
My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok
Some people are gifted in ways that make them different or strange. Their talents and gifts alienate them not only from the general public, but can also alienate them from their communities and families. My Name is Asher Lev is a tale of a boy who deals with this alienation and who struggles to be true to himself, despite the paradox that might be.
Asher’s family is Jewish and they live in New York. His father works for the Rebbe (religious leader of their particular branch of Judaism) and his mother is going to school to try to cope with the horrifying death of her brother. Asher finds himself distracted from the activities that most of his friends are interested in because he is drawn to art. He loves to draw, paint, sketch, shape, and on and on. His father is not okay with this; normal Jewish boys memorize the Talmud and work towards their bar mitzvahs. Asher’s mother tries to encourage her son’s desire to draw, and so does one of his teachers. One day, the Rebbe calls Asher into his office. The Rebbe has decided to prod Asher’s abilities, too. He has asked Jacob Kahn, a painter, sculptor, and unobservant Jew, to teach Asher how to become an artist. Asher’s father is furious, but the Rebbe has commanded it, and so it must be.
Asher spends the next several years of his life trying to balance the two sides of himself: the Jew and the artist. He travels and paints and prays and attends synagogue. The two sides of himself seem to be at odds in his head because of his father’s disapproval. However, he keeps doing both because he feels he needs both. His art gains much recognition and his shows in New York gain a great reputation for the young Ladover Hasidic Jew.
Asher finds that art comes to him in fits. He will feel nothing, and then, all the sudden, it will come to him. This happens to him one afternoon and he paints two pictures: Brooklyn Crucifixion 1 and Brooklyn Crucifixion 2. The first is a painting of his mother at the window, waiting for her husband to come home, with telephone poles reflected in the windows (note that telephone poles can look an awful lot like crucifixes). The second is his mother on a crucifix, looking three different ways: at her husband, at Asher, and to the heavens. Asher knows these are his best works; they convey the most emotions, and he uses the crucifix to show suffering for others (specifically, his mother’s sacrifices of herself for the things she cares about). However, when the paintings come to display, his community, and more specifically, his parents, are disgusted and infuriated. They can’t see how a good Jewish boy could pant such a disgrace. In staying true to the two paradoxical sides of himself, Asher has, in essence, alienated himself from the one he finds the most inspiration in. He is cast out and left alone, misunderstood and hated for painting the feelings of his heart.
The loneliness and pain Asher suffers are evident throughout the book; the boy is clearly a tortured soul. However, Asher’s journey to the crucifix has led him to the truth that he has so desperately sought through both religion and art. He believes wholeheartedly in Ladover Hasidism and he believes wholeheartedly in his art. His doppelganger-like personality and life feed off of one another: he can’t be one without the other, yet they are both fighting against each other at all times. The book paints a poignant picture of one boy’s battle to be true to himself, no matter what the cost, and no matter how sacrificial staying true to both sides of him might be. As a reader, you find yourself tangled up in Asher’s feelings, understanding where he is coming from, yet suffering with him in that he can’t get anyone else to understand. My Name is Asher Lev is a brilliantly woven tale of this sacrifice of self in order to find one’s self, and is most definitely worth reading.




