All Who Go Do Not Return

by Shulem Deen

2015 National Jewish Book Award Winner

A moving and revealing exploration of Hasidic life, and one man's struggles with faith, family, and community

Shulem Deen was raised to believe that questions are dangerous. As a member of the Skverers, one of the most insular Hasidic sects in the US, he knows little about the outside world—only that it is to be shunned. His marriage at eighteen is arranged and several children soon follow. Deen's first transgression—turning on the radio—is small, but his curiosity leads him to the library, and later the Internet. Soon he begins a feverish inquiry into the tenets of his religious beliefs, until, several years later, his faith unravels entirely. Now a heretic, he fears being discovered and ostracized from the only world he knows. His relationship with his family at stake, he is forced into a life of deception, and begins a long struggle to hold on to those he loves most: his five children. In All Who Go Do Not Return, Deen bravely traces his harrowing loss of faith, while offering an illuminating look at a highly secretive world.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Religion, Jewish, Biography, Judaism, Book Club

310 pages, Paperback

First published March 24, 2015

About the author

Shulem Deen is the author of "All Who Go Do Not Return," a memoir about growing up in and then leaving one of the most insular Hasidic sects in the U.S. Shulem is the former blogger known as "Hasidic Rebel," and the founding editor of Unpious, an online journal for voices on the Hasidic fringe. His work has appeared in Salon, The Brooklyn Rail, Tablet Magazine, The Jewish Daily Forward, and elsewhere. He serves as a board member at Footsteps, a New York City-based organization that offers assistance and support to those who have left the ultra-Orthodox Jewish community. He lives in Brooklyn, New York. Visit his website at www.shulemdeen.com.

Reviews

[Petra X · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's Dec. 2019 and I have never managed to write a proper review of this book, so this is just kind of notes rather than a review. The blurb for this book is absolutely misleading. The basis of a yeshiva, a Jewish religious school, and of all Torah scholarship is asking questions and providing answers with proof. No one is judged 'right' as much as praised for the scope of their reasoning based on their knowledge of the Talmud and Torah.

What is strongly discouraged is the questions of why the Skverers act as they do and think of the outside world. As with some of the weirder Jewish laws (kashrut, the food ones) they are to be accepted and not questioned. They are what they are. Quite a dichotomy to hold in one's head.

Although I have hasidim in my family and know plenty of others, mostly Lubavitch and Chabad, these are all quite normal people who neither look nor act nor live in the weird cultish ways of the Skverers or Satmars in the book. The closest the men get to a unified way of dressing is black pants and a white shirt (but sometimes they wear jeans and t-shirts). The women dress modestly but a pretty wig and a dress with sleeves to below the elbows and knee-length is not necessarily an unfashionable item you would notice.

There is a common misconception that the identifiable (because of their clothes) sects of Hasidim are more like the Amish and fundamentalist Christian sects than any common-or-garden Jews. Actually no. Hasidim are themselves a branch of Orthodox Judaism. They like drinking, dancing, singing (the men do all these things a lot) and most of the sects at least like sex a lot. Sex is primarily for bonding, not for breeding!

Lots of people have written good reviews. I'm not one of them.

To see how Jewish marriage, and therefore women, have been viewed historically and religiously by the Orthodox (and therefore Hasidim) this article is a very good read. Especially the sex section, which is radically different from Christianity, but had mostly been formulated, since it is based on ancient texts, by the time of Jesus. Something to ponder.
__________________

Notes on reading This is a 10 star book. Probably the last of the year. Unusually for any book, I didn't skim a single paragraph. In part this is due to the writing where there not a single redundant word, no padding, no lyrical passages of the sun coming up, a new dawn or whatever. In part, it was due to the excellent story of a group of people I understand as an outsider with some knowledge but would never, ever be part of. But they would accept me if I wanted to join them.

I wonder if it would read so well for someone without a knowledge of the relationship between Orthodox Judaism and Hasidim. It might be even better! An esoteric cult that look like the Amish or any other fundamentalist group but are completely and uttterly different. On the other hand, much might need explaining.

To some extent I can identify with the author. But not much. The Hasidic part of my family do not wear garb from days in Russia or Poland long gone, the women wear very fashionable, but modest, clothes, arranged marriages gets you three dates and then you have to decide if you are likely to want to get married or try another one. I sadly got thrown out of the rebbetzin's (rabbi's wife, knows everyone and all the gossip) programs for getting the young people to mix and marry owing to my extremely bad behaviour. This was a mistake on their part as I became even worse and got into sex n drugs n rock n roll and enjoyed myself even more.

The author lost his faith due to a long slow process of questioning it. I lost mine, the scales fell from my eyes, if you like when I read Jean-Paul Sartre's Iron in the Soul. Existentialism made sense, religion did not. One morning I was an Orthodox Jew, the next, a tribal one.

Read November 2018. 'Reviewed' around that time. Final 'review' and notes Dec 2019

[Yitzchok Lowy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Shulem Deen might be the star of OTD writers, but what struck me in this book was how little of it can actually be said to be the telling of an OTD narrative. It read so much more like a Chasidic coming of age story, the story of almost every boy or girl growing up in such community. There’s not one element of the story that any average Chasidic man over thirty can’t identify with. Every single part of it. And can perhaps be applied even more universally, although I have little knowledge or experience of that.

Let me briefly sketch out this reading for you. Growing up Chasidic is growing up in an all-encompassing system of education/indoctrination/socialization. You are told that everything is figured out, we got the truth about everything you could possibly need, and all that is left for you to do is to be good, conform to plan, and all will be alright.

For a small minority, perhaps this works out. They are good students, get good Shiduchim, have kids, somehow make a living, and all proceeds according to plan. For the most, there is a lot of shock and awakening involved. This story starts the day after your wedding. From a boy expected to be entirely in the dark about marriage, and about everything else needed in the real world, you are suddenly expected to be able to handle a relationship perfectly, to take care of a wife. You are suddenly confronted with half the world you have been entirely in the dark about.

Then you need to provide for your family. As Shulem says, he would have thought whoever created the Kolel system figured out the budget for you, turns out, as every single man finds out, this is not the case. There is no way to make it with kids on a kolell stipend, and all your training in ancient law and lore doesn’t even prepare you to get a job teaching that. Again, a small minority does get jobs in education, dropping right back into the system they have just graduated, with no added knowledge of the real world, thus perpetuating the cycle of naiveté. But for must, you suddenly realize all the adults you have been relying on all your life, really have no idea what they are doing, and it is for you to figure out how to make it in the real world.

Even growing out of the naiveté of total simple faith isn’t much of an exception. Every average smart Hasidic man I know, has at some point realized it isn’t so. For many, as for Sulem, this happens after chancing on those kiruv books that purport to give that absolute proof of the truth of Judaism. For others, it’s just being in the world, meeting people, finding out not all Goyim are miniature Hitlers prostitutes and gangsters, some even have alternative faiths they take as seriously as we take ours. For yet others it is getting into some Haredi Gossip forum and finding out the Rebbe isn’t the saint he was made out to be, that the leaders are themselves not those perfectly edited portraits of them you see in school.

It would be too painful for me to elaborate on the divorce aspect of the story. But in a word, while the kind of total estrangement Shulem experienced is rarer, divorce in the community is excruciatingly awkward, painful, and leaves parents with little recourse to maintain normal relationships with children, you don’t need to be a Kofar to have this happen to you.

So, yes all who go do not return, growing up is one directional, and what is learnt can’t be unlearnt, but that doesn’t mean everyone who listens to radio will become a goy, or that everyone who reads permission to believe will end up an atheist. This book did a great job of telling, in its context, the all too human story of growing up, of being faced with an answerless universe, of becoming an adult yourself and suddenly realizing that adults don’t know much either.

[BlackOxford · Rating 4 out of 5]

Inside the American Shtetl.
Captivating.

Most people outside of New York City will not know anything about the various Orthodox Jewish communities that thrive there and in its hinterland. And even most New Yorkers will not know that the primary purpose of these communities is not just to re-create the physical mode of living of the Eastern European shtetl-culture which was annihilated by the Holocaust, but more importantly to re-create the essential ethos of this culture: the continuous recognition of and submission to the Almighty in every detail and nuance of one's life.

As among Christian monastic groups or some Anabaptist sects, there is a spectrum of meaning to the term orthodoxy. But most Jewish Orthodox communities share a recognition, like the monastics, that an existence as separate as possible from the prevailing culture is necessary for the full performance of one's religious obligations.

But, unlike monastics, Orthodox Jews have families, frequently rather large families, that have to be maintained very much as part of religious duty. This means that children are born into a commitment that is much more than nominal. One's entire life, including language, studies, dress, the smallest details of decorum and relationships, are established by tradition as that tradition is interpreted by the religious leadership.

To use an entirely inapt but accurate metaphor: in religious devotion, Christians are the hens that contribute an egg or two, Orthodox Jews are the creatures that provide the meat of commitment with their very bodies.

So what happens when the child becomes an adult and takes issue with the cultural isolation enforced by the community? Particularly if the adult is male, has a family, but has few life-skills (even language) in the wider world, and yet remains Jewish in their very being?

In short it ain't pretty. Ostracism by the religious leadership is the least of the punishments involved. Total loss of family, of friends, of social environment, of economic sustenance, indeed even of one's sense of self is understandably devastating.

Reading this memoir of extreme spiritual dislocation, one, I think, must become torn. Tragedy exists in this situation for both the individual and the community. Both feel themselves failures. The striving to maintain a counter-culture which rejects the materialism of the enveloping society is heroic. The loss of even one person to that materialism is profoundly demoralising. Conversely of course the oppression and subsequent rejection experienced by that person is excruciating.

Appropriately, Deen's memoir ends not with a resolution or reconciliation but with the continuing but ultimately accepted agony of separation as the necessary price to be paid for what he believes is independence. Good luck is the only thing to say.

Postscript: For those who might be interested in the phenomenon of religious leave-taking, I can highly recommend the 1985 God in Fragments (Dieu Fracture) by Jacques Pohier, a Dominican friar forced out of that Catholic Order by dogmatists. It too was written in medias res as it were and mirrors many of the same emotions that Deen recounts.

Postscript 15Nov18: Several recent pieces on this community: https://www.tabletmag.com/scroll/2752... https://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-life...

[Kressel Housman · Rating 5 out of 5]

The author of this book would probably be flattered to know that he shook my faith in G-d a little bit and because of that, I consider his book somewhat dangerous. I have no doubt that it is being banned in many Orthodox Jewish circles, and I can understand why. But I think it’s worthwhile to hear the criticisms of people who left the path, and since this book is quickly gaining a reputation as the most eloquent ex-Orthodox memoir around, I figured it was a good one to start with. Aside from that, I was curious because I know the author’s mother.

The author’s parents were like me – baalei teshuva. They were raised in assimilated, secular Jewish families and chose to follow the Orthodox path. As a matter of fact, the author’s mother is sort of like my ten-year mirror. She became Orthodox through Reb Shlomo Carlebach, and about ten years later, so did I. She was not a regular at Carlebach in the years that I was there, but her name came up, and always in the most favorable light. Then, years after I’d left Carlebach and had gotten married and moved to Boro Park, I found out that Mrs. Din had previously lived on the very same block. This illustrates a rather common trajectory amongst baalei teshuva. We start off in the liberal wing of the Orthodox world, and then, in our idealism, gradually became as Ultra-Orthodox as we possibly can. But our idealism blinds us to the negative side of the Ultra-Orthodox world, and often, it’s our kids who pay the price. The Dins chose an even stricter Chassidus than the one I married into, and her son attended a much stricter yeshiva. Corporal punishment was allowed, and secular education frowned upon. My kids’ yeshivos were never that extreme.

And thus begins Shulem Deen’s story. He ended up in Skverer yeshiva, arguably the most restrictive of all Chassidusen, and married a woman named Gitty who grew up in Skver. As he begins looking into the outside world – first at the public library, then on the Internet, all the way to Shabbos drives into Greenwich Village – his marriage becomes more and more strained. I felt bad for Gitty through most of the book. Naturally the changes in her husband would come as a great shock to such a sheltered young woman. But I lost my sympathy for her when I found out that she doesn’t even allow Mrs. Din to see her grandchildren. That’s plain unfair.

The book really does show Chassidim at their worst. Unfortunately, I don’t doubt any of it. But what I find hard to believe is how sheltered Shulem himself was. Usually children of baalei teshuva are somewhat more worldly than their peers. All Shulem says about himself is that he knew English better than his classmates. Did he never once meet his secular grandparents? It seems very strange to me.

As I said, the book did make me question my faith somewhat. Shulem points out some of the weaknesses in the rational arguments for the existence of G-d and the divinity of the Torah, and he makes a good case. But ultimately, it doesn’t bother me that G-d cannot be proved with human logic. G-d is beyond human logic. That’s the whole point.

It’s sad that klal Yisroel is losing so many Jews. I’m especially sad that my own son seems to be one of them. Shulem Deen is active in a group that helps ex-Orthodox acclimate to secular culture, which I can see as an act of kindness. That's not where I'd wish my own son to end up, but there are worse ways to go off. So once again, I may just follow Mrs. Din's path. No matter what they do or where they stray, our sons will always be our sons.

[Dem · Rating 4 out of 5]

A moving and informative account by Shulem Deen. A member of the Skverers, one of the most insular Hasidic sects in the US. His knowledge and experience of the outside world was very limited but his teenage years and married life was troubled with questions and doubts about his religion which eventually leads him to take a different and difficult path to the rest of his family and community.

A fascinating insight into a culture and religion I wasn’t familiar with, how does one cut ties with your family and community that Is everything in your life. It is so difficult to comprehend how a community of people are so sheltered from the modern world of New York and its influences. The author appears to have struggled all his life with his religion and community and his story is well written, interesting and thought provoking. I really enjoy books that take the reader into the lives of people who lives are polar opposites of their own.

I had issues with some aspects of the story. Listing on audible I really wish I had assess to a glossary of terms as a lot of the religious terms and worlds I didn't understand and was continuously googling the meaning of religious terms. I realize that the author Joined and was not born into this very insular community which certainly helps the reader understand how difficult an adjustment this would have been. I can appreciate how he struggled with all aspects of life in Skverers community that was so restrictive. However I cant help but sympathize with his wife and five children and wonder if given the chance how their side of the story would impact. How difficult it must have been for his wife to live under the same roof when her husband disregards all fundamentals of their religion, which she believes so faithfully in. She still has the responsibility to raise their five children in this strict community with its tradition and beliefs.

However this is Shulem Deens story and it is insightful and a compelling read. It is sad and reflective as the author recounts his story. The audible is extremely well narrated by the author himself. I really enjoyed the book and hope that Shulem Deen finds peace in his new life.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

Review soon.... It was great.... but going back to sleep
“Kol bo’eho lo yeshuvan....
All who go to her do not return”
But.... ‘he’ did: Shulem Deen.... ‘did’ return!
I’ll be back .... nite! 😴


I’m back....with my update book report.....😊📚✡️

This wasn’t the first memoir I’ve read about leaving Orthodoxy.
Tova Mirvis wrote “The Book of Separation”....
and there have been others.

Note....I’m Jewish....
but Judaism that is familiar to most reform and conservative Jews, is not Judaism of the Hasidim.

Hasidism, sometimes spelled Chassidism is a Jewish religious group that arose as a spiritual revival movement in the territory of contemporary Western Ukraine during the 18th century and spread rapidly throughout Eastern Europe. Today, most affiliates reside in Israel and the United States.
Hasidism is a sub-group within ultra-Orthodox , known for its religious and social conservatism and ‘social seclusion’.

In “All Who Go Do Not Return”, Shulem Deen, (formerly a member of the Skver sect of ultra-Orthodox Hasidic Jews), described his sheltered life in New Square, (an Hasidic Village about an hour away from New York City).
Not only did Shulem share about his childhood, teenage, and young adult Orthodoxy education, his marriage of fifteen years & five children, how he lost his faith, (became a non-believer),
but was most infuriating to me......
.....was HOW and WHY he ultimately lost his five children — and still remains ‘mostly’ estranged from them today.

A few things Shulem learned about daydreaming and sex....(from young pre-teen years ...even into his early years marriage):
.... daydreaming
....was an horrific offense—to have his mind wander from the rebbe’s lessons in Yeshiva school.
....sex
....It was the forbidden passion: to want attraction, chemistry, compatibility, romance, arousal— those were unquestionable sins within the sacred ways of Hasidic Jews.
“Perverted thoughts only enter a mind devoid of wisdom”.
Teachers were happy to remind & reinforce their students throughout yeshiva years that they should try to fill their minds only with Torah study.
Students didn’t get traditional sex education— they got ‘minimal education’ about the “service of the bed”.
Young students - like Shulem- usually only knew a few things about sex— it was forbidden on Yom Kippur.
“Tashmish hamitah”..... was something very private between a husband and wife. It involves touching in a way that expresses feelings.
Formal sex-ed education for young ultra-Orthodox teens — left much to be desired......important facts completely ignored.

When Shulem was older, (his naivety astonishing), he still only knew the barest facts.
“Sex brought pregnancy, which brought babies, and that was that”. None of it, as far as he knew, was optional. Not even the sex, which, according to Jewish law, a husband was to provide weekly—(Shabbat Shalom)...
Weekly sex ( on Shabbat), was all part of the marriage contract.
Ha....
and don’t think for one minute -I don’t remind Paul of his weekly duty...lol...
....as a reform Jew— we tend to pick and choose the Jewish laws as they fit our self-serving desires of course! 😊

Being serious a moment ....it’s not easy to leave an Orthodoxy community......
‘apikores’: (an ancient term for apostate: which translates to one who returns with questions).....
People who leave face many difficulties. They are usually shamed and outcasted by the other members of the tight-knit Orthodox community.

Shulem Deen says he has no animosity in the Hasidic Community as a collective. He has tremendous affection and sympathy for what they’re trying to preserve—a cherished worldview within a world that is very hostile to it. He says (I agree too)....
“I disagree with the degree to which choice is taken away from individuals in the service of that, but I understand it”.

Shulem is an heretic — an apikorus.
For a long time he tried to deny it.
“An Israelite, although he has sinned, is still an Israelite, the Talmud says. But a heretic is lost forever. All who go do not return. The Torah scroll he writes is to be burned. He is no longer counted in a prayer quorum, his food is not considered kosher, his last objects are not returned to him, he is unfit to testify in court. An outcast, he wanders alone forever, belonging neither to his own people nor to any other”.

My final thoughts: Hasidic Rebel....*Shulem Deen* ......wrote an *outstanding memoir*— not overly dramatized- an educational book — ( a heartbreaking journey), beautifully written, about growing up and leaving ultra-Judaism....
.....an invaluable book —for people of all faiths — or no faith.

In the year of 2020....when many of ask ourselves....”how do we unite a divided nation?”.....
Religious and non-religious groups might sit with the same question ....how do we unite our various religious & non-religious faiths?

Authentic - eye-opening - page-turning absorbing.

Tidbit....
another ——very entertaining— fiction book — for total entertainment— with a character who’ll have you cringing is:
“The Ladies Auxiliary”, by Tova Mirvis

[Penni · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is heartbreaking.
Shulem is in a league of his own. He's funny and emotional and well spoken (Or rather, written, ) throughout.
A worthy read.

[Abigail · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm a bit  concerned about writing this review because I don't want to cause any further harm to the author on the off chance he's actually reading this (and if you are Shulem, know that as I was reading your story, especially the period when you were newly alone and broken, I wanted nothing more than to offer my friendship and support- my criticisms are not personal - they are directed at the way certain facts were presented) but here it goes- I will tread cautiously.

About two years ago, I read an article by this author, a former Skver chassid, and as I was struck by the clarity and effectiveness of his writing, I emailed him asking to learn more about his story wanting to learn about how the barely (English) literate Skver school system had produced a talented literary writer (I forgive him for not writing back- in my email I probably  came off as a patronizing snot). But needless to say, I've been waiting for this memoir since then. In reading this book I did get my answer by the way- he grew up reading My Side of the Mountain (a personal favorite) and A Little Princess- this is not your average chassid.

When I was a high school senior in an all-girls Orthodox Jewish school, my class went on a trip visiting various Jewish institutions- one of which was the girls school in New Skver. I remember using the bathroom there and encountering for the first time the bastion of bacterial growth that is a damp towel loop on a bar- rotated and reused by the thousands of girls throughout the school day. As we left the bathroom, a bunch of young girls came over to me and my friends while clad in our ankle length skirts and long sleeved shirts, and asked us if we were Jewish- in yiddish. But what sticks out most clearly in my mind is the talk we had with the principal of the school who told us about how the students don't study the texts inside actual chumashim (bibles) but are given censored packets with selections of what was considered "appropriate" for girls. I can't begin to tell you how horrifying this all was to me to see these girls- not very different than us - who were closed off from the beauty of our heritage as if their minds weren't capable of processing or dealing with any texts that might challenge them.

So chassidism isn't new to me. I've been to my share of tischen and found them uplifting and sufficiently awe-inducing. My own grandfather left chassidism after the war though many of our family's traditions are chassidish. I'm always torn between finding chasidim charming and noble and by feeling like these people are from another planet- one I just can't relate to at all.

Deen's story is not one that is written in a way fully accessible to the uninitiated and one of the things I admire most about it is that it seems like it's almost written to an audience of "searching" frum Jews. You won't find the titillating and often vulgar details prevelant in OTD (newly unsobservant) memoirs- sensationalizing new violations and focusing on destructive behavior to make it onto the NYTimes bestseller list. When he adresses sexual matters, it's done sensitively and with poise. His crisis of faith is something personal and intellectual and the steps he takes are always done while keeping in mind those who will be affected by his actions. Deen comes across as a figure who isn't just "aidel" but is a "mentsch" as well. Which brings me to the other aspect of this narrative I greatly admire, and that is that he didn't seek to blame everyone in the midst of his tragedy. This is just his story, his beautifully rendered account of life events. There isn't an agenda, he's not trying to convince anyone to join him in his follies or point fingers at individuals who failed him.

If I'm allowed one criticism, it's one coming from my somewhat feminist mindset. When Deen is kept from his children by the courts of New Skver he points out that he was not the one who left his children- he was forced out first from Skver and was then cut off from his children through a combination of emotional manipulations and court edicts. What I feel the need to take to task is the period when Deen was doing his "exploring." He would often wander around Manhattan after work going into bars or bookstores. He would get into long philosophical conversations with his friend after prayer services in New Skver and he hated going to prayer services so much that he refused to subject his sons to their tortures. To my mind, *this* was the beginning of the the true separation. A father who leaves Manhattan promptly at 5 would not get home to New Skver until 6:30. In my home, by that time I've already brought my children home from school, given them their "coming home snack," assisted them with the majority of their homework, cooked one of their favorite suppers, and then fed it to them (and I don't think of myself as a particularly stellar parent by any means). A father coming home at 6:30 might catch the tail end of supper and be able to help get the kids in bed, maybe chat with them as they're getting tucked in- but if you've been wandering around the city for an extra two hours and are coming home after 8, you're missing out on any opportunity to reach your young children and connect to them. Same goes for his sabbath routine- I see a lot of lost fathering moments. Now, granted, I'm making some assumptions here, but during that wandering phase Deen doesn't share with us his parenting triumphs and failures. That isn't to say that this deficit excludes the author from claiming a role as father and being heartbroken as it's torn away from him- even a deadbeat dad (which he certainly isn't) could be devastated by being shut out from his children's lives. But I get the sense that some of this heartbreak could have been prevented if everyone hadn't been so alone, so self-focused- him, his wife, his children- they orbited around each other without meaningful interaction for years. Like the censored texts provided to the New Skver school girls- close to the real thing but devoid of the complexity and discomfort, the balance of the grit and transcendent, maybe you have to know what it is to be able to mourn its loss properly, and maybe I can't fault this father who didn't really know what he was missing or where it went wrong.

Edit- I've realized that towards the end of this review I veered from reviewing the writing to critiquing (ok, let's just say judging) the behaviors of the author's character. The actual reason I gave this a 4 stars and not a full 5, is because it wasn't sweeping enough for me- I wanted more story, more explanations, more time with all of it. If you have some background with these struggles and want to read a book that tells a compelling personal story and keeps you up way too late at night, then give this a spin- just be prepared to be left hanging.

[Loes Dissel · Rating 5 out of 5]

" I wondered about that circle of hippies and my odd attraction to them, and I realized, after a time, what it really was: what I longed for was not the tisch of my past but a return to a time and place when ideas moved me even if they didn't make perfect sense, a time when I allowed myself to be fired up with passion for something, anything, because it held a "truth" that had made itself evident during a moment of inspired consciousness." ( page 299)

[Michael Fishman · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most highly anticipated memoirs in the OTD-sphere, All Who Go Do Not Return is a memoir by celebrated blogger, heretic, and all around righteous dude Shulem Deen. For many years, Shulem has been a fixture in the nouveau-boho-exChusid scene, which auxiliarly includes formerly-Modernishes such as me.

My first exposure to Shulem was an article in the Village Voice, The Sharer of Secrets. This was in the summer of 2003. I was working a McJob working a concession stand at Giant's Stadium for a Bruce Springsteen concert. The last bus to my parents' house had already departed, so I had to find a ride into the city. Since it was past midnight, and there would be no more buses back to New Jersey until at least 8am, I was stuck in Midtown Manhattan with nothing to do for 5 hours. So I took a Village Voice (because it was free), walked over to the Hudson River, sat on a bench, and started reading.

Up to that point, I had very little first-hand exposure to the Hassidic underground. I had one friend, Steve, who was a senior at MTA. Steve used to be a Satmar Hassid, but for some reason, his parents sent him to MTA (which is Modernishe). One summer, Steve got an internship at a Goyyishe firm, and everything went downhill: the payyos came off, he was now smoking weed, when he wore a yarmulke it was no longer a big velvet one, and he no longer kept Shabbos. Steve once told me that the Satmars were constantly calling him, begging him to come back, and several times even threatened to drive over to Washington Heights to abduct him and force him to daven with them. Steve still deftly evaded them.

Other than that, I had never actually met a bona fide Hassidic Rebel. When I read this article, I discovered that Steve was not alone. There were others who were Hassidic and no longer believed. Only Steve was still in high school and surrounded by Modern Orthodox Jews, so he had an easier way out. The people described in the article were still completely clandestine. The article inspired me so much, that when I got home, I looked up Hassidic Rebel. I found it intriguing. After reading a few posts, it was clear to me that Hassidic Rebel was a very well read, energetic man who was not content to be cloistered in whatever Shtetl he hailed from.

After a spell, I didn't give Hassidic Rebel much more thought. But over the years, I was more and more exposed to the Hassidic Underground. Half a year later, I was working a job at NYU. An old friend of mine, Sholom, was a regular customer there. One day, Sholom brought in a girl named Malky. Malky was a student at Hunter College who was doing a project with Hassidim who wanted out. She called it "Footsteps". At the time, Footsteps was just an experimental project. Both she and Sholom were former Lubavitchers. But she promised me that at her meetups, there were former Satmars, and other more hardcore Hassidim, whose stories were completely gut-wrenching. So Sholom asked me if I wanted to check this Footsteps out.

I regret now that I never did. Though I am glad to see that Foortsteps has since become a tour de force. Many of my current acquaintances have at some point passed through their doors and been aided in one way or another: whether it's getting a GED, applying to college, applying for benefits, improving English, or merely support. Although I myself am not a member of Footsteps, I still laud this wonderful organization.

In about 2011, I joined the OTD Facebook group. Here, I was finally exposed to a cadre of ex-Hareidim. Some still had fake names like Rachmuna Litzlon or Fence Sitter, Others were already out in the open. Through this group I made many contacts with people all across the formerly-frum spectrum. Some were flaming Atheists; some were merely Orthoprax; some simply became Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Renewal/Revivial, et al. But all in one way or another no longer believed in the Yiddishkeit they were nourished with.

Shulem Deen was one name I would sporadically come across in the group. Once in a while, someone would post a link to a blog called "Unpious", which contained literary posts by ex-Hassidim. But one day, while drunk at an OTD meetup, someone told me that Shulem Deen was Unpious and formerly Hassidic Rebel. Yes, I had heard all three names: Shulem Deen, Unpious, and Hassidic Rebel. But at that moment, though I was completely soused, I somehow retained that all three were the same entity.

I first met Shulem in the flesh at a protest against the "Asifah." The Asifah was a huge gathering at CitiField to warn people of the dangers of the internet. Some OTDers and sympathizers threw together a protest for what they thought was the real issue at large--molestation. For years, this issue was swept under the rug in the Hareidi community. Because Jews are supposedly forbidden to report each other to secular authorities, these issues are supposed to be handled internally. But many times, they are not. And so, we were trying to protest this issue. They complain about the evils of the internet, but they don't realize that there are much bigger fish to gefilte in their communities.

After that, I met Shulem several more times. He always impressed me not only with his erudition, but also his unique perspective about the world. I knew from reading his blogs that he was extremely well read. But even his blogs barely exhibited the breadth and depth of his knowledge. For example, I brought up JB Soloveichik for the sake of argument. I explained that Soloveichik was a man who was completely versed in secular philosophy but had no problem also being frum. His system was a Hegelian synthesis of the profane and the religious. What I did not expect was that Shulem had perused "Halachik Man," and was able to systematically explain why it did nothing for him. If someone were to ask Shulem why he went from one extreme (Skver) to another (Atheist), he had quite the educated reason.

Coming into the book, I knew bits and pieces of Shulem's story. For example, I was there the night he discovered that his oldest daughter was getting married and he wasn't invited. I remember the blog post, recounting the time he was coerced into rescinding custody of his children, limiting him to several times a year. An abridged version of that post made its way into his memoir. It was a tearjerker moment. But at this point, Shulem seemed to have "accepted his lot". Like Elisha ben Abuyah riding off into the sunset saying "All may repent except for Acher", his melancholy manner that night definitely undercut his usually stoic demeanor.

Shulem's memoir is not just another OTD story. To say that Shulem is a master of his craft with a unique voice would be comparable to saying Bill Gates is wealthy. I especially enjoy how accessible he makes it. He is not abashed in explaining scandals, the Va'ad Hatznius, the politics of his world, and what the Rebbe was really like:
- The Va'ad Hatznius is a group that is so clandestine, that I like to joke "The first rule of the Va'ad Hatznius is you do not talk about the Va'ad Hatznius. The second rule of the Va'ad Hatznius is you do not talk about the Va'ad Hatznius." Several parts of his story brought up the perpetual fears Hassidim had of this Va'ad Hatznius and what happened when they came for you. Think of it as the kosher version of Men in Black.
- The Rebbe. An elusive character. I knew that Rebbe:Hassidim :: Pope:Catholic. But what I got from Shulem's story was that for many, the Rebbe was actually just another unimpressive old man with a big beard and a pimp streiml. To a Hassid, the four corners of the world converge around teh Rebbe. But to a skeptic, one would ask if he's really as pious as the stories say he is. The Skverer Rebbe was no exception.

Shulem's story will make you laugh. Shulem's story will make you cry. But most importantly, Shulem's story will draw you in. As one who was raised Orthodox, I was more than intimately familiar with many of the references. However, I can't help but wonder how this story would read to one who was not raised religious. I think it would be readable. He does, after most Hebrew/Aramaic/Yiddish phrases provide an English translation (where the context does not make the meaning obvious). I wonder if years down the line, it will be as readable. I am reminded of the time I took The New Annotated H.P. Lovecraft from the library. Even without the annotations, his writing was readable. But the annotations brought the work to life. I felt like maybe if I lived in his time, in his place, I would not need the annotations, it would all make sense to me. Shulem's world is close enough to mine that I could make sense of most of it on my own. I wonder if future readers are going to need an annotated version to make sense of his world. But whether or not they will, even unannotated, his words speak very loudly and lucidly.

[Eli Mandel · Rating 4 out of 5]

All Who Go Do Not Return will be read two hundred years from now, just as Solomon Maimon's memoir is still read more than 200 years after its publication. Its value lies in its honest portrayal of struggle - posing the question most are too afraid to ask themselves: what do we do when we exercise the right we are told we have to ask questions, and when do we do when we find that right denied us? And what do we do when the stakes of asking those questions are so high? Asking those questions will result in forfeiture of our family privileges, they will result in the loss of everything we know - we must choose right or left, we cannot have both.

The answers to this question are not simple, and, as Robert Frost said "way leads on to way" and just as the village of New Square set itself up on the premise of total control of its adherents and it cannot back down from its stance. So too certain individuals, once they've begun their quest, cannot back down.

[Murtaza · Rating 5 out of 5]

Shulem Deen grew up in a Hasidic Jewish community so insulated from the outside world that most of its members had never used a television. To give an example of its amazing cloisteredness, most had a poor grasp of the English language despite living their entire lives a short drive from Manhattan. This book is the story of Deen's life in this distinct world and his eventual loss of faith in religion in general. It is also the story of his painful final severance from his community, marriage, and, most wrenchingly, his children. The story is timeless in the sense of being about a unique individual breaking out of what feels to them like the chains of conformity. But it's refreshing in the sense of giving an intimate look into a world that very few outsiders can really penetrate.

Like most people I don't know much about Hasids, even though I see them around a lot. This book is the thoughtful story of one man's life as a Hasid and afterwards. It manages to convey some implicit criticisms from Deen's perspective, while still not judging his former community. He does a truly admirable job of telling his personal story while remaining conscious of its subjectivity. That's harder than it sounds and takes a particularly gifted writer to accomplish. I was touched by his curiosity and intelligence. Through the medium of books and conversation he transformed into an entirely new person. In this small way he reminded me of Malcolm X, who also was made a new person through reading. This is one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking and surprising memoirs I've read. Highly recommended.

[david · Rating 1 out of 5]

The irony of scapegoating.

And it could not have happened to a better latke.

A Hasid you were and a Chasid you remain.

I have no interest in any religion.

I have never met a Chasid that I liked. Nor do they, you, recognize me. A nonhuman 'apikurus' I am.

Every decade must produce its' James Frey and this time it is you.

The time wasted skimming/reading this infuriates me.

May G-d send every damn chicken in the world to your studio in Brooklyn and may their incessant clicking and clucking persuade you to move to an asylum in NY state where you no longer pose a threat to the reading community. (who else knows what hi-jinks you are up to, Punk).

How dare you sell false wares to the public and to my friends here.

Milchig and Fleishig. You do not mix the two; a fabulist with a pen.

Drek-Meister.

Final note on this 'caca de vaca.'

He sells his services at the end of his book. His version of an epilogue. He will be your personal editor. Try it, test him, purchase some time at a ridiculous rate. And watch how he condescends to you and fires you, the client, like a somewhat real editor.

He does this as easily as he spins fiction into reality.

[Nichole Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

This autobiographic account of an Orthodox Jewish man's crisis of faith and his subsequent departure from his culturally isolated Hasidic community was fascinating to me as I possessed virtually no knowledge of this community. Deen does a fantastic job painting the picture of his upbringing, relationships within the community, inclusion in the extremist sect that he personally chose, and eventual questioning and departure from it all. The most prominent notes -- what struck me the most -- was the community's insistence on "not asking questions" ("all questions have already been answered") and that faith was not something that was possibly attained by logic but was instead, a virtue. While as a youth, Deen was swept away by the cultural aspects of the Hasidic lifestyle, he seemed to always regard the religious aspects as something that was just assumed -- and this comes back into play later when he leaves and his astounded family and friends don't understand how he "just doesn't believe".

His process of finally breaking down the way in which his people lived their lives is in many ways enlightening and in many ways heartbreaking and his withdrawal into modern American society brings with it both euphoria and desolation. While he has freedom he never before could have comprehended, there is much that was left behind -- his family, his traditions, his faith. A good read and relevant as an exploration of understanding the tradeoffs being community and isolation, rationality and faith, freedom and tradition. Four stars because the ending compared to the beginning and middle is a bit more bland and while I understand a sense of things being un-resolved, I also don't feel like it had the level of introspection present in the remainder of the book.

[Electra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Une plongée dans le monde fascinant et effrayant de la communauté hassidique ultra-orthodoxe et la perte de la foi pour l'un de ses membres les plus fervents.

[Marilyn (not getting notifications) · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've read several books about individuals leaving the Hasidic community but All Who Go Do Not Return by Shulem Deen was by far my favorite in this genre. Perhaps it is because I live fairly close to New Square in Rockland County. Although I was aware that the people residing in New Square were more fanatical than those living in Monsey and certain places in Brooklyn it still surprised me to learn the many details of life there. Shulem Deen did an excellent job of opening my eyes to the life a Hasid lives in New Square. I admire his choices and courage to follow his heart and head when he finally leaves New Square and leave all the religious upbringing and practices behind and enter a more secular world. My heart goes out to him also about his fate involving his children. This is a book that I recommend highly.

[Frieda Vizel · Rating 3 out of 5]

As someone who has left the Hasidic community and continues to be fascinated by how much nuance this insular community hides, I'm especially interested in literature that comes from insiders - and often, of course, they will have the bias of those who left. I read this book at about the time of its initial release, but didn't analyze it too closely. Now, after some time and having heard many people base their knowledge of the Hasidic community on this book, I thought it's time for a second, more critical look.

When I reread Deen's book, I can still see the bright spots; especially in the scene describing his engagement. It's warm, it's funny, it's real. Deen isn't hiding any ghosts there - as far as I know - so he is able to portray an engagement that is original, humorous, human. There are several such isolated scenes that capture Hasidic life, and they speak to his potential. Deen isn't an author of great insights but he is able to frame a sentence so that reading it is a pleasure; and small details effortlessly bring the scene to life.

But the book isn’t what it could have been, because in addition to being a memoir about leaving Hasidism, it is also a dance around Deen's demons. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the Nigerian author of "Americana", once described one memoir as "a well-written act of image-making". Adichie sees through the memoirist who is manipulative not through crude, off-putting self bombast, but whose honesty is there to disarm and self-criticism is calculated to deflect, all to serve the author's self interest.

Deen also composes his story as an act of image making. He is aware that society can idolize the stories of the coming-of-age or leaving-insular-communities genre, but that the adoration turns sour when children are left behind. Since Deen’s relationship with his five children deteriorates over the last part of the book, he carefully crafts his narrative to protect himself from being judged harshly by his audience.

Deen's wife Gitty is never humanized. This makes it impossible for the reader to imagine that there is more to this than one man’s feelings. Gitty rarely speaks, and when she does, the lines she's given are so all over the place, it creates a dismembered character. On one hand we are told that there is nothing but clipped conversations between the couple -- Gitty doesn't even respond to a gift, and only offers a begrudging thank you after being asked for feedback -- while on the other she is accused of taking over and being so overbearing, that Deen feels cast aside in her matriarchal tyranny. We assume that this is what Hasidic women are like; empty and dead inside, devoid of personalities, brainwashed. While I don't know this woman, I've yet to meet a Hasidic woman who is like that. I found myself wondering what we are not told of Gitty. Either Deen really did not see her, or he thought it dangerous to tell the reader too much about her.

There are several other instances in which we are primed to see him a victim of impossible circumstances. He describes a Hasidic world of bleak poverty and no food to feed the many mouths. “Most of my friends from yeshiva were living the same way…. Either still studying in the kollel, or teaching at the chedar, and struggling, making do with whatever they could - yeshiva vouchers, food stamps, Section 8. They went from one poor moneymaking idea to the next…”

The subject of Hasidic economics is too complicated to go into here, but Deen does not even try; he turns to the stereotype of Hasidic men who are unemployed and uneducated, and gently goads the reader into outrage at the Hasidic system of “welfare mooching.” The reader gasps “who could stay in such a world?”

We get only a superficial glimpse into Deen’s life during the crucial years after he lost faith and before he got divorced. In 2003, when he had already described himself as a non-believer and had been writing for some time under the pseudonym Hasidic Rebel, I started my own journey with a blog. My impressions from reading the few regular bloggers (including Deen) and from my interactions with them (some now close friends) were that these men lived double lives that became more untenable as they adventured more in the secular world - bars, pot, travel, lovers, etc. But Deen writes as if he never as much heard of a party. He describes himself as a lone man spending night after night in Manhattan, venturing into bars alone, always alone. A man driven by longing, a heroic angst. We are not reminded of Gitty whose world was unraveling while raising five children. We are not told of any adventures or friends he might have had. How might the fuller picture have played into the bitterness in the divorce?

I think the important question the book could have raised is of the conflict between self and family. We should have considered: did he make the right choice? Is he culpable for his fall; the alienation from his family, the anguish that led to a breakdown? Should we all point fingers and say "I told you so" when the book ends with so much sadness? I wouldn't say so. As often, responsibility can be split like fair minded pirates doling out loot. But Deen carefully casts himself as the pitiful victim of a society, paints over any moral ambiguity, and bangs the gavel, the verdict is out, he did all he could, the system wrought all his pain.

The book isn't useless as a work on Hasidic life, but its depiction is flawed because it is contrived. As I saw it, it was written not to illuminate, but to absolve.

My Blog

[Maggie Anton · Rating 4 out of 5]

As usual for my reviews, I won't detail the plot - you can get that from the other reviewers. What I can tell you is that this story is both exquisitely written and unbearably sad. I read it in one sitting, hoping against hope that more things wouldn't go wrong for Shulem. If you are like me, and prefer books with happy or at least satisfactory endings [time is too short and there are enough depressing things I can read in the newspaper], don't read this one. What a tragedy for this naive young man [spoiler alert] as, like dominos falling, he loses his father, his faith, his community, his wife, his job, and ultimately, his children.

I'm pretty sure this is the last OTD book I'll be reading for a long time.

[Paul LaGreca · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have never read a memoir that left me with such a range of emotions: sad, angry, proud, confused, heartbroken ... to name a few. Shulem Deen's plight to leave the Hassidic way of life is heartbreaking on many levels: On the one hand, I kept saying, 'Please don't leave' and on the other hand I thought, 'Is there really any other way than to go?'

This memoir is extremely well-written with the reviews to prove it. Deen's writing is captivating and the book is nothing less than a page-turner. One of the best memoirs I have ever read.

[Mimi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Heart breaking! At First I wanted to know about the Hasidic life, all the different sects. But when Shulem started his quest for the outside world, I was going to give up! Really this book was emotionally draining and struggling for the family And all the lives involved! But I find Shulem to be an amazing father, husband, son, brother and friend to all he meets! Very interesting book

[Judy · Rating 4 out of 5]

"What happened?" -- That is the question Shulem Deen was asked whenever he had to show his ID, and the bank teller or highway patrol officer did a double take: the ID photo showing a Skverer Hasid (beard, payot, and beaver hat) versus the clean-shaven, bare-headed guy in jeans who over time lost his faith in his community and even in God.

Deen's memoir is the answer to that question, and it is deeply engaging, sometimes funny, and increasingly sad. As someone who grew up secular and wrestled for a good few years before casting my lot with Torah-based community, my path has been the opposite of Deen's. I discovered my embarrassing lack of knowledge about my own spiritual heritage, and set out to claim it. Without any firsthand knowledge of the Skverer community, I found his account of its unfathomable narrowness, refusal to sanction any form of Jewish practice not Skverer-certified kosher, refusal to allow the infusion of any secular literature, its very harshness, alarming. If what Deen has painted is really accurate across the board, it's a wonder that long black coats, hats and wigs are not being shucked off daily in pursuit of a broader Jewish life.

As a writer working on a memoir about my path to Jewish observance, I also have a new appreciation for how selective writers must be "inventing the truth," borrowing from the title of the excellent book on memoir writing. To craft a narrative that will flow, engage the reader and reveal the writer's truth, one must necessarily discard many other pieces of that truth. Throughout the book, I wondered what else was true, for example, his ex-wife Gitty could probably write her own compelling narrative, at least in a Yiddish edition. Deen's own parents were baalei teshuva, formerly secular Jews who embraced Orthodoxy, so it's surprising that he himself was so insular; kids of BTs usually are a bit more worldly. Still, it's a shock to read that on their wedding night, Deen had to make a couple of calls to the man who "provided instruction" on the mechanics of lovemaking, so unschooled was he and his bride, both of them 18. Years later, when Deen has the chance to interview at a large company in Manhattan, he has to go and buy his first tie (Skverers don't wear ties) yet he has no idea how to tie it; fortunately, by then he has a verboten computer in the house, and downloads instructions from howtotieatie.com.

Deen's growing frustration at the disconnect between the rigid, even harsh rules of his Skverer community and the larger, freer world he is learning about through library books, the internet and even TV make his double life less and less tolerable, and despite his and Gitty's efforts to hold their family together (they have 5 children), they divorce. Still, having been involved in the Orthodox world for 30 years, it's hard for me to believe that even in the most repressive of Jewish communities there weren't more acts of kindness, more offers of support or guidance, that religious Jewish communities are famous for. He paints a community where even a small step out of line can lead to acts of violence or revenge. To the extent these things are true, it's a desecration of God's name. However, I also suspect that some of the kinder, more noble aspects of life in his former community were left out because it didn't suit his narrative.

As other reviewers have mentioned, it's hard not to feel very sorry for his wife, Gitty, who watched her husband slowly but steadily rebel step by step by step: bringing secular literature in the house, then a computer, and even a television. This wasn't what she had signed up for. The double life Shulem lives becomes too much for them both, and divorce, when it happens, is not a surprise.

His love for his children is palpable, which makes their growing estrangement from him (which he blames largely on Gitty's growing anger at what she considers his dangerous influences, with backing from rabbinical authorities and even the family court system in Rockland County) the more painful to read about. He first loses his eldest daughter's respect, then the next daughter, and finally his sons, ending up depressed enough to require short-term hospitalization. On the other hand, his lifestyle became one his children had been taught to be dangerous. He was in an unwinnable situation, and it is heartbreaking.

His discovery of an entire OTD ("Off the Derech") community online and in person was a real eye-opener for me. I would be interested to learn more about how these former Hasids deal with their need for spirituality and community.

While Deen's writing is excellent and the story heartfelt. I was most disappointed with the section where Deen asked a friend of his, who secretly had educated himself about non-Hasidic Jewish thought, to help him understand the rational explanations for God's existence -- a concept considered dangerous by the Skverers. But when Deen dismisses the theories of so many brilliant and learned thinkers on this topic, I concluded that he had already decided to check out from Judaism totally. Hanging out in Greenwich Village on Friday nights and eating turkey and cheese sandwiches follow soon after, providing him with a lonely form of freedom.

On a personal note, I hope that Shulem Deen will one day be willing to give Judaism another chance; there is a big wide world of communities that manage to combine involvement with both secular life while also providing a foundation for a life of spiritual meaning.

[Shlomo Dayan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Despite his protestation, Shulem's story is a fight for a narrative. There's a clear audience for this book, and that is his estranged kids. In it you can read the makings of the man, what caused him to have a family in that senseless world, and what caused him to walk away from it - or in his narrative, forcefully removed from it. Reading it will certainly gain sympathy from humanity, and perhaps even fair judgment from acquaintances. However, as the modern Jew knows too well, sympathy is for losers and being righteous is worthy only on the dead bodies of your conquests. Otherwise it's a story of the shell of a man, raised to serve the purposes of the cult as a concubine serves her master, useless and discarded once its utility has been properly disbursed.

Beyond its immediate audience, this story is one of pain and sorrow with no resolution. If you're foreign to the hasidic world you may find in it a rare glimpse of an insider reporting with the honesty of an outsider. But if your heart lays not with the anthropologist's, the value of this book shall be in the annals of crime thrillers, in the investigative documentaries of the holy and the sacred, showing them for what they are, evil and cruel vehicles for subordination of the masses. You will see the torment of a man as he tries to put the genie back in the box, and you'll witness the cruelty of a people claiming to be ascetic. While the author prefers nuance, here's a quote where he slips up a bit:

"Shragi shook his head. He wanted to clear up a misconception. “We would never keep children from a father.” He was so very surprised, he said, that I’d thought otherwise. “That would be incredibly cruel.” I asked what he had in mind for an agreement. “What we would like,” he said, with a salesman’s flourish, “is for you to see the children twice a year.” I stared at him in disbelief, while he offered some vague explanation for why this was really best for the children. I thought I had been prepared to take whatever I got, but I could not accept this. “You are aware that they don’t want to see you, yes?” When I said nothing, he thought for a bit, and then offered four times a year. I asked for six. “Fine,” he said. He offered his hand but then pulled it back. “But only the three little ones.” I bit my tongue, and nodded. “And only until they’re thirteen,” he said. “Later, it’s difficult. Especially for the boys, after bar mitzvah. You understand, of course.” I didn’t understand. It didn’t matter."

The Orwellian language of the negotiator is no mistake. This is the face of evil. And if nothing else, the audience of this book is the people in the community who dare to read it. This is a call to arms. Know thy enemy and understand how to conquer him!

[Sassenach · Rating 5 out of 5]

Né au milieu des années 1970, Shulem a grandi dans une famille juive ultraorthodoxe de l’état de New York et a rejoint une communauté hassidique skver installée dans le petit village de New Square, à une cinquantaine de kilomètres au nord de Manhattan. Marié et père de cinq enfants, il était impliqué dans la vie religieuse, respectant scrupuleusement les règles jusqu’au jour où il a fini par douter de sa foi, découvrant les bibliothèques, puis les ordinateurs et Internet. Ce fut le début de sa chute dans la communauté qui finira par le considérer comme hérétique et le forçant à déménager et à couper les ponts avec sa famille …
Je suis toujours fascinée par les communautés, religieuses ou non, qui me semblent souvent s’apparenter à des sortes de sectes fermées et partiellement coupées du reste du monde. Depuis que j’avais lu Les sœurs Weiss de Naomi Ragen, j’avais envie de mieux découvrir cet univers, mais cette fois, avec une vision masculine (car les rôles hommes/femmes dans ces communautés sont bien tranchés et différents). C’est donc cet essai qui m’a tenté et en plus, cela couvrait parfaitement le thème d’un de mes clubs lecture. On commence par découvrir l’auteur le jour de son passage devant le conseil religieux qui va le déclarer hérétique et on remonte peu à peu, sous forme de flashblacks pas toujours chronologiques, la vie de Shulem : son enfance, ses parents (qui ont eu une vie peu religieuse avant leur mariage), son éducation et donc l’éducation de ces enfants hassidiques, son mariage arrangé et comment il a rencontré son épouse très très brievement avant la cérémonie, sa vie de couple puis de parent, ses relations avec les autorités religieuses, l’organisation de la communauté et les règles à suivre, les préceptes religieux inculqués ... et j’en oublie. Après cette lecture très instructive, c’est évident que je connais mieux le sujet, même si cela me paraît toujours un peu surréaliste de voir des gens vivre ainsi. Ce qui m’effraie le plus, c’est toujours l’absence de réflexion personnelle et de remise en question des choses car comme beaucoup ont déjà dit : croire, c’est aussi douter et là, le doute semble totalement absent et quand il apparaît, comme ce fut le cas pour Shulem, il provoque la mise au ban de la personne qui se questionne ! J’ai trouvé très intéressant de voir comment l’auteur a expliqué son cheminement, avec beaucoup de pudeur et de franchise, de douleur et d’émotion, montrant ainsi que ce n’est pas un choix facile et que cela a totalement bouleversé sa vie. Une lecture prenante et éducative, même si on n’est pas porté sur la religion car cela permet de mieux comprendre certaines choses et pour moi qui lis en général peu d’essais, ce fut malgré tout un coup de cœur ! 

[K · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've shared feelings on this site before about the "off-the-derech memoir," i.e., memoirs written by individuals who grow up Orthodox Jewish and leave, and share their experiences. My feelings about these memoirs have been ambivalent at best. By and large, I've found them bitter, one-dimensional, sensationalist/exhibitionistic/TMI, and blurring the boundaries between struggling with the demands of the religion and the experience of growing up in what seems to have been a highly dysfunctional family (though who knows, really; we're only getting one person's perspective and the specter of James Frey haunts me whenever I read a melodramatic memoir). I've questioned a lot of these authors' credibility, sometimes because of exaggerations, gaps, and inconsistencies in their narratives (to which I'm sensitive as someone who comes from a similar background) and sometimes because there was absolutely no attempt to be fair to the other characters inhabiting the memoir who came across as evil caricatures rather than as complex human beings.

This memoir was different.

First of all, Shulem Deen is a good writer. He is reflective, three-dimensional and, as far as I can tell, an accurate reporter for the most part -- at least, I didn't spot a lot of gaps or inconsistencies (there were possibly a few, which I'll try to address later). But more importantly, he acknowledges many complexities that are sorely neglected by other off-the-derech memoirists.

Shulem spent the first part of his adult year in New Square among the Skverer Chassidim. He's candid about the fact that this is an extremist sect, more cloistered than even the mainstream Chassidim and certainly far more cloistered than most typical Orthodox and modern Orthodox communities. Unlike other off-the-derech memoirists, he makes this point clearly rather than allowing the reader to suppose that his context was typical. When I read goodreads reviews of off-the-derech memoirs, it rankles me to read lines like, "a window into a hidden community" and other reactions that suggest that people think they now know what it's like to grow up Orthodox or Chassidic. No, people, you don't. What you know is what this memoirist perceived, filtered, and chose to share from their unique context, with questionable fidelity (sensationalism sells a lot more books than honesty). Shulem's genuine acknowledgement that his community was extremist allows the reader to recognize this.

But here's what impressed me the most. I loved Shulem's afterword. After reading this highly readable and compelling memoir, I was completely taken by Shulem's acknowledgement of the inherent unfairness of penning a memoir from one's perspective. Shulem writes in this afterword that, although he tried to be fair, he's sure this memoir would sound very different had it been written by one of the other characters in his life, particularly his ex-wife. How refreshing to read this in a memoir, any memoir, but particularly one of leaving Orthodoxy. And it makes me a lot more inclined to believe Shulem's narrative when I witness his humility and acknowledgement of limitations to his perspective.

Now, as I said, there were some possible gaps. It was interesting to me that Shulem's parents were both returnees to the faith who did not grow up Orthodox and, upon becoming religious, embraced a lifestyle that was pretty intense and extreme. While many people who become Orthodox tend to adopt religiously strict practices rather than a more moderate approach (within Orthodoxy there's quite a spectrum), I believe it's pretty unusual to become Chassidic. In that sense, Shulem's childhood was also not typical as many families in the Chassidic community have been Chassidic for generations, making it likely that Shulem's upbringing may have been distinctive and that his parents may have been different in a lot of ways. When I read that Shulem's father taught classes to people of diverse Jewish backgrounds, and perhaps more relevantly, embraced a series of unusual practices in the name of spirituality that eventually compromised his health, it suggested to me that there were factors in Shulem's background that may have been influential but were not discussed. Of course, Shulem has every right to filter what he wants to tell us, especially with regard to his family members and the need to respect their privacy (this, too, was refreshing in an era of tell-all memoirs, as was Shulem's sensitive handling of sexual matters) but it also means that we may be placing an unfair share of the responsibility for Shulem's eventual disenchantment on the community and the Skverer Chassidic context when there were probably some unusual aspects to growing up in his family.

A friend of mine pointed out that Shulem's decision to feed his children machine matza when they visited him on Passover, depicted as largely innocent, was something he must have known would greatly upset his ex-wife. Similarly, charging non-kosher food to their credit card while they were still married when he knew his then-wife would see the bill also feels like a desire to throw his non-observance in his distraught wife's face. While Shulem is arguably a victim of his circumstances in some respects, he also made a lot of choices which raise some questions about whether he may have been deliberately provocative at times and contributed more to their relationship difficulties than he acknowledged.

Shulem's ex-wife, incidentally, was arguably the most sympathetic character in the story. She comes across as an innocent, mainstream Chassidic young woman who was blithely following the script set out for her and was thrown a curve ball. She also comes across as someone who tried very hard to preserve her marriage, even making compromises that must have been very uncomfortable for her (it may be hard for a secular reader to appreciate the difficulty of her sacrifices, but trust me on this) but my sense is that, ultimately, it was Shulem who wanted to end the marriage even though it's depicted as a mutual decision. Of course, I couldn't possibly know for sure what went on between them but this was one of the areas where I questioned Shulem's objectivity. But since he himself acknowledges his limitations as a reporter, I'm okay with it as opposed to other memoirs where I felt the author was misleading me, perhaps even consciously.

So ultimately, I found his book compelling and painful by equal measure. New Square doesn't look pretty, but in truth I was never a big fan and neither are most of my Orthodox compatriots. I felt horrible for Shulem as I read about his children's eventual estrangement from him, although again, I suspect there are relevant parts of the story that aren't being shared which might make us see things differently. All memoirs should be taken with a grain of salt and with the understanding that they represent a particular perspective, and this one is no exception. But unlike other memoirists, Shulem acknowledges that and I respect him for it.

[Emma Deplores Goodreads Censorship · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a fascinating and well-written memoir of the author’s life within (and after leaving) an extreme sect of Hasidism. From other reviews, I see that there is a whole subgenre of ex-Hasidic memoirs, which is news to me; I can say that this one is accessible even for those who know little about Judaism, much less Hasidism.

Shulem Deen joined the Skverers as a teenager, having grown up in a somewhat less restrictive family in New York City. He reluctantly agreed to an arranged marriage, and soon had five children – and few options for supporting them, as Hasidic education tends to focus on religious studies and ancient Jewish law to the exclusion of all else (knowledge of ancient temple rites and the appropriate restitution when your neighbor’s ox falls into your pit won’t get you far in the modern world). As he grew older, he began to question the Hasidic way of life and the validity of religion. But his leaving the faith tore his family apart.

Deen is a good writer and excellent storyteller, and the book captured my attention from the beginning. His stories of Skverer life are fascinating; to a modern American, it is an alien world. Many people in the community won’t even say the world “television,” as that equipment is considered so profane, and the naiveté about sexual matters is such that on his wedding night, Deen had to call a religious instructor to ask what to do. Religion and custom impact every aspect of people’s lives; even taking public transportation is discouraged, though there are special Hasidic commuter buses with a curtain to separate men and women. It is astonishing that such a society – determined to behave as if it was still in the Ukraine of the 19th century – can exist in the 21st, within commuting distance of New York City.

But of course, the modern world can’t be ignored entirely, and Deen also writes about his loss of faith and journey into the wider world in a compelling way. And we see how hard it is to leave that tight-knit community; Deen has no one outside of it, his wife is committed to the Skverers, and this is a group that will force the children to choose between him, and everything and everyone else they know.

Despite the personal and emotional subject matter, though, Deen’s writing is evenhanded throughout, and never feels self-righteous. He freely acknowledges that other people in his life would tell the story of these events differently, and doesn’t turn anyone into a villain. And the material isn’t all heavy; moments like this one made me laugh out loud:

“At age eleven, two friends and I, overcome with curiosity, asked an Italian boy near our school to tell us ‘the meaning of F.’
‘The meaning of F?’ the boy asked.
‘Yes,’ we said. ‘You know. The F-word. What does it mean?’”

Ultimately, while I’m not over the moon about this book, I found it to be a gripping and well-told story, offering a window on a way of life I knew nothing about, as well as a candid account of the author’s difficult personal journey. It is thoughtful, nuanced, and tasteful, and its portrayal of people and relationships rings true. I enjoyed and would recommend it.

[Ines · Rating 4 out of 5]

Una storia molto particolare, se non shoccante per certi aspetti....
Il lento cambiamento di Shuleem, ebreo ortodosso Skverer che attraverso la curiosità e l uso di normalissimi oggetti tecnologici, banditi dalla sua comunità ebrea ortodossa,arriva dopo anni anche ad un profondo cambiamento nell'anima.......ad un rifiuto della fede ebraica nella torah...
Sconvolge la distruzione totale degli affetti a cui approda Shuleem, la guerra della moglie supportata dalla comunità nell'impedire di poter continuare a vedere I figli, indottrinati ad odiare il padre....È un pugno nello stomaco questa storia, e più ci penso rimango stordita dalla disumanita' che traspare ( non solo attraverso questo libro) in tante comunità ebraiche ortodosse. ...
L'osservanza della legge toranica viene prima di ogni possibile integrità e rispetto dell'io singolo. ....

Se interessati io consiglio di leggere la Storia di Israel Zolli( poi Eugenio Zolli), per certi versi simile a quella di shuleem, ma in questo caso un rabbino della comunità ebraica di Roma che abbandona la vita ortodossa abbracciando dopo tanti anni la completezza nella fede cristiana cattolica....

[Clif · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the secular world, the individual that goes his/her own way is applauded. Books, TV and movies repeatedly tell the tale of the person who rebels against the authority of parents, peers or even the world at large to become a liberated individual. But it is vicarious. Think of the woman in the famous Apple ad who throws the hammer shattering the image of the leader projected on a huge screen before zombie-like viewers. But remember that stirring imagery is intended not to liberate us, but to encourage us to conform in our millions by buying a product, the product being (Apple hopes) the symbol of liberation.

Here I review a book that is simple honesty at the deepest level.

A human being is born needy. At first it is the physical need that is obvious, but the emotional need is equally important. Each of us needs the emotional security that is ideally provided by loving caring parents and then later by friends and lovers. We are innately tribal and do not by nature stand alone. Our need to feel we are a part of the world we live in and that it supports us in return has brought a crisis with modernity. In the United States this is a particular problem because of the common opinion that each one of us must make it on our own, be self sufficient and not show emotional need in a socio-economic system that is cold to anyone who doesn't measure up to a narrow standard of material success, and even when one does.

True liberation is exhilarating but discomfiting and taking full responsibility for oneself is intimidating, continually challenging and never easy. Psychologist Erich Fromm wrote a book, Escape from Freedom, in which he described the anxieties of freedom and that for most people the fear of anxiety trumps the desire to be authentic. The easy way is to accept what one is expected to do. His succinct statement of this I can never forget: "The tragedy of man is not that he must die, but that most men die before they are born."

This is apropos of religion because in the vast majority of cases, one is of a religion because one's parents were of that religion. A very tiny minority choose as adults to take up the faith they follow. A religious faith is followed because it was given as part of the environment of childhood and thus seems a normal part of life. The only choice most make is in what degree to follow it.

All Who Go Do Not Return is the story of a man born into a tribal society, that of the extreme conservative Jews called the Hasidim. It follows his temptation by the secular world with its intellectual freedom that appeals to his reason, then his transition from the limited but comforting life the tribe gives him to a life of his own making. This is the story of the emotional anguish that must accompany such a voyage to be born in the sense that Fromm intended.

Written with striking sensitivity to others, Shulem Deen presents all those around him in a rich portrait of life lived as given. The several Hasidic tribes gather each behind a particular hereditary leader, the rebbe, that commands the respect and strict obedience to the law of the Torah, yet with minor variations, insignificant to the outsider, that cause inter-tribal rivalry that can erupt in occasional violence.

The book is both a moving personal story and a riveting ethnological study that anyone, not least those who have seen a member of the Hasidim with a beaver hat, sidelocks of hair and prayer shawl will find illuminating. The reader is taken into all of the routines of life centered around obedience to authority without question. Marriage is arranged and the facts of life are not to be spoken about except in special sessions open only to married men.

On his wedding night Deen must call a religious authority to help him figure out how to get aroused and what they should be doing in their marriage bed, not for pleasure but as a matter of duty. Soon after he is pestered about if his wife is pregnant. Reproduction, continually, is paramount to the tribe. Deen's wife, Gitty, never questions the program even after having five children with economics pressing the case for a stop to it. In her willing acceptance of all things given, she is his foil on the road to liberation.

The book is testament to how young minds are formed by the environment. For all of us what we grow to know is the norm and right. For the great majority of those living this strict life removed from the temptations of radio and TV, there is only one way to live, they live it and accept it willingly because it feels right and reinforcement comes from all around. But unlike in many American families where exploration and investigation as adulthood is approached are encouraged, the rule is to accept what one is told and to do as others do. To do otherwise is not just a mistake but sinful. Possibilities in life are extremely limited. Even to think of sex is wrong and the sexes are separated in all things with women to keep to the home.

A great irony revealed in the book is that the Hasidim arose in the 1700's as a revival within Judaism opposed to the rigid literal practices common at that time but now the Hasidim practice the most literal interpretation of Judaism. Yet Christianity and Islam also have their own extremely conservative branches. The issue is always the same: to what extent should an individual be self-guided and the answer always the same: never.

But Deen's doubts cannot be put aside. His courage to follow where his curiosity leads him will have the secular reader cheering him on, but he keenly expresses the anxieties and the costs of following the course of liberation and those costs are very high. This is nothing if not an honest book, not a comforting story that would prompt others in his situation to rush to follow.

All Who Go Do Not Return will speak to every reader, regardless of the reader's faith or the lack thereof. It is a deeply human account of what it means to be an individual within the group. It is powerful for presenting the extreme case, where all comes together against the rebel to deter him/her from finding authenticity at the expense of given community. Both inspirational and cautionary, it presents a truth of existence through one individual's experience.

[Sophy H · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was just alright but nothing more.

I think the questioning aspect of the author's "awareness revelation" didn't amaze me as much as it might have those readers with faith. As an atheist I felt like "and?........."

To me, questioning everything and wanting scientific or evidence based explanation seems as natural as breathing, so when someone blindly accepts mindless rules and arbitrary edicts, I have a hard time mustering any enthusiasm or consideration for them. That said, I found The Atheist Muslim: A Journey from Religion to Reason to be a much more balanced and intelligent read about someone stepping away from a frighteningly indoctrinated faith.

In this book there was far too much detail and minutiae which I found extremely boring and tedious, and at times the author comes across as quite self absorbed and egotistical.

Anyway that's that then.

[Joseph · Rating 5 out of 5]

Powerful memoir, written masterfully. Shulem Deen lets you into his head for his journey, and it's a harrowing, fascinating ride.
More generally, this book makes you think about the ethics of memoir. The people he wrote about are out there, being affected by what he writes and affecting him in turn, and he wrote delicately, yet still revealed much.

[Dawn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Moving and unlike a lot of memoirs of people who have left their ultra orthodox lifestyle. He doesn't bad mouth anyone. He just goes through his struggles and does it in a moving way.