That would still have required him to confront the issue, and they would have asked "why?", and he'd have to admit he'd consciously betrayed, in a way, everything he was raised to be. Yes, it was cowardly, but it fits. Didn't he try to get some paints so he could tone down the crucifixions?
See I agree that he
thought
he couldn't tell them. But something really bugged me about him not even tipping them off, or telling someone (his uncle, Yudi Krimsky?) to tell them not to go. I think Heather's on the nose - he wanted them to see it firsthand. So, in my opinion, it was less his inability to tell them not to come, and more his childish and selfish desire for them to see his work firsthand and maybe understand him a little, regardless of its possible humiliating effect on them. It was his needs over his parents'. That's what irks me. But I think I understand it a little better now.
Even if he felt the only way he could communicate this vision was through the paintings, he could have shown them to his parents privately. I just thought that scene, with everyone at the opening going "there they are," was unnecessarily cruel.
Even if he felt the only way he could communicate this vision was through the paintings, he could have shown them to his parents privately.
I thought of that, but they were already scooped up and hung, and the show was Saturday night. He really had no chance to take them to a private showing.
unnecessarily cruel
Cruel, yes, but I don't think unnecessarily. Bloody uncomfortable and painful, but maybe necessary on some level. Maybe it was conscious on some level for Asher. The confrontation occurred on his ground, where he was surrounded by people who supported him when the primary conflict of his life was brought to a head. It may have been the only way he could see of having a chance of surviving.
Well, he had first wanted his parents to come on the Saturday night before the big opening, but then they had the meeting, and had to go Sunday. I also think that he didn't think so much of its effect on them, personally. He knew that they would be upset because it was crucifixions, but he's been putting so much of himself on display at the exhibits that I don't think he realized how much it would upset his parents, not that their son was painting crucifixions, but that he was painting them in a crucifixion. From Asher's thoughts:
It isn't the sitra achra, Papa. It's your son. There was no other way, no other aesthetic mold -- He would not begin to understand. He would hear the word "cricifixion." He would see the crucifix looming monstrously before his eyes.
I don't think Asher really even considered the "Hey, it's them!" aspect of it. I think that's one of the things that happened a lot throughout this book -- Asher really understands people only as they relate to him. He sees the pain that he and his father are causing his mother, but he really says very little about her own ambitions. He understands his father's need to travel only as a corrollary of his own need to paint. He knows that his parents will object to his painting crucifixions, but doesn't really comprehend that they'll object more to being the subjects of those paintings, because he is always, in some way, the subject of his paintings.
I think that's one of the things that happened a lot throughout this book -- Asher really understands people only as they relate to him.
I totally agree with this. And it affects the way the naarative flows. The book felt like authentic first person - without the naarator guessing the thoughts and motives of the characters around him. Like I said before, we had to deduce a heck of a lot just from Asher's descriptions of dialogue and character interaction. Talk about your "show - don't tell" method of storytelling. And maybe the title is saying just that - my name is Asher Lev, and this is
my
story.
The book felt like authentic first person
Almost claustrophobically so. I kept feeling breathless from his sense of nowhere to turn to resolve the dichotomy of his life.
Interesting comments so far!
One thing I found as I read
Asher Lev,
is that I spent a lot of time comparing the book to Potok's
The Chosen
and
The Promise.
The Chosen
is one of my favorite books of all time too. I found
Asher Lev
to be much more difficult and slow to read, although I still enjoyed it tremendously. Part of me had tremendous sympathy for Asher's parents. I found his actions very selfish, but more importantly, I had a difficult time with his apparent inability to modify his actions, even slightly, to fit with what he believed to be "right" and with his community. I don't mean to imply that I value conformity over other values, but it does seem that, as communal creatures, there needs to be some consideration of others. Also, Asher seemed to lack free will, at least when it came to his art. I certainly understand having internal pressures that lead one to behave "unreasonably," and have behaved unreasonably myself more often than I would like to admit.
I wonder sometimes if my questions about this are a result of my own ordinariness. Perhaps extraordinary people have these inner demons. or voices, or whatever, that they must follow. But perhaps being so gifted in one specific area results in a corresponding imbalance in will?
This is a long way of saying that
Asher Lev
brought up a lot of questions for me, but few answers. It was not a comfortable book for me, but I think it was a valuable one. Potok remains one of my favorite authors.
I wonder sometimes if my questions about this are a result of my own ordinariness. Perhaps extraordinary people have these inner demons. or voices, or whatever, that they must follow. But perhaps being so gifted in one specific area results in a corresponding imbalance in will?
That's an interesting thought. If Asher devoted himself completely and totally to his art, does that mean, by definition, he couldn't be devoted to anything or anyone else?