MOTHER FOR DINNER

Mom’s dead. Time, for a family of cannibals, to eat.

Auslander has always written like he’s courting a strike from a lightning bolt: His 2007 memoir, Foreskin’s Lament, was a hilarious recollection of his efforts to wriggle out from under his Orthodox Jewish upbringing, and his excellent 2012 novel, Hope: A Tragedy, dared some unkind words about Anne Frank’s legacy. Here, he pushes the envelope in labored and often tasteless fashion to satirize identity politics in general and religious ceremonies in particular. Its hero is Seventh Seltzer, one of 12 surviving siblings attending to the death of their mother. The Seltzers are Cannibal-Americans—not savages eager to feast on human flesh but people of faith who ritually consume family members after they die to preserve their heritage. (The Seltzer origin story involves an escape from the old country and efforts to escape the anti-Semitic wiles of Henry Ford; the Seltzer brothers were given the names First through Twelfth to make them memorable. A daughter is named Zero, because religious misogyny.) If you understand Auslander’s work as the dirtbag cousin of Portnoy’s Complaint, you can see the comic potential here: There’s a Borscht Belt–y therapist (“I’ve had many patients consumed with their mothers, but I’ve never had a patient who actually wanted to consume her”), bleak nursery rhymes to underscore the rituals, odd bits of folklore (Jack Nicholson is a huge disappointment for not using his bully pulpit to support his “Can-Am” brethren). But the prevailing mood is so embittered that the satire is hard to enjoy much; Seventh is a book editor lamenting the mass of “Not-So-Great Something-American Novels,” and this reads like an effort to burn the genre of identity-focused fiction to the ground. But replace it with what? Sarcastic fiction about squabbling siblings and parental viscera larded with sour jokes about assimilation?

Tough to stomach.