The Old Country by Sholem Aleichem

Source of book: I own this.

 

Tradition! 

 

As a kid, our main babysitter was my uncle, who in addition to taking us to the beach and stuff like that, used the opportunity to corrupt our young minds with the very best movies. Peter Sellers, for example. But also a few classic musicals, which is how I became familiar with The Sound of Music, The Music Man, and, most often, Fiddler on the Roof. Classics all. 

 

Fiddler on the Roof, however, stands out as a most unusual sort of musical, one that was incredibly risky. After all, the ending is tragic yet hopeful, there is no one romantic storyline, and it is a tale about, of all things, Jews in Eastern Europe. And yet, it is thoroughly compelling, and has remained one of the most popular musicals of all time. (A similar thing has happened with Hamilton, a puzzling concept on paper, but superb in its execution.) 

 

Ask most people, however, and they will have no idea where Fiddler on the Roof originated. Who conceived of the exuberant milkman Tevye, the village, and the panoply of characters that make the musical so magic? 

 

The answer to that question is: Sholem Aleichem. 

 

Who? 

 Sholem Aleichem's signature, from the book cover.

Solomon Naumovich Rabinovich - often referred to as the “Jewish Mark Twain” -  was born in 1859, in what is now Ukraine, but was part of the Russian Empire at that time. (And later became part of the USSR.) In what would become the pattern of his own life, his father was originally a prosperous merchant, then lost it all. Solomon tutored a rich man’s daughter, then eloped with her, much to the consternation of her parents. However, she ended up inheriting their fortune after their deaths, which he subsequently lost in stock speculation. At that point, his options were teaching and writing, both of which he did. His writing was under the pen name of “Sholem Aleichem,” the Jewish greeting “Peace Upon You.” 

 

Later, in 1905, he fled the pogroms against the Jews that were sweeping the Russian Empire (and indeed, much of Europe), landing in New York City. By that time, he was becoming established as a writer, playwright, and lecturer. For the most part, his reputation was as a writer in Yiddish, and the market for his writing and lectures was the Jewish Diaspora. Later, however, his works were translated into various languages, and he gained an international reputation. 

 

So, how did I know all about Aleichem? Well, I have a few connections. First of all, my step-grandmother was Jewish, although not religious. She was from New York originally, although she worked as a Librarian in Los Angeles for decades. She would sprinkle a bit of Yiddish in here and there, so I was familiar with at least a few dozen words. 

 

Later, I discovered the works of Leo Rosten, particularly the hilarious Hyman Kaplan stories. This in turn led to reading The Joys of Yiddish, which is both a lexicon and a collection of humor and culture. I highly recommend it.

 

Rosten referred often to Aleichem and even paraphrased some of the stories, and so I became familiar with him and his humor. I also startled a few Jewish friends and acquaintances when I understood enough Yiddish to get by. Hey, I aspire to be a mensch, not a shlemiel, what can I say? 

 

Aleichem wrote a large number of stories about Jewish communities in Eastern Europe, only some of which have made it into English translation, from what I can tell. The Tevye stories formed the basis for Fiddler on the Roof, but they are actually not as easy to find as I expected. More on that later. The most common collection is the one that I found at a used book store in 2021, The Old Country, which is translated by Julius & Frances Butwin, and published in 1949. 

 

Julius passed soon before the project was completed, so it was left to Frances to write the introduction. Her explanation as to how they selected the stories was enlightening. Only one of the Tevye stories makes it into the collection, and she explained that they were the most difficult to translate. Most of the humor comes from the fact that Tevye is always quoting the various Jewish holy books. Or rather, misquoting, butchering, and outright fabricating. In the story included, the primary sources was the Torah, which, as a Christian, I am pretty familiar with. Which meant that the misquotes and misattributions were laugh-out-loud hilarious. But apparently a lot more of the stories feature that Talmud and other secondary works, which the average Gentile probably would not find as familiar. I wonder if that might be less the case 70 years later, and I myself probably would find them amusing. 

 

Whatever the case, the rest of the stories run the gamut from broad comedy to heartbreaking tragedy, often both, and everything in between. There is the story of the two twin brothers who take to feuding over their seats in the synagogue. There is promising young man who breaks his parents’ hearts by deconverting in order to gain access to education and employment. There is the touching story of a young boy trying to impress his female best friend with tall tales. There is the harrowing story of the man desperate to get home for Passover, who risks his life crossing a raging river. There is the man who tried to buy a she-goat, but keeps coming home with a he-goat…or is it a demon? There is even a story about the Dreyfus Affair. These are just a few. 

 

Because the stories are self-contained wholes, trying to duplicate the humor is impossible. In many cases, the whole story is necessary in order to get the punchline. Or the twist of the knife as the case may be. 

 

I did want to at least mention a few things. There are a few stories set around Purim, the celebration of the story of Esther and the deliverance of the Jews from the Persian oppressor, Haman. Because of this, there are loving descriptions of hamantaschen, those sweet pastries overflowing with fig or poppy seeds. For those interested in experiencing them, I recommend Canter’s Deli in Los Angeles. Come to think of it, Aleichem wrote a lot about food in these stories. I need to plan a trip to Canter’s again now.  

 

One story that stood out as both hilarious and one with a really sharp edge was “Eternal Life,” the story of a schlimazel who gets roped into taking a corpse to the town for burial during horrid weather. For doing so, he is promised “eternal life.” The townsfolk, however, are less interested in that than in getting actual hard cash. And they won’t even let the poor guy in. What is interesting is his response to the unwelcoming innkeeper:

 

“What is this town anyway, another Sodom?”

 

Hmm, isn’t that interesting? We Christians forget that the idea that Sodom’s sin was homosexuality is relatively new, and not in any way supported by scripture. Ezekiel explains it pretty clearly:

 

Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. They were haughty and did detestable things before me.

 

It wasn’t until the dying throes of the Roman Empire that a post-Constantine emperor, knowing he had to deflect attention away from his own failures, scapegoated gay people, leading to widespread persecution. 

 

Aleichem writes in this story from the original Jewish understanding of the sin of Sodom - which dates back 3000 years. Sodom turned its back on strangers, hoarding their own wealth at the expense of others. 

 

The story also gets another dig in, this one against religious manipulators. 

 

[F]from that morning on I have despised all those overly pious people who pray out loud and beat their breasts and bow low and make crazy motions. I have hated those holy ones who talk with God all the time, who pretend to serve Him, and do whatever they want, all in His name! True, you might say that those modern irreligious people nowadays are no better and may even be worse than the old-timers with their false piety. But they’re not so revolting. At least they don’t pretend to be on speaking terms with God. 

 

Whatever this might have looked like to Aleichem in the late 1800s, it has become clear in our own modern society that the “irreligious” people have a hell of a lot more compassion and human decency than those who pretend to be on speaking terms with God. 

 

I’ll just briefly mention two more stories, both of them about holidays. “A Country Passover” has an incident in which a Jewish boy is best friends with a Gentile boy, but during Passover, they are not allowed to be around each other, because the Gentiles believe the “blood libel.” That is, that Jews need the blood of a Gentile child to perform their Passover rites.

 

(By the way, the QAnon conspiracy theory is one modern version of the Blood Libel. The claim that LGBTQ people are “groomers” is another. Both stigmatize and slander a group with accusations of child harm.) 

 

The final one is “The Day Before Yom Kippur,” and is quite amusing. On that day, everyone goes door to door, and asks forgiveness for any wrongs, with “If anything I have said to you during the year offended you, I want to apologize, and wish you a happy New Year.” The person is then treated to a piece of holiday torte. In the story, three not-at-all-beloved characters make the rounds, but tradition is tradition, and however reluctantly, the holiday torte is shared. 

 

This is a thoroughly enjoyable book. I thought the translation was good, neither too breezy nor self-consciously archaic. It reads naturally and easily. My only wish is that there were more of the stories - but I guess maybe this means I need to read my three volumes of the other great Yiddish writer, Isaac Bashevis Singer, the writer who kicked off this blog back in the day.