A beautiful and heartbreaking tale of one Hasidic man's loss of his faith. Striking. ( )

“Do not allow others to dictate how you live your life if you do not not fully understand how they live theirs. Yet also respect their norms and practices. Always know why you are using the Internet or technology and limit it to essential usage only. Surround yourself with religious prayer and a deep connection to God and remember that although all who go do not return from your church or your faith…Just remember that those that stayed had the greatest blessings of all. That is what this book taught me.“ ( )

I've had a growing curiosity about Orthodox Judaism (as I first discussed in my review here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1785091630) from my continued professional proximity to the frum community. I have friend who's prone to the same flights of curiosity that I am and we sometimes egg each other deeper into bizarre obsessions: we've spent far too many Monday nights browsing the Orthodox fringe of the internet. Far from my previous misguided notion that "Lubavitch" was a synonym for Chasid, I've come to learn that there are dozens of different Chasidic groups, each with their own flavor, mores and mysticism. Shulem Deen joined the strictest and most isolated of them, the Skvers.

This is truly Judaism as I do not know it. A world where children can barely read and write English; teenagers marry people that they've met for only a dozen minutes and books of all stripes are looked at askance unless they're literally siddurim or one of the accepted commentaries. The idea that people could pass into this life as a baal teshuva, or pass back out and come OTD (with good enough English to write a memoir) is basically unthinkable.

But beyond the voyeurism of getting to see a slice of life in the punnily named New Square, I found Deen's memoir haunting. I found his relationship with his wife, Gitty, unspeakably sad. I was touched by his insight into the experiences of his estranged children. And I was moved by his struggle to find a place for himself in Judaism.

What really struck me was the subsistence life Deen was given -- his bare kollel stipend, struggling to make ends meet over a perpetually expanding family, the disdain he received for leaving the kollel. And the emotional subsistence: the distinct limitations on with whom he could interact, what he could do for leisure, what he could do for work; every interaction within his marriage carefully scripted. I found it terribly sad, and I found Deen's writing very evocative of his confinement.

I got into a fight with someone on the internet, who said he wished American Jewry were more Israeli: "where the synagogue you don't go to is Orthodox." Deen's memoir made me think of that -- to me, non-Orthodox Judaism is this beautiful place, where there's room for a spiritual and Jewish life, while simultaneously exploring any range of beliefs about the existence of G-d, and gender and math and secular jobs. It made me sad that for Deen his ability to have an identity and existence meant abandoning that.

OTD memoirs are in vogue lately, but it's clear there's a reason that this is the most famous -- Deen is a truly gifted writer and his talent with words is matched only by the depth of his soul-baring introspection. ( )

Un témoignage poignant, celui d’un juif hassidique ultra-orthodoxe de l’état de New-York banni de sa communauté pour hérésie.

Au fil des pages, l’auteur parle de sa vie dans un cadre religieux absolu et intransigeant, de l’obscurantisme volontairement entretenu dans une vie coupée du reste du monde, de ses premières interrogations, des doutes et de la perte de sa foi. Il parle de son mariage arrangé, de sa niaise ignorance face à sa femme.

Mais il semble impossible de brider un esprit curieux.

C’est candide, sincère, douloureux, forcément injuste. Cela semble d’un autre temps, sidérant.

En plus, avec une couv. magnifique ( )

Un-put-downable, as others have noted. A fascinating account of a Skverer Hasid who cannot quell his curiosity about the world, which leads eventually to his loss of faith and expulsion from the community. The insularity of that community was unfamiliar and shocking to me. Much of it seems pointlessly cruel (married off at 18 to a girl he has met for less than 15 minutes, they have five children and, when eventually divorced, the community spares no expense to deprive him of his paternal rights and no effort to turn his children against him).

Shulem Deen comes off as a sympathetic figure who does not portray the Skverer Hasidim unfairly or vindictively. He also appears to be someone with considerable courage not to be cowed by the community. He writes well and narrates his story with grace. ( )