I loved this book. So much so that I’m going to read the sequel to find out what happens next. (I hope it’s worth it.)

What struck me most about Asher Lev was the very strict separation between the secular and the spiritual. In Asher’s world, the word of Hasidic Judaism, there is no secular life. Everything, every choice, is supposed to be made for the benefit of the community, which in turn serves the will of the Master of the Universe. Asher’s choices set the entire community off balance. Ultimately, that is why he must leave. It doesn’t matter that Asher continues to live his life as an observant Ladover Jew; the fact that he does what he does makes being a good Ladover Jew impossible.

Personally, I had trouble wrapping my head around his world. I get it in concept, but I cannot understand it in execution. I feel that is because I am a-religious. While I did the Sunday School thing as a child, religion was never a part of my life in any sense nor is it now. I suppose the people of Asher’s community might have trouble wrapping their head around my existence with its utter lack of tradition (except in the most basic sense) and trappings of faith.

Other things that I noted:

I found myself frustrated by the constant proclamations that Asher is a great artist. I wanted to see his pictures and judge for myself. I understand the reason for Potok writing it this way. Nevertheless, I wanted to be shown, not told. I resented being told to take it on faith.

Illness as guilt trip?. It seemed that anytime someone got sick, they were rewarded. It makes me wonder about the culture. Asher’s mother becomes ill in her grief and is rewarded by being allowed to get an education. Asher gets ill when forced to go to Europe and is rewarded by being sent home. Jacob succumbs to fits of melancholy and is rewarded with love, attention, concern, etc. Given the number of times we were told that Asher’s father came back from the baths with his hair wet in the winter, I expected him to come down with pneumonia (as Asher’s mother often warned him) and he would be rewarded by Asher giving up painting. I am very grateful to Potok for not falling into this cliché, and I apologize for doubting him.

I loved the intensity of little Asher. I wonder how many talented children are left behind by lack of parents’ understanding or interest in a child’s hobbies. How sad for Asher’s mother, though. Her encouragement of his gift forces her to make unpleasant choices.

It nearly read as a poem to me.

I noticed this too, but I couldn't put my finger on it until you said it that way. I love the way Potok crafts the story, and the way you have to pick up numerous details of Asher's life and surroundings from dialogue.

I also liked the way Potok doesn't feel the need to delve too deeply into Asher's mind, and we get a lot more description of what Asher does rather than why he does it. He doesn't seem to agonize over every decision he makes (although he certainly agonizes over some), and his actions tend to be decisive, sometimes impulsive, and often selfish. But that seems to be the only way to develop his true artistic talents.

It doesn’t matter that Asher continues to live his life as an observant Ladover Jew; the fact that he does what he does makes being a good Ladover Jew impossible.

Modern Orthodox Judaism constantly struggles with the synthesis of the secular with the religious. Modern Hassidism maintains a very strict viewpoint on mixing the two and represents an extreme in Orthodoxy that is often referred to as "Ultra"-Orthodox. Ironically, when the Hassidic movement began in the late 17th century it was actually considered to be a very liberal (and by some heretical) movement because it stressed the emotional and spiritual aspects of Judaism over the strict textual approach, and preached a form of equal access to G*d for all Jews that was different than the traditional view that the more learned one was, the closer one was to heaven. It also introduced the concept of a spiritual leader who serves as a form of conduit to G*d and provides direction to the community. Over the years, the fierce loyalty and cohesiveness of Hassidism has resulted in a close-knit and sheltered community that values tradition over change, and shuns secular influences as much as possible.

Personally, I had trouble wrapping my head around his world. I get it in concept, but I cannot understand it in execution. I feel that is because I am a-religious.

Naturally I could relate to the setting a great deal, probably more than most of you, and was actually curious how easy or difficult it was for other people to understand many of the concepts Asher Lev throws out.

Illness as guilt trip?

I actually saw this as an opportunity for Potok to show enormous sensitivity in an otherwise rigid environment. The fact that illness is rewarded with compassion, love and attention, is not necessarily the most therapeutic method, but it certainly made be care much more for the folks around the ill person.

Modern Orthodox Judaism constantly struggles with the synthesis of the secular with the religious. Modern Hassidism maintains a very strict viewpoint on mixing the two and represents an extreme in Orthodoxy that is often referred to as "Ultra"-Orthodox. Ironically, when the Hassidic movement began in the late 17th century it was actually considered to be a very liberal (and by some heretical) movement because it stressed the emotional and spiritual aspects of Judaism over the strict textual approach, and preached a form of equal access to G*d for all Jews that was different than the traditional view that the more learned one was, the closer one was to heaven. It also introduced the concept of a spiritual leader who serves as a form of conduit to G*d and provides direction to the community. Over the years, the fierce loyalty and cohesiveness of Hassidism has resulted in a close-knit and sheltered community that values tradition over change, and shuns secular influences as much as possible.

I didn't get to the book, yet. Potok touches on a lot of this in The Chosen, though (one of my favorite books, ever), because the book centers on the friendship between an Orthodox boy and a Hassidic boy.

I didn't get to the book, yet.

Aw, crap. I was looking forward to your input.

Potok touches on a lot of this in The Chosen, though (one of my favorite books, ever), because the book centers on the friendship between an Orthodox boy and a Hassidic boy.

I guess he writes what he knows. Didn't he grow up as an Orthodox Jew?

I guess he writes what he knows. Didn't he grow up as an Orthodox Jew?

I think so.

My plan is to get it this afternoon. I'm a fast reader. By the time you're back from Rosh Hashanah, I should have read it. (Oh, and L'shanah tovah).

How sad for Asher’s mother, though. Her encouragement of his gift forces her to make unpleasant choices.

I got the impression that his mother might have had some of Asher's talent, because she understands more of what's driving him. At least insofar as being willing to take him to the museum and being a buffer between him and his father.

The discussion of crucifixtion as metaphor vs. historical/religious truth was also interesting. If I remember correctly, Asher tried to find some other symbol that would be less objectionable to his community and realized there was none.

Asher's own awareness of the grief he's causing and his struggle between the two deepy felt imperatives of artistic truth and love of his community were the most moving themes.

I've read the sequel. It's not as intense as this one, because Asher's a man and not so dependent on the community for his validation, but it does go into the price he pays for his truth.

I got the impression that his mother might have had some of Asher's talent, because she understands more of what's driving him. At least insofar as being willing to take him to the museum and being a buffer between him and his father.

I think, not that she had his talent, but that she understood what an unfulfilled mission/purpose whatever - what a tragedy that could be. Her brother's mission was left undone. The only thing that could put her soul to rest about the loss of him was to finish it.

I was a little disturbed at times at how much Asher discounted the pain he was causing his parents. I know Faulkner said, "If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate; the 'Ode on a Grecian Urn' is worth any number of old ladies." I suppose that holds for artists too, but I would have liked Asher to feel worse about it.

I was also interested in the emphasis on his name. Not only is the title and first line "My name is Asher Lev," but there are several times he repeats that through the book. Is it because the book is so much about forming an identity that is at odds with his background? Is he claiming his heritage even as he rejects it?

was also interested in the emphasis on his name. Not only is the title and first line "My name is Asher Lev," but there are several times he repeats that through the book. Is it because the book is so much about forming an identity that is at odds with his background? Is he claiming his heritage even as he rejects it?

Interesting. It's also repeated everywhere, not only as in "I am Asher Lev" or "My name is Asher Lev" but also with mention of his father "Asher Lev son of Aryeh Lev"

It was only after the Crucifixion paintings that the Rebbe understood. Art is not a discipline whose study and practice can be controlled or directed. And that's when the Rebbe sends him away.

I think the Rebbe understood before that. I think that that's why the Rebbe insisted Asher take French in high school. If it were only for being able to read art books and function more in the art world, then Jacob Kahn would have told him to do it. I think the French was a contingency plan -- the Rebbe knew that a Ladover community was growing in Paris, and making sure Asher could speak French was a way of making sure that he'd have a place to go if it did become too much of a conflict between his art and his community.

I was a little disturbed at times at how much Asher discounted the pain he was causing his parents.

It seemed to me like he was struggling with it, a lot. He was always aware of it, and it always pained him, but he couldn't just do what they wanted him to do, either. I thought that was half the point of the crucifiction painting -- he knew how much he was hurting his mother, but he didn't have a choice about it, just as his father didn't have a choice about traveling.