Sharon's Reviews > kaddish.com

Actual rating: 2.5 stars because this book betrayed me.

Have you ever sat Shiva in a city you don't live in?
Or maybe, a more universal question - have you ever gone to the funeral of a relative who lives in a different city, one you've never lived in? Then you find yourself awkwardly fielding condolences from people you've never met before, people you've barely heard of in your life, who all knew your relative in a much different manner than you did. That emotion is captured perfectly in the first 50 pages of this novel. It's awkward, it's personal, and it's a struggle.
And then there's a time skip.

The cover flap of this novel talks about Larry's inability to handle the burden of saying Kaddish for his father for the requisite amount of time. It's a big commitment - hours of prayer, emotional labor, etc. He has also become quite secular, leaving his Orthodox family's way of life behind. So, he pays someone else to perform the duty for him, in the most roundabout but still halachiclly Kosher way he can find.
Based on that description, I thought it would be a meditation on grief, a son coming to terms with his secular lifestyle while still honoring his religious father. Maybe a nice reconciliation with his sister. Coming to terms with his father's wishes. Still being loved despite their familial differences.

Nope. There's a time skip, he's an Orthodox teacher at a religious school in Brooklyn, married with kids, and an entirely different person. His "true" self or whatever. Because he had to be Orthodox to find that. None of that was mentioned anywhere in any blurb and, honestly, I felt kind of betrayed by the turn the story took. The first act writing was literally four or five star material. It was moving and relatable and I really felt for Larry. But when he became Shuli? Not so much.

I am a secular/Reform Jew. I don't keep glat kosher, I'm not shomer shabbat, and I definitely wear shorts and a tanktop when it's hot outside. But I have my own experiences with kaddish and yartzeit that are just as meaningful to me as the strictly halachic version that the characters in this book strive for.
While I understand that Englander himself is (Modern?) Orthodox (?? I think?? At least that's what it seems like from what I've read of him.) and he has his own definitions for what fulfilling a religious duty and living a fulfilling life mean, I did not, could not, click with that. More than the problem of the writing, I really think the publishers who put up the blurb are to fault for this misunderstanding. They sold me something that wasn't at all what it appeared to be and it wasn't the story I wished I could be reading.
The story I wanted was coexistance of Orthodoxy and secularism, family love, coming to terms, and acceptance of those you may not understand. Instead, I got a man who flipped entirely while he was off the page and making up for all the times he didn't meet his father's expectations in a way that felt more like wish-fulfillment than character growth.