”Kvetch” Time

Jews perfected the art of kvetching, author contends.

August 14, 2009

Rabbi Rachel Esserman
The Reporter (Binghamton, N.Y.)

Question: Do you think books like “Born to Kvetch” add to the stereotypes about Jews?

It’s official: I was born into the wrong culture. As someone whose coat of arms would have to carry the words “chronically cranky,” I’ve always been out of step with the optimistic nature of American culture.

After reading “Born to Kvetch: Yiddish Language and Culture in All of Its Moods” by Michael Wex (St. Martin’s Press), I now know why: My personality is similar to that of my ancestors, who started grumbling the minute God released them from slavery in Egypt and who, with the development of the Yiddish language, perfected the art of moaning, whining and complaining.

According to Mr. Wex, the art of the kvetch (complaint) is more complex than one might think.

He writes, “Kvetching - complaining - is not only a pastime, not only a response to adverse or imperfect circumstance, but a way of life that has nothing to do with the fulfillment or frustration of desire. Kvetching can be applied indifferently to hunger or satiety, satisfaction or disappointment: it is a way of knowing, a means of apprehension that sees the world through cataract-colored glasses.”

This art is so highly developed that “alone in the history of the world, Yiddish-speaking Jews long ago broke the satisfaction barrier and figured out how to express contentment by means of complaint.”

Although “Born to Kvetch” is very funny, readers should be aware that it is a serious work of scholarship, not a collection of Yiddish words or jokes.

Mr. Wax traces the development of the Yiddish mind-set by looking at Jewish culture, starting with the biblical period.

He also explains the influence of rabbinic (talmudic) Judaism, claiming that “talmudic ways of speech and thought are not so much the forerunners of Yiddish as its matrix, the womb and the long-term gestational home of a language that was waiting to happen, a language that couldn’t help being born.”

However, the essence of Yiddish can be found in the idea of galut (exile), the fact that the Jews no longer had a homeland, something which made the world a very precarious place to live.

Since Jews felt insecure in Christian-controlled Europe, they had to be careful to speak in a code that their non-Jewish neighbors wouldn’t be able to understand.

Their feelings about their gentile neighbors influenced all of Yiddish culture: “The Jews are not merely out of step with Christian civilization, they hold it in utter contempt. They might borrow the occasional concept or practice - what would you expect, it’s goles [exile] - but the general context turns them sick. They don’t want the local bread, they won’t touch the local wine; they want to go home but have no home to go to,” writes Mr. Wax.

The majority of the book deals with Yiddish expressions covering everything from birth to death, including chapters on curses, food and sex. Much of the material is raunchy; Mr. Wax pulls no punches in letting readers know just how earthy Yiddish is.

Those who have only been exposed to the tame, Americanized version of the language may be surprised at the true meaning of these words and phrases, and how inappropriate they are for use in polite company.

Mr. Wax does an excellent job uncovering the source of popular words and expressions, although sometimes his explanations contained so many layers they made my head spin. Words or phrases often went through three or four different incarnations with the final result being very different from the original.

“Born to Kvetch” makes for delightful, if sometimes difficult, reading. It certainly increased my appreciation and respect for Yiddish by showing just how rich and complex the language is.

The book leaves me with only one regret. Think of the level of crankiness I could attain if Yiddish were my native tongue.