Neil Klugman and Brenda Patimkin’s relationship highlights the economic disparities between their two families. Both families are Jewish and live in New Jersey in the late 1950s, but Neil’s family comes from a working-class background, while Brenda’s family is much wealthier. Neil observes that due to the wealth that Brenda’s father Mr. Patimkin has earned, the Patimkins are able to erase outward appearances of their Jewish roots and are consequently better assimilated into white Protestant American culture. Neil, too, recognizes that the more time he spends with Brenda’s family, the more he assimilates into this culture as well—which results in him turning his back on his own family’s Jewish culture. Roth thus suggests that a Jewish family’s ability to assimilate is directly related to their wealth.
The Patimkins’ relative wealth enables them to erase any outward appearance of their Jewishness, which consequently makes it easier for them to associate with white Protestants. The Patimkins used to live in Newark, New Jersey, a hub for working-class Jews, but they now live in the more affluent (and less Jewish) suburbs of New Jersey. Because of their wealth, the Patimkins are able to cover up the remnants of their poorer Jewish past (hiding their old furniture in a storage room, for example, and replacing it with new, expensive furniture). While the Patimkins do still maintain aspects of their Jewish identity, like being a part of an orthodox synagogue and keeping kosher at home, their wealth allows them to remove external markers of their Jewishness. For example, Brenda surgically removes the “bump” in her nose, and her brother Ron plans to do the same. Since a prominent nose is a stereotypical marker of Jewish appearance, Brenda’s operation is symbolic of removing a piece of her Jewish identity—an operation that is only available to her due to Mr. Patimkin’s wealth. So while the Patimkins are able to privately adhere to their Jewish faith, their wealth allows them to outwardly remove any difference in their appearance and align themselves with white Protestant culture.
In contrast, Neil’s working-class family doesn’t have the financial means to assimilate as fully as the Patimkins, so they remain clearly Jewish to anyone who meets them. Neil’s Aunt Gladys notes that the Patimkins can’t be “real Jews” because they moved from Newark to Short Hills—indicating that the Patimkins have given up a large part of their Jewish identity in moving to an affluent neighborhood. The Klugmans, on the other hand, don’t have the means to leave Newark. Since Aunt Gladys has grown up in this community, she has recognizably Jewish speech patterns and she and Neil are familiar with Yiddish words and phrases. Their culture and habits—including their meals and religious practices—are also obviously Jewish, and they never try to appear otherwise.
The more Neil hangs out with Brenda, the more he, too, starts to assimilate into the Patimkin family’s embrace of WASP suburban culture. In order to be accepted by the Patimkins, he forgoes his family, and along with it, his connection to his poorer Jewish background. When Neil starts to hang out with Brenda, he often feels as though the Patimkin family treats him like a servant because of their class difference, such as when he is made to watch Julie or when Mrs. Patimkin sends him on errands. Neil even describes feeling a kinship with their African American maid, Carlota, illustrating how Neil’s lack of wealth means that he can’t feel fully accepted by Brenda’s family. Yet over time, Neil is able to assimilate into the Patimkins’ family. He does this largely by distancing himself from his own family, which is his primary connection to his Jewishness. Neil confesses to Mrs. Patimkin that he hasn’t attended synagogue in a long time, and rather than being orthodox or conservative, he’s “just Jewish,” suggesting that he views his Jewishness as a part of his heritage, not necessarily his religion. Aunt Gladys even worries that he won’t want to come home after living with the Patimkins for two weeks, illustrating how only by abandoning her and his Jewish community can he become more integrated into Brenda’s household. Neil also buys new clothes to dress like Brenda, and he notes that she appreciates that he dresses “like herself”—in other words, like a person who often frequents country clubs or plays tennis, hallmarks of the American elite. Additionally, Neil thinks towards the end of the novella that he could have the makings of a businessman, as Mr. Patimkin is. This is reinforced by the fact that Mr. Patimkin hints that he could always add Neil to the business if Neil wanted to marry Brenda. Thus, Neil’s exposure to the family and their wealth—and the possibility of joining that family—gives him a greater ability to achieve the classic American dream.
At the end of the novella, however, Neil and Brenda break up. He happens to return to his life in Newark on the first day of the Jewish New Year, representing a return to his Jewish identity and a turning away from the Patimkins’ wealth and assimilation. This ending is a decision to stay true to himself in several ways: by not marrying a woman he doesn’t love, by not seeking high social status for its own sake, and by embracing his Jewish heritage.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Assimilation and Wealth ThemeTracker
Assimilation and Wealth Quotes in Goodbye, Columbus
It was, in fact, as though the hundred and eighty feet that the suburbs rose in altitude above Newark brought one closer to heaven, for the sun itself became bigger, lower, and rounder, and soon I was driving past long lawns which seemed to be twirling water on themselves, and past houses where no one sat on stoops, where lights were on but no windows open, for those inside, refusing to share the very texture of life with those of us outside, regulated with a dial the amounts of moisture that were allowed access to their skin.
“I had my nose fixed.”
“What was the matter with it?”
“It was bumpy.”
“A lot?”
“No,” she said, “I was pretty. Now I’m prettier. My brother’s having his fixed in the fall.”
“Does he want to be prettier?”
She didn’t answer and walked ahead of me again.
“I don’t mean to sound facetious. I mean why’s he doing it?”
“He wants to…unless he becomes a gym teacher…but he won’t.” she said. “We all look like my father.”
“Is he having his fixed?”
“Why are you so nasty?”
“I’m not. I’m sorry.”
The next day I held Brenda’s glasses for her once again, this time not as momentary servant but as afternoon guest; or perhaps as both, which still was an improvement. She wore a black tank suit and went barefooted and among the other women, with their Cuban heels and boned-up breasts, their knuckle-sized rings, their straw hats, which resembled immense wicker pizza plates and had been purchased, as I heard one deeply tanned woman rasp, “from the cutest little shvartze when we docked at Barbados.” Brenda among them was elegantly simple, like a sailor’s dream of a Polynesian maiden, albeit one with prescription sun glasses and the last name of Patimkin.
Money! My father’s up to here with it, but whenever I buy a coat you should hear her. “You don’t have to go to Bonwit’s, young lady, Ohrbach’s has the strongest fabrics of any of them.” Who wants a strong fabric! Finally I get what I want, but not till she’s had a chance to aggravate me. Money is a waste for her. She doesn’t even know how to enjoy it. She still thinks we live in Newark.
“A week?” she said. “They got room for a week?”
“Aunt Gladys, they don’t live over the store.”
“I lived over a store I wasn’t ashamed. Thank God we always had a roof. We never went begging in the streets,” she told me as I packed the Bermudas I’d just bought, “and your cousin Susan we’ll put through college, Uncle Max should live and be well. We didn’t send her away to camp for August, she doesn’t have shoes when she wants them, sweaters she doesn’t have a drawerful—”
“I didn’t say anything, Aunt Gladys.”
“Millburn they live?”
“Short Hills. I’ll leave the number.”
“Since when do Jewish people live in Short Hills? They couldn’t be real Jews believe me.”
“They’re real Jews,” I said.
“I’ll see it I’ll believe it.”
When the puny sixty-watt bulb was twisted on, I saw that the place was full of old furniture—two wing chairs with hair oil lines at the back, a sofa with a paunch in its middle, a bridge table, two bridge chairs with their stuffing showing, a mirror whose backing had peeled off, shadeless lamps, lampless shades, a coffee table with a cracked glass top, and a pile of rolled up shades.
“What is this?” I said.
“A storeroom. Our old furniture.”
“How old?”
“From Newark,” she said.
Here you need a little of the gonif in you. You know what that means? Gonif?”
“Thief,” I said.
“You know more than my own kids. They’re goyim, my kids, that’s how much they understand.”
Then he looked at me. “Whatever my Buck wants is good enough for me. There’s no business too big it can’t use another head.”
I smiled, though not directly at him, and beyond I could see Leo sopping up champagne and watching the three of us; when he caught my eye he made a sign with his hand, a circle with his thumb and forefinger, indicating, “That a boy, that a boy!”
I looked hard at the image of me, at that darkening of the glass, and then my gaze pushed through it, over the cool floor, to a broken wall of books, imperfectly shelved.
I did not look very much longer, but took a train that got me into Newark just as the sun was rising on the first day of the Jewish New Year. I was back in plenty of time for work.
