the title of this entry cannot compete with the slave
(If you're really bored, you can also check out the paper I wrote for the other class I'm taking from Dr. Sexson this semester--American Lit II--about the mystery of Rosebud in Orson Welles cinematic masterpiece, "Citizen Kane." Click here.)
The Title of This Essay Cannot Compete with The Slave
The title of a text—be it a newspaper article, poem, or film—is no frivolous matter. In our contemporary world of hit radio songs named simply after their most repeated phrase featured in the lyrics and movies carelessly labeled the same name as their main characters, the importance and potential brilliance of the title of any work of art is an easy matter to forget. Regardless, some artists remember and embrace the subtle art of choosing a title that highlights some theme or idea of their creation. Isaac Bashevis Singer, with his selection of the deceivingly simple title for his novel The Slave, proves himself one of these rare exceptions. Careful readers of The Slave journey throughout its pages continually defining and redefining the possible meaning of Singer’s poignant—and key—two little words.
The first chapter of the slave describes Jacob who is, in the most literal sense, a slave to Jan Bzik. Case closed, right? This story is obviously about a man named Jacob, and Jacob is a slave. Has the mystery of the title already been solved? Hardly.
Shortly after Jacob is introduced, Wanda’s name appears for the first time. This woman is kind to Jacob, but he believes that she has been put into his life by Satan in order to tempt him. All the same, Jacob cannot help longing for Wanda throughout all hours of the day (17). The reader may speculate that Jacob is a slave to his lust for Wanda, and the event of Jacob later succumbing to his desire for her serves as evidence that this speculation may have value. At this early point in the novel, Jacob is apparently enslaved by Wanda due almost entirely to desires the of his flesh. His enslavement to her, however, evolves as the story progresses.
Before Jacob and Wanda’s relationship has a chance to get anywhere beyond that of the physical variety, a poignant example is given of how Jacob appears to be a slave to his religion. A cynical reader may have picked up on this possibility on only the second page of the book, when immediately after waking, “[t]hree times [Jacob] washed his hands, the left first and then the right, according to the law” (11). Granted, at this point little is known about the newly introduced character, but the cynical mind wonders if Jacob’s fervent dedication to his religious practices borders on enslavement by them. A less cynical critic may argue that Jacob is not enslaved by God or by any of his religious beliefs, due to the definition of the very word itself. Slavery, after all, evokes the idea of laboring for someone else with no hope or chance of reward. Jacob, like any faithful Jew, labors for the rewards of Heaven. This argument holds up nicely until the conclusion of Chapter 3. Jacob, just before succumbing to Wanda’s seduction, says to himself, “I am forfeiting the world to come” (67). Still, regardless of clearly losing all hope of seeing Heaven, Jacob still insists that Wanda immerses herself in the stream along Jacob’s barn because, in his words, “God’s law requires it” (67).
Armed with the proof of these actions of Jacob, the cynic may just prove that his initial speculation had merit yet. Jacob’s potential reward for following the traditions and customs of the Jews, in his eyes, has now vanished. Nonetheless, although Jacob now considers the chance for compensation by God about as great as the chance for compensation by Jan Bzik, he labors on. Jacob is, in this sense, a slave to Judaism.
Shortly after Jacob and Wanda’s romantic relationship begins, the literal enslavement of Jacob to the Bzik family comes to an end. He returns to Josefov without a chance to wave his beloved adieu, but Wanda continues to haunt Jacob’s dreams (116). Jacob decides he must return to her village and rescue what he believes to be his pregnant lover under the pretext that, as he seems to assure himself, “The law obligated him” (117). As far as his actual motivation for again departing Josefov goes, the reader knows better. If Jacob had previously been a slave to his lust for Wanda, he is now a slave to his love for her. The power of both this enslavement and of these two people’s love continues to grow throughout the rest of the novel. Jacob stays up into the wee hours of the night instructing Wanda in the ways of his religion; Jacob remains at her side during her last breaths; and Jacob’s last act on earth is to recover his beloved’s bones and bury them in a more appropriate setting than that of her unholy hometown. The storyline of these star-crossed lovers suggests that love itself, in its purest form, is nothing other than enslavement.
So far, Jacob has been enslaved by Jan Bzik, by being a Jew, and by lusting after—and later by being in love with—Wanda. Clearly, Jacob must be The Slave’s title character. However, this novel is divided into three distinct parts, and curiously, none of them is entitled “Jacob.” Granted, Singer may have named the first two sections of The Slave “Wanda” and “Sarah” in order to show how Jacob’s life was affected by this character throughout these parts of the book. And “The Return”—Part Three—takes place entirely after Wanda has already passed on, so Jacob does act as the sole protagonist (and thus, the likely title character again) in this part of the book. However, even “The Return” centers completely on Wanda, since the sole purpose of Jacob’s journey back to Pilitz is to recover the remains of this woman. Other evidence also exists to suggest that perhaps Singer’s Slave is not Jacob at all, but the woman who fell in love with him.
Wanda was surely enslaved by lust for Jacob as much as Jacob was enslaved in return. At first, she had little hope for reward in laboring for him—bringing him food (23) and keeping him company (24) even before Jacob showed the slightest signs of interest in a romantic relationship of any kind—but she labored for him nonetheless. Like Jacob’s enslavement and love for his wife, Wanda’s enslavement also grows along with her love for her husband. She leaves all that she knows behind, changes her name, and surrenders her right to speak in order to be with him. She once asks Jacob, as a daughter of Israel, what she is allowed to do. Jacob’s answer reeks of oppressiveness, at the very least, if not slavery: “Bear children and serve God” (154). Wanda, however, accepts her husband’s commands willingly. Just as she tells Jacob after she bathes in the stream before consummating their physical relationship, “I have done this for you” (68). Along with being a slave to her husband, she in turn also becomes a slave to Judaism. This progression strikes one as completely natural, since Wanda follows Jacob in every aspect of his life, including his faith. Singer illustrates this inevitable sequence poignantly in the same scene just mentioned. After Wanda tells him that she bathed herself for him, Jacob corrects her, “No, not for me, […] for God” (68).
All of the above solutions for the mystery of why The Slave is such a brilliant title for this book suffice, but just when the reader feels he has a pretty good handle on why Singer titled this novel the way that he did, the masterful author throws in something new that has actually, as Singer illustrates, been present all along. At the conclusion of Part Two, Jacob realizes that “[l]ike the Biblical Jacob, he was crossing the river, bearing only a staff, pursued by another Esau” (258). “[H]e too had lost a beloved wife, the daughter of an idolator, among strangers; Sarah too was buried by the way and had left him a son” (258). Both Jacob and the reader are suddenly aware that Jacob and Wanda, as depicted in The Slave, have been acting out a script very similar to the life of a previous Jacob, as depicted in the Bible. Suddenly new light is shed on, for example, the name of the principal couple’s son (257), the description given to Jacob of the Cossacks’ brutalities against Dinah (102), and a comment previously made by Wanda, “I intend to bear you a dozen [children]” (154). All this time, both Jacob and Wanda have been slaves in the sense that they unwittingly followed a path and a script predetermined for them long before they ever loved, they ever met, and they ever even breathed life. Above all else, Jacob and Wanda are slaves to the story of Jacob and Rachel.
Implications of living out someone else’s previous life, being mostly ignorant of it, and consequently being enslaved by it are somewhat terrifying. However, this worry can be overcome, according to Dr. Michael Sexson, by means of the Bible. Sexson calls the Bible “the repository of all archetypes.” Hence, all one needs to do is read the Bible, learn all of its stories, characters, and symbols, and figure out which of these one’s life is following. From that point, one can know what is about to happen next in one’s predetermined “script” and assume control to change circumstances and outcomes if so desired, once and for all ending one’s enslavement to whichever story that originally played the role of master over one’s destiny and life itself. Regardless of whether one is willing to take this theory quite so far, the enslavement of fictional characters by a Biblical story told long ago is an exceptional turn for Singer to take with Jacob and Wanda in his novel chock full of religious allusions, and The Slave demonstrates once again how telling—and brilliant—a text’s title can prove itself to be.
Singer, Isaac Bashevis. The Slave. New York: Ballantine Books, 1962.



















