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Asher Lev #2
The Gift of Asher Lev
"Rivals anything Chaim Potok has ever produced. It is a book written with passion about passion. You're not likely to read anything better this year."
THE DETROIT NEWS
Twenty years have passed for Asher Lev. He is a world-renowned artist living in France, still uncertain of his artistic direction. When his beloved uncle dies suddenly, Asher and his family rush back to Brooklyn--and into a world that Asher thought he had left behind forever....
From the Paperback edition.
THE DETROIT NEWS
Twenty years have passed for Asher Lev. He is a world-renowned artist living in France, still uncertain of his artistic direction. When his beloved uncle dies suddenly, Asher and his family rush back to Brooklyn--and into a world that Asher thought he had left behind forever....
From the Paperback edition.
370 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1990
299 people are currently reading
4117 people want to read
About the author
Chaim Potok
69 books1,858 followersHerman Harold Potok, or Chaim Tzvi, was born in Buffalo, New York, to Polish immigrants. He received an Orthodox Jewish education. After reading Evelyn Waugh's novel Brideshead Revisited as a teenager, he decided to become a writer. He started writing fiction at the age of 16. At age 17 he made his first submission to the magazine The Atlantic Monthly. Although it wasn't published, he received a note from the editor complimenting his work.
In 1949, at the age of 20, his stories were published in the literary magazine of Yeshiva University, which he also helped edit. In 1950, Potok graduated summa cum laude with a BA in English Literature.
After four years of study at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America he was ordained as a Conservative rabbi. He was appointed director of Leaders Training Fellowship, a youth organization affiliated with Conservative Judaism.
After receiving a master's degree in English literature, Potok enlisted with the U.S. Army as a chaplain. He served in South Korea from 1955 to 1957. He described his time in S. Korea as a transformative experience. Brought up to believe that the Jewish people were central to history and God's plans, he experienced a region where there were almost no Jews and no anti-Semitism, yet whose religious believers prayed with the same fervor that he saw in Orthodox synagogues at home.
Upon his return, he joined the faculty of the University of Judaism in Los Angeles and became the director of a Conservative Jewish summer camp affiliated with the Conservative movement, Camp Ramah. A year later he began his graduate studies at the University of Pennsylvania and was appointed scholar-in-residence at Temple Har Zion in Philadelphia.
In 1963, he spent a year in Israel, where he wrote his doctoral dissertation on Solomon Maimon and began to write a novel.
In 1964 Potok moved to Brooklyn. He became the managing editor of the magazine Conservative Judaism and joined the faculty of the Teachers’ Institute of the Jewish Theological Seminary. The following year, he was appointed editor-in-chief of the Jewish Publication Society in Philadelphia and later, chairman of the publication committee. Potok received a doctorate in philosophy from the University of Pennsylvania.
In 1970, Potok relocated to Jerusalem with his family. He returned to Philadelphia in 1977. After the publication of Old Men at Midnight, he was diagnosed with brain cancer. He died at his home in Merion, Pennsylvania on July 23, 2002, aged 73.
In 1949, at the age of 20, his stories were published in the literary magazine of Yeshiva University, which he also helped edit. In 1950, Potok graduated summa cum laude with a BA in English Literature.
After four years of study at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America he was ordained as a Conservative rabbi. He was appointed director of Leaders Training Fellowship, a youth organization affiliated with Conservative Judaism.
After receiving a master's degree in English literature, Potok enlisted with the U.S. Army as a chaplain. He served in South Korea from 1955 to 1957. He described his time in S. Korea as a transformative experience. Brought up to believe that the Jewish people were central to history and God's plans, he experienced a region where there were almost no Jews and no anti-Semitism, yet whose religious believers prayed with the same fervor that he saw in Orthodox synagogues at home.
Upon his return, he joined the faculty of the University of Judaism in Los Angeles and became the director of a Conservative Jewish summer camp affiliated with the Conservative movement, Camp Ramah. A year later he began his graduate studies at the University of Pennsylvania and was appointed scholar-in-residence at Temple Har Zion in Philadelphia.
In 1963, he spent a year in Israel, where he wrote his doctoral dissertation on Solomon Maimon and began to write a novel.
In 1964 Potok moved to Brooklyn. He became the managing editor of the magazine Conservative Judaism and joined the faculty of the Teachers’ Institute of the Jewish Theological Seminary. The following year, he was appointed editor-in-chief of the Jewish Publication Society in Philadelphia and later, chairman of the publication committee. Potok received a doctorate in philosophy from the University of Pennsylvania.
In 1970, Potok relocated to Jerusalem with his family. He returned to Philadelphia in 1977. After the publication of Old Men at Midnight, he was diagnosed with brain cancer. He died at his home in Merion, Pennsylvania on July 23, 2002, aged 73.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 563 reviews
October 4, 2019
Acting Into a New Way of Thinking
“What a person does is what he is,” says the father of Asher Lev. This is the central theme of Potok’s book and, in a sense, it is the essence of Judaism. How one acts, one’s ethical impact on the world, describes everything that is relevant about a person. ‘Deeds not words’ may seem a mere shibboleth until it as taken as seriously as it is by the Hasidim for whom even the smallest and apparently trivial human act - entering a room, switching on a light, greeting one’s spouse or parents - has cosmic significance. In Hasidic Judaism it is punctillious behaviour toward others and towards the world - not belief, not intent, not doctrinal thought - which is the sign and carrier of one’s religion and therefore of one's self, one’s family, one’s society, one’s world.
Judaism in other words, not Ancient Greece, nor medieval Christianity is the origin of what has come to be known as ‘virtue ethics’, the idea that one can act oneself into a better mode of being. Put simply: the only way to be a better person is to behave like one. And ‘better’ has an operational meaning in Orthodox Judaism - that which brings the world closer to being a suitable dwelling place for the Almighty in the form of his Messiah. This is the world of the Torah, a world of hope and trust not of blind faith and formalized dogmatics. The difference is crucial. The Torah, and therefore God in the world, lives as it is acted out.
Judaism is consequently a remarkable ethos. It implies the ultimate salvation not of an individual but of the entire world based on the dedication of a quorum of individuals who choose how to behave properly toward one another. And salvation comes about not through one’s thoughts but through one’s relationships. That is to say, the spiritual force of redemption is present in human beings as a divine gift of creation which is in a way returned in kind when it is acted upon. It is possible to reject such an ethos but only by placing the power of human intellect beyond the claims of human responsibility to and for others.
It is, therefore, not inaccurate, although perhaps a bit unconventional, to say that humanity is the route through which God is redeemed within his creation. As one character notes, “Without man, what is God? And without God, what is man? Everyone needs the help of someone to complete the work of Creation that is never truly completed. Everyone.” The consciousness of this force in every act is the manner in which the gift of free will is acknowledged and respected. The Messiah will arrive when the world is sufficiently prepared by human effort. Our responsibility as human beings is therefore to act appropriately. Thinking, believing, and theologizing are optional hobbies.
Nevertheless, even in Judaism, conscious action can deteriorate into mere habit and stifling tradition. Behaviour then becomes fetishistic ritualism, little more than a mark of tribal membership. Its usefulness becomes that of political weapon or self-serving rationale for pursuing personal interests. Such a fate probably threatens all institutions not just religious ones. Doing things a certain way because they've always been done that way is more an ideology than an ethic.
Asher Lev's artistic life follows a parallel evolutionary path to that of his Hasidic sect. Both drive towards sameness for the sake of continuity rather than for improvement in the readiness of the world for salvation. Redemption is never finished; to assume otherwise is smug - in religion as well as art. Finding a way beyond the staleness of one's own conventions is as difficult for an individual as it is for a religious community. It takes a transformation, the force of which seems to come from elsewhere as a gift. We often call this gift ‘truth’ and it may not be easy to bear, so that it “must be uncovered slowly and with great care lest its fires burn and its power destroy.”
The form of this gift in Potok's story is literally a riddle posed by the Hasidic Rabbi. Acceptance of this gift - engagement with the riddle’s meaning - is also a return to its hidden source through which both Lev and his sect are renewed - artistically as well as spiritually. Then again, perhaps these are two ways of expressing the same event of a regenerated ethical awareness brought about by acting differently. It’s certainly a lot more effective than trying to think your way into a new way of acting.
Postscript: Also see: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
“What a person does is what he is,” says the father of Asher Lev. This is the central theme of Potok’s book and, in a sense, it is the essence of Judaism. How one acts, one’s ethical impact on the world, describes everything that is relevant about a person. ‘Deeds not words’ may seem a mere shibboleth until it as taken as seriously as it is by the Hasidim for whom even the smallest and apparently trivial human act - entering a room, switching on a light, greeting one’s spouse or parents - has cosmic significance. In Hasidic Judaism it is punctillious behaviour toward others and towards the world - not belief, not intent, not doctrinal thought - which is the sign and carrier of one’s religion and therefore of one's self, one’s family, one’s society, one’s world.
Judaism in other words, not Ancient Greece, nor medieval Christianity is the origin of what has come to be known as ‘virtue ethics’, the idea that one can act oneself into a better mode of being. Put simply: the only way to be a better person is to behave like one. And ‘better’ has an operational meaning in Orthodox Judaism - that which brings the world closer to being a suitable dwelling place for the Almighty in the form of his Messiah. This is the world of the Torah, a world of hope and trust not of blind faith and formalized dogmatics. The difference is crucial. The Torah, and therefore God in the world, lives as it is acted out.
Judaism is consequently a remarkable ethos. It implies the ultimate salvation not of an individual but of the entire world based on the dedication of a quorum of individuals who choose how to behave properly toward one another. And salvation comes about not through one’s thoughts but through one’s relationships. That is to say, the spiritual force of redemption is present in human beings as a divine gift of creation which is in a way returned in kind when it is acted upon. It is possible to reject such an ethos but only by placing the power of human intellect beyond the claims of human responsibility to and for others.
It is, therefore, not inaccurate, although perhaps a bit unconventional, to say that humanity is the route through which God is redeemed within his creation. As one character notes, “Without man, what is God? And without God, what is man? Everyone needs the help of someone to complete the work of Creation that is never truly completed. Everyone.” The consciousness of this force in every act is the manner in which the gift of free will is acknowledged and respected. The Messiah will arrive when the world is sufficiently prepared by human effort. Our responsibility as human beings is therefore to act appropriately. Thinking, believing, and theologizing are optional hobbies.
Nevertheless, even in Judaism, conscious action can deteriorate into mere habit and stifling tradition. Behaviour then becomes fetishistic ritualism, little more than a mark of tribal membership. Its usefulness becomes that of political weapon or self-serving rationale for pursuing personal interests. Such a fate probably threatens all institutions not just religious ones. Doing things a certain way because they've always been done that way is more an ideology than an ethic.
Asher Lev's artistic life follows a parallel evolutionary path to that of his Hasidic sect. Both drive towards sameness for the sake of continuity rather than for improvement in the readiness of the world for salvation. Redemption is never finished; to assume otherwise is smug - in religion as well as art. Finding a way beyond the staleness of one's own conventions is as difficult for an individual as it is for a religious community. It takes a transformation, the force of which seems to come from elsewhere as a gift. We often call this gift ‘truth’ and it may not be easy to bear, so that it “must be uncovered slowly and with great care lest its fires burn and its power destroy.”
The form of this gift in Potok's story is literally a riddle posed by the Hasidic Rabbi. Acceptance of this gift - engagement with the riddle’s meaning - is also a return to its hidden source through which both Lev and his sect are renewed - artistically as well as spiritually. Then again, perhaps these are two ways of expressing the same event of a regenerated ethical awareness brought about by acting differently. It’s certainly a lot more effective than trying to think your way into a new way of acting.
Postscript: Also see: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
January 20, 2011
I finished this book before I even had time to add it to my "Currently Reading" list. There will never be enough Potok in my life.
May 21, 2025
When I started this installment from Mr. Potok, the room where I read it was naturally dry.
Line by line, chapter by chapter, I survived the frissons of emotion. And at some point, I acquiesced. By the end of the tale, I became sober in my instability, and I allowed the sorrow that had always resided uncomfortably within to flow with abandon.
We have read a few authors in his phalanx, whose pens not only release ink and words, but somehow create an internal disturbance, even in a safe environment, while engaged in a leisurely activity.
Ab initio, Chaim Potok has deeply affected my world. From youth, he has been my go-to prophet, a personal angel who descends to remind me to read his works again.
He offers an avuncular arm around the reader’s shoulder and succor not easily found.
This secular yet spiritual reader is not sure why. There need not be an answer to every question asked. Most answers reveal little, and even then, they are suspect.
Gratitude, over and again, for the capacity to read this person’s efforts.
And that is good enough.
Line by line, chapter by chapter, I survived the frissons of emotion. And at some point, I acquiesced. By the end of the tale, I became sober in my instability, and I allowed the sorrow that had always resided uncomfortably within to flow with abandon.
We have read a few authors in his phalanx, whose pens not only release ink and words, but somehow create an internal disturbance, even in a safe environment, while engaged in a leisurely activity.
Ab initio, Chaim Potok has deeply affected my world. From youth, he has been my go-to prophet, a personal angel who descends to remind me to read his works again.
He offers an avuncular arm around the reader’s shoulder and succor not easily found.
This secular yet spiritual reader is not sure why. There need not be an answer to every question asked. Most answers reveal little, and even then, they are suspect.
Gratitude, over and again, for the capacity to read this person’s efforts.
And that is good enough.
September 21, 2024
This is a difficult review to write because it's a complicated plot and I don't want to give anything away. I'll begin by saying you need to read "My Name is Asher Lev" first, as this takes place 20 years after Asher was exiled from his Ladover Jewish community in Crown Heights, NY because of his art, in particular the 2 crucifixion paintings. These made him internationally famous and a force to be reckoned with in the world of art.
He moved to France, married, and had 2 children. His beloved Uncle dies and he takes his family to NY for the funeral. His daughter is 11 years old, intelligent and perceptive. His son is 5 years old and lovable as most kids are at that age. His wife is still dealing with trauma from being hidden in an apartment for 2 years at the age of 4 during WWII. She lost her parents when they died in concentration camps.
That forms the basis of what happens when Asher Lev returns. Family dynamics, Jewish rituals, religion, greed, jealousy, resentment, a legacy from his Uncle, his needs, his family's needs, parental disappointment; as I said, a complicated plot. The final question seems to be: how much is Asher supposed to sacrifice for the gift of his artistic talent?
Potok is an inspired author. The title alone is inspired as it has several meanings, but his writing drew me into an orthodox Jewish community that I had very little knowledge of. Highly recommended for readers who loved "My Name is Asher Lev".
He moved to France, married, and had 2 children. His beloved Uncle dies and he takes his family to NY for the funeral. His daughter is 11 years old, intelligent and perceptive. His son is 5 years old and lovable as most kids are at that age. His wife is still dealing with trauma from being hidden in an apartment for 2 years at the age of 4 during WWII. She lost her parents when they died in concentration camps.
That forms the basis of what happens when Asher Lev returns. Family dynamics, Jewish rituals, religion, greed, jealousy, resentment, a legacy from his Uncle, his needs, his family's needs, parental disappointment; as I said, a complicated plot. The final question seems to be: how much is Asher supposed to sacrifice for the gift of his artistic talent?
Potok is an inspired author. The title alone is inspired as it has several meanings, but his writing drew me into an orthodox Jewish community that I had very little knowledge of. Highly recommended for readers who loved "My Name is Asher Lev".
October 19, 2025
Chaim Potok richly portrays the inner conflicts in Asher Lev between his secular artistic life and his life of faith as a Ladover Hasidic Jew. In this sequel to "My Name Is Asher Lev," Asher returns to New York with his wife and two children for the funeral of his beloved uncle. While the first book had the depiction of the Crucifixion in some of his important artworks, the sequel featured the Sacrifice of Isaac. It's best not to know too much before reading the book. Chaim Potok has again written a wonderful book about family love, faith, and art. I loved both of the books!
October 25, 2025
The Gift of Asher Lev is Chaim Potok’s continuation of the story he began in My Name Is Asher Lev. Asher’s Uncle Yitzchok has died and he and his family return to New York for the funeral. Potok deals with some of the same issues presented in the first novel, particularly the struggle between the artist’s drive to produce his art and the pull of religion and community against that aim. However, Asher’s position is much different now, because he has attained both age and position in the art world.
Asher Lev is a true artist, in the echelon of Picasso and Chagall. Art is not an option for him, it is life. But there is another life, as well, that consists of his family, his Jewish religion, and his deeply held obligations to the community that continually rejects him. To add to the difficulties, his uncle has left him a request that cannot fail to complicate his relationships.
There is a very high price for being grounded in two opposed worlds, and the choice that Asher must make is excruciating. Perhaps we are all called to sacrifice for what we believe in, but it would seem that for Asher, and perhaps for all artists, there is an isolationism that comes with the talent and that sacrifice is built into the very foundation of the expression of artistic truth. I have said Asher has to make a choice, but at the same time I wonder if he really has any choice at all.
The sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham is a running theme in the book, and at one point Asher has painted a canvas of those events in which the sacrifice actually takes place. It requires the intervention of God to save Isaac, but it also requires the faith of Abraham, and we wonder if Asher’s faith in either his art or his Hasidic Judaism is enough to secure his deliverance.
Chaim Potok writes with so much emotion and complexity that he pulls you into a world you know nothing about and makes you feel all the import of the beliefs of his characters. He writes about human struggles, with self, with others, with conviction and with God. He presents all the sides of the question, so that you know the confusion and the strain of each character completely, and he never allows you to forget that these are people, individuals, not icons, and each carries his or her own experiences, desires and fears.
I read some biographical material concerning Potok, and found that he, like Asher, had a great artistic talent that was suppressed by his devoutly Jewish family. He brings emotion and understanding to his work, because he has lived it to a great extent. Of course, his life and the outcome of it are quite different from Asher’s, but the angst must have been much the same.
This is my fourth book by Potok and I am anxious to read more. I do not think I have ever encountered an author whose life was more different than my own but to whom I could so readily relate.
Asher Lev is a true artist, in the echelon of Picasso and Chagall. Art is not an option for him, it is life. But there is another life, as well, that consists of his family, his Jewish religion, and his deeply held obligations to the community that continually rejects him. To add to the difficulties, his uncle has left him a request that cannot fail to complicate his relationships.
There is a very high price for being grounded in two opposed worlds, and the choice that Asher must make is excruciating. Perhaps we are all called to sacrifice for what we believe in, but it would seem that for Asher, and perhaps for all artists, there is an isolationism that comes with the talent and that sacrifice is built into the very foundation of the expression of artistic truth. I have said Asher has to make a choice, but at the same time I wonder if he really has any choice at all.
The sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham is a running theme in the book, and at one point Asher has painted a canvas of those events in which the sacrifice actually takes place. It requires the intervention of God to save Isaac, but it also requires the faith of Abraham, and we wonder if Asher’s faith in either his art or his Hasidic Judaism is enough to secure his deliverance.
Chaim Potok writes with so much emotion and complexity that he pulls you into a world you know nothing about and makes you feel all the import of the beliefs of his characters. He writes about human struggles, with self, with others, with conviction and with God. He presents all the sides of the question, so that you know the confusion and the strain of each character completely, and he never allows you to forget that these are people, individuals, not icons, and each carries his or her own experiences, desires and fears.
I read some biographical material concerning Potok, and found that he, like Asher, had a great artistic talent that was suppressed by his devoutly Jewish family. He brings emotion and understanding to his work, because he has lived it to a great extent. Of course, his life and the outcome of it are quite different from Asher’s, but the angst must have been much the same.
This is my fourth book by Potok and I am anxious to read more. I do not think I have ever encountered an author whose life was more different than my own but to whom I could so readily relate.
November 1, 2025
When diving into a novel by Chaim Potok, one must know that your journey will be thoughtful, intellectual, and immensely worthwhile. This is my fourth and won’t be my last. Potok writes so effortlessly on a topic that is utterly unknown to me, yet by the end, I feel so attached to his unique world and to his well-drawn characters. Finishing out the story of Asher Lev has been a desire since finishing My Name is Asher Lev and being bowled over by the story of a young Hasidic Jewish boy whose artistic ability put him in a difficult place within the culture of his people. Not accepted as an appropriate pastime or occupation, Asher is exiled from his Brooklyn community.
Twenty years he and his family have lived in France and now he is faced with returning to the place and the people that exiled him because his Uncle, who had previously encouraged his art, has passed away. Asher has become a famous artist in the realm of Picasso, yet he is still an observant Ladover Hasid. He brings his wife, Devorah and his two children, a daughter Rochelah and a son, Avromel who seem to take to their new location quite easily. The conflicts between his artistic gift and his beliefs return and he is faced with choices that most of us would not be able to understand. He is at a crossroads in his career, at a stagnant place after critical reviews of his recent show. Now this reunion with his parents and his uncle’s family as well as the Ladover community lies heavy on his mind. We see Asher contemplative and concerned for his future and his family’s future especially as we witness them becoming increasingly rooted to Brooklyn.
Potok’s voice is quiet and still and gives readers a depth to the story that so few writers can do. We are captured by the way he draws this estranged family and are mesmerized by how he creates such quiet tensions of love and honor to one’s family and beliefs.
Twenty years he and his family have lived in France and now he is faced with returning to the place and the people that exiled him because his Uncle, who had previously encouraged his art, has passed away. Asher has become a famous artist in the realm of Picasso, yet he is still an observant Ladover Hasid. He brings his wife, Devorah and his two children, a daughter Rochelah and a son, Avromel who seem to take to their new location quite easily. The conflicts between his artistic gift and his beliefs return and he is faced with choices that most of us would not be able to understand. He is at a crossroads in his career, at a stagnant place after critical reviews of his recent show. Now this reunion with his parents and his uncle’s family as well as the Ladover community lies heavy on his mind. We see Asher contemplative and concerned for his future and his family’s future especially as we witness them becoming increasingly rooted to Brooklyn.
Potok’s voice is quiet and still and gives readers a depth to the story that so few writers can do. We are captured by the way he draws this estranged family and are mesmerized by how he creates such quiet tensions of love and honor to one’s family and beliefs.
October 2, 2024
This is the tense, complicated sequel to My Name Is Asher Lev. Asher is now married with children and returns with his family to Brooklyn, NY from a village near Nice, France to attend his uncle’s funeral. This is his first visit in 20 years following the exile forced on him by the religious leader of his strict Hasidic community because of his controversial crucifixion paintings. What was intended as a ten-day trip evolves into months with many a surprise and twist along the way, beginning with the reading of his cherished uncle’s will.
I preferred the first book which centered on Asher’s boyhood as an only child and his progression from childish drawings to a world renowned artist, weaving in the world of art museums and art dealers, and the “helpless, self-centeredness of the artist’s soul.” This sequel is more about the dynamics of Asher’s Ladover community in Crown Heights, his marriage to a Holocaust survivor who lived for two years as a very young child in a sealed Parisian apartment, his parents experiencing their first opportunity to bond with their grandchildren, and the strict, controlling rituals and demands of his faith. Both novels are outstanding and important pieces of Jewish literature.
“A man does not always remain at the same stage. He is always ascending or descending. When he reaches the top, he must concern himself with the probability that he will fall. When he reaches the bottom, he must strive once again to climb to the top. That is the nature of man. When the soul of a man is in its darkest night, he must strive constantly for new light. When one thinks there is only an end, that is when one must struggle for the new beginning.” ~ The Rebbe
I preferred the first book which centered on Asher’s boyhood as an only child and his progression from childish drawings to a world renowned artist, weaving in the world of art museums and art dealers, and the “helpless, self-centeredness of the artist’s soul.” This sequel is more about the dynamics of Asher’s Ladover community in Crown Heights, his marriage to a Holocaust survivor who lived for two years as a very young child in a sealed Parisian apartment, his parents experiencing their first opportunity to bond with their grandchildren, and the strict, controlling rituals and demands of his faith. Both novels are outstanding and important pieces of Jewish literature.
“A man does not always remain at the same stage. He is always ascending or descending. When he reaches the top, he must concern himself with the probability that he will fall. When he reaches the bottom, he must strive once again to climb to the top. That is the nature of man. When the soul of a man is in its darkest night, he must strive constantly for new light. When one thinks there is only an end, that is when one must struggle for the new beginning.” ~ The Rebbe
November 1, 2025
“What nightmarish congruence of fateful events could have made possible the issuance of such a son from such a father?”
This is the story of a man faced with an impossible decision.
As a young, controversial artist (see My Name Is Asher Lev), Asher Lev was expelled from his Hasidic community in Brooklyn. He moved to Paris, married and had two children, and is living in southern France when he receives word that his beloved uncle died. To attend the funeral, he returns to Brooklyn with his family for only the second time in twenty years.
Asher is pulled back into this world in deep and complex ways.
“I had grown up in this community; my nerve ends were still connected to it; I could read its unwritten texts, hear its unspoken dialogue.”
This is what is so amazing about Chaim Potok. He can tell this complicated, psychological story, delve into the ties of family and religion and artistic drive, and keep you on the edge of your seat the entire time. Through his story, Potok weaves a problem for Asher, a conundrum, a riddle that must be solved. As I was reading, I couldn’t imagine a resolution. What would he do?
This happens to all of us, doesn’t it. Nobody tells you this when you’re young, but you will be faced with impossible decisions, decisions that will impact your life in ways you can’t know or predict. You can only try to do the right thing. And the more people you love, the more complicated it gets to know what that right thing is. I have to say I kind of hate this about life. But I found it a fantastic impetus for a story, especially in Potok’s hands. What I realized, what Potok so beautifully expressed, without coming out and saying it is there is always loss. Always loss.
But love is there as well, and we feel so many kinds of love surrounding Asher: to and from his peers, his friends, his family, his parents, and perhaps most mystically, to and from the community’s revered leader, the Rebbe.
The mind of an artist is beautifully depicted here. Asher is guided mostly by his own unique talent and voices from those he has admired, including his beloved teacher and even Picasso. But you also hear the voices of his critics, those in the business of supporting and making money from art, those appalled by his creations and those deeply moved by them. And what’s best is you feel his drive to create, the special place that drive lives, and how important it is to protect that place.
What a story. Marvelous. Life in a book.
This is the story of a man faced with an impossible decision.
As a young, controversial artist (see My Name Is Asher Lev), Asher Lev was expelled from his Hasidic community in Brooklyn. He moved to Paris, married and had two children, and is living in southern France when he receives word that his beloved uncle died. To attend the funeral, he returns to Brooklyn with his family for only the second time in twenty years.
Asher is pulled back into this world in deep and complex ways.
“I had grown up in this community; my nerve ends were still connected to it; I could read its unwritten texts, hear its unspoken dialogue.”
This is what is so amazing about Chaim Potok. He can tell this complicated, psychological story, delve into the ties of family and religion and artistic drive, and keep you on the edge of your seat the entire time. Through his story, Potok weaves a problem for Asher, a conundrum, a riddle that must be solved. As I was reading, I couldn’t imagine a resolution. What would he do?
This happens to all of us, doesn’t it. Nobody tells you this when you’re young, but you will be faced with impossible decisions, decisions that will impact your life in ways you can’t know or predict. You can only try to do the right thing. And the more people you love, the more complicated it gets to know what that right thing is. I have to say I kind of hate this about life. But I found it a fantastic impetus for a story, especially in Potok’s hands. What I realized, what Potok so beautifully expressed, without coming out and saying it is there is always loss. Always loss.
But love is there as well, and we feel so many kinds of love surrounding Asher: to and from his peers, his friends, his family, his parents, and perhaps most mystically, to and from the community’s revered leader, the Rebbe.
The mind of an artist is beautifully depicted here. Asher is guided mostly by his own unique talent and voices from those he has admired, including his beloved teacher and even Picasso. But you also hear the voices of his critics, those in the business of supporting and making money from art, those appalled by his creations and those deeply moved by them. And what’s best is you feel his drive to create, the special place that drive lives, and how important it is to protect that place.
What a story. Marvelous. Life in a book.
June 9, 2017
Spoilers for My Name is Asher Lev and this book below.
Does God have a plan or are we at the mercy of an uncaring universe where bad things happen to good people? The question of whether or not the universe is ordered permeates this book, though in a rather subtle way. The book doesn't actually provide an answer to this question, but this question weighs on the minds of the characters as their world becomes more uncertain.
I'm not going to lie, I thought the ending of My Name Is Asher Lev was a major downer. Asher ends up alienating his family and community, leaving Brooklyn to create art in Europe. He was a smash hit artistically but it seemed like his relationship with his father was irreparably damaged.
Flash forward 20ish years and Asher is a well established, world renown artist coming off a commercially successful but critically panned exhibition. He is the father of two children and happily married, spending his days painting in southern France before a family tragedy calls him and his family back to Brooklyn.
This book was similar to My Name is Asher Lev in terms of the writing. It is focused on Asher and his internal state of mind throughout the course of the months he spends back in Brooklyn. We see how he views his loving (but still traumatized from the war) wife, his children, his parents (whom he has reconciled with nicely, though not fully), and the community he returns to. We see him struggle with doubt stemming from the fallout of his Paris show and the balancing of his familial obligations with his drive to create art. It had some gorgeous prose and but was also quite accessible.
Unlike My Name is Asher Lev, there is no tension in this book between Asher's art and the Ladover community (save for the occasional "How could you create those paintings" comments that popped up, though there were just as many supportive voices as well). Instead the main tensions seemed to be between the Rebbe wanting Asher and his family to stay longer and Asher wanting to return home to France.
It slowly dawns on Asher that there is a deeper purpose to the Rebbe's attention towards Asher and especially his son, attention that will have long term effects on the entire Ladover community and Asher's family. Where the first book left me sad but hopeful for future reconciliation, this ending left me with a deeper sadness that Asher will forever be apart both from his family and his community because of the drive he possesses to create art. It is a bittersweet story of a family coming together while at the same time being separated by an ocean and a lifestyle.
Much like My Name is Asher Lev, there are many side story lines that crop up: the disposition of Asher's uncle's surprisingly amazing art collection, touching base with some friends back in Southern France, his daughter's asthma, settling a debt to the family of a deceased friend, etc. These were all enjoyable diversions on their own, but unlike the previous book, they did not come together together in an elegant manner that amplified the thrust of the book's message. Instead they struck me a small, self contained vignettes. They were nice adornments but ultimately felt underdeveloped or inadequately related to the main theme of the book.
Overall I thought this book did no live up to its predecessor. It still had Potok's excellent prose and imagery, memorable characters, and a fascinating plot, but it struck me as a bit too loose in the plotting. Perhaps I am missing some subtle connection between all the encounters Asher had, but I never felt Potok drew the whole book together in the end with the same elegance he demonstrated in My Name is Asher Lev. It was a very good and engrossing read (hence the four stars) but I did not have the same transcendent feeling I had when I finished the first book.
Does God have a plan or are we at the mercy of an uncaring universe where bad things happen to good people? The question of whether or not the universe is ordered permeates this book, though in a rather subtle way. The book doesn't actually provide an answer to this question, but this question weighs on the minds of the characters as their world becomes more uncertain.
I'm not going to lie, I thought the ending of My Name Is Asher Lev was a major downer. Asher ends up alienating his family and community, leaving Brooklyn to create art in Europe. He was a smash hit artistically but it seemed like his relationship with his father was irreparably damaged.
Flash forward 20ish years and Asher is a well established, world renown artist coming off a commercially successful but critically panned exhibition. He is the father of two children and happily married, spending his days painting in southern France before a family tragedy calls him and his family back to Brooklyn.
This book was similar to My Name is Asher Lev in terms of the writing. It is focused on Asher and his internal state of mind throughout the course of the months he spends back in Brooklyn. We see how he views his loving (but still traumatized from the war) wife, his children, his parents (whom he has reconciled with nicely, though not fully), and the community he returns to. We see him struggle with doubt stemming from the fallout of his Paris show and the balancing of his familial obligations with his drive to create art. It had some gorgeous prose and but was also quite accessible.
Unlike My Name is Asher Lev, there is no tension in this book between Asher's art and the Ladover community (save for the occasional "How could you create those paintings" comments that popped up, though there were just as many supportive voices as well). Instead the main tensions seemed to be between the Rebbe wanting Asher and his family to stay longer and Asher wanting to return home to France.
It slowly dawns on Asher that there is a deeper purpose to the Rebbe's attention towards Asher and especially his son, attention that will have long term effects on the entire Ladover community and Asher's family. Where the first book left me sad but hopeful for future reconciliation, this ending left me with a deeper sadness that Asher will forever be apart both from his family and his community because of the drive he possesses to create art. It is a bittersweet story of a family coming together while at the same time being separated by an ocean and a lifestyle.
Much like My Name is Asher Lev, there are many side story lines that crop up: the disposition of Asher's uncle's surprisingly amazing art collection, touching base with some friends back in Southern France, his daughter's asthma, settling a debt to the family of a deceased friend, etc. These were all enjoyable diversions on their own, but unlike the previous book, they did not come together together in an elegant manner that amplified the thrust of the book's message. Instead they struck me a small, self contained vignettes. They were nice adornments but ultimately felt underdeveloped or inadequately related to the main theme of the book.
Overall I thought this book did no live up to its predecessor. It still had Potok's excellent prose and imagery, memorable characters, and a fascinating plot, but it struck me as a bit too loose in the plotting. Perhaps I am missing some subtle connection between all the encounters Asher had, but I never felt Potok drew the whole book together in the end with the same elegance he demonstrated in My Name is Asher Lev. It was a very good and engrossing read (hence the four stars) but I did not have the same transcendent feeling I had when I finished the first book.
December 11, 2024
Brilliant. And now I want to go back and read both novels back to back. The ending of this one would especially shed light on them both together.
March 2, 2023
Feb 27, 1010am ~~ Review asap.
Mar 1, 8pm ~~ This is the fourth title in my Chaim Potok project, and the second of two about main character Asher Lev.
In My Name Is Asher Lev, we met Asher and his family and saw him grow from a child with a gift for art into a man who learned how that gift fit into his world.
This book takes place twenty years later. Asher Lev is in his mid-forties now, with a wife, a daughter, and a son. They all return to Brooklyn when Asher Lev learns that his uncle has died.
From this apparently straightforward beginning comes a story that deals with a dizzying array of life's issues, not merely for Asher Lev but for his wife, his parents, his community. What are all the unseen but very much felt forces around him? And why is he unable to paint? What has happened to his gift?
This book slowly increased the tension until I could hardly stand to turn the pages. I knew Something was expected of Asher, but I was on the wrong track at first about what it might be. When I did finally understand the riddle I was as torn as Asher Lev was about what should be done. I was a pendulum: on one page I wanted This to happen, a few pages later I hoped for That instead.
The scene which reveals the solution to the dilemma is beautifully intense and perfectly played out. I am still pretty much speechless, but this review has been sitting for a few days now so I thought I needed to say what I could, even if it does not feel like nearly enough.
Mar 1, 8pm ~~ This is the fourth title in my Chaim Potok project, and the second of two about main character Asher Lev.
In My Name Is Asher Lev, we met Asher and his family and saw him grow from a child with a gift for art into a man who learned how that gift fit into his world.
This book takes place twenty years later. Asher Lev is in his mid-forties now, with a wife, a daughter, and a son. They all return to Brooklyn when Asher Lev learns that his uncle has died.
From this apparently straightforward beginning comes a story that deals with a dizzying array of life's issues, not merely for Asher Lev but for his wife, his parents, his community. What are all the unseen but very much felt forces around him? And why is he unable to paint? What has happened to his gift?
This book slowly increased the tension until I could hardly stand to turn the pages. I knew Something was expected of Asher, but I was on the wrong track at first about what it might be. When I did finally understand the riddle I was as torn as Asher Lev was about what should be done. I was a pendulum: on one page I wanted This to happen, a few pages later I hoped for That instead.
The scene which reveals the solution to the dilemma is beautifully intense and perfectly played out. I am still pretty much speechless, but this review has been sitting for a few days now so I thought I needed to say what I could, even if it does not feel like nearly enough.
November 23, 2025
Sometimes living your life interferes with your plans. This what happened to Asher Lev. In the second book about his life. After leaving New York, he was living in France with his wife and children, as a successful artist, when due to the death of his uncle, he is called back to Brooklyn. Things get complicated from there on. There are plenty of other reviews out there, so I will be brief and just give you a few quotes that caught my attention.
I have always believed that a person can learn to draw. I think it is a matter of seeing, and eye-hand coordination, which if practiced can be learned, like playing the piano. I will admit, it helps to have some instruction. When learning to paint, I was at first instructed to copy other artworks. When Asher is looking at the paintings at the Louvre, he instructs himself as an artist, in a way that brought back my days of drawing and painting. “Just keep the eyes moving and the fingers nimble. I had copied them many times before. Run the eyes across each minute detail of the fracture; keep the circuit to the fingers clear and clean, and render what the eyes see.” On the subject of art, there is also a paragraph when describing the mistral wind, where, like an observant artist himself, Potok describes its effects using what I counted to be no less that ten different colors, described in painterly ways, such as cadmium red and cerulean blue.
The Nazi genocide is a not yet a distant memory. “A person has to have a reason for living, and the best reason is another person.“ This sentence is spoken by Devorah, Asher’s wife, who lost her parents to the Holocaust. She keeps asking Asher, “Do you think there is a plan for all this, my husband?” Devorah’s story was very moving. The Holocaust has affected all of their lives. Asher says, “ I should not be thinking of such matters on Shabbos. It is forbidden to disturb the joy of the day of rest with such dark in baleful thoughts. But memories of the Holocaust often come unbidden to mind, they dwell in a realm of their own, and are not subject to the laws and whims of humankind.” The question of God’s plan recurs throughout.
This book continues the story from Potok’s novel, My Name is Asher Lev. I am writing this review long after I read finished reading My Name is Asher Lev and more time since reading The Gift of Asher Lev. I rather wish I had read them in closer proximity and would recommend reading them in order and in close proximity. These moving stories by Potok give fascinating insights into Hassidic culture. This was another great novel written by the accomplished writer, but despite reviews calling this one a masterpiece, I would not rank this one at the top of his work. I preferred The Chosen and The Promise. Still, I give this book 5 stars.
I have always believed that a person can learn to draw. I think it is a matter of seeing, and eye-hand coordination, which if practiced can be learned, like playing the piano. I will admit, it helps to have some instruction. When learning to paint, I was at first instructed to copy other artworks. When Asher is looking at the paintings at the Louvre, he instructs himself as an artist, in a way that brought back my days of drawing and painting. “Just keep the eyes moving and the fingers nimble. I had copied them many times before. Run the eyes across each minute detail of the fracture; keep the circuit to the fingers clear and clean, and render what the eyes see.” On the subject of art, there is also a paragraph when describing the mistral wind, where, like an observant artist himself, Potok describes its effects using what I counted to be no less that ten different colors, described in painterly ways, such as cadmium red and cerulean blue.
The Nazi genocide is a not yet a distant memory. “A person has to have a reason for living, and the best reason is another person.“ This sentence is spoken by Devorah, Asher’s wife, who lost her parents to the Holocaust. She keeps asking Asher, “Do you think there is a plan for all this, my husband?” Devorah’s story was very moving. The Holocaust has affected all of their lives. Asher says, “ I should not be thinking of such matters on Shabbos. It is forbidden to disturb the joy of the day of rest with such dark in baleful thoughts. But memories of the Holocaust often come unbidden to mind, they dwell in a realm of their own, and are not subject to the laws and whims of humankind.” The question of God’s plan recurs throughout.
This book continues the story from Potok’s novel, My Name is Asher Lev. I am writing this review long after I read finished reading My Name is Asher Lev and more time since reading The Gift of Asher Lev. I rather wish I had read them in closer proximity and would recommend reading them in order and in close proximity. These moving stories by Potok give fascinating insights into Hassidic culture. This was another great novel written by the accomplished writer, but despite reviews calling this one a masterpiece, I would not rank this one at the top of his work. I preferred The Chosen and The Promise. Still, I give this book 5 stars.
November 5, 2010
I LOVED this book. I think everyone one who has read My Name is Asher Lev should read this book. It took me all summer to read, basically because it is the kind of book that you linger over. I savored reading it, and really didn't want to finish. Not only are the chapters beautifully written, but the storyline balances out the difficulties Asher faced in his youth. This is twenty years later, when he has a wife and 2 children, and is now returning to the U.S. It is about redemption, hope, and surviving both the peaks and valleys of life.
I am sure one of the reasons I love this book is because as an art historian, I am interested in understanding Asher's art and his quest to make it meaningful. I think though, in a broader sense, Asher's situation applies to anyone seeking to foster creativity and beauty in their lives and come to terms with day-to-day spirituality. How do we make sense of God's apparent absence? How do we go on in faithfulness despite the inexplicable evils/trials/difficulties? This is Asher's dilemma and Potok presents it thoughtfully--without cliched, empty answers, but with a underlying sense of the power of resilience and optimism.
I am sure one of the reasons I love this book is because as an art historian, I am interested in understanding Asher's art and his quest to make it meaningful. I think though, in a broader sense, Asher's situation applies to anyone seeking to foster creativity and beauty in their lives and come to terms with day-to-day spirituality. How do we make sense of God's apparent absence? How do we go on in faithfulness despite the inexplicable evils/trials/difficulties? This is Asher's dilemma and Potok presents it thoughtfully--without cliched, empty answers, but with a underlying sense of the power of resilience and optimism.
October 12, 2022
This novel continues the story of Asher Lev, first introduced in Potok's book My Name Is Asher Lev. Here we see him at age 45, married with two children and living in the south of France. He is a world renowned artist whose art work is abhorrent to his parents and Hasidic community. Asher is living in France, because the community's Rebbe exiled him there from his original home in Brooklyn, New York. Still, Asher has managed to retain his Hasidic Jewish practice and has built a good life for himself in France. Everything changes for him and his family when he gets a call to return home (Brooklyn) for his uncle's funeral.
I found the novel to be both quiet and disquieting, leaving me a lot to think about. It was published in 1990, but many themes in it are still pertinent today (ie. politics, art and Orthodox Judaism's disdain for Conservative and Reform Jews).
Bit by bit, Asher learns that the Rebbe has a special purpose in mind for Asher's 5 year old son, Avrumel. It will alter his entire family. I struggled right along with Asher as he considered what to do. This made for interesting reading.
Here is my review of My Name Is Asher Lev https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
I found the novel to be both quiet and disquieting, leaving me a lot to think about. It was published in 1990, but many themes in it are still pertinent today (ie. politics, art and Orthodox Judaism's disdain for Conservative and Reform Jews).
Bit by bit, Asher learns that the Rebbe has a special purpose in mind for Asher's 5 year old son, Avrumel. It will alter his entire family. I struggled right along with Asher as he considered what to do. This made for interesting reading.
Here is my review of My Name Is Asher Lev https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
November 29, 2019
I liked the prequel “My Name is Asher Lev” enough to give it 4 stars. This one is more of the same: the story of what happened to Asher Lev later in life.
Since I was already familiar with, and baffled by, the Ultra Orthodox faith within Judaism, the story became very boring and excessively melodramatic. The style even more so: just a dry sequence of events, almost like a police report. The characters are cardboard, each conforming exactly to a well known prototype.
The only positive thing about the book is that it made me wonder how Judaism can be compatible with the veneration of a (dynasty of) Rebbes that are assumed to have supernatural powers.
Since I was already familiar with, and baffled by, the Ultra Orthodox faith within Judaism, the story became very boring and excessively melodramatic. The style even more so: just a dry sequence of events, almost like a police report. The characters are cardboard, each conforming exactly to a well known prototype.
The only positive thing about the book is that it made me wonder how Judaism can be compatible with the veneration of a (dynasty of) Rebbes that are assumed to have supernatural powers.
June 9, 2014
A wonderful complex novel about individuality vs the community, with religion, art, family and depression all thrown in the mix. That, and mesmerising prose. Potok, you legend.
July 29, 2011
I’m going to give away the end, so you may need to stop reading. But it’s the end I want to talk about.
First, I adored the earlier book, My Name is Asher Lev (1972). I think it is, without exaggeration, a profound statement on the integrity of the artist. Second, everyone told me that the sequel, The Gift of Asher Lev (1990), wasn’t very good. Well, it wasn’t as good as the first, but it wasn’t that bad, either. I still found it absorbing, worth reading, and very interesting. Generally speaking, I’m not a fan of sequels, though I understand the desire for them. It just seems like a sequel is inevitably disappointing, so it’s a set-up for disaster. But the thing is that we just love Asher so much—and Rocky and Han Solo and Bruce Willis (what was his name in Die Hard?)—and we care, so we want to know about their well-being, their fate. We’re suckers for sequels. If Potok had more to say about Asher Lev, I had to find out what it was. Third, what I really wanted, after this sequel, was a memoir by Potok on Potok, no doubt an interesting guy. He never wrote that memoir.
The Gift of Asher Lev finds Asher to be a world-renowned artist, living in France with his wife—a nice Jewish girl—and two kids. He is still a practicing Hasidic Jew, though the religious community is pretty much suspicious of him at every turn. He is in exile. An artist and a Jew. It’s an uneasy relationship, but he manages.
Then, his uncle in Brooklyn dies. He goes back to New York with his French family. A trip to mourn a death turns into months, and then there’s the decision to stay or to go. At the heart of the decision is this gift: Asher, like Abraham in the Old Testament (the book draws this comparison), will sacrifice his son. By allowing his child to stay in Brooklyn, Asher is acquiescing to the Rebbe’s (the rabbi’s) implicit decision to groom the boy to be the future Rebbe. This is the gift of Asher Lev, not his art.
But Asher, despite a happy marriage and children he loves, doesn’t stay himself. He chooses his art. He returns to France, while his family stays in Brooklyn. He will return on holidays. His life as an artist is in France. Asher wonders to himself, as he ponders his gift, whether the Rebbe counted “on the helpless self-centeredness of the artist’s soul.”
That’s about my yearly quota for plot summary.
When I first started reading this sequel, I wanted to write about anger. Asher struck me as slightly angry. I liked him, but his anger stood out. And, then, in my meanderings, I began to wonder if all artists are angry. Is anger part of it? Am I angry?
I probably am. I’m not sure this is a good thing or a necessary thing, though. I just think that art—Art—often involves standing in opposition to something. That can make one angry. But there’s a lot to say about this, and I’ll save it.
Rather, that end. He left his family! You know what? I think that’s B.S.! I think that sucks! The helpless self-centeredness of the artist’s soul! Even if it’s totally true, let’s resist it!
When I read about Asher in Paris and Asher in the South of France, a part of me wants that. I want to sit in cafes, go to Giverny, wander through a garden. But this too is true: I’ve been to a number of exotic locations all alone. While part of it was really great, another part really sucked!
Artists may be myopic, self-absorbed, possessing secret and highly privatized thought lives that allow them to seem present when they’re really not. Artists may be alienated, eccentric, given to depression even. Artists may be lousy parents, lousy spouses, lousy followers of religion. Artists may crave exotic and even solitary ventures upon occasion.
But, really, this made me slightly irate. Don’t be an idiot. When it comes down to it, stay with your kid. Asher, take the family back to France or stay in Brooklyn with them. You think you’re doing your art a favor. You’re not. You’ve got a family, man.
Why so irate? I guess it’s my past. I had a lot of time alone. I wrote a lot. In exotic and solitary places. Everyone who knows about my family life knows how, um, “challenging” it’s been. The last time I traveled abroad was on my belated honeymoon to Alaska. Tim and I were in Vancouver for a night or two. Then, we immediately had kids. I love to travel. I have these cravings, these fantasies: Greece, India, Tibet, Egypt, Indonesia. I’d write and write and write. I’d go on glass-bottom boats, walk through markets, sleep on cots near purple lizards. Somehow or other, I’d be okay with the lizards.
But, really, where is the material, the true grist, the stuff of life? Alone in Paris?
I’m sorry for going crazy. I find Potok and his unique questioning to be fascinating and appropriate and important. I didn’t love this book’s conclusion. The gift was no gift at all.
How old are you? Do you remember the Eighties? Do you remember Wham!? Do you remember when George Michael used to wear those t-shirts that said Choose Life? Life is among the living. Choose life.
First, I adored the earlier book, My Name is Asher Lev (1972). I think it is, without exaggeration, a profound statement on the integrity of the artist. Second, everyone told me that the sequel, The Gift of Asher Lev (1990), wasn’t very good. Well, it wasn’t as good as the first, but it wasn’t that bad, either. I still found it absorbing, worth reading, and very interesting. Generally speaking, I’m not a fan of sequels, though I understand the desire for them. It just seems like a sequel is inevitably disappointing, so it’s a set-up for disaster. But the thing is that we just love Asher so much—and Rocky and Han Solo and Bruce Willis (what was his name in Die Hard?)—and we care, so we want to know about their well-being, their fate. We’re suckers for sequels. If Potok had more to say about Asher Lev, I had to find out what it was. Third, what I really wanted, after this sequel, was a memoir by Potok on Potok, no doubt an interesting guy. He never wrote that memoir.
The Gift of Asher Lev finds Asher to be a world-renowned artist, living in France with his wife—a nice Jewish girl—and two kids. He is still a practicing Hasidic Jew, though the religious community is pretty much suspicious of him at every turn. He is in exile. An artist and a Jew. It’s an uneasy relationship, but he manages.
Then, his uncle in Brooklyn dies. He goes back to New York with his French family. A trip to mourn a death turns into months, and then there’s the decision to stay or to go. At the heart of the decision is this gift: Asher, like Abraham in the Old Testament (the book draws this comparison), will sacrifice his son. By allowing his child to stay in Brooklyn, Asher is acquiescing to the Rebbe’s (the rabbi’s) implicit decision to groom the boy to be the future Rebbe. This is the gift of Asher Lev, not his art.
But Asher, despite a happy marriage and children he loves, doesn’t stay himself. He chooses his art. He returns to France, while his family stays in Brooklyn. He will return on holidays. His life as an artist is in France. Asher wonders to himself, as he ponders his gift, whether the Rebbe counted “on the helpless self-centeredness of the artist’s soul.”
That’s about my yearly quota for plot summary.
When I first started reading this sequel, I wanted to write about anger. Asher struck me as slightly angry. I liked him, but his anger stood out. And, then, in my meanderings, I began to wonder if all artists are angry. Is anger part of it? Am I angry?
I probably am. I’m not sure this is a good thing or a necessary thing, though. I just think that art—Art—often involves standing in opposition to something. That can make one angry. But there’s a lot to say about this, and I’ll save it.
Rather, that end. He left his family! You know what? I think that’s B.S.! I think that sucks! The helpless self-centeredness of the artist’s soul! Even if it’s totally true, let’s resist it!
When I read about Asher in Paris and Asher in the South of France, a part of me wants that. I want to sit in cafes, go to Giverny, wander through a garden. But this too is true: I’ve been to a number of exotic locations all alone. While part of it was really great, another part really sucked!
Artists may be myopic, self-absorbed, possessing secret and highly privatized thought lives that allow them to seem present when they’re really not. Artists may be alienated, eccentric, given to depression even. Artists may be lousy parents, lousy spouses, lousy followers of religion. Artists may crave exotic and even solitary ventures upon occasion.
But, really, this made me slightly irate. Don’t be an idiot. When it comes down to it, stay with your kid. Asher, take the family back to France or stay in Brooklyn with them. You think you’re doing your art a favor. You’re not. You’ve got a family, man.
Why so irate? I guess it’s my past. I had a lot of time alone. I wrote a lot. In exotic and solitary places. Everyone who knows about my family life knows how, um, “challenging” it’s been. The last time I traveled abroad was on my belated honeymoon to Alaska. Tim and I were in Vancouver for a night or two. Then, we immediately had kids. I love to travel. I have these cravings, these fantasies: Greece, India, Tibet, Egypt, Indonesia. I’d write and write and write. I’d go on glass-bottom boats, walk through markets, sleep on cots near purple lizards. Somehow or other, I’d be okay with the lizards.
But, really, where is the material, the true grist, the stuff of life? Alone in Paris?
I’m sorry for going crazy. I find Potok and his unique questioning to be fascinating and appropriate and important. I didn’t love this book’s conclusion. The gift was no gift at all.
How old are you? Do you remember the Eighties? Do you remember Wham!? Do you remember when George Michael used to wear those t-shirts that said Choose Life? Life is among the living. Choose life.
July 23, 2018
Summary: Asher Lev, exiled from a Brooklyn Hasidic community over a scandalous artwork portraying crucifixion, returns after twenty years with his family for the funeral of his uncle, only to find that he is being called upon to make a far greater sacrifice than the pain of exile.
I first became acquainted with the work of Chaim Potok in the 1980's. His novels were set in the Ladover Hasidic Jwish community of New York. One of these was My Name is Asher Lev and describes the awakening of a Jewish boy in this community to his artistic gifts, and the conflicts with his beliefs this raised, culminating in the scandal of painting a crucifixion scene set in Brooklyn as a portrayal of pain and suffering in the world. For this he was exiled to France, where he pursues an increasingly successful art career while remaining an observant Ladover, heeding the teaching of its venerable Rebbe.
Twenty years have passed. He is married to Devorah, who after several miscarriages bore Rochelah and Avrumel. They now live in Saint Paul, near Nice where he has his studio, and a few close friends. On the heels of a show in Paris, scathingly panned by critics as "repeating oneself," he receives news of the sudden death of his Uncle Yitzchok died--the uncle who had encouraged his artistic career from buying his first drawing at age six onward. He and his family return to Brooklyn for the funeral, and a reunion with parents and a community he hadn't seen in years.
At the funeral, attended by thousands, because Yitzchok had been involved extensively in efforts to fund the Ladover movement, the Rebbe makes a cryptic remark, a kind of riddle, than runs through the book. "I say this as a message from the departed and from your Rebbe. I say to you: Three will save us. The third is our future. Do you hear me, my people? Three will save us. The third is our future." On the minds of many is who will succeed the Rebbe if Messiah does not come first. He has no children. Asher's father Aryeh is the leading candidate. But the third?
A week's stay extends to five months at the plea of parents who want to know their grandchildren, and a Rebbe, who takes an unusual interest in Asher, and his son. Meanwhile, Asher's life becomes more complicated when he learns not only that his uncle had assembled a valuable and unusual art collection, a scandal to his sons, and that he had designated Asher as trustee of the collection, with any proceeds from it to be returned to the Ladover community. His cousins, especially Younkel fight this and there is a painful estrangement.
While Asher contends with these matters and seeks inspiration for his art, his wife and children discover Brooklyn as a place where they thrive. Devorah finds in her mother-in-law the mother she lost in the Holocaust. Rochelah, a perceptive but asthmatic young girl flourishes at summer camp, as does Avrumel at day camp. While Asher longs for a return to his work in Saint Paul, his family becomes more and more rooted in Brooklyn, and close to Asher's parents. Aryeh and Avrumel spend time together around the Rebbe's office.
While back in France to look after affairs, including help to the widow of an assistant who died in a bombing, Asher begins to understand the riddle and that his son is the third and that he is being asked (even in a vision of the Rebbe and Uncle Yitzchok) to offer his son Avrumel to succeed his father when the day came as Rebbe, and to be raised in the Brooklyn Yeshiva. Brooklyn represents community to his family. To him, it is a place, once exiled from, that is impossible to return to if he is to answer his artistic call. To many in that community he is suspect, even a devil. He is wracked with this dilemma, losing sleep but sketching furiously.
Chaim Potok is one of a handful of writers I've found who writes with what I would call a "quiet" voice. Alan Paton is another. There is a kind of stillness as if the writer is listening for how the story will unfold to relate it to us, a stillness with depth, where momentous things may occur in the quiet unfolding of the narrative.
In this voice he explores the tensions of love and honor and estrangement in families, and in a religious community. What does it mean to be faithful to one's gift as an artist when it causes so much pain in one's community? What does it mean to observe a community's teaching and care for it when it is uncomfortable with you. In a world of moral clarity, of black and white, how does one deal with life's messiness and ambiguities, from the horror of the Holocaust to the unsolvable conflict between the future foreseen for his son, his love for his wife and daughter, and one's own artistic calling.
This work, published in 1990, was one I missed as I moved on to other writers. I'm thankful to have discovered it, and to be reminded of the richness of Potok's portrayal of this religious community and the challenges faced by the deeply orthodox of any faith in a secular society.
I first became acquainted with the work of Chaim Potok in the 1980's. His novels were set in the Ladover Hasidic Jwish community of New York. One of these was My Name is Asher Lev and describes the awakening of a Jewish boy in this community to his artistic gifts, and the conflicts with his beliefs this raised, culminating in the scandal of painting a crucifixion scene set in Brooklyn as a portrayal of pain and suffering in the world. For this he was exiled to France, where he pursues an increasingly successful art career while remaining an observant Ladover, heeding the teaching of its venerable Rebbe.
Twenty years have passed. He is married to Devorah, who after several miscarriages bore Rochelah and Avrumel. They now live in Saint Paul, near Nice where he has his studio, and a few close friends. On the heels of a show in Paris, scathingly panned by critics as "repeating oneself," he receives news of the sudden death of his Uncle Yitzchok died--the uncle who had encouraged his artistic career from buying his first drawing at age six onward. He and his family return to Brooklyn for the funeral, and a reunion with parents and a community he hadn't seen in years.
At the funeral, attended by thousands, because Yitzchok had been involved extensively in efforts to fund the Ladover movement, the Rebbe makes a cryptic remark, a kind of riddle, than runs through the book. "I say this as a message from the departed and from your Rebbe. I say to you: Three will save us. The third is our future. Do you hear me, my people? Three will save us. The third is our future." On the minds of many is who will succeed the Rebbe if Messiah does not come first. He has no children. Asher's father Aryeh is the leading candidate. But the third?
A week's stay extends to five months at the plea of parents who want to know their grandchildren, and a Rebbe, who takes an unusual interest in Asher, and his son. Meanwhile, Asher's life becomes more complicated when he learns not only that his uncle had assembled a valuable and unusual art collection, a scandal to his sons, and that he had designated Asher as trustee of the collection, with any proceeds from it to be returned to the Ladover community. His cousins, especially Younkel fight this and there is a painful estrangement.
While Asher contends with these matters and seeks inspiration for his art, his wife and children discover Brooklyn as a place where they thrive. Devorah finds in her mother-in-law the mother she lost in the Holocaust. Rochelah, a perceptive but asthmatic young girl flourishes at summer camp, as does Avrumel at day camp. While Asher longs for a return to his work in Saint Paul, his family becomes more and more rooted in Brooklyn, and close to Asher's parents. Aryeh and Avrumel spend time together around the Rebbe's office.
While back in France to look after affairs, including help to the widow of an assistant who died in a bombing, Asher begins to understand the riddle and that his son is the third and that he is being asked (even in a vision of the Rebbe and Uncle Yitzchok) to offer his son Avrumel to succeed his father when the day came as Rebbe, and to be raised in the Brooklyn Yeshiva. Brooklyn represents community to his family. To him, it is a place, once exiled from, that is impossible to return to if he is to answer his artistic call. To many in that community he is suspect, even a devil. He is wracked with this dilemma, losing sleep but sketching furiously.
Chaim Potok is one of a handful of writers I've found who writes with what I would call a "quiet" voice. Alan Paton is another. There is a kind of stillness as if the writer is listening for how the story will unfold to relate it to us, a stillness with depth, where momentous things may occur in the quiet unfolding of the narrative.
In this voice he explores the tensions of love and honor and estrangement in families, and in a religious community. What does it mean to be faithful to one's gift as an artist when it causes so much pain in one's community? What does it mean to observe a community's teaching and care for it when it is uncomfortable with you. In a world of moral clarity, of black and white, how does one deal with life's messiness and ambiguities, from the horror of the Holocaust to the unsolvable conflict between the future foreseen for his son, his love for his wife and daughter, and one's own artistic calling.
This work, published in 1990, was one I missed as I moved on to other writers. I'm thankful to have discovered it, and to be reminded of the richness of Potok's portrayal of this religious community and the challenges faced by the deeply orthodox of any faith in a secular society.
July 26, 2024
Something is wrong with Goodreads again in my account.Things aren’t posting correctly. Dates don’t work or are aren’t sticking. Or disappear. Couldn’t post the review.
Elyse. I do remember this book. And my memory isn’t so bad this morning. Though I did forget some details ;))
In honesty Elyse, I had a strong aversion to the book. Happens sometimes! You might not see it the same way I did. I would very much like to hear your view if you decide to read it.
It’s the second part Of Chaim Potok’s Lev Asher’s story. The first was written in 1972 and this in 1990. I really liked the first Lev Asher book cause it was all about the art world. I didn’t like this much even though it was based on a real life event within a real Hasidic community. See link below.
Asher’s father and mother are now high up in the Reb’s community and they play big politics where religion and state aren’t separate. In my opinion his parents are still selfish and manipulative and narrow toward Asher. The Reb is getting old. He doesn’t have a son to replace him if the Reb dies. There is talk his dad might become the next Reb.
It takes place 20 years later. His mentor has died. Lev is married with a lovely happy family living in the south of France. He is still enjoys exploring art. He’s a well known international artist. His uncle, who took him in when his father was so narrow minded and alway encouraged him in his artwork, has died. Lev and his family go back to Brooklyn for his funeral. Over the 20 years his uncle has created an incredible art collection. In his will he leaves it to Asher to manage and decide what to keep and what sell and when. His uncles sons and aunt are angry about this and strike out at Lev. They believe the money should be theirs to open new stores. His mother and father want his family to stay there with them. And they play politics and manipulate his family. Politics and strategy is both their jobs for the Reb. His father wants his grandson to be his successor. And doesn’t care how his own son feels about this. And that part bothered me.
I was relistening to a part of Sarah Ruhl’s Smile a couple of days ago. She talked about how Tibetan Lama’s were looking for a reincarnated lama and found a child. There mother gave him to them. When asked about it she said she could do this because of her faith and the potential implications to the child if she didn’t. I found this a very different way of looking at the situation then Asher’s parents had. More pure.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Name...
Elyse. I do remember this book. And my memory isn’t so bad this morning. Though I did forget some details ;))
In honesty Elyse, I had a strong aversion to the book. Happens sometimes! You might not see it the same way I did. I would very much like to hear your view if you decide to read it.
It’s the second part Of Chaim Potok’s Lev Asher’s story. The first was written in 1972 and this in 1990. I really liked the first Lev Asher book cause it was all about the art world. I didn’t like this much even though it was based on a real life event within a real Hasidic community. See link below.
Asher’s father and mother are now high up in the Reb’s community and they play big politics where religion and state aren’t separate. In my opinion his parents are still selfish and manipulative and narrow toward Asher. The Reb is getting old. He doesn’t have a son to replace him if the Reb dies. There is talk his dad might become the next Reb.
It takes place 20 years later. His mentor has died. Lev is married with a lovely happy family living in the south of France. He is still enjoys exploring art. He’s a well known international artist. His uncle, who took him in when his father was so narrow minded and alway encouraged him in his artwork, has died. Lev and his family go back to Brooklyn for his funeral. Over the 20 years his uncle has created an incredible art collection. In his will he leaves it to Asher to manage and decide what to keep and what sell and when. His uncles sons and aunt are angry about this and strike out at Lev. They believe the money should be theirs to open new stores. His mother and father want his family to stay there with them. And they play politics and manipulate his family. Politics and strategy is both their jobs for the Reb. His father wants his grandson to be his successor. And doesn’t care how his own son feels about this. And that part bothered me.
I was relistening to a part of Sarah Ruhl’s Smile a couple of days ago. She talked about how Tibetan Lama’s were looking for a reincarnated lama and found a child. There mother gave him to them. When asked about it she said she could do this because of her faith and the potential implications to the child if she didn’t. I found this a very different way of looking at the situation then Asher’s parents had. More pure.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Name...
July 25, 2010
I really wanted to like this book, because I loved 'My Name is Asher Lev.' Unfortunately, this book just wasn't nearly up to snuff. To begin with, nothing happens. Asher, the main character, in particular is static. The entire book he has painter's block, so he just mopes around as is depressed. A large portion of the book is also flashbacks (which in the case of his wife are sometimes pretty interesting and touching--her character is a good new one to get to know) or else Asher's intuition about the future. But... the future never comes, even at the end of the book. The situation is almost the exact same at the end as it was at the beginning. Oh and for some reason now Asher is having hallucinations of old friends who have died and speaks to them; he doesn't seem to find this strange at all.
Stylistically, I was really bothered by frequent switches between past and present tense narration. Usually Potok at least waited until new vignettes to switch tense (there aren't many chapters, but they are broken up into non-numbered subsections delimited by a blank line), but sometimes he does it just between paragraphs, and once even within a paragraph. Gah! Also, Potok's sparse writing style was intermixed with a lot of attempts to describe random situations (a Paris street, for example) in "literary" detail. It didn't work well.
The bright spots were the wonderful bits of Jewish wisdom and theology that were discussed at a few points in the book, the new characters of Asher's young family, and a few times the talk about art had some good points. But really, just stick with the first one and skip this sequel.
Stylistically, I was really bothered by frequent switches between past and present tense narration. Usually Potok at least waited until new vignettes to switch tense (there aren't many chapters, but they are broken up into non-numbered subsections delimited by a blank line), but sometimes he does it just between paragraphs, and once even within a paragraph. Gah! Also, Potok's sparse writing style was intermixed with a lot of attempts to describe random situations (a Paris street, for example) in "literary" detail. It didn't work well.
The bright spots were the wonderful bits of Jewish wisdom and theology that were discussed at a few points in the book, the new characters of Asher's young family, and a few times the talk about art had some good points. But really, just stick with the first one and skip this sequel.
January 4, 2018
It was nice seeing what happened after the first Asher Lev book. In my opinion, this book wasn't as good as the first. The biggest issue I had was that Asher Lev didn't fight more to let his son be able to choose his own path since that is what he himself had to do. That being said I understand that this would be a great honor for the family and it would be great for Asher to gain the affection that he lost from the Hasidic community.
May 18, 2020
I could have rated it five stars before I read it.
"Riddles, puzzles, double meanings, lost possibilities, the dark side to the light, the light side to the darkness, different perspectives on the same things. Nothing in this whole world has only one side to it. Everything is like a kaleidoscope. That's what I'm trying to capture in my art. That's what I mean by ambiguity."
Twenty years after the events of My Name Is Asher Lev, Asher Lev, the rebel, trouble-maker,
and genius, is called home to Brooklyn for a funeral. He is reliving the past, and it's killing his inspiration.
I read the first half of this over the course of 3 weeks; then I read the second half yesterday. I finally buckled down to finish it, lost myself. You cannot read Potok books broken up into chunks, or you'll miss the deep yet subtle connections between everything. His writing is like honey, thick with detail and hard to process in gulps. You have to drink it in slowly.
And if I give him focus, Potok will start to shape the way I see the world around me. Small details noticed, a dissection of everyday interactions, and an indescribable feeling that I'm only an observer on the world. The moods and emotions he crafts in his stories begin to affect my own moods and emotions.
This book in particular is by far the most Slice of Life version of his style I've yet read. Very little happens in the middle of this book. It paints Lev's wandering with strokes so that the reader feels it as well. Every detail that Potok points out places you into the artist's mind, looking at the world in the way only an artist can. I do not read many Slice of Life books, but Potok's use of specificity makes for such rich writing.
But hardly anything about this book is concrete besides the writing. Everything floats, like we're in Lev's thoughts. The words flow in a stream of consciousness, all leading to a single wide river, but no stopping point. The end of the book doesn't end the lives of the characters. The rivers will keep on flowing.
I'm still struggling with what this book is trying to say. Do I agree with it? What is it even saying? It's the most ambiguous of Potok's works that I've read--like a mystery to uncover with clues on every single page. It's a riddle.
And I realized in reading this book, that I completely stole Potok's style. The narrative flow reminded me of my own writing exactly, if my writing quality was magnified by a hundred. It scared me, because I felt a strange detachment from the words, a distance, at least at the beginning of the book. Then I was drawn in. It still worries me.
I decided that it was inevitable I would cry after the first chapter. Starting the book was like meeting an old friend; and at the end of the reunion I was supposed to burst into tears like I did with My Name Is Asher Lev. All the signs were there: the rising tension at the end, every thread coming to a climax in the final pages when there weren't enough pages left for a happy end to everything. Then I finished the last page and stared at the ceiling for a long while. It didn't end the way I wanted it to, but it ended in the right way.
I actually debated with myself whether it was really worth five stars; something felt off about it. But I can't do that. If this book was under a different name I would have no problems with giving it five stars and marking it as a favorite book. But this was a Potok, and I expected a lot. It's still worth the five stars. Maybe not worth the favorite. It's a tough book to read.
Little about The Gift of Asher Lev is underwhelming--don't think I meant that. This book is like a flood, far more than you ever could want. Far more than is easy to dissect. There's too much to be able to understand the ambiguity in one reading. Like Asher Lev's own art, not everyone gets it. No one will fully understand it besides the author. This book is a riddle.
"Riddles, puzzles, double meanings, lost possibilities, the dark side to the light, the light side to the darkness, different perspectives on the same things. Nothing in this whole world has only one side to it. Everything is like a kaleidoscope. That's what I'm trying to capture in my art. That's what I mean by ambiguity."
Twenty years after the events of My Name Is Asher Lev, Asher Lev, the rebel, trouble-maker,
and genius, is called home to Brooklyn for a funeral. He is reliving the past, and it's killing his inspiration.
I read the first half of this over the course of 3 weeks; then I read the second half yesterday. I finally buckled down to finish it, lost myself. You cannot read Potok books broken up into chunks, or you'll miss the deep yet subtle connections between everything. His writing is like honey, thick with detail and hard to process in gulps. You have to drink it in slowly.
And if I give him focus, Potok will start to shape the way I see the world around me. Small details noticed, a dissection of everyday interactions, and an indescribable feeling that I'm only an observer on the world. The moods and emotions he crafts in his stories begin to affect my own moods and emotions.
This book in particular is by far the most Slice of Life version of his style I've yet read. Very little happens in the middle of this book. It paints Lev's wandering with strokes so that the reader feels it as well. Every detail that Potok points out places you into the artist's mind, looking at the world in the way only an artist can. I do not read many Slice of Life books, but Potok's use of specificity makes for such rich writing.
But hardly anything about this book is concrete besides the writing. Everything floats, like we're in Lev's thoughts. The words flow in a stream of consciousness, all leading to a single wide river, but no stopping point. The end of the book doesn't end the lives of the characters. The rivers will keep on flowing.
I'm still struggling with what this book is trying to say. Do I agree with it? What is it even saying? It's the most ambiguous of Potok's works that I've read--like a mystery to uncover with clues on every single page. It's a riddle.
And I realized in reading this book, that I completely stole Potok's style. The narrative flow reminded me of my own writing exactly, if my writing quality was magnified by a hundred. It scared me, because I felt a strange detachment from the words, a distance, at least at the beginning of the book. Then I was drawn in. It still worries me.
I decided that it was inevitable I would cry after the first chapter. Starting the book was like meeting an old friend; and at the end of the reunion I was supposed to burst into tears like I did with My Name Is Asher Lev. All the signs were there: the rising tension at the end, every thread coming to a climax in the final pages when there weren't enough pages left for a happy end to everything. Then I finished the last page and stared at the ceiling for a long while. It didn't end the way I wanted it to, but it ended in the right way.
I actually debated with myself whether it was really worth five stars; something felt off about it. But I can't do that. If this book was under a different name I would have no problems with giving it five stars and marking it as a favorite book. But this was a Potok, and I expected a lot. It's still worth the five stars. Maybe not worth the favorite. It's a tough book to read.
Little about The Gift of Asher Lev is underwhelming--don't think I meant that. This book is like a flood, far more than you ever could want. Far more than is easy to dissect. There's too much to be able to understand the ambiguity in one reading. Like Asher Lev's own art, not everyone gets it. No one will fully understand it besides the author. This book is a riddle.
February 13, 2010
**SPOILER ALERT ** This review talks about some of the main plot lines in the book.
These books are full of excellent symbolism, from Asher's crucifixion paintings connoting the suffering of especially his mother but perhaps of the whole Jewish community, to his picture of Abraham with Isaac, Isaac actually being sacrificed. I think about Asher's father being full of rage seeing the pictures, and I think of a man who hasn't learned much in life, unable to understand anything except extremely conservative interpretations of the Torah done by generations past. Knowing that Chaim Potok was a Rabbi lifts the book to a higher level. He must have been much like Asher, able to have a complete understanding of all levels of living the religion and at the same time, able to express the obvious pitfalls and problems with such a conservative way of thinking and living life. I'm almost thinking maybe he was trying to get his people to become a bit more understanding and to be careful how they judge and handle their own who step outside of the box. To me, he painted Asher as the finest most moral person of all of them, the extreme opposite of good old Yonkle. To some extent, the Rebbe exhibited this kind of careful behavior with both Asher and Jacob, still loved and accepted them. However, when he banished Asher from the community, I felt his actions were a bit extreme. How about moving to Midtown instead of France?
I have read that many Jewish groups have banned these books and look down on them. This is not surprising because there is no doubt a lot of criticism of the conservative and blindly obedient behavior that is portrayed here by the leaders and conservatives in both of these books. And yet Asher stays true to the teachings and continues to honor the wishes of the Rebbe, so much so that he is willing to give Avrumel to his father and the Rebbe for the sake of continuity in the leadership going forward. In my opinion, this is no gift, it is Abraham sacrificing Isaac just as in Asher's painting and really, as has been done to Asher ever since he wanted to become an artist. Asher is Isaac who has been sacrificed because it is The Master of the Universe's will and Asher still believes it to the point that he obediently allows it to happen. So for me, this sacrifice is supremely unfair and wrong and shows how selfish and blind those people leading cultish types of religions can be all the while believing they are doing the right thing. It is the worst thing about religion. And I think of the extreme Muslims and their suicide bombings. A step worse than how Asher is treated and taught, but comes out of the same extremist and horrible thinking.
I ended up loving Asher and caring about him very much. I wish that he would have been chosen Rebbe. Now we'd have a religion worth liking.
These books are full of excellent symbolism, from Asher's crucifixion paintings connoting the suffering of especially his mother but perhaps of the whole Jewish community, to his picture of Abraham with Isaac, Isaac actually being sacrificed. I think about Asher's father being full of rage seeing the pictures, and I think of a man who hasn't learned much in life, unable to understand anything except extremely conservative interpretations of the Torah done by generations past. Knowing that Chaim Potok was a Rabbi lifts the book to a higher level. He must have been much like Asher, able to have a complete understanding of all levels of living the religion and at the same time, able to express the obvious pitfalls and problems with such a conservative way of thinking and living life. I'm almost thinking maybe he was trying to get his people to become a bit more understanding and to be careful how they judge and handle their own who step outside of the box. To me, he painted Asher as the finest most moral person of all of them, the extreme opposite of good old Yonkle. To some extent, the Rebbe exhibited this kind of careful behavior with both Asher and Jacob, still loved and accepted them. However, when he banished Asher from the community, I felt his actions were a bit extreme. How about moving to Midtown instead of France?
I have read that many Jewish groups have banned these books and look down on them. This is not surprising because there is no doubt a lot of criticism of the conservative and blindly obedient behavior that is portrayed here by the leaders and conservatives in both of these books. And yet Asher stays true to the teachings and continues to honor the wishes of the Rebbe, so much so that he is willing to give Avrumel to his father and the Rebbe for the sake of continuity in the leadership going forward. In my opinion, this is no gift, it is Abraham sacrificing Isaac just as in Asher's painting and really, as has been done to Asher ever since he wanted to become an artist. Asher is Isaac who has been sacrificed because it is The Master of the Universe's will and Asher still believes it to the point that he obediently allows it to happen. So for me, this sacrifice is supremely unfair and wrong and shows how selfish and blind those people leading cultish types of religions can be all the while believing they are doing the right thing. It is the worst thing about religion. And I think of the extreme Muslims and their suicide bombings. A step worse than how Asher is treated and taught, but comes out of the same extremist and horrible thinking.
I ended up loving Asher and caring about him very much. I wish that he would have been chosen Rebbe. Now we'd have a religion worth liking.
October 2, 2024
As this is my fourth novel by Potok, and my fourth five-star read by him, I suppose it's safe to say he's become a true favorite. He can really cut through the surface straight to the human heart. I love his characters in their realism--they are so tender you can't help but love them. Asher's family is splendidly written, especially his marriage. The Gift of Asher Lev is a little mystical, too, and a profound meditation on the cost of art (in a different way from My Name Is Asher Lev) and the artistic process. Asher spends most of the novel in some stage of artist's block, but not in a frustrating (to the reader) way. Only Potok could write a novel as exquisite as My Name Is Asher Lev, perfectly stand-alone, then give it a sequel, freely, a gift of grace.
November 6, 2025
Chaim Potok's The Gift of Asher Lev is the 1990 sequel to his 1972 novel My Name Is Asher Lev which was a magnificent portrait of a young Hasidic Jewish boy growing up in Brooklyn during the 1950s and 60s. It told his story from age 4 until he’s a young man in his 20s. The special dynamic of that novel was that the child Asher is a gifted artistic prodigy. It was a tale of an artist growing up in a community and family that doesn’t fully know how to deal with an art prodigy.
This sequel, written 18 years later, seems to follow in chronological time. We find the 40ish Asher a successful artist living in a small town outside Nice, France with a wife, son and daughter. Asher has both a career and family mid-life crisis as his most recent show was unsuccessful and his family goes to Brooklyn to attend his beloved Uncle’s funeral. When his wife and children start becoming attached to the Ladover (a fictional Hasidic sect) community and their grandparents, tension builds over whether to extend the family’s visit and for how long. There are other professional and personal crises and dilemmas that arise in the course of the novel.
The first novel's uniqueness and vitality made it a 5 star read. This sequel falls just short of that level. Missing are the unique and lively dynamics of the first novel involving this young artistic prodigy Asher's thoughts and actions during his school and daily life as he indulged his artistic calling while facing numerous obstacles in this restrictive Ladover community yet receiving assistance from surprising sources in some splendidly depicted scenes. The early low-key dynamics present in this book result in moments of tedium not existing in the first novel. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Hasidic Jew was a more interesting story than A Portrait of the Artist as a Middle Aged Hassidic Jew.
But while falling short of the first book’s level, this is still a very good story. While it was too low key at the start it started to get really compelling at about the 1/3 mark. I think the story started getting better when Asher started creating art again and Potok included scenes and descriptions of Asher's art process including a great art and education scene at his daughter's class. Potok is able to describe the artistic process better than other authors I've read who have written about art and/or artists. Additionally, as the story progressed the tension level surrounding the dilemmas and choices facing Asher grew.
Overall, this is a very good novel. I rate it as 4 stars.
This sequel, written 18 years later, seems to follow in chronological time. We find the 40ish Asher a successful artist living in a small town outside Nice, France with a wife, son and daughter. Asher has both a career and family mid-life crisis as his most recent show was unsuccessful and his family goes to Brooklyn to attend his beloved Uncle’s funeral. When his wife and children start becoming attached to the Ladover (a fictional Hasidic sect) community and their grandparents, tension builds over whether to extend the family’s visit and for how long. There are other professional and personal crises and dilemmas that arise in the course of the novel.
The first novel's uniqueness and vitality made it a 5 star read. This sequel falls just short of that level. Missing are the unique and lively dynamics of the first novel involving this young artistic prodigy Asher's thoughts and actions during his school and daily life as he indulged his artistic calling while facing numerous obstacles in this restrictive Ladover community yet receiving assistance from surprising sources in some splendidly depicted scenes. The early low-key dynamics present in this book result in moments of tedium not existing in the first novel. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Hasidic Jew was a more interesting story than A Portrait of the Artist as a Middle Aged Hassidic Jew.
But while falling short of the first book’s level, this is still a very good story. While it was too low key at the start it started to get really compelling at about the 1/3 mark. I think the story started getting better when Asher started creating art again and Potok included scenes and descriptions of Asher's art process including a great art and education scene at his daughter's class. Potok is able to describe the artistic process better than other authors I've read who have written about art and/or artists. Additionally, as the story progressed the tension level surrounding the dilemmas and choices facing Asher grew.
Overall, this is a very good novel. I rate it as 4 stars.
January 28, 2013
The strength of Potok is the honesty and depth to his characters and their communities. In his stories of the Ladovers there is beauty and love, anger and disappointment, hope and despair. One feels like they have truly stepped into this world of the Hasid, which for me is at once alien and familiar. In some ways, I feel like Asher: I am connected to this world, but not part of it. Asher of course is a part of the Hasidic world, buy he is in a kind of exile within it. Asher's duality here allows us into this insular world without invading it.
I know little of Potok's personal life and biography. I do not know how much of him is in Asher Lev, but it feels like a lot. Obviously, one sees the tension about religion and art that Potok may have lived himself. I wonder as well, how much of Asher's struggle with creating new art without repeating himself echoes the author's own similar struggles?
I liked this book, but it is not My Name is Asher Lev or The Chosen. It is good, but not like those works. They are on another level, true classics. The Gift is too melancholy, too meandering, too derivative to be truly great.
There is all together too much moping about and waiting. The ending is ambiguous (which in the context of the story makes some sense) and unsatisfying. The story builds and builds and then just ends. Most of all, I do not think this sequel gave me any deeper insights into the first book. It is, in some ways, like an extend epilogue. It was pleasant to revisit and see how things have turned out, but doesn't really add anything new.
I know little of Potok's personal life and biography. I do not know how much of him is in Asher Lev, but it feels like a lot. Obviously, one sees the tension about religion and art that Potok may have lived himself. I wonder as well, how much of Asher's struggle with creating new art without repeating himself echoes the author's own similar struggles?
I liked this book, but it is not My Name is Asher Lev or The Chosen. It is good, but not like those works. They are on another level, true classics. The Gift is too melancholy, too meandering, too derivative to be truly great.
There is all together too much moping about and waiting. The ending is ambiguous (which in the context of the story makes some sense) and unsatisfying. The story builds and builds and then just ends. Most of all, I do not think this sequel gave me any deeper insights into the first book. It is, in some ways, like an extend epilogue. It was pleasant to revisit and see how things have turned out, but doesn't really add anything new.
March 25, 2009
Read this after recently rereading My Name is Asher Lev. This book is also challenging but in the end more satisfying, I think. I'm still uncomfortable with it, but was completely mesmerized by this story. I just could not put it down. One of the most compelling novels I've read. I knew the ending--it seemed inescapable throughout most of the book. Stunning and heartbreaking with a tiny winking light of hope peeking through. It was like the entire world changed colors as I read this book.
March 10, 2018
This is a reread. I've been so desperate for good books this winter and have read so few and this is a good book. This is full of oh so many religious themes, and the question of what we give and what we hold back. I always find Jewish thinking although different from my own, a kind of parallel universe where the logic makes sense. I'm glad to enter again into a world of these questions.
June 20, 2018
Well crafted and satisfying but not quite as engaging as his earlier work, "My Name is Asher Lev" which was one of my all-time favorite books when I read it as a teenager. The subject of being Jewish in today's world is always thought-provoking and brings up so many memories and issues close to my heart that anything by Chaim Potok is a treasure.
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