Read Gentleman's Agreement for Free Online Page A

question. Tom finished the last strip and shoved the paper aside.
    “Antisemitism,” he repeated. “What is that, Dad?”
    “Well, let’s see.” He saw Tom’s eyes on him, expectant. The boy knew he would get an answer as he always got an answer. There was never any “when you’re older, I’ll explain” between them. Phil said, “It’s when people don’t like other people just because they’re Jews.”
    “Oh.” Tom considered for a second. “Why? Are they bad?”
    “Some are, sure. Some aren’t. It’s like everybody else.”
    “What are Jews anyhow?”
    Phil looked at him thoughtfully. This same unexpected thing had happened on a hundred levels in the last year. A word, a name, a place that Tom had heard over and over without showing the faintest interest would all at once catch at him and become the subject of exhaustive inquiry. Here we go, Phil thought, wondering how to start. If the kid had been given the usual religious training, this would be simpler now.
    “Remember last week, you asked about that big church?”
    “Sure.”
    “And I told you there were lots of different kinds of churches?”
    “You and Gram think, it’s prob’ly nature instead, but I can think it’s God if I want and go to one.”
    “That’s right. Well, the people that go to that particular church are called Catholics. Then there are people who go to other churches, and they’re called Protestants, and there are others that go to still different ones, and they’re called Jews. Only they call their kind of church synagogues or temples.”
    “Oh.” He thought it over. “Then why don’t some people like those?”
    “It’s kind of tough to explain.” He shrugged. “Some people hate Catholics, some hate Jews—”
    “And nobody hates us ’cause we’re Americans?”
    Mrs. Green began to clear the breakfast table. She was going to let him struggle alone.
    “No, that’s something different again. You can be an American and a Catholic, or an American and a Protestant, or an American and a Jew. Or you could be French or German or Spanish or any nationality at the same time you’re Catholic or a Protestant or a Jew.”
    Tom looked perplexed. Phil had an impulse of flight but he repressed it.
    “Look, Tom. One thing is your country, like America, or France or Germany or Russia—all the countries. The flag is different and the uniform is different, the language is different.”
    “The airplanes are marked different.” This was interesting talk, his tone said.
    “Differently. That’s right. But the other thing is religion if you have any, or your grandfather’s religion, like Jewish or Catholic or Protestant religion. That hasn’t anything to do with the country or the language or the airplanes. Get it?”
    “Yep.”
    “Don’t ever get mixed up on that. Some people are mixed up.”
    “Why?”
    “Oh, they talk about the Jewish race, but never about the Catholic race or the Protestant race. Or about the Jewish people, but never about the Protestant people or—”
    “Why don’t they?”
    Phil searched his mother’s face. It was now impassive and definitely not helpful. He glanced at his watch, and a wave of relief rewarded him.
    “Hey, it’s eight-forty.”
    Tommy knocked his chair over as he flung himself to his feet. His elbow skittered the newspaper off the table. Tragically he said, “Oh, gosh, I’ll be late for school.”
    “We’ll talk some more sometime.”
    Tom raced out, heels hammering on the uncarpeted floor past kitchen and bathroom. Phil stretched back in his chair and looked up at Mrs. Green.
    “Whew.”
    She laughed in wicked enjoyment. Then she said seriously, “It’s all right, Phil. You’re always good with him.”
    “He won’t remember a word of it.”
    “If he just gets one little sequence fixed, you’ve done enough.”
    “What sequence?”
    “Just using the three together every time, as a group. Catholic Protestant Jew, like apples pears peaches. That’s a good