Set during Argentina’s Dirty War of the 1970s, The Ministry of Special Cases is Nathan Englander’s first novel. The author’s well received collection of short stories, For the Relief of Unbearable Urges, and his publications in magazines such as New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly meant that this was, for many, a long awaited work. It does not disappoint.

This is by no means the first book to broach the subject of the terror and uncertainty experienced by Argentinians during the Dirty War, during which having family members ‘disappeared’ was, woefully, too common. But Englander has researched the subject well. Small observations, down to the paper used in shops (‘“The land of pretty paper … Everything full of promise until you peel the wrapping away.”’), adds everyday detail to a tale of social repression and lies.

Through Kaddish and Lillian Poznan, the story’s main characters, we see that corruption permeates all levels of Argentine society. Pato Poznan, the only son of the Jewish couple, is kidnapped by ‘men in suits’.

In the first part of the novel, Englander offers us an insight into 1970s Buenos Aires family life. Pato is a university student still living with his parents, who fear for their son. Through Lillian’s actions (she buys a secure door) and Kaddish’s pleas (for Pato to get rid of his books), we experience their concerns.

The father-son disagreements and arguments are painful, having a universality that goes beyond 1970s Argentine, and are carried out within the schema of often witty dialogues.

Sparkling dialogue

The dialogues across the 339 pages of The Ministry of Special Cases frequently sparkle, standing out as one of Nathan Englander’s strengths. The exchanges between Kaddish and Dr Mazursky, a leading plastic surgeon with a gambling debt, mix humour with sharp criticism of the characters and Argentine society.

The two come into contact through Kaddish’s shady profession; he climbs into the cemetery of the Jewish Society of the Benevolent Self and uses a chisel to ‘disappear’ the names of potentially embarrassing forefathers, such as Pinkus “Toothless” Mazursky.

Just as the Dirty War impacted all levels of Argentine society, Englander spares no-one from implicit criticism, even the principal characters, whose marriage buckles under the strain of losing Pato and not knowing his fate.

Kaddish— born the son of a prostitute, so already an outcast among the Jewish community of Buenos Aires— mourns while his wife remains ostensibly hopeful, refusing to admit that their son will not return.

Just as Lillian rues that Pato’s friends will not acknowledge her in the wake of his disappearance, she will not entertain Kaddish when he seems likely to discuss her son’s demise over dinner. Helpless, powerless and broke, Kaddish listens to a navigator from the airforce tell how the disappeared are pushed, while still alive, from aircraft into the estuary of the River Plate.

Overall, the story gives an insight into the hopelessness that hit families who tried to recover a disappeared relative. The visits to police stations. The threats, violence and corruption. The frustrating bureaucracy that led to the waiting hall of the Ministry of Special Cases and, perhaps eventually, unsympathetic officials. The emptiness and inevitable lies, to oneself and from the authorities. The lack of recognition or help for people such as Lillian and Kaddish Poznan.

Englander’s humour ensures that this dark tale remains highly readable.

The Ministry of Special Cases
Nathan Englander 
Faber and Faber
Rupees 695