I tried four or five times over forty years to read this book and failed - till now. Why in my 70's did it finally grip me! And grip me it did. The angry bitterness of the father, Albert, the yielding supportiveness of the mother, Genya - all the side characters, each adding something to one's sense of life, one's sense of the human condition.
The immigrant English was perfect. Still better, the way the children talked opens sealed portals of our past. What I loved were passing sensory descriptions, the sound of a boat horn in the night, luminous shadows of buildings, moment to moment sensations that are heavy one moment, turn into airy nothing the next. A combination of James Joyce and Yiddish drama. For dramatic it is, and in a style those of us who remember Yiddish theater will recognize.
Most of all for me was the penetration of darkness and the ways the protagonist sought Light. Even if it meant almost electrocuting himself to achieve ultimate union with God, much as Aaron's sons did.
If I wrote such a novel as a young man, as Henry Roth did, I can see that I would have a hard time writing another or writing at all. I'm left more than breathless, more than forlorn. Scarred with recognition of the human plight, commingling hope and hell.Get more detail about Call It Sleep.
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