Landsman is your typical gumshoe detective, down on his luck, when the murder of a fleabag hotel guest thrusts him into an intentional conspiracy. This is cleverly written and funny. Although I had some trouble understanding all the Yiddish terms, I can't understand comments from other LibraryThing reviewers that this was a difficult read. Better than Kavalier and Clay! ( )

I sometimes pick up books only because I've heard of them and I'm curious. Then, when I start reading them, I have no idea what they are about, just that they are pretty popular right now.

That's what happened with this book. It took me a while to wrap my head around the Jewish independent zone in Sitka and all the connotations. After I had checked up the real Sitka on Wikipedia and accepted that it's an alternate history, I ended up liking the book, particularly the writing style.

I can't say it was easy to read. It is dark, bleak, cold and thoroughly negative. The detective has a drinking habit and is divorced. Typical hardboiled Raymond Chandler stuff, with a yiddish twist.

In an alternate present, in which a temporary Jewish territory in Alaska is about to revert to Alaskan governance and the two million Jews living there forced into exile, two detectives, who are cousins and partners, work to solve the murder of a junkie who might, once, have been the salvation of his people.

This is a hard book to read. It is very bleak, especially in its description of every negative aspect of the characters and their motivations. Many times I put the book down because I felt a need to cleanse my soul a bit, but each time I returned to be dragged further and further into the compelling lives of the detectives and the web of lies surrounding the lives of both the victim and those who planned to use him, first with (or without) his consent, and then in spite his death. I didn't find the political situation driven by the alternate history to be particularly convincing or necessary for the points the author made, but the writing is certainly creative and forceful. ( )

Like other reviewers I bought this book after reading Kavalier & Clay.
Unlike the others, I didn’t compare the two when writing the review.
It’s not fair to the author, the reader or to the book as it stands up by its own merit.

The premise of the book is simple: what if Israel lost the 1948 war, the Jews were driven into the sea and Roosevelt’s proposal of establishing a Jewish state in Alaska passed (I’m sure the deciding vote belonged to Storm Thurman). Thus the setting of Sitka, Alaska – a town where Yiddish is the native tongue and kosher is the law of the land – is born. The tale is weaved around an alcoholic, yet highly moral, homicide detective, his ex-wife (now his boss), his missing sister and a bunch Jewish mobsters hiding behind their religion (but which mobster doesn’t).
Throw in a wannabe messiah as well and you got yourself a story.

The novel has a noir feel and smoothly moves along like an old familiar pulp detective novel, the story has some rich Jewish imagery from old Europe as well as jokes and, like the old Yiddish tales, each paragraph is crafted to be rich in meaning and thick with symbolism.

This is a good book but, for me, a slow read. Maybe the symbolism was too much, maybe I had to re-read some parts or maybe I just didn’t “get” several points.
Yet, I enjoyed the novel very much.
I felt it dragged a bit in the middle, but quickly picked up. The story is interesting, the premise is brilliant. This is not just a “Jewish murder mystery”, but also about Diaspora, a search for a home and a community which is being ostracized from the world. ( )

Let’s start with Michael Chabon. Being a fan of all things Sherlock Holmes, I read “The Final Solution” when it was first released. It’s a slim novella that, in my opinion, tread too much water. You move from beginning to end at a satisfactory pace with no major plot disappointment or style road bumps to slow you down. But, it was average. Middle of the road. Bland. I was left with the sense that both our efforts, mine and the author’s, had disappointing returns.

Note: Chabon was also hurt by the fact that “A Slight Trick of the Mind” by Mitch Cullin came out at about the same time. Of the two, Cullin’s book reads better, creates more atmosphere and adds something to the canon. Both use the same gimmick – an unnamed detective at the end of his life who is, but never identified as, Sherlock Holmes. Cullin’s story is the more solid, more crisp, and better channels Doyle.

So, I’m not even really sure why I picked up this book.

Author aside, “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” isn’t a story I’m normally drawn to. It’s a hard boiled detective novel. It’s alternative history. It’s very, very Jewish. I’m not against any of these things – I just don’t browse those sections of the bookstore. Fortunately the book turned out to be more than the sum of its parts. ”The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” is a book to read because you enjoy good storytelling… and I’m happy to say that the writing isn’t so shabby either.

Better than not so shabby, in fact. Chabon writes sentences that pull you through the main plot while cheerfully directing your attention to vignettes he’s skillfully placed off to the side. (He’s very much what I imagine a MGM movie lot tour guide to be: instructing you to please look to the left and to the right, while hurrying you ever forward to the main event). Here’s an example of that kind of moment:

The main character of the story, Meyer Landsman, and his partner Berko Shemets wander into a seedy bar/strip joint at 7AM to talk. Inside is Hershal, a dog waiting patiently for his master, Nathan Kalushiner, to return. Nathan was a jazz clarinetist who ran off with a mobster’s wife and whose various body parts subsequently washed up on the docks (but not, we are told, his C-soprano clarinet). Hershel has been waiting in the same spot for 5 years.

"Berko has been staring at the dog with increasing fixity. Abruptly, he gets up and goes over to the stage. He clomps up the three wooden steps and stands looking down at Hershel… He takes hold of the dog’s head in his massive hands and looks into the dog’s eyes. “Enough already,” he says. “He isn’t coming.”

The dog regards Berko as if sincerely interested in this bit of news. Then he lurches to his hind legs and hobbles over to the steps and tumbles carefully down them. Toenails clacking, he crosses the concrete floor to the table where Landsman sits and looks up as if for confirmation.

“That’s the straight ems, Hershel,” Landsman tells the dog. “They used dental records.”

The dog appears to consider this, then much to Landsman’s surprise, he walks over to the front door. Berko gives Landsman a look of reprimand: What did I tell you? He darts a glance towards the beaded curtain, then slides back the bolt, turns the key, and opens the door. The dog trots right out as if he has pressing business elsewhere."

Berko goes back to the table, “looking like he has just liberated a soul from the wheel of karma” and the main action resumes.

These stories within the story are the foundation on which Chabon builds a novel that is an homage to the magical realism of South America & Marquez as much as it is to the genre literature he is such a proponent of. They are also, in my mind, an indication of all great fantasy writing. Because creating a world that immerses readers is all about attention to detail. The details are what sell it. And the pleasure of a Chabon book, a good Chabon book, is found in how skillfully he handles these details.

The plot of “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union” is otherwise surprisingly straight forward. There are two parallel story lines. Two years after its creation Israel fell and was wiped from the map of the Middle East. The American government gave the Jewish refugees of WW2 the use of a desolate area of Alaska – for 60 years. The 60 years is about up and everything, including the police force, is about to revert back to the Americans.

The second storyline revolves around Meyer Landsman… destined to become one of the great gumshoe detectives. Landsman is a drunk who lives in a dive hotel that caters almost exclusively to lowlifes. His neighbor, a grandmaster chess player and smack addict is murdered in the room next door. This bothers Landsman and he becomes fixated on solving the case. As is par for the course in these kinds of stories, a lot of people seem to have a vested interest in his not doing that. Landsman also manages to face and resolve several personal issues along the way.

Overall, “The Yiddish Policeman’s Union” is an enormous and welcome surprise of a book Chabon took the cliche detective novel and tossed it into an alternative history novel. He populated it with people who are the neighbors you want to have in the world you almost wish you lived in. Every last eccentric character is completely exotic; but is at the same time fleshed out to the point of being completely believable in their every description, word and action. And in a time when the word literature has become synonymous with angst and depression, Chabon’s book is happy and laugh out loud funny. And did I mention? – the writing isn’t so shabby, either. ( )