Scan barcode
A review by ms_gouldbourne
The Ministry of Special Cases by Nathan Englander
5.0
I couldn't put this excellent, intelligent, horrifying, often funny book down.
I picked up Englander's The Ministry of Special Cases with absolutely no idea what I was letting myself in for. In fact, the blurb made it sound like some sort of young adult dystopia, given that I didn't know anything about the context (a fact that makes me feel supremely ignorant in retrospect). That meant that every twist and turn was profoundly shocking, since it took me a few chapters to realise the harrowing nature of what I was reading.
We are introduced to Kaddish Poznan, an outcast from the Jewish community in Buenos Aires who chips names off the gravestones of disreputable relatives as a way of making a living. Kaddish is the quintessential dreamer, chasing his big break which is always just around the corner. He is tolerated by his clever, practical wife Lillian and despised by his hot-headed socialist son Pato. The frequent arguments between Kaddish and Pato are heartbreaking in their realism and venom; father and son cannot find a way to understand the other, and it is this conflict which ultimately leads to their downfall. Kaddish berates Pato for forgetting his ID card in a world where this document is the difference between freedom and incarceration. He urges him to change his Jewish face to a more socially acceptable appearance, and insists on burning Pato's more radical books in fear of a government that his son scorns. Pato, in his turn, derides his father's perceived lack of spine, and fails to recognise the seriousness of the situation his country is in. Because of this, he is taken - 'disappeared' by Argentinian military.
The rest of the book is devoted to Kaddish and Lillian's increasingly desperate attempts to get Pato released to them, faced with a government that won't even acknowledge he ever existed. The reader rises on Lillian's hopes and falls with her every time they are dashed. I found myself turning every page as quickly as possible, following the Poznan family down the various avenues and channels they use to try and find out what has happened to their son. I won't spoil the resolution of the book, but I was profoundly moved by the narrative style, the way humour was employed even at the times of the greatest torment, the portrayal of an unflinchingly uncaring authority that sent these poor desperate individuals running in circles in the time of their greatest need.
The second I closed the book I was straight online to learn more about this period of history about which I was previously so unforgivably ignorant. The Ministry of Special Cases is one of those books that has a lasting effect beyond the actual reading of it. I cannot recommend highly enough.
I picked up Englander's The Ministry of Special Cases with absolutely no idea what I was letting myself in for. In fact, the blurb made it sound like some sort of young adult dystopia, given that I didn't know anything about the context (a fact that makes me feel supremely ignorant in retrospect). That meant that every twist and turn was profoundly shocking, since it took me a few chapters to realise the harrowing nature of what I was reading.
We are introduced to Kaddish Poznan, an outcast from the Jewish community in Buenos Aires who chips names off the gravestones of disreputable relatives as a way of making a living. Kaddish is the quintessential dreamer, chasing his big break which is always just around the corner. He is tolerated by his clever, practical wife Lillian and despised by his hot-headed socialist son Pato. The frequent arguments between Kaddish and Pato are heartbreaking in their realism and venom; father and son cannot find a way to understand the other, and it is this conflict which ultimately leads to their downfall. Kaddish berates Pato for forgetting his ID card in a world where this document is the difference between freedom and incarceration. He urges him to change his Jewish face to a more socially acceptable appearance, and insists on burning Pato's more radical books in fear of a government that his son scorns. Pato, in his turn, derides his father's perceived lack of spine, and fails to recognise the seriousness of the situation his country is in. Because of this, he is taken - 'disappeared' by Argentinian military.
The rest of the book is devoted to Kaddish and Lillian's increasingly desperate attempts to get Pato released to them, faced with a government that won't even acknowledge he ever existed. The reader rises on Lillian's hopes and falls with her every time they are dashed. I found myself turning every page as quickly as possible, following the Poznan family down the various avenues and channels they use to try and find out what has happened to their son. I won't spoil the resolution of the book, but I was profoundly moved by the narrative style, the way humour was employed even at the times of the greatest torment, the portrayal of an unflinchingly uncaring authority that sent these poor desperate individuals running in circles in the time of their greatest need.
The second I closed the book I was straight online to learn more about this period of history about which I was previously so unforgivably ignorant. The Ministry of Special Cases is one of those books that has a lasting effect beyond the actual reading of it. I cannot recommend highly enough.