The First Seven Years by Bernard Malamud

Shoes can be fixed. Hearts? Not so easily.

After reading the wonderful The Magic Barrel, my ADHD/hyper-fixation naturally pushed me to dive deeper into Bernard Malamud’s short stories, and The First Seven Years did not disappoint. Malamud is such an effortlessly gifted storyteller. The prose just glides along, and before you know it, you’re fully wrapped up in the little dramas of ordinary people trying their best to live the American dream. 

What I especially enjoyed here is how Malamud opens with rich, immediate characterization and then lets the plot unfold from that foundation. It’s a refreshing reversal of the usual formula. Right from the start, we are encouraged to sympathize with Feld, a humble shoemaker who believes education as the key to success and upward social mobility. He has big dreams for his daughter. Miriam. and is determined to match her with a respectable college student who brings his shoes in for repair.

This is where Malamud cleverly plays with a longstanding Jewish stereotype: the idea that Jews are preoccupied with money or material success. He uses it not to reinforce the stereotype, but to expose how these expectations shape Feld’s worldview. Feld’s obsession with securing his daughter a match in a higher social bracket reflects the pressures within the Jewish immigrant community in post-WWII America: to climb, to assimilate, to “make it.” When Feld finally realizes that moral worth doesn’t correlate neatly with financial standing, the moment lands with even more poignancy because we’ve watched him chase that stereotype so earnestly.

And then there’s Sobel, Feld’s apprentice. He's a Jewish refugee from Poland whose traumatic past (the implication being that he escaped the Nazi Death camps), status, and impulsive behavior complicate Feld's plans to running a successful shoe repair business. His role adds nuance to the story’s social hierarchy: he is poor, displaced, and rough around the edges, yet still deeply moral and sincere. 

My one small gripe is Sobel’s romantic declaration. While honorable in intent, it definitely comes across as a little creepy. He’s been in love with Miriam for years, watching her grow up and waiting for his moment. If you pause to do the math, it suggests he may have been pining when she was still very young, so yeah...But maybe I’m nitpicking. Ultimately, the heart of the story lies in Feld’s moral and spiritual transformation, as he learns that wealth and status have nothing to do with integrity or love. And in classic Malamud fashion, that realization feels both timeless and deeply human.

You can read this story HERE.