Bookishly Jewish

A Line You Have Traced is a slow generational story, comparing women’s lives across time. In that way, it suggests The Hours or The Female Man. Bea is Jewish, working in her husband’s jewelry store in the Jewish East End of London after World War I. The angel who repeatedly visits her suggests a trace of hope in her dark life. Still, she knows her husband will never believe her about these visitations. Meanwhile, fascism is rising and presenting a constant threat. Towards the end of the story, Bea has embraced Judaism more deeply, eagerly throwing himself into practice. She even goes so far as to consult men about Jewish practice after services, embarrassing her ambivalent husband. As her husband’s judgy friend writes a book about them, resentment builds in their marriage. 

In Ess’s futuristic dystopia, the environment has been destroyed and those with resources live behind massive gates. Humanity is dying out. While her group, called the Network, is preparing for humanity to die out entirely, she agrees to be sent to the past. The science has been based on their people’s foundational texts – specifically the environmental texts and time travel speculation of O. This experimental time travel may be their only hope. But if it succeeds, how is Ess meant to intervene?  

In the present, Kay works multiple jobs and parties with her queer underground friends. As they celebrate counterculture, they avoid the news because it’s so depressing and stressful. Kay serves as a link between the eras as her philosophy bridges past and future. She finally finds herself asking, “If you were a tourist…a time-traveler tourist…what would you say when you got to me?” (268). Her lover O responds that a warning, or advice and a road map, would be nice. Further linking the times, she proposes going back to their great-grandparents’ eras to suggest that they run or get organized and resist. “Maybe you could go back far enough that they wouldn’t even need to run” (269). This is the hope of time travel – improving the past to minimize atrocity. When Kay worries about destroying the timeline, O responds, “What’s the point if you don’t get involved?” (269).

The story explores the ethics and goals of time travel, not the technology. Just because humanity can, doesn’t mean they should. All three times also celebrate nature, from the fertile marshes to the parakeets soaring free in the future. Throughout, there’s an environmentalist plea to not destroy everything. All three women read books written by and about one another, even as their stories show how the books came to be written. All this further links their characters’ beliefs and journeys.

As one character observes, “When we talk about time, we should really talk about history…” reminding the reader that “We are trying to avert catastrophe. To change the future. […] Ecosystem: fucked. Resource management: nonexistent. Human and nonhuman rights: thing of the past. The only difference between us is that I’ve known, nearly all my life, I’ve known—there’s a solution. We can fix what we have done. We can undo the mistakes our ancestors made” (232). The novel ends by wondering whether humans will finally find a way to undo all this damage, or whether earth will be better off without humanity. It’s a slow, meditative experimental text that celebrates women and writing even as the three reflect across their eras. 

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Who among us has not wondered where we go when we die? Lots of cultures, and books!, have mythology surrounding a river and a ferryman. Certainly a lighthouse is not out of place in that setting, but in J.R. Dawson’s The Lighthouse At The Edge of The World, we get an intriguing glimpse into an almost zany afterlife where dogs are escorting souls onto the boat to the afterlife. And some souls never make it to the lighthouse and boat at all.

All is not peaceful within the lighthouse. The dogs are overseen by two human staff members – the ferryman and his daughter Neera, who are not quite alive but also not quite dead. For the ferryman this does not seem to be a problem. He has long ago left his life behind, thinks this existence is better, and finds the lighthouse a much safer place for his daughter than the streets of Chicago. Unfortunately, Neera would prefer having a chance to actually live before taking over as final companion for the dead. Especially when a living woman named Charlie manages to find her way to the Lighthouse while searching for her dead sister. Suddenly, Neera realizes there is an entire world she’s been missing out on. Including deep dish pizza.

There are two very distinct viewpoints, and I was definitely more of a Neera fan than a Charlie fan. I think this happens when authors are pushed to find some way to distinguish their narrators so absolutely that no one can ever claim they are not distinct enough (a favorite complaint from people who don’t know why they didn’t like a book and therefore reach for low hanging complaint fruits). I suspect there will be some ride or die Charlie fans out there, but I really identified with Neera.

To touch a moment on representation, this is a book that is very Jewish without being about Judaism. Since Neera’s father is Jewish, part of her learning about caring for the dead involves writing names on a wall like the wall of remembrance in many Synagogues, and reciting Kaddish. Similarly, in her in between, painless world, Neera just assumes it is totally normal to be queer. It is Charlie who realizes that holding hands, even on the streets of Chicago, could pose some danger. This was true normalization of marginalized experiences. They are just part of the story, with each character having their own life background changing the lived experience of the same moment. Content note for suicide, homicide, and mass shootings.

Things kind of fell apart for me at the end in terms of the magic system, and I had a couple outstanding questions about the Neera/Charlie relationship, but overall I really enjoyed the balance of plot and romance. This is a slow burn with two very lovable leads. Plus, the dogs are pretty much perfect. If the afterlife is as depicted in The Lighthouse At The Edge Of The World, I think we’re all going to be alright.

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Where, you are wondering, is the photo for parshat Vayakhel-Pikudei? It’s a double parsha (during leap years Vayakhel and Pikudei are read separately). Shouldn’t there be one, if not two, book photos? Indeed, you would be correct. However, the book I have chosen, Hannah’s Sabbath Dress, by Itzhak Schweiger-Dmi’el and illustrated by Ora Eithan, appears to be out of print. Woops.

The book is a lovely folktale about a girl who is delighted to celebrate Shabbat in her brand new white dress, which she accidentally ruins by helping an old man carrying a heavy sack of coal so that he can get home in time for Sabbath. The moon sees Hannah’s tears, and performs a miracle in honor of her generosity. All the coal stains turn into bright shining moon beams making Hannah’s dress even more special. It’s a great book to read with kids on a long Saturday, and I hope it is only temporarily out of print.

In the last two Torah portions of the book of Shemot, both of which are read this week, the importance of Shabbat is reiterated along with the final execution of all the preceding instructions for how to build the temporary temple used in the desert. When it comes time for the implementation, the Israelites bring so many donations that Moses actually has to tell them to stop. It was one of my favorite stories as a kid. Much like Hannah, they were just too generous. Also like Hannah they were rewarded – her with moonbeams on her dress, the Israelites with Gods presence in their midst.

We are living in historical times. The news cycle is ever churning, technology ever advancing, and societal values constantly shifting. Yet, a few years ago, I doubt any of us saw this coming. In his memoir, Hello (and goodbye) To All That, Jonathan Liebson talks about feeling disconnected from the epochs of his father and his grandfather, wishing he too could have such life changing and important experiences, only to find himself reeling when those unprecedented circumstances come and find him. 

Most of all, Hello (and goodbye) To All Of That is a love story to life in New York City, particularly it’s Jewish and creative scenes in lower Manhattan. Not many other cities are so magical that a person will agree to put up with the stream of horrific roommates that Liebson describes, simply for the chance to live in a tiny, cramped apartment whose rent eats up more than the lion’s share of their take home pay. The humor of the New York real estate descriptions aside, Liebson is an observant chronicler of New York and its diverse population. However, natives such as myself will find some of his reflections very telling of his non-NY origins. Especially the chapters in which he contemplates leaving and claims most NYers have debated moving as well. While the people who move here in waves to further their educations or careers often do cycle in and out, there is no planned mass exodus of those of us who were born and raised here. You will have to pry my cold dead corpse from my home city, and even then, I’m probably not going very far. There’s a nice cemetery on long island that I am eyeing as a permanent resting place. Just saying. 

The life experiences Liebson chronicles run from the classic bildungsroman – college grad has no idea what to do with his life and becomes a creative writing grad student in his father’s hometown, to the science fictional – the COVID 19 pandemic still strikes me as unreal despite my having survived it. There is political upheaval, artistic struggle, and epic tragedy. There is sadness and joy and deep reflection on both this place and the people who inhabit it. Change is both mourned and acknowledged as a necessary part of what keeps a city alive. Do I wish pastrami at Katz’s still cost under $20? Yes. Do I acknowledge the reality of trying to survive as a Jewish deli in today’s climate? Also, yes. 

Speaking of Jewish haunts like Katz’s, I feel compelled to comment on the audio book narrator’s inability to correctly pronounce certain Jewish words as well as some NY locations. This was a shame, as the book is a quick listen and I otherwise enjoyed it. The narrator sounded very competent and professional, and I am sure this could have been avoided with a pronunciation guide and the right culturally appropriate listener as part of the audio editing team. Certain words did not sound right and really threw me out of the narrative. Other readers may not notice, but I wanted to scream every time the location Monsey NY was read/misread. If this sounds like you – read via ebook or physical copy instead of audio.

In the end, Liebson’s thoughts about his relationship with his father never quite gelled for me in the same way that his relationship with NYC did. I was much more engrossed by his descriptions of old Jewish NY and his discovery that not all of queens is a hellhole than I was by the father/son dynamic surrounding them. I found myself wishing Hello (and goodbye) To All That had a different publication date. Those unfamiliar with the snail’s pace at which traditional publishing works will not realize that this manuscript was likely completed before the events of Oct 7 changed so much for many Jewish people in the diaspora, including those who share many of the liberal politics that Liebson espouses in the book. While we hear about Liebson’s experience attending protests status post George Floyd’s tragic death and how deeply the January 2021 storming of the capitol cut him, we don’t get to know how he is doing right now or if recent events have influenced his decision to live in NY. For a book that is so very Jewish, and therefore likely to attract a great deal of Jewish readers for whom this issue is top of mind right now, it is an unfortunate accident of timing. Which I suppose is a signal of just exactly how momentous the times we are living in truly are. After 9/11, a global pandemic, plus widespread social unrest, who really had more chaos on their bingo cards? I sure didn’t. 

I wonder if Liebson is working on a sequel to cover these recent events. Many Jews have reported in with a wide range of personal life experience, and I’d be curious to have Liebson’s take in the mix. More than that, after spending so much time with him, I want to make sure he’s OK. In the meantime, I’ll hope NY has been treating him well and that the price of pastrami (currently $28.95 a sandwich) hasn’t caused him to flee yet.

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Ki Tisa has some very obvious themes, including the forgiveness for the sin of the golden calf, but I’m am choosing to go in another direction for this weeks book selection. On the heels of cookbook week, I feel it is appropriate to note that amidst the building of the temple sinks, the sin of the golden calf, and Moses literally seeing God, there are several lines about Shabbat observance in Ki Tisa. Nestled among these flashier counterparts, the sentences admonishing the Jewish people to keep the Sabbath, could be easily overlooked. That would be a mistake. They are foundational to so much of Judaism and they pair wonderfully with the cookbook Shabbat by Adeena Sussman.

Shabbat observance takes different forms in different branches of Judaism, but it is a central tenet in all forms of religious Judaism, and even a cultural touchstone for many Jews who otherwise do not participate in religious observance. It is frequently mentioned by Jews of Choice as catalyst towards their conversion and by historians as a reason for the endurance of Jewish people. 

In Shabbat, Sussman brings foods from different geographic regions of Judaism in easy to follow recipes. She also includes recipes running the full gamut from traditional Ashkenazi cholent, to “modern” dairy meals. The photos are stunning and the whole vibe is peaceful and warm – just like shabbat!

Shabbat is called the sign of the covenant between Jews and God, and my favorite way to celebrate it is with food. Pull up a plate and enjoy.

Have you ever read a detective story in which the classic noir detective locks and loads a super-soaker loaded with chicken soup (authentic, kosher, bubbe-made) and, protected by the weapon of his faith, heads into a hellscape catering to DC tourists? It’s available! The book is Hornytown Chutzpah by Andrew Hiller, and it’s just charming and fun.

It starts in classic fashion. A succubus, one of the sheydim, walks into hard-boiled detective Solomon Weiss’s office and asks him to clear her of murder charges. She introduces herself as Ms. Urrie (“I hate puns,” the detective reflects). She calls on him as Solomon the Wise Guy, a name that makes him wince, considering how much he’s left that identity behind to become more of a dick, as he keeps thinking:

“Solomon the Wise Guy was who I used to be. The guy who didn’t play dirty. Who didn’t drink. Who played everything straight. That was his rep, anyhow, even if sometimes Solomon Weiss looked the other way or got his hands greased while he tightroped the line between mensch and cop.” (8)

Off the detective goes to Hornytown, with his super-soaker of “a little kosher wine spiked with a kiddush” (7). (The chicken soup is for serious cases, since matzah balls gum up the works). 

The victim is Ronald (the Unicorn) Hart, the mayor of the goofy touristville hell he invented. In a corrupt system, with elements of the murder looking very sketchy indeed, Ms. Urrie calls on Solomon to clean up his act and rediscover who he used to be. As she concludes, “And, well, everyone knows when a Hornytown girl gets in trouble she can count on the Wise Guy.” When he hesitates, she pulls out “the big guns,” with some old fashioned Jewish guilt, asking, “Sol, don’t you believe in tikun olam anymore? Your duty to repair the world?” (25). She even throws in some Star Wars, just to top this off: “Please, please help me, Sol…You’re my only hope” (25). Pop culture references are always extra fun for the readers. The characters are fun too, with the right amount of self-awareness. 

Off they go, leaning heavily into the Yiddish slang. As Solomon narrates on one occasion, “To avoid the kvetching and as much tsuris as possible I improvised a few believable spiels and strategized on how best to shmooze them” (58). Arrested by the officials of Hornytown, one asks, “Jews don’t even believe in Hell. Why fight for someone your people don’t believe in?” (78). Of course, the succubus’s pleas have gotten to Solomon. Later, he mouths off with “I’m Jewish. We’re more about enduring pain than getting off on it” (91). As such, this is a decidedly goofy and decidedly Jewish spin on the hardboiled detective genre.  

There’s a twist ending, of course, as Solomon discovers the surprising culprit. He saves the day and sets things right, confirming that he still has a great deal of Solomon the Wise lingering within him. The book fittingly ends with a silly Yiddish glossary titled “A Wise-Guy’s Guide to some Jewish and Yiddish Words.” It’s fun and clever, as it subverts all the genre rules with heavy, heavy Jewishness. 

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Welcome to fashion week, Torah style! Many readers who have not read the full Torah before will be surprised to learn that this week’s Torah portion – Tetzaveh – largely deals with costuming. After receiving instructions for the building of the holy vessels, we must now clothe the priests that serve in the mishkan (and later in the Temple). Therefore, there are detailed descriptions of the garments worn by the high priest Aharon and his sons. Notably, one of the materials used is the mysterious Techelet.

Techelet has been a controversial issue of study for some time now, with scholars debating over what exactly it is. Most agree it is a form of blue or indigo, likely made by dying fabrics with material extracted from some kind of marine animal. There have been various people over the years who have claimed to know the source of techelet, and some who claim to be making true techelet even today. For an interesting history of those claims, but also a discussion on why the color blue is so special to Jews in particular, I recommend reading Gadi Sagiv’s Jewish Blues. In addition to the wonderful biblical tie-in surrounding techelet, it covers a history of Jewish use of blue (both forced and voluntary) in clothes and ornaments through various time periods.

Why an entire Parsha dealing with fashion? In Judaism, even the material and the mundane can be elevated to serve God. A priest with improper garments, no matter how holy his thoughts and pure his actions, is not fit to serve. We must pay attention and take care of our bodies and the world God gave us. For fashionista’s like myself, imaging what the choshen stones loeekd like provides an outlet for this part of ourselves. Just as God intended.

It is impossible to read Dinner Party Animal and not know the identity of the author. That is because Jake Cohen is literally on every page, from his hosting advice to comments about him made by his friends, you cannot escape him. This is both good and bad depending on how much you like Jake Cohen.

The recipes are up to par with Cohen’s other books, and the chocolate cake featured on the cover and in many of the photos does indeed create a showstopper (I actually witnessed a teen bake the whole thing from start to finish). The lay out is unique, with each chapter representing a full themed dinner party meal, rather than a specific group. Most of the recipes are kosher, a few are easily adapted to kosher, and a small minority should just be avoided by the kosher among us (maple bacon…). You might also need to rearrange the preset menus to avoid milk and meat issues. Overall, still recommended for the kosher consumer.

The photos have more of an old timey feel, which transported me back to my mother’s old Betty Crocker books and her collection of tin jello molds. This is not bad thing. Dinner parties have been something of a casualty of our increasing dependence on technology as well as pandemic isolation, and I think it is a good idea to bring them back, albeit with some of Cohen’s tips about not stressing as much as people used to about things being perfect. You shouldn’t need to buy a special jello mold to have friends over. The books proposed solution is to go heavy on the alcohol. I’m more of a lightweight in the drinking department, so I’ll suggest adding a few more appetizers/snacks instead.

Cohen’s menus are fun and easy, however depending on your culture you might need to add more items. I personally will faint if there are less than ten dishes on my table when company is coming over. I realize this goes against his philosophy of not stressing and making things easy, but I use a mix of very easy recipes to hep supplement the more complicated ones and I absolutely cannot survive with just one dessert. Sorry Jake, it’s just not happening.

All of Cohen’s book feature personal anecdotes, but this time instead of being about his family we see a lot of his friends. Particularly his famous friends. There are photos of them shoving food into their mouths, quotes of them roasting Jake, and so on and so forth. I think this is meant to give us a sense of what it is like to attend one of Jake’s parties, but I could have done without it. Luckily, the recipes made up for the name dropping and I just looked at the food photos instead of the famous people photos.

If you’re new to hosting, Dinner Party Animal will make your life easy. Everything is laid out for you right down to the necessary grocery list. For the more experienced, you might choose to mix and match like I do. Most of these recipes pair well with items in Jake Cohen’s other books. Don’t be intimidated by all the famous people. This is pretty straight forward fare, and you will enjoy sitting back and eating it with your friends and family. Even if they are not famous.

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Nobody knows how to have a good time like a “gingi.” The affectionate nickname means something more than just “red headed.” It conveys a sense of free spirit and adventure. In short, the kind of person you’d love to party with. Which is why Ben “Gingi” Siman-Tov and his wife Zikki are the ideal couple to write a book about hosting.

Their cookbook, Eat Small Plates, is more than just a collection of recipes. It’s a philosophy of hosting that will allow your home to always feel gracious and welcoming without too much fuss. Don’t be fooled by the word ‘small’ in the title. It refers to the size of the serving plates, not the amount of food guests will be eating. Essentially, they recommend having lots of options so people can try different types of food and never fight over the sole platter of a dish. You can see an example on the cover, but the pictures of Ben and Zikki laying out their numerous serving plates onto a feast table are an entire lesson in party planning.

I could eat an entire pan of the onion mechshe, and Zikki’s quick Amba is a life saver when you don’t have days to prep and ferment traditional amba. Meanwhile, Ben’s rugelach were versatile and I had fun trying different fillings in addition to the chocolate presented (pomegranate jam was my favorite). The main thing to know is that proteins are more limited – high quality, very fresh, and often raw. If you need to serve a full turkey or a roast to feel like you’ve truly fed everyone, then you’ll need to look elsewhere.

Eat Small Plates is also a wonderful peek into what happens when two different yet complimentary personalities get together and cook. There are asides from Ben and Zikki, and certain recipes are credited to one or another of them, but overall it is mostly a fusion. We hear about both their families and their journey to finding each other.The food is fun and flavorful, but also very thoughtful. I got the sense that enjoying a meal in their home would be a truly memorable experience.

The book itself is smaller than some cookbooks in height, which made it easier to hold and fit onto my kitchen book stand. There are photos for all the recipes and they are vibrant with bright colors and mouth watering food. While not strictly kosher, most of the recipes required no adaptation or could be adapted quickly. I’m excited to try more of the breads section. The feast table may be full of dozens of small plates, but I’m serving myself on a large one, because I really did want to try everything!

Note: BookishlyJewish received this book from the publisher after we inquired about a different title in their catalogue. We are so glad they sent it!

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For so many Jews, food is an expression of love. I certainly feel that love every time I open up Rae Dayan’s For The Love of Cooking. It was gifted to me by family, who knew how I was experimenting with Syrian Jewish cooking as an expression of my love for them. My prior repertoire was entirely Ashkenaz. Syrian food, while exciting, was a whole new flavor palette. With my copy of For The Love of Cooking, also came the generous offer to call any time I needed help, which I actually did!

When people think of Syrian Jewish food, they think of the stunning photographs in Aroma’s Of Aleppo. In terms of photography, comprehensiveness, and explanations about the community it is unmatched. But if you want your food to come out with that extra special something? You need For The Love of Cooking (extra points if you still have a DVD player to watch the videos of Rae preparing some of the dishes). There are very few photos, and there are a few recipes I am definitely not trying (cheese straws…) but you have never tasted keftes until you’ve made the ones from this book. The butcher always gives me a hard time when I buy my kibbeh homda balls, assuming I am mistaking them for classic fried kibbeh, until I review Rae’s recipe and he acknowledges I actually know what I am dong. And yes, there is a fried kibbeh recipe and I have made it. The Passover version is the best.

My favorite though, as is often the case, is a desert. The ajweh – date crescents -are ridiculously easy yet always a crowd pleaser. People ask me dubiously if I am sure I am Ashkenaz after I serve them (which I do every sukkot). I can feel Rae Dayan’s love not just for cooking, but for the people she was feeding, radiating off these pages. I only wish I had purchased more copies when the book was still easily available in print. Because gifting is a wonderful way to show love, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone have my copy.