The difficulties inherent in the creation of a fictional genius have undone this extremely interesting book [My Name Is Asher Lev], which is ironic since it brilliantly transcends the impediment of being yet another novel about a Jewish family in New York, by reason of its seriousness and doggedness for truth….

The prayers, greetings, customs and attitudes of Hasidic Jews toll through the book; the writer is on intimate, respectful, but his own terms with them, and they are naturally and objectively conveyed. The opening of the boy's eyes to the riches, the compelling possibilities in every fall of light, in every demonstration of life in nature or in a human face, is marvellously done: one really believes in Asher's awakening powers.

But as the gift flowers in the book, the book topples. Jacob Kahn, the famous sculptor to whom the wise Rebbe apprentices the thirteen-year-old Asher, is...