Jacobson’s novel is one that seems more erudite and wise than it ultimately ends up being. It just skims the surface of brilliance, and remains uncomfortably forgettable. I wish I could say that the “Jewish question” kept my attention, but this was a mind wanderer of a book. The only thing that kept me reading on (aside from my near unshakeable compulsion to always do so to avoid missing something) was the irreverent humor. Jacobson is funny. Yes, I’ll give him that.