(4/17/2018)
Being sympathetic to, but not of the Jewish faith, I found this book irritatingly exclusionary. The author's perspective seems to be that there is something particular and specific to a Jewish family's experience of guilt and redemption that does not apply to those from other, or no faith. I kept wanting to be allowed into the discussion, but felt there was a prohibition against my participation based on being from the "wrong" culture. I generally enjoy books that illuminate how others live, allowing me to see that we earthlings have more in common than not. This book made me feel that interesting discussions were being had, but I could not possibly contribute to or benefit from the conversation. Surely lying to one's family about one's alleged successes, remorse for wrongs committed, and the search for meaning and redemption are universal themes. Yet Wolas seems bent on convincing me otherwise.
Wolas structures the novel by giving each character dedicated chapters in which she or he expounds on the particular slant of their own mendacity and remorse. Yawn. This is an approach we've seen far too often, and often rings trite even in the most capable hands. I slogged through the book, trying to find a spark of originality or believable tension. It wasn't worth the struggle.