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    The Lawgiver: A Novel
    The Lawgiver: A Novel
    The Lawgiver: A Novel
    Ebook287 pages3 hours

    The Lawgiver: A Novel

    By Herman Wouk

    3.5/5

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    "A lighthearted and delightful tour de force" (The Washington Times).

    A romantic and suspenseful epistolary novel about a group of people trying to make a movie about Moses in the present day, The Lawgiver is a story that emerges from letters, memos, e-mails, journals, news articles, Skype transcripts, and text messages.

    At the center of The Lawgiver is Margo Solovei, a brilliant young writer-director who has rejected her rabbinical father’s strict Jewish upbringing to pursue a career in the arts. When an Australian multibillionaire promises to finance a movie about Moses, Margo does everything she can to land the job, including reunite with her estranged first love, an influential lawyer with whom she still has unfinished business. Two other key characters in the novel are Herman Wouk himself and his wife of more than sixty years, Betty Sarah, who, almost against their will, find themselves entangled in the movie.

    As Wouk and his characters contend with Moses and marriage, the force of tradition, rebellion and reunion, The Lawgiver reflects the wisdom of a lifetime. Inspired by the great nineteenth-century novelists, one of America’s most beloved twentieth-century authors has now written a remarkable twenty-first-century work of fiction.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster
    Release dateNov 13, 2012
    ISBN9781451699401
    Author

    Herman Wouk

    Herman Wouk was the author of such classics as The Caine Mutiny (1951), Marjorie Morningstar (1955), Youngblood Hawke (1961), Don’t Stop the Carnival (1965), The Winds of War (1971), War and Remembrance (1978), and Inside, Outside (1985). His later works include The Hope (1993), The Glory (1994), A Hole in Texas (2004) and The Lawgiver (2012). Among Mr. Wouk’s laurels are the 1952 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for The Caine Mutiny; the cover of Time magazine for Marjorie Morningstar, the bestselling novel of that year; and the cultural phenomenon of The Winds of War and War and Remembrance, which he wrote over a fourteen-year period and which went on to become two of the most popular novels and TV miniseries events of the 1970s and 1980s. In 1998, he received the Guardian of Zion Award for support of Israel. In 2008, Mr. Wouk was honored with the first Library of Congress Lifetime Achievement for the Writing of Fiction. He died in 2019 at the age of 103.

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    Reviews for The Lawgiver

    3.5/5

    42 ratings8 reviews

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    • 2/5
      This was a good book but I think I expected too much and so was disappointed. I read Margery Morningstar and Don't Stop the Carnival when I was a kid and loved them both plus I love epistolary books. But, honestly, this book just kind of reminded me of 'no there there'. Letters, faxes, emails and phone transcriptions about putting together a movie about Moses.

      It was a yawner. But it was Herman Wouk. Sigh.
    • 3/5
      This was a very fun, very easy read with a lot of humor. The story is basically the effort being put forth by a group of people, with various motives, who want to get a movie about Moses made in Hollywood.The main character is Margo Solovei, a writer who grew up in an Orthodox Jewish household, who attended an orthodox Jewish school and whose rabbi father, is less than thrilled with her life choice to become a Hollywood player.Like a fascinating web that spins out and out, the story is told through Margo’s correspondence, emails, faxes, meeting notes etc. with different people who have a vested interest in the film or a vested interest in Margo.The project is being financed by a Yiddish Australian tycoon whose reasons are never entirely clear for making the film. Herman Wouk and his wife are major characters and at the end of the book is a very touching tribute by Wouk to his wife, with her picture. One could almost say she was his muse.Other characters are Margo’s childhood sweetheart, a friend of a friend who becomes a good friend, producers, directors, charlatans and a reluctant low profile Aussie sheep station owner and reluctant but very good actor. There was one very entertaining sub-story involving a friend from Jewish School and her orthodox husband and their marital highs and lows. Shirley and Avram were thoroughly entertaining and a much needed break in the wheeling and dealing part of the story that centered on Hollywood.This is a quick read and an easy one. I actually read it in between other books when I needed a quick break from something heavier. This is a pretty fun read. Three and a half stars.
    • 3/5
      A rare modern example of the antique genre of the epistolary novel. But while the epistolary novels of the 17th and 18th Centuries took the form of a series of letters and/or diary entries, this is the 21st Century. Thus, this plot proceeds via modern media--e-mails, text messages, voicemails, memos, transcripts of business meetings.Nonagerian author Herman Wouk (best known for The Caine Mutiny Court Martial) weaves a strange story here in which the real Herman Wouk plays a role. The idea is floated to produce a modern retelling of the story of Moses and the exodus of his people from Egypt. Unlike the famous Cecille B. DeMille production of The Ten Commandments, though, this one is intended to strictly adhere to the biblical account. Respected Jewish author Wouk is brought in to validate the authenticity of the script as it evolves. Wouk really doesn't want to do it (he's a 96 year old man hoping to finish one last book of his own before his time runs out), but he's coerced into doing. He tries to distance himself from the project, despite being impressed by the woman who's brought in to write the script.There's a dynamic religious tension throughout the book. Wouk is a practicing Orthodox Jew. The scriptwriter was raised as one, but she drifted from that path long ago. As the story evolves, however, thing happen.I was raised in what could have been described as a pretty much homogeneous white bread WASP community (except that most of us were Roman Catholics rather than Protestants), so I've spent the last several years familiarizing myself with Jewish culture in order to better understand that thread that runs through American culture. This book provided a lot of insights. Worth reading.
    • 4/5
      As I mentioned when I started reading this book, the name Herman Wouk didn't mean much to me. Yes, I have a goal to read all of the Pulitzer Prize winning novels, so the title of The Caine Mutiny is familiar to me. But when I look at the list, I see titles not authors. Even The Winds of War rings a bell, but as a movie (maybe on TV?). I read The End of Your Life Book Club and Marjorie Morningstar is mentioned a few times, but again...title, not author, is what stuck with me.So as you can see, I didn't pick this book up because of the 97-year-old author. Nope. It was because I heard it was an epistolary novel. After the great find that was Where'd You Go, Bernadette earlier this year, I was very excited to find another novel told through emails, letters, Skype, texts, etc. I even learned a few things along the way -- Google was my friend more than once while reading The Lawgiver. (Uluru tents? Guadalupe Dunes? Bais Yaakov?)You're in for a treat with this book. It's just great writing and a sweet story about a group of people attempting to make a movie about Moses. We learn about their lives, their loves, and their friendships. One character in particular is given a lot of attention: the screenwriter, Margo. And I laughed out loud more than once -- which surprised me because I wasn't expecting funny.I also wasn't expecting tears, but those didn't come until the last page. A great, fast-paced read.
    • 5/5
      "God was right about Adam: for a man to live alone is not good. I can't spare a rib."Herman Wouk (yes, that Herman Wouk) has been trying to write a novel about Moses for fifty years. As he finally sits down to start, Hollywood comes hurtling into his life; an eccentric billionaire will bankroll a film about Moses if Wouk will approve the script by unknown ex-Jew Margolit Solovei. Margo's desperation to land the job puts her back in contact with a high school sweetheart and through him, commences a sweet and much-needed confidance with a literary professor. Throw in a naive Australian sheep farmer and a mad English agent; yet somehow romance and creativity prevail over absurdity.This is really a character study in the somewhat polarised and distorted film world. Margo is a fantastic creation - passionate about her work yet insecure, craving the approval of her father, mentor and idols, yet perfectly happy to throw multiple spanners into works. The novel is tightly cast; no one is extraneous and all contribute to both plot and humour. Possibly my favourite character is gentle-natured Perry Pines, accidentally thrown into the whirlwind of Hollywood, yet clinging stubbornly to the farmland of his youth ("Crooked Creek Farm").The epistolatory/"collection of evidence" style of writing is one which I've only come across a few times before - it worked very well in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and spectacularly in Salmon Fishing in the Yemen, while I wasn't a huge fan of A Visit from the Goon Squad. Suffice to say, the book's got to be quirky before you can think about using this method. Anyhow, it works here - various voices are developed without that inconvenience of having all your characters in one place, or justifying lengthy monologues/stream-of-consciousness.Similarly, the technique of the author writing himself into the text as a character is both bizarre and gives him an auto-biographical mouthpiece; his anxiety at running out of time is palpable, as is his deep devotion to his wife of 65 years. In a sense, this has aspects of an open love letter to BSW in the same way that The End of Your Life Book Club is an open eulogy. The humour is strong without being forced - I was safe to read this while having my hair cut (no laugh out loud moments) but plenty of little chortles.I found the deep-running Jewishness at once bizarre and intriguing, isolating, yet with the footnotes, captivating. This is really a novel about being Jewish, as well as being in the film industry (or a reclusive author, or sheep farmer...). I suspect that Jewish readers might find it overly simplistic or even a little insultingly stereotypical, but I'm not Jewish so I can't judge.Now I have to read Marjorie Morningstar.
    • 3/5
      I have enjoyed most of Herman Wouk's books. This one is very lightweight compared to the rest. It was meant to be that weigh so that's not a knock. It is also enjoyable and easy to read. It is written entirely in the form of emails, faxes, memos and letters. This makes it a very fast read. I read it in just a few hours and I'm not a very fast reader. It is the story of trying to make a new film version of Moses. Herman Wouk is even a character in the book. The main character is an indie movie director named Margo Solovei. She is chosen to write the screen play for the movie. If she can write a screen play that Herman Wouk approves the movie will be made. This is the story of all the maneuvering to make that happen.
    • 5/5
      Hollywood, Jews, & Hollywood JewsNinety-seven-year-old Herman Wouk (or a fictionalized version of him) is minding his own business. And his business, as you know, is writing novels. He’s finally tackling the ambitious project he’s wanted to write for decades, the story of Moses. It is a huge coincidence, therefore, when a hot Hollywood producer finagles a meeting insisting that he’s the only man for the job of writing a Moses screenplay. Well, Mr. Wouk wants nothing to do with this. Meetings are refused until a rabbi intervenes. Ultimately, it is revealed that the epic film’s funding—through unconventional sources—rests upon Wouk’s participation. Under duress, he agrees to act as a consultant to the film, with final script approval. A screenwriter for this all-but-unwritable film must be found. Enter Margo Solovei, a young, independent film auteur who has eschewed her orthodox Jewish upbringing. And it is actually Margo who is at the novel’s heart, as she pursues this project while dealing with producers, directors, actors, Herman Wouk, and any number of people tying her to her roots.I doubt I can express how much I loved this novel! Oh, how I laughed! It’s true that I am Jewish, and that I have worked in the film industry, so it’s possible that the tale “spoke” to me more than it might to some, but Wouk’s satire is dead on. Not just of an industry, but of human nature. I guess nearly a century of life gives a man some perspective. Also, as the Booklist reviewer astutely pointed out, there are subtle reflections of Wouk’s classic 1955 coming of age novel, Marjorie Morningstar, adding an additional layer of pleasure for fans such as myself. It’s really quite amazing the various themes and commentaries that Mr. Wouk manages to work into this slender novel. It’s playful as hell, but still whip smart.Oh, yeah, I should mention that this is an epistolary novel, always a fun and inventive way to tell a tale. It’s comprised of letters, emails, faxes, IMs, Skypes, transcripts, voicemails, and so forth. Through the correspondence of the characters’ personal and professional lives, a web of connections is formed. And in the end, The Lawgiver is a romantic comedy. I rooted for lovers to find their way. I rooted for unsavory characters to get their comeuppance. And I rooted for Mr. Wouk, who has proved that at 97 he is as sharp as he ever was. I was moved by the novel’s epilogue, and I shall be waiting with anticipation for his next two novels.
    • 4/5
      Herman Wouk has assured his place in literary history through receiving the first Lifetime Achievement Award from the Library of Congress. The author of twelve novels, three plays, and three nonfiction books, including, MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR, WAR AND REMEMBRANCE, THE CAINE MUTINY COURT-MARTIAL and THIS IS MY GOD, wrote in 2000 that “There was no greater theme for a novel...than the life of Moses” and had conceived the idea more than 50 years ago when he was writing THE CAINE MUTINY. Now, at age 97, he attains his goal although not in the way he envisioned it. THE LAWGIVER begins when someone contacts Wouk to write a movie about Moses and says he has a financial backer. Wouk,doesn’t want to do it, but finally agrees to serve as a consultant without any screen credit. The remainder of the novel follows the choice of the writer (Margo Solovei), the development of the script, and financing the project along with a lawsuit over the ownership of a process of turning algae into oil, and the interactions of a small group of people who knew each other when they attended an orthodox school. Margo has long ago left the Chasidic world in which she was raised, which caused a rift between her and her father, who is a rabbi. Wouk and his wife and partner Betty, who died while he was writing the book, appear as characters as well.THE LAWGIVER is a multi-media novel. It is presented as letters, memos, minutes, e-mail, SKYPE transcripts, faxes and newspaper articles. It’s fast paced, witty, and sent me to the dictionary and Google to verify if some of the facts he presented were really true or were fiction. (They were true.) I found the way Margo depicts Moses to be very interesting, especially the explanation of why he broke the first set of Commandments.I wish he had included dates for the entries to help keep track of how much time elapsed between the chapters.I think most people would find the book enjoyable.

    Book preview

    The Lawgiver - Herman Wouk

    CHAPTER ONE

    MR. GLUCK

    (INTEROFFICE MEMO, 11:20 A.M.)

    BSW LITERARY AGENCY

    HW:

    Sorry to trouble you. That Andrea with the British accent just rang yet again. She already rang at 9 this morning on the dot. She said Mr. Warshaw would make it worth my while if I would put him through to Mr. Wouk on the phone even for a minute or two, by mistake. (A gross offer of a bribe?) She still won’t say what it’s about.

    I ignored 3 calls from her yesterday and 2 on Friday. This will just go on and on.

    (HW OFFICE PHONE RINGS, RINGS, RINGS.)

    (Secretary on speakerphone) Look, HW, Tim Warshaw got through to me, told me what he wants to say to you, and asks for a couple of minutes, no more. I can’t take the responsibility to pass this up. I told him I’d have to stay on the line and take notes. He laughed and said, Why not? Here he is.

    WARSHAW: (slow, deep voice) Mr. Wouk?

    HW: Yes.

    WARSHAW: Sir, would one million dollars for a half-hour conference interest you?

    (Insert by HW: A jolt. These Hollywood hoodlums! He has the money, he’s riding high, Best Picture Oscar for his art-house breakout from the big disaster films. A million! . . . Family foundation, charities . . . son’s divorce . . .)

    HW: Mr. Warshaw, I’m ninety-six years old, trying to get one more book done while I last. Thank you, but—

    WARSHAW: Sir, dare I ask what the new book is about?

    HW: No.

    WARSHAW: May I tell you what I’m calling about, and I swear that’ll be that? I’ll thank you and hang up—

    HW: Go ahead.

    WARSHAW: (pause—slow, deep) Moses . . .

    HW: Moses?

    WARSHAW: Moses, sir. Pharaoh, Burning Bush, splitting the sea—

    HW: Oh, yes, that Moses. The one Cecil B. DeMille did twice—

    WARSHAW: Sir, this would be all different. Think twenty-first century, think special effects—think maybe three-D—

    HW: Mr. Warshaw, I’ve appreciated your approach. Most of all, your offer to thank me and hang up.

    WARSHAW: Thank you, sir. I’m hanging up.

    (He hangs up.)

    (HW NEW NOVEL WORK JOURNAL)

    9:10 a.m.

    Blasted day yesterday, when I was just getting a handle on the new approach to this confounded book, or thought I was. Timothy Warshaw, the red-hot moviemaker of the hour, with an artsy departure from his disaster blockbusters—he copped an Oscar for Best Picture, Midsummer Night’s Dream, directed by a nutty Japanese with a cast of all unknown teenagers in masks—the critics rolled over neighing and kicking their hooves in the air—this Warshaw phoned and offered me one million dollars for a half-hour conference. Turned him down rudely. Last night at dinner we talked about it.

    BSW: Good. That half-hour conference is baloney. He’d get his money’s worth out of your hide, one way or another. Is this new impossible novel of yours really started?

    HW: Two preliminary journal files. No copy yet. I was drafting the first page of an opening scene when Warshaw bulldozed past Priscilla and got to me.

    BSW: What do you want to do about it?

    HW: Nothing. Write the book.

    BSW: Well, I’ve had my doubts, you know. Not much interest in Moses nowadays.

    HW: Oh, no? What do you suppose Warshaw wanted to talk to me about? (Imitates Warshaw.) MO . . . SES . . .

    BSW: No! Wow.

    HW: Coincidence? What else? Security breach? Nobody, but nobody, except you—and Priscilla, typing my notes, and she’s a silent tomb—knows that I’ve been working on a Moses novel.

    BSW: It’s a ploy.

    HW: Forget it, then.

    BSW: No. Give him the half hour, but don’t take his money. Just listen.

    HW: What’s the point?

    BSW: I’m curious. He’ll spill something.

    HW: You sit in.

    BSW: Sure.

    (E-MAIL)

    WARSHAWORKS

    CENTURY CITY, CALIFORNIA 90067

    Well, Hezzie, I did manage to get through to Wouk. You can tell this mysterious Australian investor of yours that it wasn’t easy, and he wasn’t encouraging. Wouk doesn’t sound over the phone nearly as old as he is, going on 97, but he was abrupt and peevish. No interest whatever.

    Surely if this investor is at all serious, his proposal can’t hang on getting that mulish ancient to write the film. That’s an irresponsible whim. It won’t work. It’s a deal breaker up front. Otherwise his offer is certainly intriguing and exciting. Why can’t you put me in direct touch with him? An e-mail address, if not a phone number? I have persuasive power, you know. I got the bank to fund Yoshimoto’s Dream, when you and other investors ran for the tall grass, telling me such dizzy nonsense hadn’t a prayer. I’m looking at my Oscar on the desk as I write.

    Tim

    (NOTE)

    From the desk of

    TIM WARSHAW

    Andrea, hold everything. Call Hezzie Jacobs in Houston, tell him Wouk just phoned me. I’m off to Palm Springs in the Falcon. Order a limo to meet me Signature Airport. T.

    (HW NEW NOVEL WORK JOURNAL, THURSDAY)

    4 p.m.

    Another day shot, no new writing, no nothing. Warshaw’s half hour—and he stuck to it, I’ll say that—killed the day. Waiting for him to get here, settling him in for the half-hour conference, seeing him out the door, then chewing over this strange business with my lady, and here I am with one day less in my life to do what haunts me, the impossible novel.

    Here’s Warshaw’s pitch in brief. An Australian eccentric of great wealth wants a movie made about Moses, and is ready to fund it. The approach came via one Hezzie Jacobs, a Texas venture capitalist who sometimes dabbles in films, though his main interest is oil from algae. Jacobs has a vast project of algae ponds going in Nullarbor, Australia. This eccentric investor, a uranium tycoon, has money in it. When Jacobs told him a Moses film might cost two hundred million, all he said was, Fair dinkum, Australian slang for okay, or the equivalent.

    Now, here’s what Warshaw left out, and it’s crucial. My accountant, who’s wired to insiders in the film game, tells me Warshaw in fact is over a barrel. The Oscar went to his head, he’s always been a high flier, cross-collateralized up to his ears. He’s put some new projects into development, and another of his disaster productions is getting filmed in Turkey right now, Aeneas and Dido, a sexy epic based on the Aeneid, with a fall of Troy bigger than D-day in Saving Private Ryan. He’s been close to freezing that production, short of cash and low on credit, so the rumors fly. Still, he’s meeting his huge budgets week by week and acting carefree as a hummingbird. And the back story on that (my accountant again, and this gets convoluted) is that Jacobs, knowing Fair Dinkum’s obsession to get a Moses film made, has started quietly bankrolling Warshaw, gambling that sooner or later it’ll happen, Fair Dinkum will come across with an investment of four or five hundred million dollars in WarshaWorks, and Jacobs figures to skim off lots of cream.

    What it seems to come down to—and I begin to see why Warshaw was ready to pay me a million for a conference—is this: the uranium nabob either backs WarshaWorks with a whopper of a stimulus or Warshaw is in real trouble, and that seems to depend on whether he can get me to write a Moses film! So the thing stands. Distracting, but diverting, I have to say. Meantime, no work.

    (E-MAIL)

    Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wouk. A venture capitalist who owns a winter home here wants to see you. Mr. Jacobs is a good man, not religious, but he’s kept my little day school alive. You know how I guard your privacy, but as a special favor to the children of our school, will you see him if he flies here tomorrow? I need an answer right away.

    (HW NEW NOVEL WORK JOURNAL, FRIDAY)

    9 a.m.

    The plot thickens. Exponentially. Not for my book, my third false start goes into the files, hopelessly wrong. It’s the Fair Dinkum thing. Turns out that this Hezzie Jacobs owns a home here and is coming from Houston to talk to me. Rabbi Heber interceded for him. I don’t say no to the rabbi . . .

    (FAX)

    NULLARBOR PETROLEUM LLC
    Freedom from Mideast Oil Through Algae

    HOUSTON — MELBOURNE

    FAX (STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL)

    Lou, good news about Wouk and Moses! A Palm Springs rabbi got me in to see him, and I told him all about you. I took a big chance, Louie. I told him that you’d fly from Australia to talk to him. You can always say I’m crazy, or your doctors won’t allow you, but depending on how keen you are on the Moses film—which I still don’t understand, but it’s your time and money—this is your opening.

    Now, Lou, the big news is that the air force is sky-high on the algae! Those Arizona people put on a great show for the generals, took them around the ponds, had a Nobel Prize molecular biologist there, talking plain English about algae molecules and all that. The main thing was the green gasoline! It even smells different, kind of pleasant. They filled the tank of a jeep with it and went roaring down a highway and back, & those stiff generals with all their medals were joking and laughing, and they had a great buffet lunch with fine wine, and in short, the air force is interested, though at the moment that tankful of algae gasoline figures out at $54,000 a gallon. Louis, this can be the breakthrough. Yes, right now oil prices are down again, which is bad for algae, but looking ahead the world’s oil is running out, no doubt of it. Now is the time for Nullarbor! Of the fifty-odd start-up companies doing algae, Arizgrene is the slickest, they know how to promote, but that’s all. About Nullarbor’s genetically altered molecule they haven’t a clue.

    This thing is starting to snowball, Louis, don’t let it roll away from us! Where’s your comment on the new prospectus?

    Hezzie

    (FILE MEMORANDUM)

    Meeting with Louis Gluck

    I’ve never felt the need of a tape recorder until now. In former days when I was badgered into an interview, I never allowed a tape recorder, maybe Gluck wouldn’t have, either. Anyhow, here goes to bang out my recollections of the long, bizarre meeting while they’re fresh and copious.

    Mr. Gluck is something else. Uninvited, he flew here from Australia to see me. Hezzie Jacobs called me up out of the blue, said Fair Dinkum was at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and would come down to Palm Springs before flying on to Toronto, and from there to Paris, then to Beijing, and so back to Australia. Jacobs said he’s done this globe circling for years. This is his second time this year, in February he went the other way from Melbourne via Mumbai, Capetown, Rio de Janeiro, Quito, and home. So Jacobs says, and I can believe it.

    Whatever happens, I don’t think I’ll forget my first sight of Gluck, rolling through the door in a wheelchair, with one leg propped up on a board and a dark-skinned fellow pushing him. Louie Gluck, he said holding out a hand. "You’re going to write The Lawgiver. There’s nobody else. This is Ishmael. The companion grinned and rolled him into the living room. Gluck’s an old, old gent, round face, thin white hair, sharp blue eyes, voice hoarse but clear, piquant Jewish-Aussie accent. Jacobs told me that you turned down Warshaw’s million dollars and gave him half an hour for free. Smart, smart. I said that that was my wife’s idea. I want to meet her." I explained that I was trying to write a Moses book, and he should forget about involving me in a movie.

    You’re making a big mistake. Nobody reads books, everybody watches movies.

    People read my books.

    "I’ve read them all. That’s how I know you’ll write the Lawgiver movie. I’m talking volume. Take your Winds of War, for one person who read the book how many people saw the miniseries movie, all over the world? A million to one? Or counting all the Chinese who watched pirated copies of the miniseries—like the pile I saw in a Beijing supermarket—three million to one? Why are you trying to write a Moses book at your age?"

    "Because I want to, and can afford to take the time, and I don’t have

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