Eve, in a desperate attempt to move to the top of the Hollywood social hierarchy, attempts to ditch her Jewish identity. She's no longer Chava Fromkin from Brooklyn. She's beautiful, she's famous -- what she needs now is a way to maintain this. So she latched onto movie star Carlton Pennington, taking him as her Gentile model and a means to de-Jew herself.
Murray mentions The Sun Also Rises to further explain Eve's transformation: like Robert Cohn in Hemingway's novel who goes to Princeton to box and forget his Jewish identity does Eve with Pennington. But he was more than, as Murray says, "this rich, polo-playing upper-class genuine aristocrat ... her director." He was gay, he was anti-Semitic: the ultimate outsider, truly, in the movie studio community.
Here, as Mr. Heidkamp pointed out, lies one of the book's themes, this unwillingness to make your own decisions, to remain true to yourself. This is on the bottom of p 158:
The crime isn't even bringing an anti-Semite close to you. That's your choice too. The crime is being unable to stand up to him, unable to defend against the assault, and taking his attitudes for yours. In America, as I see it, you can allow yourself every freedom but that one.
Eve, Murray later says, is taking an act too far. To rid your identity? Fine. That's your prerogative. But to continually hate Jews? To spite a baby for having a Jewish mother? That, he says, is wrong. She could act with nuance and change on stage, but in reality, she was unable to shake this habit that she acquired from Pennington. She's a vessel. She comes back to Jumbo Freedman in the same manner: she conveniently drops her hatred for, as Murray says, "what you go to a Jew for -- money and business and licentious sex. It was a transaction." With her star falling, Eve hedged her bets.
But is Murray also foreshadowing Ira's downfall? Ira tried to leave his past behind, the primordial sixteen-year-old kid who laughed after he killed a man, the tempestuous Army brat who threw a guy into the ocean for disagreeing with him. And so he married Eve, he hosted The Free and the Brave, he dressed up like Abe Lincoln, the paragon of American virtue. It all crashes down, doesn't it? He marries Eve and tries with all of his literary and political might to rid her of the anti-Semitism, to be her O'Day. He takes on Eve, Murray theorisizes, to win the ultimate battle. To enforce his beliefs onto hers is, as Murray says, rendering Eve "unable to stand up to him, unable to defend against the assault, and taking his attitudes for [hers]." The least permissible transgression of all -- the opposite of his prized critical thinking.
For that matter, who does honestly change in this novel? Nathan? Why's he living alone on the hills? Why does he ignore what he once thrived on -- he ends the novel not with a bang, but with a whimper, "the colossal spectacle of no antagonism."
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