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Willy: A Novella
While Willy has neither the multi-generational sweep nor the moral gravitas of I. J. Singer’s family sagas, its themes are nonetheless timeless, its struggles archetypal. A father and son quarrel, and, in the process, a richly compact narrative emerges. Their respective stories define what is lost and what is gained in immigrant passage to the new world. The eponymous hero, Volf Rubin—Willy (Vili) Robin in America—is the rare agon who shares center stage with his antagonist, that is, his more voluble paterfamilias. The sententious Hirsh—modeled on the chief rabbi of Nyesheve and Singer's own painful childhood encounters with his savage brutality—tenaciously holds on to some of the more merciless pronouncements derived from a literalist reading and application of Jewish law. Such is the heavy baggage which, according to Volf, should have been left behind in steerage.Volf's lapsed Judaism is his father’s dystopian a collection of Halakhic transgressions, and worse, his renunciation of study. Volf’s school is the meadow, the farm, and the all comprise an idyllic revision of the scene of instruction. He is a devotee of nature, its flora and especially its fauna. Volf’s love for his horses is steadfast and “unbridled”: he holds on to their manes without the mediation of man-made straps of leather. Through an unforeseen turn of events and peripety, Hirsh finds undeserved recompense. Volf, on the other hand, has subverted his own life-long effort to spurn his father's spiritual patrimony. Hence the dual narrative of father and son, deriving from orthodox observance and heterodox dissent respectively, has been lifted wholesale from Europe to America and obtains with equal force on both sides of the Atlantic.
122 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1948
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About the author
Israel J. Singer
41 books95 followersIsrael Joshua Singer was a Yiddish novelist. He was born Yisruel Yehoyshye Zinger, the son of Pinchas Mendl Zinger, a rabbi and author of rabbinic commentaries, and Basheva Zylberman. He was the brother of Nobel Prize-winning author Isaac Bashevis Singer and novelist Esther Kreitman. His granddaughter is the novelist, Brett Singer.
Singer contributed to the European Yiddish press from 1916. In 1921, after Abraham Cahan noticed his story Pearls, Singer became a correspondent for the leading American Yiddish newspaper The Forward. His short story Liuk appeared in 1924, illuminating the ideological confusion of the Bolshevik Revolution. He wrote his first novel, Steel and Iron, in 1927. In 1934 he emigrated to the United States. He died of a heart attack at age 50 in New York City in 1944.
Singer contributed to the European Yiddish press from 1916. In 1921, after Abraham Cahan noticed his story Pearls, Singer became a correspondent for the leading American Yiddish newspaper The Forward. His short story Liuk appeared in 1924, illuminating the ideological confusion of the Bolshevik Revolution. He wrote his first novel, Steel and Iron, in 1927. In 1934 he emigrated to the United States. He died of a heart attack at age 50 in New York City in 1944.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
July 26, 2025
Young Volf Rubin learns early that “there weren’t a lot of them – the words – that these folks used, a scant several hundred. Beyond that they were silent.” He spends the opening pages chewing bread instead of verses, escaping mid-Passover recitation to rub down foals and toss pebbles at cats.
His father Hirsh, exasperated, didactic, and always storming into or out of rooms, declares his son’s ruddy cheeks a goyishe insult. As Hirsh rages through each doorframe like a prophet in a rented suit, Volf slips into barns, schools himself in animal tongues, and later deserts both God and grammar to join the Russian army.
When he marries a woman who smells of dust and horses, an actual sheriff in America decides the boy’s name for him: Willy. And so begins the American half of the tale, where Hirsh seeks a shtetl of his own making and Volf retreats into barns, backache, and boiled potatoes.
Israel Joshua Singer's pedigree – a rabbinic father, a Nobel-winning brother, and a tragically overlooked sister – gave him both the indignation and the restraint to write without flourishes. He once described himself as a boy “harnessed to the yoke of the Torah,” and Willy feels like the story of someone who gnawed through the reins.
Hirsh moves into his son’s American home and installs a house of prayer in the parlor. He roars blessings over Sabbath candles while misquoting Isaiah at breakfast. His wife is allowed to add two sentences to his letter, “at the edge of the paper.” Willy, meanwhile, finds religion in a newborn colt’s legs, as weak and trembling as any verse in the Song of Songs he once fumbled through. Their arguments lack dialectic; they swing like blunt axes. Hirsh shouts through legalisms; Willy speaks in oats. Yet there’s affection, as when Hirsh writes, “To my dear son, the longing of my soul, the apple of my eye,” and for one wild moment, they almost meet through syntax.
What emerges is a tale of parallel liturgies: one spoken in Hebrew and Yiddish, the other in hay. It’s also a sly retelling of Fathers and Sons without nihilists, or The Jazz Singer minus the music.
For all its quietness, the book echoes across continents. There’s Yiddish America with its fake rabbis and repurposed shtetls, Warsaw with its choked scholarship, Russia with its bleary-eyed deserters. Singer’s pacing imitates memory. It is elliptical, stubborn, unsentimental. The animals steal the show; the people stumble behind.
For today’s readers – heirs to noise, spectacle, and always-on connection – Willy offers a still, strong tonic. It teaches that disobedience can be a form of grammar, that exile sometimes begins at home, and that even a horse groom may be wiser than a rabbi when the sermon grows stale.
“...I’m interested in seeing what a kosher butcher shop looks like in this America of yours,” he said eagerly. In the well-appointed butcher shop, repainted white, in which there was not even a chip from a butcher block, stood a redcheeked, clean-shaven man sporting a prominent moustache who, with his white apron and shiny knife, bore a resemblance to a genuine pig slaughterer. And, just as non-Jewish in appearance was his assistant, a portly woman with dyed, platinum blonde curls. “What kind of meat can I get you, kosher or non-kosher?” asked the person in the apron. “Kosher,” said Willy. The butcher set down the non-kosher knife and took the kosher one in hand. He brushed aside a piece of non-kosher meat and put in its place a piece of kosher meat, carving from it with the large knife. Reb Hirsh grabbed the person with the apron by the hand just as he was slicing. “Don’t tell me that’s the kosher meat?” he asked in a state of shock. The man with the apron blew smoke from his cigar right into his face. “I’m soon going to have no more of this,” he said. “Only a few customers want kosher meat. The great majority buy non kosher. There’s no more business, so it’s no longer worth the bother.” Reb Hirsh stood paralyzed for a moment. He had heard when he was back in his old home that Jewish life in America wasn’t so wonderful, but such things his own eyes would not
believe...”
His father Hirsh, exasperated, didactic, and always storming into or out of rooms, declares his son’s ruddy cheeks a goyishe insult. As Hirsh rages through each doorframe like a prophet in a rented suit, Volf slips into barns, schools himself in animal tongues, and later deserts both God and grammar to join the Russian army.
When he marries a woman who smells of dust and horses, an actual sheriff in America decides the boy’s name for him: Willy. And so begins the American half of the tale, where Hirsh seeks a shtetl of his own making and Volf retreats into barns, backache, and boiled potatoes.
Israel Joshua Singer's pedigree – a rabbinic father, a Nobel-winning brother, and a tragically overlooked sister – gave him both the indignation and the restraint to write without flourishes. He once described himself as a boy “harnessed to the yoke of the Torah,” and Willy feels like the story of someone who gnawed through the reins.
Hirsh moves into his son’s American home and installs a house of prayer in the parlor. He roars blessings over Sabbath candles while misquoting Isaiah at breakfast. His wife is allowed to add two sentences to his letter, “at the edge of the paper.” Willy, meanwhile, finds religion in a newborn colt’s legs, as weak and trembling as any verse in the Song of Songs he once fumbled through. Their arguments lack dialectic; they swing like blunt axes. Hirsh shouts through legalisms; Willy speaks in oats. Yet there’s affection, as when Hirsh writes, “To my dear son, the longing of my soul, the apple of my eye,” and for one wild moment, they almost meet through syntax.
What emerges is a tale of parallel liturgies: one spoken in Hebrew and Yiddish, the other in hay. It’s also a sly retelling of Fathers and Sons without nihilists, or The Jazz Singer minus the music.
For all its quietness, the book echoes across continents. There’s Yiddish America with its fake rabbis and repurposed shtetls, Warsaw with its choked scholarship, Russia with its bleary-eyed deserters. Singer’s pacing imitates memory. It is elliptical, stubborn, unsentimental. The animals steal the show; the people stumble behind.
For today’s readers – heirs to noise, spectacle, and always-on connection – Willy offers a still, strong tonic. It teaches that disobedience can be a form of grammar, that exile sometimes begins at home, and that even a horse groom may be wiser than a rabbi when the sermon grows stale.
“...I’m interested in seeing what a kosher butcher shop looks like in this America of yours,” he said eagerly. In the well-appointed butcher shop, repainted white, in which there was not even a chip from a butcher block, stood a redcheeked, clean-shaven man sporting a prominent moustache who, with his white apron and shiny knife, bore a resemblance to a genuine pig slaughterer. And, just as non-Jewish in appearance was his assistant, a portly woman with dyed, platinum blonde curls. “What kind of meat can I get you, kosher or non-kosher?” asked the person in the apron. “Kosher,” said Willy. The butcher set down the non-kosher knife and took the kosher one in hand. He brushed aside a piece of non-kosher meat and put in its place a piece of kosher meat, carving from it with the large knife. Reb Hirsh grabbed the person with the apron by the hand just as he was slicing. “Don’t tell me that’s the kosher meat?” he asked in a state of shock. The man with the apron blew smoke from his cigar right into his face. “I’m soon going to have no more of this,” he said. “Only a few customers want kosher meat. The great majority buy non kosher. There’s no more business, so it’s no longer worth the bother.” Reb Hirsh stood paralyzed for a moment. He had heard when he was back in his old home that Jewish life in America wasn’t so wonderful, but such things his own eyes would not
believe...”
December 31, 2025
Ultimo libro del 2025 per me, ho terminato di leggerlo solo qualche ora fa: “Willy” scritto da Israel Joshua Singer [1893-1944] e pubblicato postumo nel 1948, é un romanzo che ancora una volta racconta lo scontro generazionale tra padri e figli ebrei che tuttavia non raggiunge i toni estremi di “La Famiglia Karnowski” ma rimane in un contesto di civile contrapposizione tra il figlio Volf che, esasperato è emigrato in America e rifattasi una vita frequentando Americani non ebrei e comportandosi come uno Yankee, preso dalla nostalgia si fa raggiungere dai genitori non immaginando che, a distanza di tempo, la diatriba tra lui e il padre riprenderà a divampare sia pur meno violenta.
Il modo di raccontare di Israel Joshua, anche se non raggiunge le vette qualitative del più noto fratello Isaac Bashevis, è accattivante e intrigante, interessante anche per conoscere e comprendere le usanze ebree, il loro modo di intendere la vita, i rapporti con la religione e le consuetudini quotidiane.
Il modo di raccontare di Israel Joshua, anche se non raggiunge le vette qualitative del più noto fratello Isaac Bashevis, è accattivante e intrigante, interessante anche per conoscere e comprendere le usanze ebree, il loro modo di intendere la vita, i rapporti con la religione e le consuetudini quotidiane.
July 22, 2024
Racconto breve, che fornisce un ritratto di un ebreo sui generis, un ragazzo "che non sembra un ebreo" per la sua mancanza di interesse per lo studio e, al contrario, l'amore profondo per la terra e gli animali. Il contrasto che ne nasce con il padre, studioso che odia la campagna in cui si ritrova a vivere, fa sì che Volf si allontani dalla famiglia e arrivi infine in America dove vive un'altra vita, con un altro nome, Willy.
La guerra e l'affetto filiale lo conducono poi a salvare i suoi genitori facendoli arrivare in America, dove il padre, all'inizio smarrito, riuscirà a costruire una Comunità ebraica dal nulla e nel nulla.
La storia di Willy ci mostra una condizione di diversità, quella di Willy, che comunque non è legata all'egoismo: Willy non riesce a dimenticare i suoi genitori e, alla fine, finisce per perdere il suo spazio, trovato e coltivato a sua immagine, trasformato dal padre in tutto ciò da cui era fuggito. Forse il significato è che le nostre origini non ci lasciano? Non possiamo semplicemente annullarle, ignorarle? E rappresenta l'eterno conflitto presente in ognuno di noi con le nostre diversità che sono poi particolarità.
La guerra e l'affetto filiale lo conducono poi a salvare i suoi genitori facendoli arrivare in America, dove il padre, all'inizio smarrito, riuscirà a costruire una Comunità ebraica dal nulla e nel nulla.
La storia di Willy ci mostra una condizione di diversità, quella di Willy, che comunque non è legata all'egoismo: Willy non riesce a dimenticare i suoi genitori e, alla fine, finisce per perdere il suo spazio, trovato e coltivato a sua immagine, trasformato dal padre in tutto ciò da cui era fuggito. Forse il significato è che le nostre origini non ci lasciano? Non possiamo semplicemente annullarle, ignorarle? E rappresenta l'eterno conflitto presente in ognuno di noi con le nostre diversità che sono poi particolarità.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews