
#403
Title:
The Education of H*Y*M*A*N K*A*P*L*A*NAuthor: Leonard Q. Ross (Leo Rosten)
Publisher: Harcort, Brace, & World
Year: 1937/1965
154 pages
I
can't find a photo of my edition, but the publishing information above
is correct. This is a re-read for me, but since I read it somewhere
between 30-37 years ago it's more nostalgic than anything else. I have
had H*Y*M*A*N K*A*P*L*A*N on my mind for several weeks as I read books
that evoke him. Hyman, an immigrant, takes beginner's night English
classes and speaks like your immigrant forebearers did if they were
Ashkenazi Jews in New York or New Jersey before 1950. Hyman is an
earnest yet immovable object. Reading this as a child, I saw him as the
bane of his teacher's existence. Reading it now, having taught or worked
in educational settings for most of the intervening years, I took in
that Hyman's teacher, Mr. Parkhill, understands that Hyman is both a
burden and a genius. This, I think, is something that differentiates
this episodic comedy from others that rely exclusively on the trope of
the dumb greenhorn's hilarious mispronunciation and mangled grammar.
Hyman's misunderstandings provide a fresh vision of English, revealing
hitherto unseen facets of the language and forging fresh connections.
For me, the shining and ineffable utterance, the pinnacle of Jewish
philosophy's efflorescence, is Hyman's assertion, "Mine oncle has a
gless eye." You'll have to read the story to see why this simple (and
untrue) statement is such a hilarious emblem of Talmudic reasoning
paired with the Jewish stubbornness necessary to survive in world that
seeks to quash the Jewish spirit.
I read
The Education of H*Y*M*A*N K*A*P*L*A*N at my grandparents' house, at about the same time as I read Roth's
Portnoy's Complaint and Idries Shah's
Mulla Nasrudin
tales. Leaving aside an early adolescent's profound embarrassment at
having her mother ask, "Have you gotten to the liver yet?", this is a
useful trio, of which Ross/Rosten is the fulcrum. Hyman brings
Yiddishkeit to the New World, not just through his language, but in his
attitude, world view, and exuberance. His is the optimism of the Jew in
the promised land. While he bears the burdens of tsars and World War I,
his is not the generation of Hitler's particular horrors. Portnoy holds
the angst of post-Holocaust American Jewry that must wrestle with how
much to accept and how much to reject the pessimism of such active
anti-Semitism. Portnoy would find Kaplan naive, but see this as
contemptible, whereas the Mullah Nasrudin might find him companionable,
another blessed fool whose nonsense makes reasonable sense, if one is
willing to really hear it.