When Jacob’s mentorship eventually inspires Asher to create a work using crucifixion symbolism to represent his mother’s torment-i.e., as she is torn between nurturing her beloved son, and supporting her uncompromising husband-Asher’s psychological separation from his immediate world becomes literal, as he is asked to leave his community permanently. When, several years hence, he becomes the protege of Jacob, an older, non-observant Jewish artist, the clashes at home become even more intense.

Parent-child conflict escalates as Asher grows older and both his technical gifts and fledgling artistic philosophy also mature. When it is apparent that Asher is nothing like other boys, they feel only shame. From an early age, Asher displays a remarkable gift for drawing, and this passion quickly dominates all his waking hours to the chagrin of his parents, who expect school and proper Orthodox conduct to be their one child’s top priorities. His parents are both deeply invested in their religious community, especially his father, who works tirelessly for his “Rebbe”. But I was recently reminded of just how powerful a personalized voice can be when I experienced Chaim Potok’s My Name Is Asher Lev, published in 1972.Īsher is a Hasidic Jewish boy growing up Orthodox in New York during the early 1950s.

While I didn’t retain many of the details as I rejoined the real world after graduation, I’ve gravitated towards “first person” in my reading ever since.

As a college English major way back when, I absorbed lectures about different novelistic techniques, including the “first person” narrator’s perspective, point of view, etc.

Asher lev book