Have you seen the movie An American Tail before? You know, the one with the mice who come to America from Eastern Europe? You know, the Mousekowitz family? While I wouldn’t stoop to the level of comparing David Levinsky to a mouse, I couldn’t help but be reminded of that movie when I was reading his life story.
It’s the classic tale of a Russian Jew coming to America in hopes of a better life, seeking opportunities from the city where the streets are paved with gold. The novel is written in such an autobiographical tone that I thought he was a real person–kudos to Cahan for that. But the story of Levinsky really happened to so many people, and that was what I think touched me most about the book. Once you read it from an autobiographical point of view, the people become alive, and you really feel their pain and suffering. Reading about the starving immigrants who came to America on steerage from a textbook, or watching a bunch of cartoon mice is simply not the same as reading one man’s story, and what he has to say.
This changed my entire response to the book. Throughout it all I felt myself suffering David’s pain, hunger, love, and finally, his loss and sadness. I kept awaiting some new hope for him, as he did, when it came to his love life, his work, his education (the loss of that, by the way, was the most painful to me), but was eventually left in despair as he was. All along, you could tell that Levinsky was an academic person–he really did not belong in any sort of business industry; the fact that he never got the education he had always hoped for (and always needed!) was to me, the greatest loss of all. Sure he loved and lost, but had he turned to correct avenues for his love, he may have found a long-lasting one. But losing out on the education he deserved, that was a loss he could not replace. All along I hoped Levinsky would turn currently in his path of life towards education and love, but I was left feeling his loneliness. And what is all that money worth if you’re living “episodes of a lonely life”?
