American Pastoral 905but a closer look forces one to consider how he has
succeeded and what drives this success. Equating
himself with none other than Johnny Appleseed, the
Swede appears as a “true” American—but only inso-
far as he has assimilated himself into society through
business and marriage. As the novel progresses, the
Swede’s identity becomes increasingly vexed and
slippery, not only in terms of racial heritage but in
terms of political and economic values as well.
In fact, the emotional crux of the novel involves
the battle between the Swede and his privileged
daughter, Merry, as a biological extension of himself
and his wife. Levov has a difficult time understand-
ing how she became so different from her parents:
She rejects her mother’s beauty ideals; stutters;
criticizes American capitalism and its position on
Vietnam; and, ultimately, takes up Jain Buddhism,
refusing any form of luxury, including warm cloth-
ing, soap, and water. While her criticism of U.S.
foreign policy and—of course—her bombing of
the post office in protest rattle Levov, it is not so
much what Merry says or does that unravels him so
completely, but what she represents in opposition
to Levov’s identity as a Jew, and, more significantly,
as an American. Late in the novel, Levov cries: “I
gave her all I could, everything, everything, I gave
everything. . . . You think I’m inadequate? If I’m
inadequate, where are you going to get people who
are adequate . . . if I’m . . . do you understand what
I’m saying? What am I supposed to be? What are
other people if I’m inadequate?” What is interesting
here is that Levov, like all parents to some extent,
equates his very sense of being, his identity, with the
perceived failure of his daughter. Her rejection of
the U.S. government is also a rejection of her father,
his “American”-ness, his capitalistic business sense,
his once-happy home life, and his Christian wife.
The ellipses above that surround the small, tentative
phrase “if I’m” and the unspeakable thoughts that
follow reveal a moment of crisis here for Levov, a
crisis felt by many Americans during this moment.
“What am I supposed to be?” the typical American
found herself asking in the wake of Vietnam, and
how does one define or determine inadequacy in the
face of an endless war?
The novel ends, however, with a tentative recla-
mation of the Swede’s life and identity. On the one
hand, Zuckerman, the narrator, reflects: “They’ll
never recover. Everything is against them, everyone
and everything that does not like their life. All the
voices from without, condemning and rejecting their
life!” But, these are not the last words because, for
the idealistic Zuckerman, they fail to account for
the value he finds in Levov’s life all along. In the last
paragraph, one that is composed of two open ques-
tions, Zuckerman reflects: “And what is wrong with
their life? What on earth is less reprehensible than
the life of the Levovs?” It is not exactly a ringing
endorsement, but it is better than all the alternatives.
And perhaps that is all we could ask for during this
moment in the nation’s history.
Aimee PozorskiparentHood in American Pastoral
Parenthood presents a particularly acute challenge
to Seymour “The Swede” Levov, the athletic hero
of a Newark neighborhood who eventually marries
Dawn Dwyer, the 1949 Miss New Jersey. With the
Swede’s athleticism and Dawn’s beauty, the couple
dream of parenting the perfect child—one raised
in the comfort of Old Rimrock and supported by
the success of Newark Maid, the glove factory the
Swede inherited from his father, and so on down
the line.
Swede Levov’s inheritance of Newark Maid
Leatherware fascinates American Pastoral’s narra-
tor, Nathan Zuckerman, as it is in this passing
from father to son that the Swede’s life seems to
be blessed, if not by his father, then at least by the
good old American capitalism that allowed for the
success of so many immigrants near the turn of the
last century. Zuckerman reports: “Mr. Levov got
rich manufacturing ladies’ gloves. His own father—
Swede Levov’s grandfather—had come to Newark
from the old country in the 1890s and found work
fleshing sheepskins fresh from the lime vat, the lone
Jew alongside the roughest of Newark’s Slav, Irish,
and Italian immigrants.” Located in the very begin-
ning of the novel, this passage—among many others
about Mr. Levov’s manufacturing success—suggests
that the kind of parenthood this novel becomes
invested in is found in the line connecting fathers
to sons, and, in particular, in the family business that
unites them.