Silence teaches compassion. Danny is raised in total silence. Except for the study of Talmud, Reb Saunders does not address Danny, unless he explodes at him during a mealtime. For the majority of the book, Reuven detests Reb Saunders' silence, and his father does not understand it well enough as a method of raising a child to explain it to his son. When Reuven's father goes into the hospital, there is a silence in Reuven's house, now (See Chosen #3 for details on close reading). However, the outcome of this scenario is the Reuven gives a long lecture to his Talmud class, and his teacher reveals to him that he is living in an ideological lie: he believes in certain liberal, rebellious ways to interpret the Talmud, but the institution for which he works does not allow such practices, "you must not use this method in my class" (253). As a result of this silence, Reuven learns about a dark side that his teacher has. Reb Saunders wants his son to become a tzadik (a righteous man), and so he raises him in silence, "'That man is such an ignoramus, Father.' I was angry. 'Look into your soul and see the world through his eyes ... In the silence between us, he began to hear the world crying'" (286). Though this is stated explicitly, it is so profoundly against the reader's beliefs about how a father should raise his son, that is seems totally out of context, the exact opposite of what Potok is trying to say. However, in the end, David Malter asks him, "'Danny,' he said softly, 'when you have a son of your own, will you raise him in silence?' ... 'Yes,' he said. 'If I can't find another way," and so the reader sees that Danny himself, who used to constantly complain and underwent great agony as a result of his father's silence, proscribes a potential similar treatment his own son (290). Further, Mr. Malter, Reuven's father, is a good listener, but he does not raise his child in silence. In fact, he oft condemns Reb Saunders. And thus, the theme of silence teaching compassion and Potok's viewpoint on it are not clear.
There's an interesting contrast, as well, between sight and hearing, both of which are motifs. Reuven almost loses his sight in one eye, Billy is blind, and Danny and Reuven communicate with their eyes when they cannot speak. Danny and Reuven both experience silent households at some point, as well. It's interesting--most people say that eyes are the window into the soul, but it appears that Potok advocates for silence being that window. However, the eyes are not to disregarded; they carry immense meaning (see Chosen #2 for details galore). Perhaps there is some reconciliation between the eyes and the ears, some contrast and connection. But I have not yet uncovered this connection. But this speaks to my diligence as a close reader; I'm not going to pull something from outside the text to explain something I don't understand. Instead, I would have to reread this book to garner its full meaning and find a plausible connection between the merits and intricacies between sight and sound.
Lastly, I would highly recommend this book. A friend told me it changed her life, and she's not even Jewish (if you read this, you'll see what kind of determination she must have had to decode all the Jewish terminology). I like to think of sentences are molecules. Potok's sentences are good, but the interactions between sentences are stellar (like water, which is a mundane molecule with extraordinary intermolecular behavior). There is a flow to his work that made the single-spaced pages feel much too short. The boys, Danny and Reuven, have a friendship that almost mimics Moses and the son of Pharaoh's, and that intertextuality is very neat to explore. Further, the book concentrates itself in a very happening historical period, and as such, all the actions are surrounded by true events (what would O'Brien say? Yikes...). Anyhow, the events are educational about the founding of the Jewish state and the Holocaust, but they also provide a somewhat symbolic, very much captivating setting for the story. Also, the symbolism and the Foster-isms abound, and they are so expertly woven into the book. Though they're not hard to find, they're hard to explain which makes this a great choice for anyone who likes a low-preparation book that yields a robust discussion. It's also intensely emotional. I cried at the end of the book, and I have no shame about that. I was practically helpless, it was written so well. It's a must-read.
You have made me very interested in this book! I can see how much you enjoyed it and you obviously did a lot of close reading and analysis of the motifs. You talk a lot about silence and sight/hearing in your last post, and I wonder, why do you think the author chose those senses for his motifs? Why not taste or smell? Why is the sound and the sight symbolic just in itself? I felt a similar struggle in trying to find the author's opinion on a certain subject. You say his point of view on silence is unclear, and I struggled with seeing what Jane Austen truly feels about pride and vanity. Perhaps pride and silence are such hard ideas for humans to grasp the idea of, and even they don't know how they feel about it, but they try to convey it to us through their great writing. They can both mean a lot of things, and they can both be interpreted in either a negative or positive way. I think Austen interpreted it in both ways, which is what makes it confusing to readers. What do you think about yours? You also mention the emotions you felt at the end about the book and its characters. What do you think was the single most important contributor to these emotions for you? I definitely felt an attachment to my characters and felt a sense of relief when everything worked out for them. The way you describe Danny and Reuven’s friendship makes me want to read it so I can hopefully see exactly what you experienced! ☺
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