Bookishly Jewish

Rebecca of Salerno: A Novel of Rogue Crusaders, a Jewish Female Physician, and a Murder by Esther Erman offers many facets. It’s the continuing story of Rebecca, the heroine of Ivanhoe. She ended that novel on her way to a new land, rejecting Ivanhoe’s Christian culture with all its persecutions and devoting herself to a life of celibacy.

While she and her father star, very little of the Ivanhoe story appears here. The only relevant part to them, in a new country, is King John’s persecution of the Jews, who increasingly flee England for safer homelands. (It also deconstructs the character’s insistence that she’ll devote herself to Judaism and the single life—contradictions in her culture of the time.) 

This is also the story of a medieval woman who has attended the medical school in Salerno, and the Kingdom of Sicily, which admits Jews, Christians, Muslims, women and men. Rebecca becomes a physician in such a culture and heals those around her, even as she deals with many forms of prejudice from outside her community and even inside it. Mostly, however, this is a murder mystery, as Rebecca investigates a crusader’s murder, apparently at the hands of a visiting Egyptian rabbi. It’s also a love story as she slowly falls for her fellow physician Rafael, though this tends to be relegated to the background and understated through Rebecca’s quest.

The mystery itself has surprises and unusual twists, as readers learn of the many people they shouldn’t discount. Rebecca investigates within the Jewish community, chatting with the women in synagogue and knocking on the doors of prominent families. As violence against the Jews rises even in this protected haven, there’s no need to discover who hates crusaders enough to murder them, only who would risk the safety of the entire Jewish community to do so. This adds a realistic level of politics, as Rebecca must negotiate with corrupt jailers, guards expecting bribes, and rulers who prefer expediency and scapegoating to any form of justice. The outrage these moments produce truly shares the history and culture of the time better than anything else could.

Of course, medicine at the time was medieval, even for Jews who had attended medical school. Rebecca relies on her understanding of humors, an interesting glimpse into history, but one she repeats painfully often. There are moments of great nobility and touching emotion from the characters. Jewish critics have disapproved before of having Jewish villains and selfish characters in books that portray some members of the community badly to the world. This book has many kind and sympathetic Jewish characters, including Rebecca’s father Isaac of York. Having one be corrupt and even greedy is understandable in such a detailed story. All in all, there isn’t much about Sir Walter Scott here, but it’s a charming historical murder mystery for those who enjoy such tales.

Find It: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

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Valerie Estelle Frankel is the author of over 80 books on pop culture, including Hunting for Meaning in The Mandalorian; Inside the Captain Marvel Film; and Who Tells Your Story? History, Pop Culture, and Hidden Meanings in the Musical Phenomenon Hamilton. Her Chelm for the Holidays (2019) was a PJ Library book, and now she’s the editor of Jewish Science Fiction and Fantasy, publishing an academic series that begins with Jewish Science Fiction and Fantasy through 1945. Jews in Popular Science Fiction is the latest release. Outside academia, she published the popular overview, Discovering Jewish Science Fiction: A Look at the Jewish Influences in Star Trek, Star Wars, Doctor Who, DC, Marvel, and so Many More. Once a lecturer at San Jose State University, she now teaches at Mission College and San Jose City College and speaks often at conferences. Come explore her research at www.vefrankel.com

Few books that I have reviewed are as widely recognized as Helene Wecker’s historical fantasy, The Golem and The Jinni. It doesn’t matter if it is a random person on public transport or a relative passing through my home. The individual in question will invariably stop, mention they read the book, and tell me that they loved it. Aside from reinforcing the fact that I am embarrassingly late to the party on this book, this plethora of happy customers also points to a feature of the book. No matter who you are, there’s something in here for you.

The story primarily follows a female golem, created by a shady mystic at the request of an only slightly less shady man looking for an obedient wife. However, when the would-be Master dies en roue to America our Golem is left stranded in NY. There she meets a Jinni who has been accidentally awoken from an oil flask by a copper smith. He has no recollection of how he got to NY or why he is chained in physical form. The two magical creatures find camaraderie in each other, despite their almost diametrically opposite personalities and life experiences.

The Point of View Character’s in this book are as numerous as its fans, and at first I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to follow it all. I grew up in an era when two POVs was considered a lot, so this plethora was almost an embarrassment of riches. I fretted over whether I would find out what happened to them all. Would all their story lines be wrapped up appropriately?

The answer, dear reader, is yes. Not only was every story completed, they were brought together in a whirlwind of excitement. Wecker is like a carpet weaver, holding numerous threads in her hands only to unleash them all in a glorious picture at the end.

All my well wishers were correct. I did love this book. I loved how the Golem and Jinni had such differing yet complimentary characters. I loved the descriptions of the lower east side. I loved the afterword where Wecker explains how this story came to be. Most of all, I loved how accessible the story makes Jewish fiction to the general marketplace. Because those people stopping me to rave about the book? They weren’t all Jewish. They were simply people who love a well told story. And this is very much a well told story.

Find It: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

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E Broderick is a writer and speculative fiction enthusiast. When not writing she enjoys epic games of trivial pursuit and baking. She currently lives in the U.S. but is eagerly awaiting the day a sentient spaceship offers to take her traveling around the galaxy.

The Soviet Jewish Bookshelf: Jewish Culture and Identity Between the Lines by Marat Grinberg explores a scholarly area many are unfamiliar with. The book has just arrived in Brandeis University Press’s The Tauber Institute Series for the Study of European Jewry, alongside biographies and examinations of particular eras. Grinberg has long thought about this topic and the nuances of Jewish portrayal in Soviet fiction. As he observes in the introduction, “My long and deep ancestral roots are in Ukraine, in the Podilia region, where, surrounded by both Russian and Ukrainian, I spent the first sixteen years of my life prior to coming to the United States in 1993.”

There’s lots of context, considering what the authors here might have read, like Kafka, and what was happening in politics and world history. Soviet Jews, “the single largest Jewish population outside of Israel and the us for most of the twentieth century” spent decades silenced, unable to communicate with the west, or often within their own culture if their writing was banned as subversive. As specifically Jewish writing was prohibited, readers clung to it and hid it, keeping this last trace of Jewish identity intact.

The book is divided into five chapters, beginning with the 1960s historical novels of German author Lion Feuchtwanger with a print run of 300,000 copies. This series essentially became the Soviet Jewish scripture and main sources of Jewish historical and cultural knowledge. The significantly lengthy second chapter explores more direct Soviet Jewish writing of The Thaw mid-1950s to the 1970s and early 1980s, as the culture began to stagnate. In the context of the time, the author considers Isaac Babel, the best known, along with Ilya Ilf and Yevgeny Petrov’s duology, The Twelve Chairs and The Golden Calf, in which the characters dodge bureaucrats and pre-Revolution survivors, all terribly corrupt. As Grinberg observes:

“In The Golden Calf, there is a quip that in the Soviet Union there are Jews, but there is no Jewish question; this quote was frequently on the Jewish reader’s mind and tongue. While ostensibly it signaled assimilation and eradication of antisemitism, it was meant to be read in reverse: Jewishness in the Soviet context is always there, hidden behind the curtain.”

Soviet Holocaust remembrance grew at this time, amid specifically canonized texts, also discussed here. Poems like “Babi Yar” by Evgeny Evtushenko allowed Soviet authors to express their grief, while Ilya Ehrenburg (1891–1967), Vasily Grossman (1905–1964), Anatoly Kuznetsov (1929–1979), and Masha Rolnikaite (1927–2016) wrote prose on this darkest of subjects. There’s an additional section on children’s books by Lev Kassil (1905–1970), Samuil Marshak (1887–1964), Valentin Kataev (1897–1986), Alexandra Burshtein (1884–1968), Boris Yampolsky (1912–1972), and Alexei Svirsky (1865–1942), in which naïve young characters wonder about Jewish identity.

The third chapter focuses on translations, as Soviet authors adapted books from Yiddish and Hebrew, also asking the question of whether Jewish authors could authentically write in Russian. Chapter four explores how Jewish knowledge was generated, encrypted, and interpreted in the culture of the time. Passed through black markets as subversive culture, it allowed Soviet Jews an insight into their forbidden religion. Some biblical sources were available, while even anti-Zionist literature could offer clues about their lost heritage.

The essays end with the Strugatsky brothers – a search on Russian Jewish science fiction turns them up nearly exclusively. The author cleverly points out the Jewish references in their massive collection with quotes and details, though they’re subtle and carefully deniable. There are several viscerally dystopian Holocaust scenes, but placed in fantastical settings. Jews appear but are more obvious as the wise but shunned “Clammies” of The Ugly Swans, defended by Doctor Golem. In an era of censorship and repression, science fiction of far future worlds offered a path to satirize the foibles of daily life and persecution offered by the government. Yuri Trifonov with his “city prose” wrote in a similar style.

All in all, this academic book offers deep insights into decades of Soviet Jewish culture, considering how they read, and what they wrote, all under the deep blanket of repression.

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Daf Yomi, the practice of learning a dedicated page of the Talmud every day, is an experience that unifies Jews across the globe. Whether you study alone, in a yeshiva, via podcast or chavruta, you are literally on the same page as thousands of others engaging in the same daily practice. Ilana Kurshan’s memoir, If All The Seas Were Ink, further drives that point home by chronicling Kurshan’s life durning one seven year Daf Yomi cycle. 

As a woman, a group traditionally excluded from learning Talmud but now actively contributing to scholarship in many communities, Kurshan’s experience felt unique to me. She related the Talmud to her own life which resulted in such hilarity as Rabbi themed Shabbat dishes and such poignancy as learning Tractate Gittin – the laws of Jewish divorce- while processing her own divorce. 

No knowledge of Talmud is necessary to understand the book. In fact, I was more confused by the constant literary references than I was by any of the Talmudic quotes. To be fair, that’s just part and parcel of the experience of viewing the Talmud through Kurshan’s eyes. She advocates for each learner bringing their own distinct experiences to the page and her stories make it clear she relates to the world through classic works of literature. I can appreciate that, even if our taste in books differs. (I’m more genre than literary) My fellow writers will also enjoy immediately being able to decipher which literary agency Kurshan worked for even though she never mentions the name. Plus, the Frankfurt book fair booths as metaphor for Sukkot booths was oddly apt.

My favorite anecdote was an argument Kurshan had on a bus with an elderly Jewish woman. Kurshan preferred to stand while placing her groceries on a seat. The elderly woman said this was selfish as the seat should be given to a person and not bags. Kurshan replied that it was given to a person – her- and she was choosing to use it for her bags instead of herself as this made her more comfortable. Immediately, I could see myself arguing both points. Nobody was right, but nobody was wrong. In Talmudic terms, it was a real “Taiku” moment. 

“Taiku,” is the phrase used to denote that an argument is being tabled indefinitely due to an inability to find an equitable solution. Nobody is wrong, but similarly, nobody emerges the victor. Instead, all parties agree to wait until the messiah comes to adjudicate between them. Which may not be so practical on issues of Jewish law, but it certainly comes in handy. Because Talmud is intended to be a back and forth. An argument between esteemed colleagues as they decipher Gods law. Judaism is not a stagnant practice. It demands active participation. Although part of me could not help but wonder if maybe the messiah has been taking so long to show up because they are dreading the enormous list of arguments awaiting them when they arrive. 

That thought is possibly a bit heretical, but it fits the overall tone of the book. Because Kurshan does not shy away from asking tough questions or bringing modernity to the text, going so far as to reconcile with various gender practices of Talmudic times by noting that according to the definition used in the Talmud, she might qualify as a man. 

I was enticed to perhaps pick up a Talmud too and draw my own conclusions. Which is the greatest gift. Daf Yomi is meant to unify through shared experience of Jewish texts. This book definitely fits the bill. 

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E Broderick is a writer and speculative fiction enthusiast. When not writing she enjoys epic games of trivial pursuit and baking. She currently lives in the U.S. but is eagerly awaiting the day a sentient spaceship offers to take her traveling around the galaxy.

I cannot count how many times I have been told, as a writer, to read my work out loud. Listening to the words, tasting their rhythm and cadence, helps identify awkward phrasing, unrealistic dialogue and a whole host of other problems. I’ve never tried it as a reader until I picked up Sacha Lamb’s delightful historical YA fantasy When the Angels Left the Old Country. As soon as the words left my mouth, I understood that this book was written by someone familiar with the unique speech patterns of native Yiddish speakers.

The story follows a Demon and his unlikely chavrusah, an Angel, as they leave their tiny shtetl and set out for America. The demon is out for adventure. The angel wants to track down a missing girl from their village. And although they will never admit it out loud, neither wants to leave the other behind.

As they journey both by steamship and through the perils of Ellis island they join forces with Rose, who finds herself traveling to America alone after her best friend decides not to make the journey at the last minute. Rose is brave, smart, capable and also utterly clueless as to why her friends defection hurts her so deeply. She and the demon make a fantastic team as the poor angel struggles with its own identity as both a servant of God and a being with wants of its own. Chief among those needs are its desire to stay with the demon even if other righteous deeds pull it in differing directions. 

Along the way we meet such various characters as two Dybbuks, an Ibbur and my personal favorite, a Christian demon. There are also human villains, Jewish and not, that must be dealt with. All this in addition to a damsel to rescue, who actually turns out to be be quite competent herself. 

The authenticity of the setting is baked right into the very language the characters use. Readers not familiar with Yiddish, or the distinct English phrases that Yiddish speakers use as a result of translation, might wonder at how the copy editor let this stuff through. I was grateful for every last STET Lamb employed to preserve this effect. Because read aloud, this book about immigration actually feels like coming home.

Note: the reviewer received a free e-copy of this book in exchange for an honest review after requesting it through NetGalley.

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E Broderick is a writer and speculative fiction enthusiast. When not writing she enjoys epic games of trivial pursuit and baking. She currently lives in the U.S. but is eagerly awaiting the day a sentient spaceship offers to take her traveling around the galaxy.

Set on Nantucket, Hannah Reynolds’ Eight Nights of Flirting, is a companion book to her previous novel, The Summer of Lost Letters, which also dealt with family mysteries and Jewish history in Nantucket. I knew absolutely nothing about the Jewish history of Nantucket and was fascinated by how Reynolds wove it into the plot in the first novel, so I was eager to read Eight Nights of Flirting and was confident I’d be in good hands. I listened to the audiobook while I was in my hometown for an early family Thanksgiving, which was also a celebration of my grandmother’s 100th birthday. It was the perfect time to read a Hanukkah romcom about a big Jewish family coming together for the holidays to celebrate milestones and heal old wounds.

Shira Barbanel has always sucked at flirting, but she’s got a target in her great-uncle’s assistant Isaac, who’s coming to her family home in Nantucket for the holidays. That gives Shira the motivation and the urgency – desperation, really – to ask for flirting lessons from the unlikeliest of candidates: her first big crush, Tyler, when they have an unplanned and unchaperoned sleepover due to inclement weather. Tyler, in exchange, wants an introduction to Shira’s great-uncle for internship purposes. Of course, Shira and Tyler find more than they bargained for when their flirting lessons bring them closer, and Shira must decide what and who she really wants. Shira’s dilemma is underlined by her discovery of a mysterious potential doomed love affair in the Barbanel family history, and her grandparents’ strained marriage (for more on that, you’ll need to read The Summer of Lost Letters).

It was viscerally painful to listen to Shira describe her confession of love to Tyler when she was fourteen and he was sixteen, but it made the burgeoning romance between Shira and Tyler that much more earned when they did get there. Shira’s awkwardness coming off as standoffish was deeply relatable, and I enjoyed how their relationship developed as they got to know each other better. I love a story about a crush going from projection of an unattainable ideal to a real, flawed person that you like in all their imperfections, and Reynolds did a good job of showing how Shira and Tyler both let down their guard and truly got to know each other throughout the course of the story.

This was an interfaith romance that didn’t belabor the issue, perhaps because the characters are young – Tyler is a freshman in college and Shira is still in high school (I didn’t love that, tbh, but I get it – for Shira to be too young for him when she has her big crush makes total sense. Also, Isaac was 19, and maybe I am old and square, but should these college boys be making out with high school girls?!? Why couldn’t both boys be 18-year-old HS seniors? But even with that quibble, I was invested in Shira’s romantic evolution). The challenge presented by interfaith marriage is touched upon more through the historical mystery aspects of the story, but it never gets heavy-handed. It also sets up the conflict of going after what you think you “should” want/what is expected of you vs. going with your heart, though that is not limited to the characters’ religions, but also their career and college goals and who they want to be in the world. Tyler not being Jewish makes a convenient entry point for readers who are unfamiliar with Jewish practices, since it sets Shira up to explain what may be unclear to a non-Jewish reader, making the story accessible to a wider audience.

This is a very sweet book to be snowed in with. I was invested in Shira and Tyler’s romance, as well as the family mystery. I loved Shira’s boisterous family and the emphasis on Hanukkah over Christmas. And I will definitely read whatever Hannah Reynolds writes next.

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Melissa Baumgart is the 2018 winner of the Katherine Paterson Prize from Hunger Mountain Journal for the Arts for her young adult short story, “Don’t Quote Me.” (https://hungermtn.org/dont-quote-me/) She has written about film for Bright Wall/Dark Room, We Are the Mutants, and Crooked Marquee. Melissa has an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts

One Night, Markovitch by Ayelet Gundar-Goshen is the story of two arranged marriages of convenience, of Israeli men during World War II marrying European women to save them from the horrors of Nazi-Occupied Europe.

The main character, Yaakov Markovitch, is completely unremarkable. When he returns to Israel and finds himself married to the beautiful Bella Zeigerman, he becomes obsessed with her, and vows that he will make her love him. He refuses to grant her a divorce, and the emotional turmoil he causes her is made worse by the reality of history–of tragedy, war, secrets, and loss.

I keep a copy of this book near my desk at all times.

Not because the story is brilliant (it absolutely is) or the cover is beautiful (it truly is), but because reading Gundar-Goshen’s work gives me creative freedom. Her voice is distinct, her view on the world unapologetic and uncompromising.

Jami Attenberg wrote in her newsletter recently that she likes to start her writing day with reading. She reads a book from someone she admires, or that relates to what she’s writing. I loved that advice. What better way to enter through the gates of storytelling than with another well crafted book?

I’ve started to do the same thing (it at least gives me a few extra minutes to be cozy in bed before I get to my desk). I’ve tried different books, but one book I always come back to is One Night, Markovitch. If I want to access the best version of my writing voice, I read a passage from her book, and it’s like a key that unlocks my best writing persona.

There is something about the way Ayelet Gundar-Goshen can puppeteer a cast of complex characters that I have admired since the first time I picked up the paperback of One Night, Markovitch.

Perhaps it is her psychology background, but Gundar-Goshen’s characters take actions that are absolutely repulsive to an outsider view. Yet, when she writes from their perspective, it is easy to empathize with a person that, had you had read about them in the news, you would have thrown the paper across the room in anger, calling them the absolute scum of the earth.

I love One Night, Markovitch because it’s the kind of book that reminds me why I write. It sweeps me away in an adventure, with characters I still think about that seem real and multilayered. The voice is funny but not so funny as to make it distracting, and the world is real and layered. Reality mixes with whiffs of magic in ways that are not distracting, but completely appealing to my magical-realism obsessed tastes, and like all her other books, the moral questions brought up are thought provoking and conversation inducing. This is a book worth the read–and in, my case, the reread.

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We’re pretty big fans of Stacey Agdern here at BookishlyJewish, so we were delighted to be asked to host the cover reveal for her upcoming novel, the first book in the Last Girls Standing series! The B’nai Mitzvah Mistake release from Tule publishing on June 1, 2023.

Sharing isn’t caring when it comes to your big day.

Judith Nachman loves working as a project manager at the Mitzvah Alliance charity, and after five years, it’s finally her turn to have the bat mitzvah of her dreams. Judith is enjoying every single moment of the process—until she learns she has to share her day with the annoying hockey player who derailed her sister’s career.

Retired hockey player Ash Mendel is determined to start an organization to support Jewish athletes, and the first step is to have his bar mitzvah. He’s not sure what he wants his day to look like, but he knows he definitely wants forgiveness from Judith, the woman he’s sharing the date with.

But Judith’s nephew needs to interview an athlete, and Ash needs professional advice for his foundation, so they exchange favors. Except as they get to know each other and their worlds start to mingle, Ash and Judith will have to decide whether sharing their lives as well as their B’Nai Mitzvah is the best decision they could make, or the biggest mistake of their lives.

Here is the cover, featuring artwork from ebooklaunch.

BUY IT: Amazon | B & N | Kobo | Apple Books | Amazon UK SHELF IT: Goodreads

Growing up often comes hand in hand with selective memory. It’s a basic human adaptation necessary for survival. If we remembered the pain of childbirth, nobody would ever have a second kid. If we couldn’t forget that time we tripped and fell, we’d never get up and try walking again. And, as evidenced in M. Evan Wolkenstein’s middle grade contemporary novel, Turtle Boy, if we remembered Middle School in all its glory, we might never be able to force our own children to attend despite their vehement protestations. 

Will, the star of the book, suffers from micrognathia, or small jaw. For some people it rarely causes any issues, but for Will, it has lead to difficulty eating and snoring that could potentially worsen as he gets older. There is even the lurking suspicion that it might have contributed to his father’s unexplained death during a surgery. All of which has lead Will to have an extreme fear of hospitals. Which is definitely a problem, since he’s scheduled to have corrective surgery right after his bar mitzvah. 

Due to his low self esteem and a host of other complex emotional issues, Will hides himself behind hoodies, glasses and books. This earns him the moniker Turtle Boy, which further exacerbates his desire to retreat from the world. In fact, the only place he feels comfortable, is in the wildlife preserve behind his school.

Out on the preserve, Will catches and domesticates wild turtles, even though he knows it is wrong to remove these creatures from the wild. When news spreads that the preserve is being sold to developers, he feels like his only place of refuge is being ripped away. 

Will’s withdrawl from society has lead to other complications beside an unfortunate nickname. A rift forms between his few remaining friends due to his inability to communicate what is bothering him and to understand that other people have their own problems. Plus, he has chickened out of every opportunity to complete the community service hours required for his bar mitzvah. Enter Rabbi Harris, the hippie-yet-oddly-wise, Hebrew school teacher. He pairs Will up with RJ, a non Jewish teen with a terminal mitochondrial disorder that has left him confined to the hospital.

The relationship is pretty rocky at first, but pretty soon Will finds himself emerging from his own shell to fulfill RJs requests. Along the way, he learns a lot about himself, how to be a true friends and maybe even help the nature preserve.

I’m not going to lie, this book had me tearing up. Although it is obvious from the beginning that RJ is extremely I’ll, watching this all play out through Will’s eyes, hit me like a freight train. I also got very misty eyed over Will’s progress towards a nuanced understanding what it means to tease and be teased, how to stand up for a friend, and how to protect the turtles he so loves. 

There are a host of secondary characters that are handled with both extreme gentleness and a vibrant sense of humor. From the acerbic girl who works at the pet shop to the nurse that Will keeps giving the side eye, everybody is allowed to fully develop as a character. Nobody is black and white. And nobody finds a magical, or even medical, solution to their emotional problems or broken self image. It takes hard work and this book does not shy away from that.

Will learns that surgery will not correct the way he sees himself, nor will it change how others view him. Most of all, he learns that letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It simply allows you to keep on living so that you can keep on remembering- in a way that selects the good over the bad. 

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E Broderick is a writer and speculative fiction enthusiast. When not writing she enjoys epic games of trivial pursuit and baking. She currently lives in the U.S. but is eagerly awaiting the day a sentient spaceship offers to take her traveling around the galaxy.

Nobody writes stubborn, smart, fiercely loyal, middle grade Jewish girls better than Sofiya Pasternak. Seriously. I dare you to find me a better example of a girl fighting against all odds for what she believes in than Ziva, protagonist of the historical MG novel Black Bird, Blue Road. 

Ziva is facing some pretty tremendous obstacles. Her brother, Pessah, is dying from leprosy. Although it is now curable, in the times of the Khazar empire, leprosy was a death sentence and lepers were sent away to live and die in isolated colonies to prevent them from spreading their disease to others. Ziva is determined to save Pessah from such a fate. Especially when she learns that Pessah has had a vision of the Malach Hamavet, the angel of death, that has come to claim him.

She is also an aspiring judge, a position largely reserved for men in the Khazar empire. While Ziva’s entire family has pretty much given up on both of these fronts, resigning themselves to sending Pessah to a leper colony and attempting to arrange a good match for Ziva, Ziva is undeterred. She is not going to watch her brother die and she is certainly not going to attend parties, wearing ridiculous Byzantine dresses, searching for her one true match so that she can settle down and give up her dreams. 

So what’s a girl in an ancient kingdom, best known for its starring role in Yehuda Halevi’s philosophical work “Kuzari“, to do? For Ziva the answer is team up with a Sheid to try and find a city where death literally cannot enter. Obviously. 

Ziva makes some pretty awful choices along the way, she’s only twelve after all, and she also learns a lot about her own internal prejudices. Most of all, she learns that there are no magical cures for the things that ail us both physically and spiritually, a lesson that is often overlooked in books featuring characters with disabilities. 

Ziva’s story is full of Jewish lore and legend but also the hustle and bustle of a kingdom long forgotten where Jews would graze their herds in the steppes and identify themselves based on the location of their origin. Readers will be pulled in by Ziva’s singular determination, but they will remain for the wonderfully researched traditions and folklore.

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E Broderick is a writer and speculative fiction enthusiast. When not writing she enjoys epic games of trivial pursuit and baking. She currently lives in the U.S. but is eagerly awaiting the day a sentient spaceship offers to take her traveling around the galaxy.