“Gentlemen of the Road” | Swashbuckling Jews of the Silk Road
“Gentlemen of the Road”
by Michael Chabon
Del Rey Books, 224 pp., $21.95
Still basking in the Alaskan alpenglow of the best-selling “The Yiddish Policemen’s Union,” Pulitzer Prize winner and all-around bubala Michael Chabon releases a short adventure novel set in the 10th century along the Silk Road trade routes of Asia.
It’s about “Jews With Swords.”
Did that make you laugh?
Well, it made Chabon’s inner circle want to burst out when he told them that’s what he planned to call this story, which was first published earlier this year as serial installments in The New York Times Magazine.
“They pictured Woody Allen backing toward the nearest exit behind a barrage of wisecracks and a wavering rapier,” Chabon reveals in the book’s afterword. “They saw their Uncle Manny, dirk between his teeth, slacks belted at the armpits, dropping from the chandelier to knock together the heads of a couple of nefarious auditors.”
So he settled instead on “Gentlemen of the Road,” a rather dull title for such a lively little tale. It’s incongruous, like the absurd idea of Jews (Jews!) with Swords (Swords!) and like the literary leap into the Middle Ages for an author who so elegantly captures the modern-day human condition.
Chabon is as comfortable in medieval times as he is in postwar Alaska, pre-war Prague or late-20th century Pittsburgh.
A fancy encyclopedia or a cheap history lesson might help readers before entering the world of “Gentlemen of the Road,” which takes for granted an advanced degree in the obscure history of the Khazarian empire. Khazaria, the hub of the Silk Road for five centuries, took in Jews escaping persecution.
Chabon joyfully leaves readers out on the limb, tossing out a vocabulary of Beks and Buljans (Who? What?), but throws a lifeline by creating flawed and lovely characters with 21st-century resonance.
The story revolves around the odd but sweet partnership between resilient wanderers Zelikman and Amram. Zelikman, prone to fits of funk, is described by Amram as “One skinny little Jew with a needle” during one of Zelikman’s dashing rescues of his captured road buddy.
The two take on the job of escorting Filaq, the smooth-faced deposed heir to the Khazar throne, whose bitchy ways get in the way of smooth travels and foreshadow the story’s shocker.
After beating back an assassination attempt on Filaq, the mopey Zelikman refuses to accept thanks. “I don’t save lives,” he says. “I just prolong them.”
Although not as accessible as Chabon’s modern-day stories, the gentleness of the gentlemen of the road is classic Chabon. Perhaps he should journey even deeper into the past for his next work.
A Chabon rewrite of the Talmud would be interesting.
Stuart Eskenazi: seskenazi@seattletimes.com