The Yiddish Policemen's Union

I love noir. Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammet, Humphrey Bogart, The Maltese Falcon, "the stuff that dreams are made of." I love it all. And so, unsurprisingly, I loved The Yiddish Policemen's Union, a noir novel that not only imitates, but possibly surpasses the old noir classics. Not only is Union a gritty, stylized murder mystery, but it carries an emotional and spiritual depth not usually found in the dime novels of the early 20th century.

Stylistically, this book is all noir. But Michael Chabon is far too good a writer to leave it there. Any hack can parody the outrageous metaphor and flat charaterization that often defines noir. Union is art. While staying true to the ironic and depressive spirit of noir narration, Chabon wrote a novel about hope, redemption, sacrifice, and what it means to wait for a Messiah, for salvation. This is a novel of family, of community, of faith. No one is righteous, not even one. And yet every character is faithfully seeking...sanctification.

At moments, I had to put the book down just to breathe in the words, to meditate on what I just read. That said, this book is harsh and vivid and coarse. But Chabon weaves light through the darkness, gleaming pin-pricks of hope in the dark Alaskan night.

I loved it, and, although I'm guessing some of you would be turned off by the stylized writing and the coarse language, I'm giving it my full recommendation. It's the best book I've read in years.