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Michael Chabon is author of the critically acclaimed Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, published in 2000, and The Wonder Boys, which was made into a successful film (two Oscar nominations). His most recent book, The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, continues the tradition of excellent, if off-beat storytelling which began with those earlier works and others (see bibliography below).

Still, after about 150 pages I found myself asking, “What is this book about?” Yiddish Policeman’s Union is filled with wit and creative energy. Its plotline, an intriguing premise that postulates the failure of the State of Israel after which the Diaspora finds temporary refuge on the Coast of Alaska, is often overwhelmed by the anarchy of word-play and verbosity that has become Chabon’s stock in trade. Michael Chabon is a wordslinger; the fastest talker in town. You can get whiplash trying to keep up with his verbal exchanges, like trying to watch Venus Williams play tennis against herself. Chabon’s good, though; he’s the Jascha Heifitz of wordplay. At times, though, the sheer volume of words obfuscates the action, meaning sometimes you can’t see the forest (the plot) for the trees (the words).

The story of a wise cracking shamus, rendered “shemmes” by Chabon throughout (more wordplay: a shamus is a detective, a shemmes is the caretaker of a synagogue, waking up the faithful and calling them to prayer), is the perfect vehicle for a bit of lexical legerdemain. Private detectives are legendary for mouthing off and getting their teeth knocked out for their pains. Chabon’s hero, Meyer Landsman, is no exception. But in fine detective fashion, Landsman carries on in defiance of the odds that are stacked overwhelmingly against him, in defiance of his ex-wife (who is also his boss), and in spite of the fact that he has been relieved of his badge by “people of influence”  who are, he conjectures, the same shadowy figures he is pursuing. All this against a fusillade of one-liners and snappy repartee that is as steady as the Alaskan rains.

Tough but compassionate, world-weary yet quixotic, Landsman presses on to the bizarre conclusion of his case. He is reunited with his beloved Bina but everything else seems to have fallen apart.

Our library Guardian Angel, Goddard, says she was disappointed with the book. She was enthralled with the first 200 pages or so and then she lost interest. Or perhaps Michael Chabon sacrificed her interest to the god of unrelenting loquaciousness. The Yiddish Policeman’s Union doen't pretend to be something more than what it is: entertaining and occasionally thought provoking. It has flashes of brilliance and it is consistently (almost) entertaining. A good summer read by an accomplished writer.

Other books by Michael Chabon:

Mysteries of Pittsburg (1988)

A Model World and Other Stories (1991)

The Wonder Boys (1995)

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (2000)

Summerland (2002)

Michael Chabon Presents: The Amazing Adventures of the Escapist (Graphic Novel—2004)

Michael Chabon is also a frequent contributor to the N.Y. Times Book Review

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“A turkey?”

“Stuffed?”

“Yes, and it’s very easy to make. I made garlic, pepper, cumin, oregano, bay, basil and parsley leaves into a paste and, naturally, bitter orange and salt and basted it well inside and out with that paste. Then I threw in plenty of big slices of onion.”

“Then, as I’d already got black beans on the boil, I started to prepare a tasty sauce: I took two strips of bacon I cut and cut into small pieces and fried, and put more onion in the fat, but cut tiny with ground garlic and plenty of chili, and there you go. I poured the sauce over the beans when they were almost cooked and added a cup of dry wine…”

“And what else?”

“Well, I poured in the white rice to make a congrí, a bit more oregano, and for good measure a pinch of salt and a handful of finely chopped onion. Then I waited for the rice to dry out, before the grains went soft, of course, and switched it off and stuffed the turkey with the congrí, so it cooks inside the bird. You know what I didn’t have? Toothpicks to close it up so I used a few stems from the bitter oranges…”

 From: Red Havana

Leonardo Padura has been described as the Cuba’s answer to Dashiell Hammett. Not to take anything away from Hammett, but I believe Padura is a more rounded author. His influences include J.D. Salinger, Cervantes, Mozart, and Lennon (note: –non, not –in.)His prose is dense and the subject matter is in turns cerebral and muscular. Havana Red, originally titled Masks (Mascaras, in Spanish) deals with the death of a transvestite in a Havana park. Inspector Mario Conde, known as the Count, who is about as unpredictable as Sam Spade or Phillip Marlowe, is given the case. His superiors are not over-eager to unearth the murderer of a person of such questionable morals—it is Cuba, after all. But the one way that Conde is predictable is in his tenacity in seeing his cases to the end. In the course of his investigations he comes into contact with an aging playwright who has been blacklisted for his moral turpitude and anti-socialist tendencies. The playwright, Marqués offers insights into the steamy underworld of Cuban artistic (bohemian) life. In so doing he sheds light on a case that just about everyone else is content to allow to remain in darkness.

The conversations between Marqués and the Count are illuminating in other ways as well. Through them we follow the brief renaissance and long decline in Cuban art after the overthrow of Batista in the late 50’s. Perhaps decline is too harsh. Sublimation might be a better word. As we learned from Ry Cooder’s visit to Cuba in the 90’s which resulted in the Buena Vista Social Club sessions, Cuban art is and has been very much alive. Only it is hidden from the outside world.

Bitter Lemon Press is taking steps to redress this imbalance. In addition to Havana Red, Havana Black and Havana Blue are now available in translation. Bitter Lemon, "the best crime and roman noirs from faraway places," features not only contemporary crime authors but classic authors such as Fredrich Glauser  as well.

Washington County Public Library also owns a copy of an earlier Padura novel, Adiós, Hemingway.

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A Princess of Roumania by Paul Park

Fans of Fantasy are eagerly awaiting the midsummer release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows and the cinematic release of Charles Vess’ Stardust.

In the meantime I’d like to recommend an exciting new series in the Fantasy realm by Paul Park. Book One, A Princess of Roumania, is about a young woman named Miranda living in Massachusetts who dreams (as young women sometimes do) that she is really a princess from Roumania (This is the spelling used by Paul Park). In fact, she was an orphan in Roumania, adopted by her American parents in the aftermath of the revolution that overthrew Nicolae Ceausescu in the early 90’s. It appeared at the time that her real parents had been killed in the revolution and in the chaos that followed she was abandoned. Miranda remembers a luxurious seaside villa where she thinks she lived with her aunt and a frantic escape on a train. Her adoptive parents were given a bag which contained a book written in Roumanian, a bracelet and some coins. Miranda is convinced that the bag holds the secret of her true identity. And it does.

The bracelet has a pattern which features a tiger crafted in white gold. A professor of Romance languages at the College where her father teaches translates some of the handwritten notes on the flyleaf of the book which speak of the return of the White Tiger when Roumania will be freed of its oppressors.

The book was actually written by Miranda’s aunt, Aegypta and there are only two copies in existence. The second copy is discovered in a trunk at a flea market in Bucharest by a Baroness Ceausescu. The Baroness recognizes the significance of the book and destroys it, believing that that will weaken the Countess Aegypta’s claim to the throne, as well as that of her niece who has disappeared. In burning the book, the Baroness proclaims, “The world is in two places. One false and one real.” All this transpires in a much earlier time frame and the story proceeds along these parallel tracks until the book is destroyed and Miranda, along with two of her friends, is transported back to the earlier time. The Baroness is a conjurer and she summons spirits to search for Miranda. Miranda is captured along with two of her friends, but the transformation works in their favor as they take on characteristics of strength and bravery that allow them to escape.

Miranda believes that her destiny awaits in Roumania and she and her miraculously transformed friends set out for New York where allies of her aunt can arrange her return. The stakes are very high, though; besides the Baroness a German mage is also anxious to capture Miranda and forestall her attempts to rally the Roumanian people. As the book ends Miranda disappears, caught up in his enchantment, leaving her friends to press on.

There are elements of The Lord of the Rings and Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials” in this marvelously crafted story. Because the heroine is a young woman, unsure of who she is and anxious to prove herself in a real-life test, it will appeal to older YA readers. Book Two of the series, called The Tourmaline, was published last year. Book three, The White Tyger, came out this year. Pulman’s work has been adapted for the screen and this, along with the release of Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess’ “Stardust” will bring attention to these and other deserving works in the realm of fantasy.

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