What are the best novels about the subtle workings of American post-war anti-Semitism? A toss-up, one would think, between Philip Roth’s THE HUMAN STAIN, Laura Z. Hobson’s Gentleman’s Agreement (1947), Bernard Malamud’s The Assistant (1957), Edward Lewis Wallant’s The Pawnbroker (1961) and Arthur Miller’s Focus. The latter is the earliest and, as reviewers (even sympathetic reviewers) noted, somewhat clunky in its narrative technique. Miller’s strengths would prove to be theatrical. But this, the one novel he wrote, carries an angry man’s punch and is all the stronger for its straight-from-the-shoulder, rough-house technique. The main contention of the novel is that persecution is not merely located in far-away Nazi Germany. It can be found on the underground pillars of the New York subway, in the scrawled graffiti reading ‘Kill Kikes!’
The story opens with a night scene of a young woman screaming pathetically in the street for help after she has been sexually assaulted and beaten up. No householder on the block helps, or even calls the cops. She has a Puerto Rican accent and this is not a ‘Spic’ neighbourhood. She’ll be carted away by the garbage trucks, not an ambulance. The narrative which follows is bare-bones simple. A middle-aged New Yorker, Lawrence Newman, lives in Manhattan with his paralysed mother and works in a Manhattan firm as a ‘personnel manager’. One of his principal responsibilities is keeping the personnel gentile, by tactful rejection of any applicant openly or secretly Jewish, or even ‘Jewish-looking’. He carries out that duty with an applicant who angrily, and correctly, protests that she isn’t – even though she may look it. One day Newman is reprimanded. His standard of work is falling off. He’s letting them through. The fault is easily fixed – his eyes need to be corrected. He cannot tolerate the contacts available in 1945 (few could, the lenses were as large and rigid as goldfish bowls). But when he puts on framed spectacles he ‘looks Jewish’. And yet, without the visual aids, he will be dismissed for incompetence. It’s Kafka’s Metamorphosis:
One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a monstrous verminous beetle.
Newman’s boss kindly suggests he move into a back office, out of public view. He resigns angrily but getting a new job proves impossible. Everywhere it’s ‘the polite smile of refusal’. It doesn’t help that ‘Newman’ is a common Anglicisation of Jewish names (as, for example, with the actor Paul Newman). It’s hugely unfair, Newman thinks. His family came over in the nineteeth century from England: he even knows the village’s name. He served his country in the First World War and killed a ‘Fritz’. His best buddy, Fred, is an active member of the ‘Christian Front’, a neo-Fascist organisation devoted to cleaning the Jews out of America. (This actual organisation flourished in the late 1930s and early 1940s, fuelled by the ‘radio sermons’ of ‘Father [Charles] Coughlin’. Among other racist nonsense Coughlin promoted the belief that President ‘Rosenvelt’ was part of a worldwide Jewish conspiracy.) Miller’s novel is set in the early forties, with the Front going strong. A campaign is mounted in Newman’s own street, directed against the corner shopkeeper Finkelstein. ‘They’ll be moving niggers in on us next,’ says Fred.
Newman finally gets a job at a Jewish firm. One of his colleagues, he discovers, is Gertrude, the woman he turned down earlier for looking what she wasn’t. They marry. On the honeymoon the couple discover hotels mysteriously don’t have their booked rooms. It’s ‘how they look’. Gertrude becomes a self-hating Jew who is not even a Jew. Newman, after getting roughed up at a Christian Front rally, leaves her. There is a powerful last scene. Finkelstein and Newman are physically attacked on their street. Newman goes to lodge a complaint. The Irish cop asks where he lives and, as an afterthought, ‘How many of you people live there?’ Just the two of us, says Newman.
Focus was belatedly filmed in 2002. It was co-produced by Michael Bloomberg, who was elected Mayor of New York the same year. He evidently felt his city still had something to learn from Miller’s novel.