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Mishpacha

An assemblage by Daniel Silverman (coming 2025)

Mishpacha is an assemblage of five overlapping and interlocking components exploring family relations. The components may be read in any order.

An index is provided.

Read: Mishpacha - Flickering Light

Reviews of Mishpacha

(coming)

Letchworth Days

A novel by Daniel Silverman (2021)

Repressed, alienated, and deeply unhappy, high school student Seth Rosenfeld hopes to find meaning and connection by helping others at a nearby institution for the mentally retarded.

There he encounters new sources of fear and uncertainty, but also humor, tenderness, and even the capacity for love, not only in his charges, but in himself as well.

Yet just as his confidence is growing and his defenses are falling, old specters return in new guises when he becomes embroiled in an affair that forces a choice: forfeit his social gains, or compromise his moral integrity.

$28.00 hardcover (213 pages)
$16.00 softcover (213 pages)

Read: Letchworth Days - Chapter One

Reviews of Letchworth Days

"An absolute punch in the gut"

Unsettling, upsetting, feverish, queasy, all in a raw and moving way. I’m haunted and obsessed, dumbstruck with awe and reverence. Its emotions are so dark and from the shadow side of living that this book is an absolute punch in the gut, its effect so powerful and deep-reaching that it’s scary. I have profound respect for Daniel Silverman. This novel should get out in the world in a big way.

"This act of remembrance and meaning-making is why we write"

Letchworth Days occupied my thoughts throughout the days as I read it, and I continue to reflect on it. It is very compelling. Many of these thoughts have orbited around the idea of “otherness” and how you move from otherness as a source of disconnection and alienation to come full circle to it being in some measure the driver that compels us to connect to one another. Within this otherness are people who have been “othered” by the fate of their births and how society has dealt with them. I don't know if it was intentional or not, but I found that even Seth's anxiety/separation from the Home Kids represented a kind of othering that occurs through societal racism. Seth may not see it as such, but their attitudes and behaviors strike me very much as the result of marginalization. The Mountain People are the kind of mythic others. And of course, Hannah is an other, but also the appreciator of Seth's otherness. It struck me that virtually everyone Seth encounters is defined by their otherness.

The first chapter drew me in immediately. It is very well structured and creates a sense of walls closing in that matches Seth’s state of mind. I experienced the sense of claustrophobia in the opening of the book attributable in some measure to Seth's yearning to understand his place in the world. Given what he sees in high school and experiences in his interactions with others, he doesn't seem at home in this "known" world. When he first departs to Letchworth, he is heading into an unknown world. He is in both a literal and figurative sense expanding his horizons, learning that the world is a bigger place and one that offers alternatives to the one he has experienced only through high school. I took his alienation to be both in response to his environment, but also internalized, compounded by the difficulties of navigating his sexuality, as a teen especially circa 1979-80. This is yet another unknown world and one can see him yearning to gain access to it, but holding back for fear of rejection. Albert, Danny and Hannah are unknown worlds where he lands safely to find acceptance and love. This I take to be the ultimate expansion of his horizons.

Feeling judged repeats as a theme throughout the book, but Seth struck me as equally judgmental, whether it regarded music or pizza. Even people who present as well meaning can be dismissed by him. It struck me that there were romantic possibilities with Dominic, but that in some way he didn't measure up to Seth's standards. So, while at the end of the book, it seems that Seth has attained some self-acceptance, I'm unclear if he's become more accepting of others.

Letchworth Days’ transformation of the author’s angst into art is an unequivocal achievement. This act of remembrance and meaning-making is why we write.

Bottom line: Letchworth Days held my attention from beginning to end, and most important, made me think. It caused me to reflect on my own adolescence and adolescence in general. (No one ever tells you when you become a parent that you will relive all of the heartache, alienation, and unhappiness of your own adolescence as your kids go through it too). What more can anyone ask for in a book?

Bravo!

"A great piece of writing!"

Silverman beautifully captures the inner turmoil of a teenager trying to understand how the world works, how to get closer to others, and how to figure out other human beings. The extended process of getting to know new people and appreciate their talents, or at least their personalities, naturally suggests the course of life itself. The characters are vividly real, and became more and more so as I read along—especially the narrator of course—while the portrayal of Seth’s father was so realistic I felt I had met him. The descriptions are wonderfully detailed, with an allusive quality that I particularly liked, continually drawing me in closer and closer to the story as it unfolded. I had such strong visual images of Letchworth that I almost feel as though I were there myself! And the allusions to the facility’s dark past grounded the story firmly in reality, as opposed to being a stage set created for a teenager’s inner journey. It turns out also to be about self-knowledge, the ultimate quest. So it succeeds on multiple levels. A great piece of writing!

"A trip back in time worth taking"

After we leave high school, there’s a tendency to avoid thinking about the realities of our raw, unfinished, teen-aged selves. Daniel Silverman’s second novel, Letchworth Days, drops us right back into the thick of that time and invites a sympathetic and unblinking look. It’s a beautiful story, and Silverman’s vivid storytelling makes it a trip back in time worth taking.

The adolescent protagonist of this story is sixteen-year-old Seth Rosenfeld, who is a younger version of the same character from Silverman’s 2020 release, The Birds of Shanghai. There’s a welcome feeling of emotional openness in Letchworth Days that wasn’t as developed in the 2020 book (unsurprising since the bulk of that book was actually written decades earlier). This second novel is more polished, but still painted with the same thoughtful, economic word choice you'd expect from Silverman. The supporting characters are also nicely rounded out and have more depth to them, particularly Seth’s friend Hannah, who is so interesting that she’s a bit of a scene-stealer sometimes.

On page one, without preamble, the author thrusts the reader into a chaotic and emotional scene at a high school. Once we are fully immersed in the protagonist’s unsettled internal world, the author is at leisure to spend the rest of the book gently, skillfully guiding his character (and his readers) little by little, into a stronger and more resilient grown-up brain state.

On the surface, the story is about a lonely, closed-off high school boy growing up in the 1970s, who slowly learns to open his heart to others (and himself) by way of a unique summer job, working at an institution for developmentally disabled adults. As we follow along for a couple of summers, the rotating cast of engaging characters (both the people who live there and the staff) reveal new challenges and new sources of support for this young man, who begins the book so frightened of who he is that daily life feels impossible to deal with.

But there is a deeper story here about the ongoing process of figuring out who we are and what we value, which if we’re lucky doesn’t stop in adolescence. While many of the conflicts and new experiences Seth goes through resonate and remind us of the struggles and growth of adolescence, Silverman leaves ample room in the story for intellectual exploration of who we keep becoming as adults, and even what it means to be an “adult.”

The often hilarious, but occasionally heartbreaking individual stories and anecdotes of working with developmentally disabled adults (or “residents” as they’re called at Letchworth) feel true-to-life. The author’s affectionate spotlight on this often-ignored population is in clear contrast with how the US has tended to hide and dehumanize any people it would rather not see. Seth’s growing connection with the residents in his care allows a little glimpse into an “institutionalized” world most of us never see.

In this story, I love Seth’s vulnerability, his internal thrashing and teen angst, and the tenderness he begins to recognize in others and in himself. I love all the slow reveals as he begins to see the world with a wider lens and begins to develop a deeper understanding and compassion for others. Silverman manages to capture the insecurity and longing and growth of a teen in the 1970’s in a way that feels real across time. The cultural references, the language, and the background descriptions expertly evoke the time period, particularly the details of the music, which is such an integral part of Seth’s life. But as with any good story, the themes here are larger than the setting; the emotional struggles and minor victories of life remain eminently relatable and worth revisiting for both the pleasurable and thought-provoking prose. Highly recommended.

"In the institutions of the forgotten"

Who are the so-called retarded? Daniel Silverman takes us on a sojourn of intimacy to the places of the marginal, where time stands almost still, in the institutions of the forgotten. Who and what we find there are the touchstones that lead his character, young Seth Rosenfeld, to uncover his own self-hood, his own compassion, his own maturity, and his own righteousness. Seth is no ordinary high school kid. A misfit from the start, he brings sensitivity to his volunteer work at the Letchworth institution, and translates his own pain of marginalization to his charges, evoking in them the very best he can bring out.

Written in Silverman’s spare and winning prose, he brings the reader to epiphanies that are a major challenge to those quick to dismiss the outcasts of society. He goes the distance beautifully, and his book is a service as well as an exquisite piece of literature.

The Birds of Shanghai

A novel by Daniel Silverman (2020; written 1988)

Seth Rosenfeld is a recent college graduate from New York, teaching English in 1980s Shanghai. There he meets Lan Ming, an engaging and sagacious traveler from the provinces, who stirs Seth’s unexplored homosexual desires. Lan Ming seems to be everything Seth is not: unguarded, spontaneous, and at ease with his sexuality. They fall in love in the shadows and back alleys of a Shanghai under transformation, and also under the watchful eye of the Public Security Bureau.

But Lan Ming has secrets. How does he stay in Shanghai without rousing the suspicions of his “work unit” back home? Who are the street friends he won’t let Seth meet? Especially, where does his money come from?

Seth’s search for the truth about Lan Ming takes him on a personal journey—into Shanghai’s secretive gay culture, into distant Chinese provinces, into his own psyche—as he discovers some devastating truths about his very nature.

And just as Seth is getting closer to uncovering the mystery of Lan Ming, Shanghai erupts in anti-government protests, and the ever-looming Public Security Bureau closes in on the pair’s illegal relationship…

$28.00 hardcover (160 pages)

Reviews of The Birds of Shanghai

"Loved this book!"

From page one of Daniel Silverman’s poignant novel, The Birds of Shanghai, I was along for the journey. The place is 1980’s China where the young American hero, an English teacher named Seth Rosenfeld, enjoys the admiration of his students, but must navigate confounding cultural differences as he falls in love with Lan Ming, a Chinese man whose own situation is shrouded in mystery.

Young love is complicated enough, but what makes this story especially engaging is the added layers that come from its being a gay love story in a changing but still very repressive society. Seth cannot quite figure out what is real and what might be a con. Is it love, lust or exploitation? And whom among a cast of unreliable sources can he believe or trust?

The intimate story takes us through the title city and then to other parts of China as Seth pursues the object of his obsession. The young romantic in me wanted to see Seth savor every tender moment in each of the exotic settings, which Silverman describes in delicious detail. But my cynical side wanted to protect Seth from heartbreak and material loss.

To the end it is never clear whether what Seth and Lan Ming have is an honest, safe and loving relationship, but that ambiguity is what gives this book its depth and makes it feel so true.

"Raw humanity buried beneath layers of oppression"

As an American who also spent time in China in the 80's, I can vouch for the accuracy of Daniel Silverman's depiction of a society in which the omnipresent Communist Party apparatus hung over every interaction. Amidst the "groupthink" of totalitarianism and the conformity engendered by traditional Chinese culture, voices of individuality were often stifled and suppressed. Yet, Seth Rosenfeld, the protagonist of The Birds of Shanghai, manages to discover the raw humanity buried beneath these layers of oppression. As Seth's story unfolds and he begins to forge intimate connections, the reader is drawn into the swirling vortex of desire and recrimination. Silverman's novel skillfully blends the unfamiliarity of its setting with the universality of the emotions that infuse the story to immerse the reader in a world where longing and deception are intertwined.

" An engaging exploration of love, need, and (sometimes painful) self-discovery."

Daniel Silverman’s The Birds of Shanghai is an engaging exploration of love, need, and (sometimes painful) self-discovery. The story, the writing, and the larger themes make this a page-turning read, and an outstanding first novel. Right from the start, the reader is transported to 1980’s Shanghai, where we meet Seth Rosenfeld, a young American and recent college graduate. Seth has been working as an English teacher at a university in Shanghai for several months. The reader joins Seth just as he is about to meet a young Chinese man named Lan Ming.

Lan Ming’s attention and outgoing nature help to draw the more reserved Seth out of his shell, and Seth finally allows himself to explore his life-long attraction to men. Like many young lovers, Seth and Lan Ming lose themselves in this new experience of couple-hood, which is infinitely complicated by the repressive Chinese regime. In the 1980’s in general, and in China specifically, their love does not come without risks, and Seth and Lan Ming find themselves facing increasing social pressures and dangers.

Watching Seth navigate this new side of himself is at once exciting and nerve-wracking. The surveillance culture that the Chinese take for granted is all new to Seth and there are unknowns at every turn. As the unrelenting obstacles to their love increase, Seth begins to wonder if Lan Ming is really who he seems to be. As Seth tries to sort out what is true and what is not, we feel his anguish and his unraveling.

The themes underlying the story are universal. There is the exhilarating excitement of new love, followed by the internal struggle of merging lives with someone while also trying not to lose all of oneself. There is the disillusionment that so often comes with the onset of decidedly non-romantic adult problems (like the need for money, housing, and employment). There are also the inevitable self-discoveries that come to the surface when one is faced first with their best self, and later with their worst. The reader is a witness to all of it, and feels Seth’s pain of coming to understand that life and love may not be exactly what he had expected. But in the end, we are left with a feeling that Seth is returning to a version of himself, and will manage and live with all these changes, and with the man he is becoming.

From a mechanical standpoint, Silverman’s plotting and pace move the story along nicely, and there is a pleasing preciseness to the words that hints at Silverman’s previous career as an academic. Nothing is wasted here. Each sentence says what it means to say with no unnecessary embellishment, and yet the disciplined style does not take away from the deep emotion of the story. On the contrary, there is a disarming element of intimacy in the writing, and an undercurrent of sly humor which relieves a bit of the sadness inherent in this relatively quick read. The non-intrusive prose allows the reader to easily slip into the story and to fully inhabit another world.

At times the story reads like an intimate confessional, (almost as if we are eavesdropping from a nearby table in a café), and at other times like a travelogue, with these lovely little slice-of-life anecdotes of life in China. Silverman fluently weaves multiple story threads together so that the reader can experience various views of Shanghai. Travelers and expatriates will particularly appreciate and relate to many of Seth’s experiences of living in a foreign culture and attempting to navigate life in a second language.

In sum, Silverman’s first novel is a fascinating and thought-provoking read that works on multiple levels. Whether read as a love story, a twenty-something coming-of-age story, or as a cautionary tale of what life is like when all privacy is lost in a repressive regime, The Birds of Shanghai will leave the reader wanting to hear more about these characters, and also hoping that this will not be Silverman’s only novel.

"A chronicle of passion that speaks of truth"

Written in brilliantly sparse prose that hits every note with pitch-perfect accuracy, Daniel Silverman's stunning debut novel plunges the reader into the intimate cultural depths of 1980s Shanghai. The themes are striking: adolescent self-doubt, tortuous suspicion, disorientation and fear, but also love, the nature of young intimacy in all its facets of insight and revelation, and ultimately, a stinging homesickness for a more familiar shore. Silverman guides us through a murky and unfamiliar world with a sure hand and steady tone as he draws the reader into a fascinating journey through a young man’s heart. Simply written, complexly felt, the novel is a chronicle of passion that speaks of truth, and is uncompromising in every nuance of emotion that passes through the protagonist's experience. It is a brave novel, one that haunts and lingers long after reading its last page.

"Filled with curiosity that keeps its sorrow from being too severe"

A universal book about secret, sometimes obsessive, impossible love. I would be one of the first to say this book is important in many ways…It is filled with a curiosity that keeps its sorrow from being too severe.