The Family Mashber Review by Chabakuk Elisha

I must say that I was skeptical. The Family Mashber (the title itself provides the coming attractions, as "mashber" is Hebrew for "crisis") looked to me to be just another, relatively run-of-the-mill, multi-generational saga with Jewish characters and a mid-nineteenth century flavor. Sure, I figured that there would be interesting depictions of the Shtetl and the period, but I wasn't sure that it would be anything that I hadn't heard or read before. I also wasn't so sure that I would find myself relating to the views of Der Nister, nor was I sure that it was worth the 700 odd pages. I was pleasantly surprised.

That's not to say that there weren't elements that I didn't really go for, and I am still baffled by the pretty-much adolescent attitudes of many Yiddish writers, and we find it here as well (how many times do we need to hear about the chest size of various women?), but I guess that it does have has its place and relevance...Nevertheless, with that said, I do think that the book is a masterpiece.

Other than this book, I don't know much about Der Nister (aside from the basics) and his views, but I can say that the book paints a vivid picture of an idealistic man with a strong spiritual side, thoroughly disgusted by the establishment. In this volume are two of the three books (the third is unfortunately lost), and the first few hundred pages develop the characters, in detail, and at great length. For me, it took about 500 pages until the story got going, when we reach one of the most powerful confrontations you can ever hope to read. Until that point, the author describes the Mashber family and their Chassidically inclined Russian community. Personally, I think all the characters in the story represent the various voices that we all have mumbling in our heads, but I'll leave that for you to decide on your own.

The main character, Moshe Mashber, is a "baal-habateshe" Yid; he runs a successful money lending business; he's a pragmatist. In the fairly segregated and class-conscious Shtetl, he maintains a comfortable position within the community's upper class, and is a decent, average, fellow who – like many of the decent folks who play by the establishment's rules – isn't a bad guy. But, although he surely gives his share charity and wishes no one any harm, he remains cold, and for the most part indifferent, to the struggles of those on the other side of the tracks. His position turns out to be quite precarious in the boom and bust economy of the day, and it turns out that his end is near (not that the establishment that he supports and is a part of really cares). In Moshe I see the average decent guy – he is almost everywhere in our society.

His brother Luzi Mashber is the idealist. Somewhat of an ascetic and a mystic, he is an elder chossid, charismatic and sincere; he represents the ideals that the Chassidic world puts on a pedestal. Soon enough, though, we find that the idealist and the establishment cannot peacefully coexist, as the establishment is a ruthless, cold, corrupt and often wicked machine. People may live superficially pious lives, but they, as part of the establishment, crush everything in their way…often just because they can. For a long time Luzi lives parallel to the establishment. He is neither part of, or especially against it. But as one who seeks truth, Luzi eventually ends up at odds with the establishment, and once he abandons the establishment completely for the fringe, he becomes public enemy to even the bottom of the establishment community (who must find someone to vent their frustrations on). Interestingly, the story points out the fascinating (maybe it shouldn't be so surprising?) reality that the Breslover Chassidim of the day (of which Luzi has become one – as did Der Nister's brother) end up with a shared place and commonality with the Maskilim. As both the Breslover and the maskil live outside the establishment, and reject it, they are both despised and equally opposed, which brings them somewhat together – even though they are diametrically opposed philosophically (Breslover simple faith vs. the Maskil's enlightened rationalism) – as they share their recognition of the corrupted main-stream and seek an alternative. Luzi is the hero, the one with the intestinal fortitude, the inspiration to many. But what made him real and appealing to me, was that he also has his demons, his doubts, his uncertainties. He is not really sure of himself and what it is that drives him. It was for that reason that I wasn't able to truly relate to him until I got towards the end of the book.

There is another brother who suffers from a severe condition, affecting his mental and physical state and relegating him to the attic. He appears suddenly from time to time, usually at a very important moment. I wondered what Der Nister had intended with him exactly – was he there for emphasis? Was he there to display Moshe's kindness? Moshe's son Meir had some kind of connection to him, and it's possible that we would have a better understanding if we had book three, but we don't. Was he there to represent something else? I haven't really though enough about it, but (for now at least) I really don't know.

Sruli is an enigma. I don't know that there are such people. Indeed, he is a character that exists in many a story: The man who seems to have nothing, but in truth has everything. The poor man who is really rich. The jerk that is really kind. The cynic that is truly idealistic. The scoffer who truly believes. He sees through everyone's charade, and it is Sruly that drives the story; without him there probably is no story. Sruly is immediately drawn to Luzi, and as his self-appointed gabbai helps Luzi recognize the need to sever ties to the establishment. He and Luzi become inseparable as Der Nister takes the two people that he wants you to think are complete opposites and shows you that they are almost the same. As I said before, their confrontation about 500 pages into the book is truly a classic and a turning point.

Yona is the villain; he provides muscle for the establishment. He's no saint, but as a devotee of and believer in the establishment he has a respectable place. He may be far from representative of the establishment's stated values, but his loyalty and defense of the establishment allows him to sit with the elite and maintain their respect. To Der Nister this is ultimate evil, and he plays him up. Unfortunately, behavior like Yona's is far too easy to find.

Reb Mikhel is my favorite character. R' Mikhel is (to me) the most real character in the story – and his demons pursue him relentlessly to his grave. He reminded me of Nathanial Hawthorne's Tale of Goodman Brown, as a man who constantly struggles with his uncertainly. He is intelligent, learned, sincere…and tormented. He is poor and abused by the establishment. He struggles to find his place and be true to himself. But his struggles leave him with no peace with the establishment, and ultimately his attempts at finding his place fail as he resigns (at the first opportunity) his post as leader of the Breslover Chassidim (which he held as a way of battling his doubts). Once he is freed from responsibilities to the group (unfortunately for his family) he lashes out at the establishment, and their ruthlessness is turned to R' Mikhel who ends up with the wrath of the entire establishment focused on him, bringing him to his death (Sruli arranges a decent life for R' Mikhel's wife & children). R' Mikhel's episode leads to the establishment's bloodlust to focus on Luzi and the ultimate departure of Sruli and Luzi from town and towards a life on the road.

I won't go into all the characters, and there is plenty more to say (you'd hope so with so many pages), but the messages were pretty strong. The evils of the Bourgeoisie, the callous cruelty and corruption of the establishment, the frustration caused by the feudalist class system, and the rigid rules imposed by the powers that be, are all themes played heavily by socialist and communist thinkers; no doubt Der Nister's sentiments were with them. It also does a pretty good job of revealing what caused so many of the Jewish youth to become communists and explains their thorough dislike for Yiddishkeit and its leaders. But in the story it is not even the Maskil that wins the day (although he is a sympathetic character), but it is the spiritualist, the mystic, the true idealist that walks off into the sunset and prompted me to cheer.