Goodbye Columbus

Brenda is the love interest of Neil Klugman in “Goodbye, Columbus” and is frequently under judgmental pressure from her mother and Neil. The eldest daughter in her family, Brenda has a complicated relationship with her mother. She struggles to express herself and be accepted by her mother, and she finds that this sentiment is echoed in her relationship with Neil. Neil’s insecurity over their relationship irks her, and she must constantly fight to reassure him of her feelings and commitment. In response to one of the many times Neil accuses her of wanting to be rid of him, she tries to assert her love for him while lamenting his similarities to her mother: “That’s right, I’m the bitch. I want this to end. That’s why I ask you to stay another week, that’s why I let you sleep with me in my own house. What’s the matter with you! Why don’t you and my mother take turns—one day she can plague me, the next you” (82). She finds that the people in her life do not trust her and suspect her of ulterior motives. Neil believes that she wants to move on from him because he does not fit into her lifestyle or family, and despite her many assurances, she must continually argue with him over it. She is a fairly static character, consistent in her emotions and feelings throughout the story, though her commitment to Neil wanes in the final scene as they fight over the diaphragm.

When Brenda’s mother finds her diaphragm, her worst nightmare comes true. Her mother seemingly disowns her, while her father forgives her and invites her home. When Neil finds out, he accuses her of purposefully leaving the diaphragm home to be found so that she has an excuse to leave him. She is once again confused at his inability to believe that she loves him, repeating the same argument she made during the summer: “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. You’re the one who from the very beginning was accusing me of things […] You kept acting as if I was going to run away from you every minute. And now you’re doing it again, telling me I planted that thing on purpose” (134). Brenda spends her entire relationship with Neil defending herself, fighting off his accusations, and constantly proving that she loves him. Their final argument proves too much, and they both admit that their love is over. Brenda finds herself in the same position as she did at the beginning of the story, stuck between Neil and her parents, who both judge and dismiss her feelings and yet try to pull her closer to them. The diaphragm’s discovery forces her to pick a side, and when she cannot, Neil makes the decision for her.

In “The Conversion of the Jews,” Ozzie is the point-of-view character and protagonist. He is a curious child who frequently challenges his teacher about the nature of God. His questions are often asked in good faith, but he is always met with dismissive condemnation. In many ways, Ozzie is cast as a tragic hero, whose genuine intellectual curiosity results in punishment and violence. In this story, Ozzie’s question about the immaculate conception is received so poorly by his teacher, Rabbi Binder, that when his mom is told to come speak with him, she slaps Ozzie: “Anyway, I asked Binder if He could make all that in six days, and He could pick the six days he wanted right out of nowhere, why couldn’t He let a woman have a baby without having intercourse” (141). Ozzie does not understand why his question is received so poorly and genuinely thirsts for an answer. He is therefore shocked and disheartened when he informs his mother of the question and the punishment and her reaction is to hit him.

Ozzie feels persecuted by Rabbi Binder and victimized by him and his mother for hitting him. His plea to his mother from the roof of the school reads as a much broader protest against the religious violence that has characterized much of history: “Mamma, don’t you see—you shouldn’t hit me. He shouldn’t hit me. You shouldn’t hit me about God, Mamma. You should never hit anybody about God” (158). Ozzie struggles against religious authoritarianism, and by taking the action he does, he hopes to create a stronger, more accepting relationship with the adults in his life.

Marx, the protagonist and narrator of “Defender of the Faith,” undergoes a transformation over the course of the story as he transitions from a soldier to a noncombatant. As Grossbart and his friends connect with Marx over their shared Jewish identity, Marx rediscovers the emotional benefits of belonging to a religious community. As he settles into his new life away from the fighting, he finds long-neglected aspects of his personality beginning to flourish again:

I grew used to my job and my administrative tasks. I stepped on a scale one day, and discovered I had truly become a noncombatant; I had gained seven pounds. I found patience to get past the first three pages of a book. I thought about the future more and more (185).

His time with the boys also brings up memories from before the war, of his family and his faith. This leads him to occasionally take them under his wing and protect them. However, as he becomes more accustomed to this life and trusts Grossbart more, he opens himself up to betrayal.

When Grossbart lies to get passes for himself and his friends and then does not visit his aunt like he promised, Marx’s feelings toward him shift. Marx, always committed to not showing favoritism, despite his recent slips, forsakes Grossbart and cuts off ties. His brief connection to these Jewish soldiers ends because of Grossbart’s lies, and Marx is at a loss. The life he begins to see loses some of its luster, and he retreats to his usual military stance. Marx finds that Grossbart’s connections save him from a deployment to the Pacific, and he uses his station and influence to send him there anyway. When Marx’s betrayal is revealed and Grossbart confronts him, Marx walks away: “Behind me, Grossbart swallowed hard, accepting his [fate]. And then, resisting with all my will an impulse to turn and seek pardon for my vindictiveness, I accepted my own” (200). The dynamic nature of Marx’s character is solidified in this moment, as he struggles to ignore the feelings of guilt for what he does to Grossbart. Marx is a hardened soldier of war, but his post-battle life and connection with Grossbart soften him and help him to see a new life ahead. When he betrays him, doing his duty to correct Grossbart’s interference, he feels for the soldier, showing that despite his lack of faith in Grossbart and his commitment to be a soldier, this new life ahead of him still holds influence.

Grossbart is the antagonist of “Defender of the Faith” and pushes Nathan Marx at every opportunity for some kind of favor. After initially being an annoyance to Marx, Grossbart eventually earns his favor and convinces Marx to gift him and his friends three passes to visit his aunt for Passover seder. When Marx discovers that he lied and that they never even went to see his aunt, Grossbart’s lying ways are revealed, and he loses all favor with Marx. Grossbart’s main tactic of manipulation is to lie for the sake of his friends and to deflect his own needs and agenda under the guise of helping them. He casts himself as the selfless leader of the three and frequently guilts Marx over his treatment of the weaker boys: “‘Sergeant, I could see you denying me, but how you can deny Mickey, a Yeshiva boy—that’s beyond me’ […] ‘I’ll give him my pass then,’ Grossbart said. ‘I’ll give him my aunt’s address and a little note. At least let him go’” (191). Grossbart’s manipulation is effective in the moment, as he shrewdly takes advantage of Marx’s nostalgia for the Jewish community he lived in before the war, but his lies are his downfall.

When Grossbart returns from his leave with nothing more than an eggroll and news that he did not even attend the seder, Marx forsakes him. Marx’s ire is so severe he even changes Grossbart’s deployment from a domestic station to the Pacific, undoing Grossbart’s hard work in forging connections in the classification and assignment office. When Grossbart confronts Marx, he attempts to portray himself as a dynamic person whose commitment to his friends changes from selfless to selfish because of Marx’s actions: “That’s right, twist things around. I owe nobody nothing, I’ve done all I could do for them. Now I think I’ve got the right to watch out for myself” (199). However, Grossbart is a static character, his motivations never changing. Throughout the story, any kind of outwardly selfless actions are taken because of inwardly selfish reasons. He frequently uses his friends to get his way and guilt Marx into acquiescing to his wants. When Marx finally confronts him on it, Grossbart cannot even admit it. Marx tells Grossbart that he owes explanations to himself and to his friends, and Grossbart acts incredulous. He believes that Marx’s assertion that he is in the wrong is a false accusation and acts as though it is his time to be selfish, having helped his friends enough. In reality, he is only ever helping himself, and any help his friends receive is only because it helps Grossbart first.

In “Epstein,” protagonist Lou experiences a personal crisis that threatens not only the unity of his family but also his own health and well-being. Lou despairs early in the story, nearing retirement with no one to take over the family business he spends his entire life building. He is unhappy with his business, feels disconnected from his wife, and has no connection with his daughter and her hippie boyfriend. He begins to look backward at what led him to this moment of crisis: “[H]ere he was a year away from the retirement he had planned but with no heir to Epstein Paper Bag Company. He had built the business from the ground, suffered and bled during the Depression” (205). Lou puts his life into his business, and it is in many ways the most important aspect of his life, making it all the more painful that when he retires, he will lose it. As Lou looks around, he sees his life as lackluster, with his life’s work nearly complete and fewer people to make him happy. He responds to this crisis by beginning an affair with his neighbor, Ida Kaufman—one that causes him embarrassment and threatens his marriage when he develops a sexually transmitted rash. Lou’s character lies somewhere near that of a tragic hero without the heroic grandeur. He has a prosperous business and a nice family, but his own personal need for something new and fresh leads him to an affair that crumbles his family and nearly kills him with a heart attack. His flaw is his own selfishness, and his actions only hurt himself and those around him.

The unnamed protagonist and narrator of “You Can’t Tell a Man by the Song He Sings” forms strong, though short-lived, bonds with two juvenile convicts over the course of his freshman year of high school. This first and stronger relationship is with Albie Pelagutti, who takes to the protagonist after he forces him to let him cheat off his occupations test. The second boy is named Duke, and though he and Albie do not get along, the protagonist still spends time play-fighting with him at lunch. The protagonist looks up to these two boys, both older than him, and finds himself fascinated with each for different reasons: “He hypnotized me, the Duke; he pulled some slimy string inside me—where Albie Pelagutti sought and stretched a deeper and, I think, a nobler cord” (240). The protagonist recognizes the influence these two boys have over him and understands how their own personalities and goals impact his own. He spends more time with Albie and sees firsthand how the boy wants to be better and to be reformed. However, he is also drawn to the allure of Duke’s foil to Albie, possessing a more delinquent nature. In some ways, there is a battle over the impressionable young protagonist, who looks to both for cues and direction.

It becomes apparent that the “noble cord” Albie reached in the protagonist has had a lasting impact when, as an adult, the protagonist writes a letter to defend his former teacher from McCarthyist accusations of communist activity: “Liberties Union attorneys are still trying to appeal his case, and I have even written a letter to the Board of Education swearing […] it wasn’t done by my ex-high school teacher, Russo” (245). The protagonist identifies wrong and seeks to correct it, doing good in the process. Seeing Albie struggle to be better has inspired him to be his own best self. His time with the boy grants him an understanding of what it means to be unfairly judged and punished, and he hopes to prevent others from feeling that way.