“To Save a Life” by Larry Zuckerman
“To Save a Life” by Larry Zuckerman is very Jewish. It’s a story that lives on the streets of the Lower East Side of NYC at the turn of the century. It begins with a pivotal incident on a picket line on Broome Street, where we meet our protagonists, Malka Kaminsky and Yaakov Rogovin. Both are Jews who emigrated from Russia to start a new life in America, “The Golden Land.” A hired street thug (a paskudnyak in Yiddish) starts a fight to break up the protest, punching Malka’s coworker Chana Weisz in the face, knocking her to the pavement. Malka would have been next, but Yaakov Rogovin jumps in and comes to her aid. On the pages that follow, we switch back and forth between Yaakov and Malka’s stories as fate continues to bring them together. Yaakov dreams of making a living with his music instead of having to be a “presser” at Zalstrow Garments. Malka just escaped an arranged marriage and wants to make a life for herself in “The Golden Land” with her Aunt Leah.
We travel to Orchard Street, brimming with pushcart merchants. The knish carts and Malka’s rugelach reminded me of my mother’s cooking from my childhood. Malka and my mom were both famous for their rugelach. Intersecting Orchard Street was Hester Street, where the merchants wrapped their fish in the Jewish newspaper, The Forward. The paper becomes part of the story when a reporter from The Forward writes about Yaakov’s heroics at the picket line, bringing him unwanted attention.
The book is filled with Yiddish and Yinglish words and phrases and even includes a glossary in the back. Yinglish is a combination of Yiddish and English. The rude and unfeeling sweatshop bosses were called “alrightniks,” who found success but seemed to have forgotten where they came from.
Shabbos was at the center of their lives. Inviting someone to Shabbos dinner was not only the polite thing to do, but was also a way to make a match. Following Shabbos rules was part of the culture. Talking about work or money at the Shabbos table was forbidden. Carrying was not allowed. One of the Jewish businesses in the story operated on Shabbos, which added to the tension. The Jewish High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur served as guideposts for the characters as they prepared for the new year and reflected on their lives.
I enjoyed Malka’s character arc. Her parents planted guilt and judgment like roots in her every thought. Her Aunt Leah was her light and mentor who encouraged her. “The Golden Land,” as Malka called America, could break even the most optimistic person. One character commented that America’s doors were open, but only half open. Malka showed toughness and a growing self-awareness of what it would take for her to embrace her freedom.
I could identify with Yaakov, who, like me, is a singer and a piano player. Making a living as a musician was frowned upon by just about everyone in the story. I couldn’t help but think of my own parents, who discouraged me from majoring in music in college. “Take something more practical. Music can be a hobby, but not something you depend on to make a living,” they would say. I don’t think Jewish people are unique in that belief. But perhaps my parents learned this from their parents and grandparents, who grew up in Minsk, which is only about 40 miles from Yaakov’s hometown of Valozhyn. Yaakov had to fight his culture to embrace his music. How could he be seen as husband material when he sang songs in between acts at the Yiddish theater?
When I read the descriptions of Malka and Yaakov’s tenements, I remembered a museum exhibit that showed how a typical Jewish immigrant lived on the Lower East Side. Behind the glass was a life-size recreation of a tiny room with a few small pieces of furniture. My eyes were drawn to a sewing machine that sat on the table. I remember thinking that everything looked so small. In the book, relatives came to stay, and somehow, there was always room for them. Sometimes they would use the kitchen floor as an extra sleeping area. I was surprised to read in the author’s notes that Zuckerman was inspired to write the book after viewing a similar exhibit at the Orchard Street Tenement Museum in Lower Manhattan. He said he was impressed with the people who lived there and what they had to endure. As readers, we get to move into the neighborhood and see firsthand what it was like to live there. You could even hear the whack of a broomstick hitting a ball as kids played one-’o-cat in the street, which was a precursor to stickball.
The author included just enough action to keep the story exciting while focusing most of the book on character development. I cared about Yaakov, Malka and Aunt Leah. I found it easy to root for them. I think it also helped that I am Jewish. I understood the cultural references, which sparked memories. Both of my parents were from Baltimore, and they would talk about the row house neighborhoods where my grandparents grew up. The Baltimore harbor was another destination for Jewish immigrants who traveled from Eastern Europe. I’m sure many readers will have relatives who arrived through Ellis Island and lived on the Lower East Side of NYC, just like the characters in the story.
I didn’t know much about the streets on the Lower East Side before reading the book, but now I think I know them better than the streets in my own neighborhood. I joke with my wife that I can’t believe I still don’t remember the names of the side streets in our neighborhood after 30 years. But I can tell you all about Eldridge, Broome, Delancey, Orchard, and Hester Streets, including where you can find the best knishes.
I read an Advance Reader’s Edition that the publisher sent to the Israelite. The book is scheduled for release at the end of October. This was the first novel I have reviewed for the Israelite. The other books have all been based on real people or a scientific study. To me, it felt as real as a true story. I hope Zuckerman writes a sequel, so I can go back to Eldridge Street for another visit. My guess is that they would invite me to Shabbos dinner and find room for me in their home so I could stay a while.
