Book Review: "The Penitent" by Isaac Bashevis Singer

I have not read anything by Isaac Bashevis Singer for years now and the last time I did, I remember it being a grand experience - but then his books all got too expensive and I became an adult, so I had to pay for them myself. So, it has been at least eight years since I have read anything by this author. To come back to reading him with his identity crisis tale “The Penitent” was a brilliant idea.

Packed into a short novel is one man’s quest for meaning enclosed within his marriage breaking down, his relationship with his mistress breaking down, his want for a better, more pious life but this battle between good and evil rages on in his head trying to give him clues on which path he should take in comparison to which path he would like to take. Shaking this around in his skull whilst he recounts his tale to another person, he must decide what he wants before it is too late. And he must come to see that not everything is as black and white as good and bad.

Filled with wretched hatefulness and adoring love, segments of massive misogyny and blatant favouritism to a staunch hatred of what man has become. This existential identity crisis is more than just a search for meaning, it is a last resort for a man trying on his hands and knees, to put his life back together again.

Now to go through some quotations I found really amazing:

“Where was he when the Jews of Poland dug their own graves? Where was he when the Nazis played with the skulls of Jewish children? If he does exist and he kept silent, he is as much a murderer as Hitler…”

Near the beginning of the book is this quotation and it is one that almost made me feel a bit sick. There is something about the Holocaust that whenever it is mentioned, my mind goes back and thinks of the children who were trapped there and well, I can honestly say that this one quotation made me really upset. My stomach just turned. But in the context it was used in, it definitely makes you think about matters far beyond our own control. It is something I will remember long after this review is over.

“Up to that day I had been a reader of books, magazines and newspapers. I had often felt that what I was reading was a deadly poison. All it evoked within me was bitterness, fear and a feeling of helplessness. Everything that I read followed the same theme - the world was and will always be ruled by might and falsehood, and there was nothing to be done about it. Modern Literature used different words to say the same thing: “We live in a slaughterhouse and a house of shame. That’s how it was and that’s how it’s going to be forever.” Suddenly, I heard myself reciting words filled with optimism. Instead of starting the day with tales of theft and murder, lust and rape, obscenity and revenge, I had started the day with words about justice…I had discovered that I didn’t have to start the day by swallowing the venom.”

Gosh, that passage really hit me hard. We never really realise how much literature has an impact on our minds and our mental health. I may have found solace in reading instead of going outside as an agoraphobe, but I had hardly come to think about what I was reading. I was just happy to read everything with a plot, but maybe, I should begin my day with a speech by Malcolm X rather than a murder mystery from the British Library. It could make all the difference to start my day too, with justice.

“I was inundated with invitations. I was constantly buying flowers and candy and taking cabs. Some of the people I met told me that they had already considered me among the dead. I had reappeared like a resurrected corpse. From the way I was dressed and from the presents I brought, they presumed that I wasn’t a pauper back home in New York. Some even began to hint or ask openly that I help bring them to America…”

These quotations of things happening whilst inserting these side remarks about existential modes of identity is something I find familiar about Isaac Bashevis Singer, but his language makes the ruffling around in the story all worthwhile.

In conclusion, this book was an amazing read and I am so happy to have read Isaac Bashevis Singer again. I believe the one I read last time was longer than this, but I will definitely be reading it again. It is a beautifully short book and yet has a massive story to tell. I do not think I will be shelving this one. Instead, I will read it again one day - and probably another. It is far too good to put down and far too deep to understand in one read through.