A book. You are first drawn by the intriguing title, then you notice that some of the letters are smudged, as though tear-stained. Did you somehow spill water on the cover? No, the dust jacket is designed that way, to remind us that sometimes relief comes in the form of tears, sometimes in sexual release, sometimes in death.
The inside of the dust jacket is misleading - the title story, "For the Relief of Unbearable Urges", is called "hilarious". Despite this, the praise is flowing (and you don't know differently, anyhow) and you are drawn into the stories between the covers. What do you find?
Writing that is masterful, but misdirected. A voice that is shockingly mature, incongruous with the photograph of the handsome boy on the cover. Stories that are obsessed with persecution, whether by the government or by loved ones or by one's peers or one's church. Few of the characters within these pages are unencumbered by expectation, by disappointment, by disillusionment.
You search the book for the "hilarious" story foretold and find the sad, pathetic tale of a man sexually rebuffed by his wife and given a special dispensation by his Rabbi to visit a prostitute "for the relief of unbearable urges". The result turns the tables on the poor fellow, but is not amusing. You continue reading; the last story, "In This Way We are Wise", contains the poetic, oddly beautiful, ruminations of a bomb-blast survivor and his sorrow at having lived. You are illuminated by the beauty of the prose, you are destroyed by its message.
You may enjoy reading about the Jewish experience, writers such as Roth, Singer, Bellow. Depending upon your focus you may read quite a bit of this literature or perhaps only a smattering in the New Yorker. You find that Englander glazes his prose with Judaica to the point that everything here is deeply flavored with it, so no matter how much or how little you read, you taste the culture of the Jewish people, whether they be modern Jews in Israel or Holocaust-era Jews in Poland.
You walk away enlightened, impressed, but perhaps a little depressed, too.