During the past week's trip to Death Valley I read The Fixer by Bernard Malamud. OK, but not sure why it won the Pulitzer. At the airport and on the flight back I re-read A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess. Still very, very scary. Just cracked E. L. Doctorow's Ragtime, and looking forward to it.
In some ways, it pleases me that you were left to wonder about
The Fixer, as it indicates that you are far enough away -- generations -- from the topic of the book as it relates. Remember in 1966, there were huge HUGE numbers of WWII survivors, immigrants, and largely, a varied group of ethnic Jews with scarred memories of their own and their parents harrowing escapes/tortures/miseries (the Dryfuss Affair has the same affect on the this group of people). This novel spoke to them all. Many of the aforementioned group were in the voting circles that bestowed those awards for
The Fixer.
