The Magic Barrel is a short story written by Bernard Malamud, an American writer. It was first published in 1954 and is considered one of Malamud's most famous and frequently anthologized works. The story revolves around Leo Finkle, a rabbinical student who is searching for a wife as instructed by a matchmaker named Pinye Salzman. Leo is described as a serious and studious young man who feels that he needs to get married in order to complete his studies and become a rabbi. However, he is unable to find a suitable wife on his own and decides to seek the help of a matchmaker. Initially reluctant, Leo agrees to meet Salzman and is presented with a "magic barrel" filled with the photographs of potential brides.
We are all haunted by certain writers whom we have never read. “I should read that author,” we think guiltily to ourselves in libraries, at bookstores, during dinner-party conversations. “One of these days,” we assure ourselves, “I’ll pick that up.” Perhaps the author has been recommended to us, by a friend, a teacher, a glowing review. Or perhaps we are simply aware that the author is one of the greats, a celebrated master of his craft, a creative genius we would be sorry to miss.
These are criticisms I would make in different ways of even such fresh and exciting stories as Angel Levine or The Last Mohican in one category, or of The Lady of the Lake in another. But I had never heard of The Magic Barrel , Malamud s first collection, published in 1958 and awarded the National Book Award, until a fellow writer urged it upon me.
Initially reluctant, Leo agrees to meet Salzman and is presented with a "magic barrel" filled with the photographs of potential brides. As Leo goes through the photographs, he is struck by the realization that he knows none of the women personally, and therefore, he cannot make a decision based on their physical appearance. He becomes disillusioned and frustrated, wanting to meet a real person rather than a photograph.
Bernard Malamud: The Magic Barrel
I have raved about Bernard Malamud’s novels here (well, one of them), but it never occurred to me to try his stories until I was on holiday and picked up a copy of this book in a second-hand bookshop in Kenmare, Co Kerry. Anyone who has been on holiday with an infant will know, in any event, that a book of stories averaging twelve pages apiece is the perfect occupation.
The Magic Barrel (1958) was Malamud’s first collection and contains stories which are, not to muck about, stunning. Together, they create a portrait of Jewish immigrant life in post-war America which, if not quite Dubliners, is coherent and complete.
Many elements recur in these stories: the characters are either penniless or heading there. The highest social station they can attain is to run their own small business: a store (as with his novel The Assistant), or a shoemender’s. Such is the role of Feld in ‘The First Seven Years’, who reacts with horror (“You are crazy. She will never marry a man as old and ugly as you”) when his assistant Sobel tells him that he wants to marry Feld’s daughter Miriam:
Then he realized that what he called ugly was not Sobel but Miriam’s life if she married him. He felt for his daughter a strange and gripping sorrow, as if she were already Sobel’s bride, the wife, after all, of a shoemaker, and had in her life no more than her mother had had. And all his dreams for her – why he had slaved and destroyed his heart with anxiety and labor – all these dreams of a better life were dead.
In ‘Angel Levine’, the small businessman is Manischevitz, a tailor, who has “suffered many reverses and indignities.” Like most of these characters, he is at the end of his rope. When an episode of divine intervention seems to relieve his backache for a few days, he is disappointed when it returns. “He had hoped for a longer interval of easement, long enough to have some thought other than of himself and his troubles.” He resents the pain not just because it is pain but for richer reasons too.
Who, after all, was Manischewitz that he had been given so much to suffer? A tailor. Certainly not a man of talent. Upon him suffering was largely wasted. It went nowhere, into nothing: into more suffering.
We might observe that, if Malamud is speaking from experience, either his own or that of his contemporaries, then the suffering did not go into nothing. Anyway these stories, for their grim detail, are not for a moment colourless. Malamud has black humour by the bucket and, linked to this, a mastery of insight into his characters’ worst impulses. In ‘The Girl of My Dreams’, a frustrated writer, Mitka, meets a woman with whom he has struck up a correspondence, and ends up more frustrated still. “The irony of it – immured for months in a rat hole, to come forth for this. He’d go back now and entomb himself forever.” How much lower can he go? “He was wondering, what after this? Where would he drag that dead cat, his soul?”
As well as recurring settings – I’m guessing too that Malamud spent time in Italy when young – there is a universal current of desire (or need) in the stories in The Magic Barrel. I remember, years ago, reading Kurt Vonnegut’s guidelines for story writing. The third was “Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.” This seemed to me laughably unsophisticated (though if these were rules by which Vonnegut wrote the stories in Welcome to the Monkey-House, I couldn’t much complain about the results). Well, to prove me wrong again, Malamud makes an art out of making his characters want something. Often this is, or appears to the character to be, selfless, something they want for others rather than themselves: Feld’s wishes for his daughter’s future in ‘The First Seven Years’; Rosen’s urgent desire to help a widow financially in the extraordinary ‘Take Pity’ (one of those stories where the last few lines make you recast everything that has gone before). A couple of times, in ‘Behold the Key’ and ‘The Magic Barrel’, the want runs so deep that Malamud gives us a comedy of multiple attempts to get something right: an apartment, a bride. But his characters are destined not to get things right, though Malamud’s compassionate eye means we feel nothing but sympathy for them.
So here is a chance encounter that thrilled me as much as any book this year. Great writing in capsule form, Malamud’s Magic Barrel is a bran tub of delights.
In Mr. Malamud’s case we feel this particularly when we consider the wonderful sureness with which he can reach out and touch directly the emotions of his characters: the nakedness of the impact can be almost too much to bear. And we recognize his power too when we acknowledge that humble and simple though his characters are, they have an awareness of a kind that is much rarer and subtler and more difficult to communicate than anything that usually goes under the heading of “intelligence.” Mr. Malamud’s bakers, pressers, egg candlers, “holdupniks,” storekeepers and the rest, are morally intelligent; they are aware that their actions take place in a real world and have consequences for which they are responsible.
However, Leo's journey takes an unexpected turn when he meets a man named Salzman in a bar, who offers to introduce him to his daughter, Lily. Intrigued, Leo agrees to the introduction and prepares to meet Lily for a date. He is surprised to find that Lily is a prostitute, and although he is initially repulsed by her profession, he is drawn to her in a way he cannot explain. As Leo spends more time with Lily, he begins to question his own beliefs and the rigid expectations placed upon him as a rabbinical student. He sees a complexity and depth in Lily that he had not anticipated, and his feelings for her evolve from curiosity to love. Ultimately, Leo must confront the conflict between his own desires and his obligations to his religious studies. The Magic Barrel is a story that explores themes of love, identity, and the search for meaning. It challenges traditional notions of morality and religious obligation, delving into the complexities of human nature and the choices we make in our lives. Through his vivid storytelling and nuanced characterization, Malamud crafts a thought-provoking and compelling narrative that resonates with readers long after the final page..
Reviews for "The Importance of Self-Discovery in "The Magic Barrel" by Bernard Malamud"
1. Rachel - 2 stars - I really did not enjoy "The Magic Barrel" by Bernard Malamud. The stories within the book were disjointed and confusing, making it difficult to connect with the characters. The writing style felt outdated and inaccessible, causing me to lose interest in the plot. Overall, I found it to be a tedious read that I would not recommend.
2. Mark - 1 star - "The Magic Barrel" by Bernard Malamud was a disappointment for me. The stories lacked depth and failed to engage my emotions. The characters felt one-dimensional and their motivations were unclear. The book failed to leave a lasting impression and I found it to be a forgettable collection of tales. I would not recommend it to others seeking a meaningful read.
3. Sarah - 2 stars - I struggled to find any enjoyment in "The Magic Barrel" by Bernard Malamud. The stories were bleak and dreary, leaving me feeling depressed and disconnected. The pacing was slow and the plots were unremarkable. The book lacked a cohesive theme or message, making it difficult to find meaning in the narrative. Overall, it was a mundane read that left me unsatisfied.
4. Michael - 1 star - I regretted picking up "The Magic Barrel" by Bernard Malamud. The stories were overly complicated and pretentious, and I found it hard to follow the convoluted narratives. The book lacked any real substance and failed to capture my interest. I would not recommend it to anyone looking for an entertaining or thought-provoking read.