Vol. 10, No. 3 Spring 1992 BOOK REVIEWS 127 Harry Kaplan's Adventures Underground, by Steve Stern. New York: Ticknor and Fields, 1990. 256 pp. $19.95. The old Jewish neighborhood of Memphis, known as "the Pinch," provides the setting for most of the stories in Steve Stern's marvelous collection of short fiction, Lazar Malkin Enters Heaven and Other Stories (penguin, 1986). These tales do not describe growing up Jewish in the South, but instead rework such Judaic myths and motifs as the thirty-six righteous men and the angel of death. The last story in the collection, however, is an American ghost story. A reclusive, minimalist writer is blocked on a novel about a reclusive, minimalist writer, but is jolted out of sterility by an encounter with a "ghost writer," who teaches him to revel in his artistic imagination rather than restrain it. Stern's character finally allows his protagonist to glimpse "a neighborhood on top of a river bluff ... full of cunning old world Jews." It is the Pinch transmuted by the magic of Stern's own bravura prose: "From their wagons and stands they were peddling prayer shawls and siddurs, goofer dust and mojo hands.... Their tzaddiks pulIed rabbits from under their yarmelkes and gutted them. on the spot ..." (p. 248). In this neighborhood, and adjacent Black ghettos, Harry Kaplan, the bookish adolescent hero of Stern's latest work, discovers the pungent mysteries of adult sexuality and the unfathomable otherness of Blacks. He also learns what it means to harbor racial prejudice, to be betrayed, and to betray others. As in many a Jewish immigrant bildungsroman, the narrator/protagonist comes of age in a lunatic family, this one comprising a nagging mother, a hapless father, a duplicitous uncle, a senile grandfather, and, before she dies, a comicalIy odoriferous grandmother. But the book's vitality depends not on yet another caricatured Jewish clan, but on Stern's dazzling use of language, his eye for wild similes, and his detailed inventories of the mad worlds he invents. Stern contrives a number of opportunities for verbal acrobatics, beginning with a flood which turns the central city into a labyrinth of lagoons. Wandering out of his father's pawn shop, the adventurous but terrified Harry first explores this transformed world on a makeshift raft steered, by two brothers, Black Huck Finns to his Jewish Tom Sawyer: 128 SHOFAR When we'd sailed past those islanded storefronts, out beyond the quicksilver reach of the reflections, I noticed a change in the air. The mild breeze, brackish with the stench of the renegade river, was laced now with the keener odor of barbecued treyf. (p. 64) Harry's Virgilian guides, Lucifer and Michael, live in their aunt's brothel and run errands of a petty criminal nature, and Stern catalogs this underworld with a zestful, sometimes exhausting prose that matches Harry's wide-eyed wonder: What I'd been prepared to see, I saw: a cavern of topaz light inhabited by languid mermaids. . .. There was a neon clock, an enamel Dixie Peach calendar on a water-stained wall, and a ponrait of a gimlet-eyed Jesus with a rich golden tan. (p. 106) Lucifer is cagey, streetwise, and voluble, while Michael, a virtual mute, devours books procured by Harry from his cousin Naomi. When the sight of a white beauty queen catapults Michael into a trance, Stern renders his nonstop ravings by commingling local idiom withscraps from the Bible, Greek mythology, and assorted literary classics: "She got to be mine! ... Her am the one and only puredee supreme, the realest gospel dove. Done made up by a opostle on a bootleg still, then sprankle her on a cypress knee which it is whittle into a honey gal by sweet Jesus hisself. How we meet up is I strum 01 Prospero's starvation box, or do I bust me a jack bottle fresh off a bottle bush, and out she pop." (p. 188) Harry hopes to end the trance by bringing Naomi to Michael's bedside dressed up as the beauty queen, but instead has some gawky sexual grappling with her atop their grandmother's coffin. When Michael dies, Harry feels guilty for...
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