Why is it no one seems able to write a convincing novel about the life work of a painter?…
Chaim Potok, I'm afraid, is one more name to add to the list of failures. His dull, ponderous, humorless account of the rise of Asher Lev, Jewish artist extraordinary ["My Name Is Asher Lev"], cannot convince anyone who has held a brush loaded with oil paint and tried to make some meaningful strokes on a canvas, that this is what it's like.
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