What an extraordinary, razor-sharp, utterly original and gripping voice. Sara Lippmann's Lech is at once a painstakingly drawn exploration of claustrophobia, exploitation, predation, and place, and a primal howl of rage let loose in the wind. Told in unflinching prose and with searing poetic intensity Lech burns with all the fury and tenderness of an open wound.”
– Catherine Chung, author of The Tenth Muse
"Lech is the ambitious debut novel of an excellent new prose stylist."
– The Millions
“A funny, brutal, symphonic novel from a writer with intensity and authority to spare. The world of Lech is as vivid, as wild, and as shockingly familiar as life itself, but way more interesting and way better told.”
– Elisa Albert, author of After Birth
"Lippmann's amiable writing makes for great company."
– Publishers Weekly
“Lech takes place over a single summer in the Catskills, but it’s far bigger than that. Sara Lippmann is finely attuned to the cultural, political, and religious tensions that arise between the vacationers and the locals, between the haves and the have-nots. And, wow, those sentences! Lippmann writes like a dream.”
– Joshua Henkin, author of Morningside Heights
"For the right reader, this jigsaw puzzle of a novel will be a pleasure."
– Kirkus Reviews
“Sara Lippmann's novel Lech is quilted together with loose stitching, holding the sensual with the grotesque, the intimate with the alienated, the paratactic with the full, and on and on. It is masterfully composed.”
– Seth Rogoff, author of Thin Rising Vapors
“Sara Lippmann's Lech is a superb Jewish gothic, an expertly pitched polyvocal tale of family, loss, and redemption. By turns funny, beautiful, lewd and heartbreaking, Lippmann delivers a literary performance with all the timing and energy of a great Borscht Belt comic.”
– Adam O’Fallon Price, author of The Hotel Neversink
2022-08-31
A motley crew of neighbors gets through the summer of 2014 in Sullivan County, New York.
Lippmann's first novel after two story collections features an ensemble cast of characters ranging from vintage quirky to seriously damaged, all with complicated backstories and interlocking current problems. The eponymous Lech is Ira Lecher, a 66-year-old divorcé who lives up to his name. He rents out a room to visitors in his house on Murmur Lake, aka Murder Lake due to a drowning years back. Lech's current guests are a young woman named Beth and her precocious, allergy-ridden, almost-5-year-old son, Zach. Beth is fleeing New York City and her irritating husband after an abortion: "Two days have passed since the D&C about which she’s told no one. (The procedure sounded like a mall shop for tweens. I love your top. Did you get that at D&C?)" Lippmann's rapid-fire narrative style seems to pay homage to Borscht Belt schtick, but here and elsewhere it can be hard to know what emotion is expected from the reader concerning disturbing sexual situations and unhappy characters. Tzvi, for example, is a Hasidic Jew and a drug dealer—"He is servicing a need. Better him than a shegetz [non-Jewish boy]." Bada bing. But Tzvi is also the son of the woman who drowned—he was only 3 years old at the time—and is still haunted by the mysteries of that loss. If it sounds like there's a lot to try to make sense of in this novel, there is, including what is arguably the main plotline, which is about a grifter-y real estate agent trying to interest investors in the property surrounding Murmur Lake, which neither Lech nor the creepy farmer who owns the adjoining parcel wants to sell. This storyline and others unfold in brief chapters alternating among the points of view of five of the characters.
For the right reader, this jigsaw puzzle of a novel will be a pleasure.
