The Finkler Question

De: Howard Jacobson

Narrado por: Steven Crossley

Man Booker Prize, Fiction, 2010

Julian Treslove and Sam Finkler are old school friends. Despite a prickly relationship and very different lives, they've never quite lost touch with each other - or with their former teacher, Libor Sevick. Now all three are recently widowed, in their own way, and spend sweetly painful evenings together reminiscing. Until an unexpected violent attack brings everything they thought they knew into question.

©2010 Howard Jacobson (P)2010 W F Howes Ltd

Poignant, complex and touch - very 'Finkleresque'.

This book captures the complexities of being Jewish and human, both for Jews and non-Jews alike. The Jew, as a character in human history has been both reviled (Shylock, Judas, modern-day Israel) and loved (Jesus, David, Einstein). This book cleverly explores the complex relationship that society and culture has with Jews and Jews with the rest of the world. The book's title is a play on 'the Jewish question' or 'Jewish problem', which was an ongoing vile debate in 19th and 20th century Europe, around the status of Jews, their rights and political status.

The fact that this was even a subject for debate and in some cases still is, shows a level of madness within the human mind I feel. This deeply destructive and hateful part of us has lead to genocides and discrimination against Jews and others; this is what the book tries to come to grips with. The protagonist, a non-Jew, who struggles with what it means to be Jewish, both in his admiration for them as well as jealousy of them, drives him to a type of hysteria that he struggles to explicate himself from. It's a funny, witty book that is both charming and challenging at times. The only issue I had was the narrator's Czech accent, that needed some work.

Tedious at first, but worthy payoff

This was a slow, often tedious listen at first: preachy, unlikeable men circling identity questions that didn’t feel urgent or relatable. I nearly stopped.

I’m glad I didn’t.

The final chapters unravel the irony and land with real moral clarity, especially through Libor, whose quiet refusal of performative suffering reframes the entire book. What seemed like navel-gazing becomes a sharp lesson on appropriation, moral posturing, and the difference between living an identity and endlessly lamenting it.

Not a warm novel, but a sharp and worthwhile one if you stay to the end.

Funny, touching, thoughtful

Wonderful book, brimming with challenging and fascinating characters. Jacobson provides the sparkling words---ironic, true, funny, depressing, illuminating. All of the characters are flawed humans, all receive the author's empathy. Crossley captures each of the characters brilliantly, even the women (and such wonderful women, from the departed Melkie to the serious and humane Hepzibah). Whether precocious child, snarling teen, or ancient Czech, Crossley finds their essence. Was bereft when it ended (only complaint is with the packager, who stepped on the ending without a pause to breathe).

Wise and hilarious.

Any additional comments?

Humor is a curious business, isn't it. Unlike some other reviewers here, I laughed all the way.