[In The Magician of Lublin, Yasha, reckless adventurer and lover turned penitent] commits himself to [seclusion]; he no longer wants to be on the road (as he did at the beginning of the novel) or, for that matter, to fly above his kind.

Although I am not surprised by Yasha's decision—he is, after all, as "obsessive" here as he was about his magic talent—I am disturbed by the ease of his new performance. It is true that his faith wavers in his prison—that he sometimes goes to the edge of madness as he disputes his past with himself—but he nevertheless manages to remain unconvincing. He is manipulated by Singer (and we, in turn, are manipulated by both of them). Perhaps there is intended irony. Are we supposed to condemn his seclusion? Doesn't he neglect others (as he did before) for the sake of his...