's charm. We often don't know what's coming!
The final line of this graphic novel captures the theme of my review perfectly: "Some things simply can't be put into words."
I heartily recommend this reflection on the original Bintel Brief to readers, because in today's highly visual culture, Liana's sketches summon emotions that are not entirely conveyed in the plain text of the original letters.
And I do think that my enjoyment of her book was enhanced by having read the Shocken collection of actual letters before I dove into her illustrated tour through those neighborhoods—so I am repeating my recommendation of that book as well.
I decided to get this book because of a review I saw in Moment magazine. The author, Liana Finck, writes and illustrates letters to the editor that were published in the Daily Forward. The are framed via a relationship with the ghost of the editor, Abraham Cahan. She opens up a notebook full of Yiddish language newspaper clippings, and Abraham Cahan jumps out and starts talking to her.
Oddly, the same thing happened to me! My mother's maternal grandmother was German speaking, rather than Yiddish speaking. I had no idea that there was any connection between my family and Yiddish speaking New York. Then, after I bought the book, but before I read it, my mother mentioned that her paternal grandparents were best friends with Abraham Cahan! Apparently my great-grandparents held a `salon' he used to attend, and they would "summer" together. When I asked her if my grandparents spoke Yiddish she said "Of course!" (Really?) "My grandmother spoke eight or nine languages!" "She spoke Polish, Russian, German, Greek, Latin, French, English, Yiddish, and ..." I am afraid I have forgotten the ninth. So as I read the book, the ghosts of my family were speaking to me through the pages.
Abraham Cahan's responses to the letters are more philosophical than what you read in today's advice columns. He seemed like a good man; I am glad my great-grandparents had him in their lives.
This rating/review is based on an ARC I picked up at work. Also this is a review I wrote for my work blog Read @ MPL.
It's a very simple idea: a woman receives a notebook with newspaper clippings from the Bintel Brief, a long-running letter column in turn of the century Yiddish newspaper The Forward. When she opens this notebook, the ghost of Abraham Cahan springs to life and they read the columns as they interact in the present. This is the charming premise of Liana Finck’s graphic novel A Bintel: Love and Longing in Old New York.
Finck adapts 11 letters-to-the-editor, using a different style based on the content of the letter. The illustrations vary wildly from blocky and dark to spacious and delicate. The tone of the book is lovely and heartfelt, perhaps because she is a character in the narrative. As she reads The Bintel Brief, she gets to know centuries of New York immigrant Jews and she gets to know Cahan himself. It can also be difficult to interest younger people in 100 year old advice columns when there is so much else to read, see, and do. Especially when that advice was written in a Yiddish newspaper! Finck breathes new life into these columns. Plenty of life was there before, but I’m not sure they had an audience.
Every story in the book actually appeared in The Forward. These are real problems real people wrote in about. They are all a bit sad, but not in an outright weepy way. People sought advice about missing husbands, thieving neighbors, and embarrassing spouses; but at the core they’re all very respectful and earnest. Many people were haunted by the ghosts of the old world, which never seems to be far from their minds. The letters are borne from the everyday hardships of immigrant life, which is sometimes quite bleak but at the same time poignant and hopeful. These letters can tell you as much about peoples' lives at that time than any article about working conditions, poverty, or immigration ever could.
A Bintel Brief is Yiddish for a bundle of letters, and was also an advice column in The Forward, a publication that sustained Jewish Americans for decades. Finck tries to bring some of these letters to life, these stories of Jewish immigrants with real questions on a range of issues, by creating a kind of plot that links some of them, which is an interesting and not entirely successful or necessary idea. The letters are great, the art affectionate and the total effect is sweet and heart-wrenching, still. You don't have to be Jewish to like this project, which Linck dedicates to her grandmother… we all had or have grandparents who have stories worth listening to.
Read this for an upcoming interview with Liana Finck, but I had planned to read it anyhow. Being a fan of Abraham Cahan's fiction, and fascinated with the history of The Forward, this book was a must read for me from the get go. Finck's rendering of the Bintel Brief letters, the way she weaves her own story into them and explores a relationship with Cahan -- her relationship with her Jewish roots -- makes the book much more than a history or tribute to the past.
I ordered this book from the library based on Allie's review, and the really interesting premise, but it didn't come together for me at all. I thought the strongest material was from the Forward, and the author didn't really add much (either with her meta narrative or with her art). The source material was great and I was happy to see it being brought to light, but I wasn't super impressed with the use.
A small complaint is the 10-page Gallery of Missing Husbands offers no explanation of why their deserted wives placed these ads, while there were none of missing wives. According to Jewish Law, the only way a wife becomes unmarried is for her husband to die [with witnesses] or divorce her. She cannot divorce him and there is no legal way to declare him dead if he disappears. She remains in limbo, married with no husband. So even if she gets a secular divorce, or if a secular courts declares him dead after seven years missing, Jewish Law says she's still married and it would be adultery if she wed again. Any children she had with her new husband would be mamzers, cut off from the Jewish community. A Jewish man, however, is not limited to one wife [Abraham had two, Jacob had four], so he can remarry with impunity.
My main complaint, which is actually a compliment, is that the book is too short. How short exactly, I don't know, because there are no page numbers. But it took me less than a day to read the whole thing. My husband is a cartoonist, so I know how long it takes him just to draw one, but I wanted to dwell longer in this graphic depiction of the Lower East Side. I guess I'll have to buy my own copy after I return this one to the library.
Liana Finck opens a collection of old advice columns from the Yiddish newspaper the Forward and finds herself haunted by the stories of the struggling Jewish immigrants asking for advice (and by Abraham Cahan, the editor who ran the "Bintel Brief" advice column for the Forward). The visual style is Jules Feiffer with a surrealist bent: thin pen lines, noodle-flexible bodies, and characters getting swallowed up by silence or tangled in webs of their own regret and knitting. Cahan himself appears with his heart where his head should be, a lovely, poetic visual metaphor.
Finck sets up a rhythm to the book, opening each chapter with an illustrated letter, then Cahan's response, and finally a scene in the present, where Finck talks to Cahan about his work, trying to get a better sense of the mysterious editor. The letters were compelling and beautifully drawn; I wanted a lot more of them. But the moments in the present felt clunky and lacked the emotional weight of the letters, unbalancing the book. I think it would have been better if the moments in the present were occasional interjections, with the emphasis and page count weighted much more to the letters. Still, this is a really original idea, and the letters and beautiful, surrealist style keep calling me back.
Ever since I learned about the living conditions of the immigrants who lived on New York's Lower East Side tenements I have enjoyed reading about their plights. In this graphic novel, the narrator is... I believe haunted is the best word... by the spirit of Abraham Cahan, a writer and editor for the Yiddish newspaper The Forward. He shares with her 11 of the letters he received from people seeking advice on various matters as well as his printed responses. The illustrations vary in style and help convey the mood and tone of each letter.
As I finished reading the book, I found myself purchasing a book collection amassing sixty years of the Bintel Brief column. I look forward to reading them.
Although there are magical realism-like aspects to this, I believe that the basic concept comes from fact... the author sequential-articizes advice columns from a jewish newspaper in early 1900s NYC. Fascinating to see the concerns and heartbreaks of real people in that specific time and place and culture. Fairly engaging, but also relatively forgettable.
I wanted to like this graphic novel. I had read "A bintel brief", the book of the collected letters from The Forward, years ago and even think it is somewhere on my bookshelf. That book was intriguing . . . a large collection of letters written by immigrant Jews, seeking advice on everything from cooking to love to communism.
This book is a tale of a the editor of the Forward, as a non-evil dybbuk, who speaks to a young woman who receives a scrapbook of the some of the letters from The Forward. A true plot really doesn't exist. It is really letters strung together, with interjections in the real world whose purpose simply escapes me.
I wanted to like this, I really did. And I understand the desire of the author to reintroduce the letters to the Forward. I so enjoyed reading the original book of letters to the Forward (that resulted in my short lived subscription to the Forward in hopes of reclaiming some of the stories, though the Forward, properly, has moved on). Unfortunately, this does little to reignite that wonder. I felt like this could have been so much more...my advice, find that little book of MANY of the letters to the Forward and enjoy.
Finally, I have to say, the decision to go with a light blue, blurred font, was distracting in and of itself. Perhaps it was to give the "otherworldly" feel, but I found it distracting from the little story there was.
Adaptations of advice column letters to The Forward, a Yiddish newspaper from turn of the century New York. Essentially, it provides an encapsulation of angst about the generational and cultural divide between folks from the Old Country and their children and peers struggling to "be American". The irony of it all is that, as folks are advised on how to become more American, they're assimilating, losing Yiddish and the old ways, and putting the Bintel Brief and the Forward itself out of a job. It's nostalgic, melancholic, lightly inked, and pretty great. A unique use of the graphic novel medium, a gamble, but one that is pulled off successfully!
Picked this up little gem up in wonderful smelling bookstore in the West Village. Read it on the train home.
There's something wonderfully hopeless about peering at the past this way. The early 20th century is one of my favorite eras to read about - particularly when it involves Jewish immigrants; that might be because of my early reader's love of the All-of-a-Kind family.
A Bintel Brief is a heady hit of nostalgia, married to the bittersweetness of how the new world and old world meet in Lower Manhattan.
Liana Finck and I must have similar interests. She delves into a Yiddish, Socialist newspaper from 1906 called the Forward, specifically their sort of "ask Ann landers" section called the Bintel Briefs. She has edited letters from hopeful and tormented immigrants in NYC in the very early 20th century. They are amusing and sometimes heartbreaking and always accompanied by lovely, dream-like illustrations.
This is a sweet book focusing on an advice column in a Yiddish newspaper in the very early 20th century. My grandparents were Yiddish-speaking children in the old country then, but 10-15 years later they all came of age in New York City, where I imagine the column was still part of the Forward. Some of them may have read it regularly.
The book is structured as a fantasy, where the present-day author gets a notebook of clippings from the advice column from her grandmother. This is likely true. But then the editor of the Forward steps out of the envelope, alive and hearty, and accompanies the author not only on her quest to understand the columns, but through everyday life. I kind of enjoyed this, but also can imagine the book done as well or better without it.
I liked knowing how the column started and how the editor answered (and sometimes wrote) the letters. I loved the letters and the answers. They remind me of all the books I've read about that time and place, and of my grandparents. It's still another window into what life was like for them. I recommend it to anyone who likes graphic books and is even slightly interested in the subject.
Interesting insight into the problems people in the New York City Jewish Yiddish community of the early 20th century wanted advice on. The illustrations bring those stories to life as well as tie them to the author's own questions about life.
Cute surface-level illustrative interpretation of early 20th century letters to Abraham Cahan's advice column in the Jewish Daily Forward. The letters are interesting to read, but I'm personally not partial to the illustration style or the overarching story Liana Finck came up with.
This graphic novel alternates between illustrated vignettes taken from letters from "A Bintel Brief," the advice column of a Yiddish newspaper that served as a touchstone for Jewish immigrants in New York City in the early 1900s, and a present-day "real/imaginary" exchange between the fictionalized author Liana Finck and Abraham Cahan, editor and advice-giver of that newspaper. Finck depicts the vignettes and the interludes between her and Cahan with a surreal visual style that is whimsical, hyperbolic, and surreal at times. However, this does not undermine the drama of each reader's stories. Many of the letters touch on the readers trying to bridge the divide between the old and new world. I found the problems they faced fascinating - distant because of the cultural and generational differences, yet at the core very human and relatable. I found some of the exchanges between Finck and Cahan a tad disruptive or unclear, maybe because I was expecting a more straightforward narrative and the lines are blurred between real-life and imagination (and also I stopped reading the book for a forgotten reason and picked it back up several months later). These interludes switch around between telling the story of how Finck discovered the newspaper, dialogue exchanges in which she and Cahan talk about the readers's letters, and her having what I construe as romantic/familial feelings toward Cahan, who she depicts as a figure with a heart-shaped head. But in all, I enjoyed the graphic novel and Finck's visual style, and I think it is a fascinating depiction of the universality that exists within a certain time and place.
I picked this book up because I like sequential art (graphic novels), and it was about something I had no knowledge, a jewish (yiddish) advice column written at the turn of the last century.
Will Eisner, famous for The Spirit, also wrote several books about New York at the turn of the 19th to 20th century. If you have read those, or The Pushcart Wars, or Cheaper by the Dozen, you know a little about that time period, of the immigrants coming from the old country, and trying to make and find their place in America. New York held worlds of people, the Italians, the Germans, the Jews, all with their little community, and their own newspaper, and their own lives.
Apparently one such paper was called The Forward, and there was an advice column called the Bintel Brief. This was like any advice column, but the letters are unlike any you might find in the papers today. These told of old world and new world trying to mix together. Apparently there is a whole book translating these letters. This is not that book.
What this book is is the adoption of some of the letters, illustrated, and wrapped around with a narrative of how the ghost of the original editor comes back to read the letters to the cartoonist, and remark on how things have changed in New York. Unfortunately, this wrapping was the weakest part of the book.
So, that is the reason that this only gets three stars. It is a cool concept, and I enjoyed reading the letters, but found the in-between story not quite as interesting. Pick it up for that, enjoy these stories, and perhaps seek out the original volume A Bintel Brief edited by Isaac Metzker, of which I believe, there are two volumes.
What an ingenious concept for a graphic novel. The author (or some version of her) discovers a collection of advice columns, printed in a turn-of-the-century Yiddish daily, and explores them together with an apparition of the original editor. This is a must-read for anyone interested in Jewish history. The heart of the book reprints and illustrates the original letters and responses, giving a heart-breaking portrait of daily life in this community. For someone who already knows quite a bit about this topic, the letters introduced some new issues I had not previously considered. It was a fascinating way to think about the history, and I would love to read Metzker's larger collection of letters, printed under the same title. Also, the artwork was wonderful. The portraits of fathers partway through were particularly impactful. But the modern stuff, with the author and the apparition, just didn't work for me. Some editorial context was necessary, and the book would have suffered without it, but these modern stories paled so significantly when juxtaposed with the letters that I found myself wishing there were more letters and less of her. This might have been 3 stars if I weren't already invested in the topic, but because of that, it gets 4 from me.
A Bintel Brief is a collection of old advice columns for the Yiddish newspaper the Forward brought to life through beautiful, surrealist-esque illustrations. The story starts out with Liana receiving a scrapbook containing the collection of letter to the editor of the Forward and discovering that the stories come to life through the spirit of said editor.
The stories themselves are quite heartbreaking at times. They follow the lives of Jewish immigrants seeking advice on everything from heartbreak and love to communism and cooking.
Overall, I thought it was a nice change of pace and an interesting representation of immigrant stories. I enjoyed the whimsical elements of the illustrations, as well as the deep emotion of these letters.
From the description, I thought that there would be a richly detailed, atmospheric take on old New York, but that was blatantly incorrect. The artwork was minimalist and didn't really add anything to each letter, and I also didn't particularly like the style.
I would be way more interested in simply reading some of the letters sent to The Forward and the responses; at least with a larger sample you might get a better idea of who these people were.
Lotsa schmaltz; not much brisket. But really, really interesting if you are devoted to Yiddish history and the tremendous influence of The Forward. Which I am. And the manner in which the author leads one towards the legendary letters to "Dear Esteemed Editor" is charming, and in true Lower East Side style, clearly and purposefully intergenerational. The drawing is great---so all in all, enough to make a Yiddishe mama proud.
I really enjoyed this graphic novel. Though it does read quickly, I loved the minimal imagery (it's just a preference of style) and felt a sense of nostalgia and wonder at the end of the book. How many people have experienced such things, but never spoke about it? The flow between the characters in the book to the characters writing the letters transitioned well, in my opinion. It's one of those reads that leave you feeling thoughtful and quiet.