Yesterday, I received a triple-helping of good stuff in the mail. The postman brought my the new issue of the New York Review of Books (1) and it has an article in it by Harold Bloom (2) about a book that might be the best history on the Yiddish language (3).
Max Weinreich’s History of the Yiddish Language was originally published in 1973 in Yiddish by the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research. This new edition is co-published by YIVO and Yale, where from Bloom declaims.
Harold Bloom is one of my favorite writers / thinkers and is consistently able to put together a few words that sweep a huge arc of history / ideas / civilization. This article is no exception. Here's one paragraph from his review:
Hebrew rose again, but Yiddish will not. Resurrection is blocked by
English as by Israeli Hebrew. Neither American nor Israeli Jews are now
a text-centered people, any more than American Gentiles are. Deep
reading wanes, and bilingualism is a vanishing phenomenon. Israel's
geographical isolation, surrounded by enemies, has helped compel it to
adopt a Hebrew-English
bilingualism, a pragmatic reminder that the
Zionist nation remains part of the Exile while American Jewry
increasingly does not, another paradox that somehow seems Kafkaesque.
One of my favorite moments during the High Holy days is when Marty Abram reads Torah and translates is into Yiddish. For some of us, even some of us who are so "young" in Judaism, Yiddish is an important element of our Jewish life. My first job in New York City was across the street from the Workman's Circle and my first boss in New York was Lois Shapiro, zl, who was born and raised in New York and was very generous when she gave me a job. I had anticipated that NYC would be very different from the hills of the Ozarks but I didn't know that I would be so flummoxed by the language. Once, when Lois reappeared in the office very late in the afternoon, she declared, "I'm sorry to be gone so long, but I've been schmoozing with Harvey Shapiro." Shapiro was the editor of the New York Times Review of Books and I didn't know whether I should offer Lois my congratulations or a tissue. Soon thereafter, I purchased a copy of The Joys of Yiddish and kept it in the lap drawer of my desk so I would be prepared if someone stopped by my desk to kvell about their new grand-daughter or haken a chainik about their commute on the RR.

