The Jewish Mystique

The Jewish Mystique By Ernest van den Haag Stein and Day, $5.95 A book like this is to be approached with trepidation. Writers about the Jews are not like any other kind of writers, and books about the Jews are not like any other kind of books. An ambiguous destiny pursues both books and writers. For writers of books about the Jews, whether themselves Jews or not, are either antisemites or philosemites. The former, the antisemites, suffuse everything (“good” and “bad” alike) with a triple-distilled venom that corrodes every word and thought; the latter, the philosemites, suffuse everything (“bad” and “good” alike) with a warm haze of uncritical good feeling.

Ernest van den Haag is a philosemite. But he is also possessed of a realistic critical mind and a saving sense of humor, of an ironical twist. His tribute to the Jews—for, after all, this is what the book is, a tribute—cannot, therefore, be written off as just another of those books “about Jews.” It is a tribute to the Jews, but more than a tribute. It is emphatically worth reading, even if you don’t agree with everything in it (and who does when the writing is about Jews?) and don’t particularly go in for well-arranged and tasteful floral offerings.

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Will Herberg

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The Jewish Mystique By Ernest van den Haag Stein and Day, $5.95 A book like this is to be approached with trepidation. Writers about the Jews are not like any other kind of writers, and books about the Jews are not like any other kind of books. An ambiguous destiny pursues both books and writers. For writers of books about the Jews, whether themselves Jews or not, are either antisemites or philosemites. The former, the antisemites, suffuse everything (“good” and “bad” alike) with a triple-distilled venom that corrodes every word and thought; the latter, the philosemites, suffuse everything (“bad” and “good” alike) with a warm haze of uncritical good feeling.

Ernest van den Haag is a philosemite. But he is also possessed of a realistic critical mind and a saving sense of humor, of an ironical twist. His tribute to the Jews—for, after all, this is what the book is, a tribute—cannot, therefore, be written off as just another of those books “about Jews.” It is a tribute to the Jews, but more than a tribute. It is emphatically worth reading, even if you don’t agree with everything in it (and who does when the writing is about Jews?) and don’t particularly go in for well-arranged and tasteful floral offerings.