Bookishly Jewish

In honor of Tu B’shvat, the Jewish New Year for trees, we have an interview with Gillian Freedman author of Jews Milk Goats, the true story of how she and her spouse moved from North London to a small holding in rural Bedfordshire called The Gables. When the book was sent through our Suggest A Book Form, we knew immediately this would make a great feature for the holiday. Gillian was incredibly cordial, provided all the amazing photos that accompany the interview, and shared that at The Gables they plant a tree every year for Tu B’shvat. So settle in and get to know her with the interview!

BookishlyJewish: When I first read the cover copy for the book, I couldn’t help but smile. It’s such an interesting, and potentially hilarious situation. Without giving too much away, can you talk a little about why you left North London to take up farming?

Gillian Freedman: Back in the 1970s my husband, Jeremy, and I left London for the first time to live on a small patch of land in a cottage with a thatched roof.  We had the hippy dream of “living off the land” and we did this for nearly five years until we had one child and another on the way.  We realized that Devon, a county in the West of England, was too far from our families and Jewish life and we also needed to further our careers – mine as a physical therapist and Jeremy as an attorney.  

We became fully immersed in communal Jewish life in London as well as joining sports teams and giving our growing children a rich cultural diet.  Our son and daughter benefited from the close relationship they developed with their grandparents and great grandparents. Family Friday nights and synagogue on Shabbat shaped our week. 

Then, 30 years after we returned to London,  the children had grown up and established families of their own and Jeremy and I were ready for a new adventure.  We could have stayed within our cosy North London Jewish cocoon but we were both restless and felt that the time was right to spread our wings before the window of opportunity closed and we became too old and set in our ways.  

We bought a run down house and five acres that were only 60 miles from London and yet in the heart of the rural county of Bedfordshire. There was a 300-year old barn and stable block that had almost fallen down. The field and garden had lain fallow for over 40 years and we were keen to roll up our sleeves and get to work. We like a challenge and knocking The Gables into shape would prove to be the most rewarding challenge of our long marriage.

Although our friends and family were concerned about our ability to work, to farm and continue to live an observant Jewish life we were convinced that we could do it all.

BookishlyJewish: There are many, many rules in Judaism about farming and caring for animals. Can you talk a little about if any of this impacted your experience?

Gillian Freedman: In the second paragraph of the shema we learn that we Jews must care for our animals before we satisfy our own needs. That translates into getting up early in the morning to feed and water the livestock and to milk the goats before we come inside to daven and then have our breakfast.

On Shabbat our lighting and heating in the house is on a time switch. During the week we have a small, electric machine that we use  to milk the goats. On Shabbat we hand milk as we cannot turn the electricity off and on. Jewish law states that we are not allowed to use that milk for ourselves on Shabbat. The cats, Nigel and Mabel, are delighted to help us by lapping up saucers of surplus milk.

At Passover we sell our animals, their food and their housing in the same way that we sell our chametz. 

We do not castrate any of our lambs, kids, or calves because this is forbidden in Jewish law.

Jeremy is a keen beekeeper and he has been investigating how it is that Jews are permitted to eat honey which is the product of the bee, which is a non kosher creature. He has an answer but it would take at least an hour to explain the reason! Suffice to say Jews are allowed to eat honey but only from one species the Western Honeybee, apis mellifera.

BookishlyJewish: Does Judaism inform your farming experience and connection to the land?

Gillian Freedman: When we read the Torah we can see that Judaism is an agricultural religion, tied to seasons and harvests, animal welfare, sacrifices and tithes and much, much more. 

As Jews have become, for the most part, urban dwellers the connection to the land has been lost.  Jeremy and I not only live in harmony with the land, the seasons and the animals but we appreciate the laws that we read in the Torah that relates to all these agricultural issues.

Our flock of sheep are Jacob sheep, the very same species that Jacob took from his uncle Laban when he worked for him in order to be given the hand of Rachel.  The DNA of Jacob sheep has been traced back to the middle east and in recent years Jacob sheep have been reintroduced to Israel by a couple from Canada.  

Above all I see and experience the Creator’s hand in the beauty that I experience at The Gables every single day and, as so many of our visitors say, “It is a small slice of Gan Eden.” 

BookishlyJewish: What was the most surprising thing about the experience for you?

Gillian Freedman: From the outset we decided to be “out and open” about our Jewish identity and customs. Our neighbours would either accept us as we were or reject us. Not only have we been embraced by the community but they have shown a great interest in our Judaism, the Sabbath and the festivals, and are tremendously respectful. When I sat shiva for my mother many of my local friends paid condolence visits. We hold an annual Chanukah party and our friends surprise us by the number of latkes and donuts they can eat in one evening. They understand that we cannot eat in their houses and they are delighted to eat in ours! After the October 7^th massacre and atrocities I received message after message of concern and support from my local non-Jewish friends in the village and those in the nearby town. This support has continued and this sympathy has been far greater than my Jewish friends in London have received from their non-Jewish colleagues and acquaintances.  

BookishlyJewish: At some point you obviously sat down and decided to write a book about this journey. How did you come to that decision and was it hard to write?

Gillian Freedman: I have been a “scribbler” all my life and I have always wanted to write a book. I worked, brought up a family, ran a charity in my spare time for over 20 years and then took on the project at The Gables. My widowed mother passed away nearly two years ago. She and I were the best of friends and adored each others company. I would drive up and down to London twice a week to see her.  When she died I knew that it was a case of now or never for me to sit down and start that book that I had promised I would write. The catalyst was buying the goats – but that is a long story and in the book.  I started to write last year in January. Completely changed the format and shape in March and it was completed in late summer 2023.  

BookishlyJewish: Is there an intended audience for the book?

Gillian Freedman: It is a book for everyone and anyone.

The book has been read by secular Jewish readers who have told me that they have learnt a great deal about our Jewish calendar and festivals.

Religious Jews have responded to the history of the Jews in England and the stories of the animals.

Non-Jewish readers (many in the county) have told me that I was the first Jew they had ever met and now they have a greater understanding of Jewish life and practice from reading the book.

There really is, as my brother and children tell me, something for everyone.  Whether it is history, or farming, religion, animal welfare, funny stories and sad ones too.  It is all there but with, I hope and have been told, a light touch.

BookishlyJewish: What do you hope readers will take away from the book?

Gillian Freedman: I would like my Jewish readers to know that they can have the courage to be proud and observant Jews in whatever setting they live.  If we are true to ourselves and our lifestyle then I believe that others will show us respect. I want non-Jewish readers to understand our history and to realize that we are few in number, have survived many persecutions, but that we can contribute positively to society wherever we make our home.

BookishlyJewish: How did the goat, out of all the animals you cared for, get the place of honor in the books title?

Gillian Freedman: We sold our cows during the Covid Lockdowns.  We had never milked our cattle but had allowed them to feed their calves for a year.  Although Jeremy was very fond of the cows I was somewhat intimidated by their size and when the goats came into our lives I fell in love with them straight away.  All our visitors, young and old, are drawn to the goats. In fact it was because of the research that I did when we bought the goats that I actually decided to write the book.  Besides which Willow, the leader of the herd, is not an animal to be ignored.  She would have been extremely grumpy if I had not put her on the cover of the book!

BookishlyJewish: Fun fact about goats our readers might not know?

Gillian Freedman: Goats are highly intelligent creatures.  They are affectionate and enjoy cuddles and kisses.  Contrary to popular myth they do not “eat everything and anything.”  They are actually very discerning about their diet and if their hay falls on the ground they will not touch it.  

BookishlyJewish: I always end by asking every author if they have a favorite Jewish book to recommend to our readers.

Gillian Freedman: I recommend the book Outwitting History by Aaron Lansky.  As a young man of 23 years of age he set out to save the abandoned Yiddish books before it was too late. His quest grew and grew and although at the outset experts thought that only 70,000 Yiddish texts still existed he has so far rescued over 1.5 million Yiddish books.

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Find The Book: Goodreads |Bookshop | Amazon

Catch up with Gillian on her blog and linkedin

My childhood was punctuated in Barbie. Every birthday, I marched right up to the Barbie aisle and selected a doll, doll outfit, or furniture set. I was shown all manner of other toys by my parents. My options were limited only by our budget. I simply knew what I wanted, and what I wanted was a foot tall and could wear a wedding gown in the morning followed by a bathing suit in the afternoon and a power suit in the evening. On a trip to NYC, I rode the FAO Schwartz elevator and enviously drooled over the Barbie shoe lava lamps. How many orphaned Barbie shoes could even one of those pillars have matched up for me?

Like most of my friends, Barbie wasn’t all about fashion for me. She was also a way for me to be different people, try on different roles, and even flex my entrepreneur spirit. I sewed my first ever homemade garment for Barbie – a hooded riding cloak with gold trim. And all along, I had no idea that Barbie’s creator was Jewish. Until I saw someone mention it in a review of Barbie and Ruth, a biography of Ruth Handler, the woman who invented the Barbie Doll, written by Robin Gerber. I immediately knew I had to read the book too.

I opened Barbie and Ruth with the same anticipation that I opened a new doll box as a kid. I loved that Ruth had the guts to do what her inventor husband could not – actually run a business – and how their marriage lasted through the roller coaster that followed. I felt really seen when Ruth explained that little girls do not necessarily want to play with baby dolls. Sometimes they want their play to allow them to be bigger girls. This realization, that girls want a chance to try out numerous careers and ways of being a woman, was in my opinion Ruth’s true genius. There were similar dolls on the European market, but they were for adults and had more salacious purposes. Through Barbie and Ruth, I realized that Ruth Handler saw the raw power of letting girls imagine a world with limitless possibilities open to them. Plus, she had the chutzpah to use television advertising to convince a male dominated toy industry to buy a doll they swore would never sell because they assumed no respectable mother would buy a doll with boobs for her daughter.

Barbie and Ruth does not hold back from darker truths. Ruth was indicted for tax fraud, the Mattel employees quoted have very differing takes on her character and working style, her daughter Barbara (Barbie’s namesake) resented her for working, and her son Ken passed away from HIV/AIDS at a time when nobody in “polite society” talked about HIV or being queer. This struck me as fairly ironic since little girls all over the world have been known to explore their own sexuality by having two Barbie’s kiss and Earring Magic Ken became almost a gay icon.

Ruth is shown for what she likely was – a business pioneer during a time when women were told to stay at home, but also a polarizing figure who may have indeed been aware of tax fraud at Mattel, at least to some degree. To me, after reading the evidence presented, it felt like nobody was willing to give Ruth her proper title when it was due, her husband had to be CEO for a long time despite Ruth carrying out all CEO type duties, but everyone was more than willing to place the blame on her when the time came for that. It’s the story of being a powerful woman. Nobody claps when you’re up but they all come to throw stones when you’re on your way down.

However, if you’ve ever had a Barbie you’d understand that her creator likely couldn’t be kept down for long. Just like Barbie, Ruth had many acts. She was also a double mastectomy survivor who tried to move forward from the Barbie tax fraud debacle by starting a company that produced comfortable, confidence boosting, prosthesis for mastectomy survivors. Remember that reconstructive options were nill back then, and available prosthesis were bulky and ill fitting. Ruth gave women like herself, who had undergone unwanted mastectomies and mourned the loss of their breasts to cancer, a means to hold their heads up and still feel beautiful. She is also depicted as handling Ken’s illness with understanding and grace, as a contributor to several Jewish philanthropic causes, and in later life a mentor for women in business settings.

The prose of Barbie and Ruth is workmanlike. It felt to me more like a legal brief than a novel, which paired well with the framing of the narrative. The intro foreshadows Ruth’s legal troubles and then the book goes back in time to show the entire build up to the ultimate court case and later resolution. This includes Ruth’s growing up as the child of Jewish immigrants with a large family and being raised by her eldest sister. This book is not written in the style of biographies that are meant to feel like fiction or thrillers. I needed time to digest and make my way through. 

After finishing the book, I became one of the last people in the known universe to finally watch the Barbie Movie. I enjoyed the Ruth Handler cameo character, and based on the book felt it was truly representative of Ruth the woman. Much has been said about the movie and its different representations of feminism. I’m not a movie critic, so I’ll simply direct you to read those voices for a nuanced take on those issues while I focus on Ruth and her vision for Barbie. Barbie, like Ruth, has her flaws. Many of them are pointed out in the movie. None of us is perfect, but for some of us, Barbie lead us to believe that we could still dream big.

Barbie had every career under the sun, and above it – looking at you astronaut Barbie! -so it makes me smile to realize that I ultimately chose a career for which I didn’t have the corresponding Barbie as a child. Because isn’t that the point? By giving me so many different ways to play, to be, to exist, as a woman (albeit most frequently as a slim, white woman who never gave any indication of being Jewish) Ruth Handler allowed me to think past what was in front of me and dream for myself. I’ll never have Barbie’s figure, and I’m no blonde, but Barbie still had something meaningful for me and Ruth’s story did too. Because this little girl most definitely liked to pretend she was a big girl. And she still does, even after she’s all grown. 

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Writing romance was an interesting genre switch for me as an author. On the one hand, it’s not like I was transitioning from commercial sci fi to litfic, and I’ve always had a lot of romance in my speculative fiction, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected for me to expand my artistic portfolio in this way. On the other hand, there was a whole new world of reader expectations for me to tackle – including new tropes. There were many that came easily to me, others that came with a bit of practice (fittingly, slow burn is in this category), but there is one that I just never took to – enemies to lovers. I struggle to see how two people who well and truly hate each other, and have justifiable reasons to do so, can fall in love. So I was curious to see how Arden Joy would handle this in her debut adult romance, Keep This Off The Record.

The story follows old high school rivals Abby and Freya as they meet again years later at a reunion. Predictably, things do not go well. However, neither can put the incident behind them and move on since Abby’s best friend and Freya’s close coworker hit it off. Let’s just say the “enemies” portion of the story is very successful. I believed that these two hated each other with a passion. To the point where I almost didn’t continue past Chapter 3, because I too sincerely and deeply loathed Freya despite spending some time in her point of view. I was TeamAbby right off the bat, and when she threw her drink at Freya, it felt emotionally cathartic for me as a reader.

Freya is an award winning journalist and media darling, adored by her many fans as a trailblazer and feminist in an often male dominated space. She’s also the kind of person that values image and popularity above all else, sacrificing those around her to maintain power and status. This reader felt Freya’s every action was permeated by a deep hypocrisy. What kind of feminist mocks another woman for living alone or having a cat, and how image obsessed do you have to be to not so subtly pay off the bartender with an outsize tip so that she’ll take your side and ignore the fact that your high school BFFs are basically a two woman gossip mill intent on destroying everyone around them? Sure, we later learn that Freya is also deeply insecure and has sacrificed pieces of herself – including her queer identity – to maintain her position, but that doesn’t excuse the way she treated people in high school. Especially when she continues to repeat that behavior now. It made me not want to spend any more time with her, or in her head.

Luckily, the prose and banter in this book were so hilarious, they pulled me along into the later chapters. Much of this witticism comes in the form of a delightful cast of supporting characters. Indeed, these secondary characters get much more page time than I am used to in a romance and there is a second love story embedded within the main romance. Abby’s best friend Naomi falls in love with Freya’s associate producer Will. Their relationship provides much of the drama for the book and is very satisfying, as is the entire bride crew. I was especially hooked by Riley, the nonbinary fashion designer, who somehow manages to make everything better.

In terms of heat level the friend crew banter is definitely X-rated. However, the actual romance on page is limited to a few steamy kisses and sexts, after which everything fades to black. As someone who prefers her romances high heat and my banter clever without relying on sexual jokes, I might have swapped those two, but that is a personal reading preference and it didn’t affect my enjoyment of the book. This was safe enough to read on the subway and the attraction and embraces were so well done I can only hope Joy experiments with leaving the door open in some of her future offerings.

Not liking a main character off the bat is not an immediate DNF for me. As a Jew, I believe in reparation of both the world and ones own personal short comings. However, I also believe that secretly having feelings for someone does not justify treating them like garbage. It is not cute from kids on the playground and it is certainly not OK from an adult. It takes a very specific type of soul searching to move on from that type of behavior, and I saw none of this from Freya while she and Abby were starting to realize they may have more than friendly feelings for each other. She ponders what her prior actions might say about her as a person, but she has not yet shown any capacity to stop harming others (or herself) in an effort to keep up her image. It is therefore a very tidy narrative move when this exact issue is what leads to the third act break up and Freya has to actually recon with her behavior and take some public risk in order to win Abby back.

In the epilogue we see Freya complete more of this work, including having an impact on the world at large, and I was grateful for it. Because while all the sexy banter and arguing leading to kissing is fun, what typically holds me back from this particular trope is that oftentimes there is no believable process of character transformation. Without it, the reader is left wondering how long this relationship will actually last and how much hurt the characters are in for down the road. Here we get a full view of Freya taking her change forward and trying to help others recognize that they should not need to put others down in order to succeed in life.

Abby and Naomi are both Jewish, and there are casual references to hosting a Rosh Hashana dinner, attending Hebrew school, and Abby wearing a star of David necklace. Freya, Will and several of their friends are not Jewish. The book therefore features two interfaith romances, although it does not dwell much on how the characters feel about that aspect of their relationships. It simply shows people who just so happen to be Jews living their regular life, with the Jewish practice that they choose to engage with completely normalized into their existence. I really, really love when books just let Jewish people be themselves, without any heavy handed exposition.

Overall, I’m glad I stuck around. Keep This Off The Record has some very delightful banter, a well rounded group of friends, and an actually believable enemies to lovers plot line. The major star, for me, was the prose which shone from the very first page. I’m interested to see what Arden Joy writes next.

Note: BookishlyJewish received a physical arc of this book from the publisher after they reached out to offer one. No strings were attached, but presumably they were hoping for a review.

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We were thrilled with the opportunity to sit down with Laura Samotin to talk about her upcoming book The Sins on Their Bones. We’ve been following Laura, even before the book announcement, due to her fantastic reputation as an editor and overall supportive vibe. Read on for more about folktales, how to talk with demons, writing vs. editing, and so much more!

 BookishlyJewish: Where did the idea for this story come from?

Laura Samotin: I was reading through some books on Eastern European Jewish folklore and came across the story of the homunculus of Maimonides, which included this fascinating “recipe” for creating this kind of creature. At the same time, I’d been playing around with Dimitri as a character—a man who had lost everything and blamed himself, even though objectively what happened to him wasn’t his fault. I didn’t have a story to put him into, but after reading these folktales, the threads of a plot began to come together. That’s how most of my writing works: scraps of story ideas all gather in my brain, until they eventually come together into something resembling a coherent idea.

BookishlyJewish: I imagine a ton of research went into writing this particular story, care to share any highlights?

Laura Samotin: I knew, when writing TSTB, that I wanted the book to be set in a Jewish-normative world, with a magic system based entirely on Jewish myth and mysticism. In order to make that happen, I relied on a number of scholarly and primary source texts—I have a research background, and so delving into this book the same way I researched my PhD dissertation was quite fun for me. While I have a bibliography of key texts in my author’s note, I think one of the highlights for me was reading about the ways in which Jewish mystics thought that people could interact with demons, including the (fairly disgusting) advice that people who wanted to see demons could put the powdered afterbirth of a black cat into their eyes (do not try this at home).

BookishlyJewish: That sounds like hard work! How long did this book take to bring to fruition, from idea conception to the soon to be publication?

Laura Samotin: I am a very fast writer. I wrote the first draft of this book in 19 hours over the course of a month in June 2021, but then spent the last two years revising it with my agent, and then my editor. While the initial task of putting pen to paper was quite quick, it took hundreds of hours and countless revisions to really get to the heart of the story.

BookishlyJewish: I bet that answer will surprise many of our readers. Have there been any surprises for you in the book journey, either in how the story developed or in the publishing  process?

Laura Samotin: When this book went out on submission (the process where agents send the book to editors at publishing houses to see if anyone wants to buy it for publication), it had three points of view – Dimitri, his ex-husband Alexey, and a soldier named Zora. After an R&R by my now-editor, the book was acquired with three points of view – Dimitri, Alexey, and Dimitri’s spymaster Vasily. I won’t spoil the story, but suffice it to say that my editor was able to see to the heart of what the plot should have been initially, and a whole series of things fell into place when I made that POV switch.

BookishlyJewish: Who is the ideal audience for the book?

Laura Samotin: One of the best surprises for me was just how much readers connected with TSTB, Jewish or not. While I hope that Jewish readers feel at home in the book’s pages,  I also intended for this to be a universal story about love, loss and belonging. Anyone who enjoys fantasy should (hopefully!) be a fan of the book. And if you’re someone who picks things to read via AO3-style tags, TSTB has: emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, lovers to enemies, found family, confessions, and also “this story features a goat”.

BookishlyJewish: I’m in it for the goat! But seriously, is there anything you are hoping readers take away after finishing the book?

Laura Samotin: In many ways this book is about grief, the grieving process, and the ways in which it both hurts and heals to examine your past through a different lens. Dimitri’s journey is one of forgiveness of himself, and I hope that’s meaningful for readers who struggle with similar issues.

BookishlyJewish: A lot of our readers are also writers, do you have a piece of advice for them that you wish someone had shared with you?

Laura Samotin: Don’t compare your writing to books on the shelves. TSTB, when it gets into readers’ hands, will be the product of hundreds of hours of work on the part of dozens of professionals, from my agent to my editor, to in-house readers and copyeditors and sensitivity readers and more. The first draft that I wrote is very different from the finished product, and I wouldn’t be capable of producing that final product in isolation. A lot of writers get discouraged because they don’t think they’re “as good” as the authors they admire, but it’s important to remember that all of those authors had a lot of professional assistance in polishing that book and making it as good as possible.

BookishlyJewish: What’s next for you and your writing?

Laura Samotin: The sequel to TSTB will be released in 2025, so once TSTB has made it to shelves, that’s my focus for the foreseeable future! I’m excited to connect with readers as a debut author, and look forward to continuing to support and uplift other Jewish SFF authors. 

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Find The Sins On Their Bones: Goodreads | Bookshop | Amazon

Jewish middle grade books often feature a rite of passage called, depending on what culture the character is from, either a bat mitzvah, bar mitzvah, b’nei mitzvah or the newer phrase zerah mitzvah. Suffice it to say that all these terms are for a life cycle event celebrating the transition from immature childhood to emotional and spiritual maturity. It is a ceremony meant to mark the ability of the individual to take responsibility for their own actions while simultaneously having the community embrace and support them. This is done in different ways in different steams of Judaism, and as my own bat mitzvah was fairly low key I always enjoy reading about how other cultures and individual personalities celebrate their event. Including those, like main character Zippy from Laurel Snyder’s MG fantasy The Witch of Woodland, who were not intending to celebrate at all.

Zippy, which is short for Zipporah, is an only child from a family that identifies as reform Jewish and mostly attends services for the high holidays. She has to miss school for Jewish holidays, resulting in extra school work, and does not attend Jewish after school like some other young people from her Synagouge so she is surprised when her mother decides that she is to have a bat mitzvah, including leading prayer services in Hebrew. She is specially concerned because she’s not entirely sure she believes in any of the faith aspects of Judaism. The Rabbi is encouraging, even pointing out that her questioning of faith is in itself a very Jewish concept, and encouraging Zippy to be welcomed into their community.

Turning twelve has not exactly been simple for Zippy. She feels left behind by her classmates, who are suddenly interested in dating and lip gloss, while Zippy is more interested in witchcraft and spells. She’s even losing her best friend who wants to hang out with the cool crowd and cannot understand why Zippy won’t at least try to go on this journey with her. The addition of new religious obligations isn’t helping matters. Which is why Zippy, performing a spell in desperation, manages to summon a magical winged girl named Miriam who seems to need Zippy just as much as Zippy needs a friend. 

The Zippy/Miriam relationship is complicated but so is the Zippy/Torah relationship. Her bat mitzvah parsha, Mishpatim, is not what she expected. In her own words, it’s “wackadoodle” and even the grown ups in her life seem surprised and uncomfortable when they realize what they have actually asked her to read. Except the Rabbi. He handles the entire thing with aplomb, praising Zippy’s willingness to engage with the text. 

Indeed Zippy’s engagement with the text is a lesson in both perspective and how grown ups underestimate teens. When Zippy discovers the sentence “though shalt not tolerate a sorceress to live,” in her parsha her response is not the abject horror I would expect a self proclaimed witch to feel. It’s delight that the Torah acknowledges witchcraft and a mild annoyance with the people in her life for not sharing this crucial fact with her. Eventually, she gets around to dealing with why witchcraft was prohibited and how to read the Torah in a modern context. She also deals with the mysterious amnesiac magical girl with wings situation, and works things out with her best friend. 

Zippy does not come around to desiring a dating life, but she does ponder why everyone else does and some of her friends are engaged in relationship both straight and queer. So if your kid is one that does not want any of the kissy stuff in the books they read, this may be a good choice for them. They may find a kindred spirit in Zippy who is in no rush to think about all that, but finds a way to still be supportive of her friends. 

In the end, the story of a bat mitzvah is a story of emotional maturity, no matter what ceremony is involved. Zippy learns about community, friendship and how to be herself without cutting herself off from things those around her enjoy. It was fun to spend some time with her and read her story. 

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I’d like to get something out of the way before I review Power To Yield, the most recent short story collection from Bogi Takács. I was insanely flattered when the author filled out the BookishlyJewish Suggest a Book Form, and even provided a brief explanation of eir work as if I was not already a raging fan of eirs. So I went into this reading feeling pretty pumped, but also having read some of the stories in their original venues. It was intriguing to see them laid out in this way and several stories were new to me as I did not have access to them prior. The forward by Ada Hoffmann is dead on about Takács employing perspective in a unique way. The reader will encounter human perspectives that are orthodox, queer, neurodivergent, disabled, and many other things. And that’s before we get to the perspectives of AI, aliens, and plants. There are even humans that become plants ( twice!!!). 

As a writer, I’ve long struggled with the fear that the perspective I write from may not be welcome, or that every sale is just a fluke, and the novelty will soon pass for editors. It doesn’t help that I once got a rejection calling the setting of the women’s mikvah “exotic.”  As if a tradition still practiced by millions of people worldwide is nothing more than an endangered species spotted in a zoo. So to see Takács in And I Entreated have the main character describe another character with the phrase “They davka looked Jewish,” was particularly special for me. Like choke on water going up my nose in surprise special. Because migration is another one of Takács’s themes and that phrase is the language of home to me. It tells me that not only can I tell my stories, I should be doing so in my own words. 

I suspect a lot of people will favor the title story Power to Yield, and for good reason. It includes aro/ace characters with varying cognotypes that we Earth dwellers would likely call neurodivergence, engaging in a magical form of BDSM for ethically complicated reasons. They acknowledge that their choices are flawed, but still the best they can make at this time because sometimes freedom requires certain compromises. It’s the type of story that you sink into and think about for a good long while after finishing it. But it was not my favorite. That particular award goes to An Errant Holy Spark. 

An Errant Holy Spark, on it’s surface is about an AI, the people that invent AI, and alien communication. This is all good stuff, but that’s not why it’s my favorite story from the collection. I really, really enjoyed the character of Dani, a trans Jew who teaches the AI about Torah and why G-d bestowed a divine spark upon an AI. When the arrtificial intelligence comments,

“Mother always tried to look “American,” as she put it. Dani looked American and wore all this ethnic clothing. I could not figure this out for years.”

– it really encapsulated why varying perspectives are valuable in story telling. I loved that line, but when Dani says –

“I was thrown out of an Orthodox synagogue, not all of
Judaism itself. That would be quite a feat! …. I’m too Orthodox still to be Reform, ….Too trans to be Orthodox, at least in their eyes. And I believe because it feels right.” (The … represents text I removed for brevitys sake ).

– I felt a whole lot of feelings that are not easily quantified. It was like a dagger through the heart and a hug all at the same time. In a good way. I could see why the aliens chose to communicate with Dani specifically. I suspect I’d enjoy communicating with them too. Alas, they are fictional and reading the story is as close as I’ll get.

This is a book that will challenge ones own perspective even as it validates it. There are things to laugh about, things to ponder, things to make a person wonder in the best sense of the world. Your favorites will be different than mine, and that’s cool, because we each have our own perspective and voice that we bring to reading too. That’s the real take away here. That all these different ways of seeing the world are valid.

Note: BookishlyJewish received a free e-arc of this book from the author through our Suggest A Book form.

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When Esther J. Hamori’s book, God’s Monsters, popped up on the BookishlyJewish Suggest A Book form, I was pretty excited. I’m not sure who submitted it, anyone is welcome to suggest a book, but this individual had clearly been paying attention to my personal reading choices. I have often written about my love for Jewish mythical beasts and my own use of them in my fiction. A book about monsters written by a professor at the Union Theological Seminary had the potential to be interesting AND provide fodder for future stories. I was in. 

Those expectations were met. The book is written with a humorous style that helps make some of the drier, research heavy, portions come life. There are many pop culture references (a lot of which I admittedly did not get. I’m an honest woman about my less than full participation in the cultural zeitgeist), but also stories about the authors own experience of monstrosity and a few footnotes attributing images or quotes to her students. Several of the detailed creatures have already appeared in my writing and they will continue to do so in a more nuanced way now that I have a new perspective on them. However, what struck me most was how the book drove me to think deeply about the creator of these creatures, namely God.

The book has a central thesis, building towards the final chapter, in which we explore God as a monster. The picture painted is not a pretty one, but that is to be expected when our only source information are passages relating to biblical monsters. There is definitely a lot to learn about the creator and deployer of these monsters, but it felt a little false to do so in a vacuum ignoring any and all other aspects of God. I didn’t fully connect to this last chapter, partially because I felt it was too little too late. The chapter was fairly short, and by keeping it as a grand finale instead of scattering some of the very deep insights it contains throughout the book, the author lost me along the way. I had formed my own conclusions by that point, not all of which dovetailed with the books.

That doesn’t mean it was a waste. It simply means I enjoyed the book in a way that is perhaps different than what Dr. Hamori intended, which is never a bad thing. This philosophical kind of reading required me to pause after each chapter to work through some very complex thoughts. While the books ultimate premise might not have convinced me, I did learn quite a bit, and found my own conclusions satisfying.

At this point, I hope you’re wondering what those conclusions are, because I’ve pretty much already decided to share them. But first I’d like to include a few content notes as the BookishlyJewish readership encompasses a wide variety of religious thought and practice. The book contains not only descriptions of monsters from the Hebrew Bible but also some from newer Christian writings. Dr. Hamori correctly uses the term “Hebrew Bible” rather than the misleading and somewhat derogatory “Old Testament.” She also addresses the innate struggle in gendering God and explains the various choices made in the book on this topic. I appreciated this a great deal. However, as a person that grew up as an Orthodox Jew, I was interested in the Christian passages only for what they could tell me about Christianity. I did not consider them valid evidence or contributions about the nature of my God, because I’m not Christian. Any picture of God emerging from Christian writing is not relevant to me, but it is relevant to a great deal of other people who do believe those writings to be divinely inspired. 

Which brings me to my next point, one that helps form many of my conclusions drawn from the evidence presented in the book. Dr. Hamori often refers to authorship of both bibles and the implication is that these are human texts, not necessarily the word of God. However, if a person does not believe these books were divinely inspired, it’s pretty hard to claim they actually say something about the nature of God. A bunch of made up stories or hallucinations from would be prophets, are not exactly valid evidence. They don’t say anything about a divine being who had nothing to do with their creation. Indeed, some who hold that the Bible is a solely human creation may not even believe there is a God in the first place. Certainly lots of Jews do not believe in God. So what then are those readers to glean from all the arguments in the book?

I can’t answer that for every reader, but for me that view would mean that these writings tell us about the people who wrote them. We see what their perception of God was, how it differs from the prevailing one today, and how they may have needed something or someone to blame their troubles on. The book of Job, which the author repeatedly cites as one of Gods worst offenses, handily proves this point. Bad things happen to good people. To prevent all of us from collapsing beneath the weight of that knowledge, someone or something needs to take the blame. God is the easiest target. They are all powerful, can do no wrong, and are also very handily not comprehensible to humanity. We can lay our burden at Gods feet and promptly forget about it all because we could not possibly understand the ways of God. Frankly, being responsible for all the worlds ills, including death and plague, is a beating that only a God figure is strong enough to withstand. In her last chapter Hamori touches on this idea of comfort in a God that also dwells in the dark places, and I would have loved to see it expanded.

But what about those, like myself, who do believe in some form of God and who feel that at least some of these writings were divinely inspired? I can’t answer this questions for the Christian’s, because as previously mentioned, I’m not Christian. Indeed, some of the quoted Christian passages were a pretty wild ride for a first time reader. I will focus solely on a Jewish perspective, and I would pose that from the Jewish tradition, very little quoted from the Hebrew Bible is surprising. Jews have never romanticized our angels into the winged cherubs found on Hallmark greeting cards. From the very first chapter of our Bible we are told that humans were created in Gods image. Which means we have to look no further than ourselves for connection and understanding. Humanity is both utterly perfect and utterly flawed. We are capable of extreme kindness, but we also daily see proof of our epic ability to behave like monsters. Part of this is our own free will, but where do these desires come from if not from the one who made us?

I am not a Rabbi or a biblical scholar, but I struggle to find a passage in Judaism that insists God is perfection personified. All knowing, incomprehensible, all powerful. Sure, that is definitely in some liturgy somewhere. But it may not be heretical to suggest that God, and their many creations, is flawed. Indeed, repairing a flawed world is a central tenet for many branches of Judaism. Which begs the question of why God set us such a task and partnered with humans in this way if they could create a flawless world instead. There are many answers, including pretty theories about God desiring to reward us, but those have always been to forcefully saccharine to ring true to me. Plus, they require too much suffering for one righteous human to reap their reward. I would instead wonder if God too is seeking to repair and understand a flawed nature of their own. We cannot understand God, but we can understand ourselves, and that’s the closest we’re going to get. And boy are we ever flawed.

It’s been awhile since I thought so deeply on a religious topic. Perhaps in another life, had I been born to a different gender or life circumstances, I might actually have been a Rabbi or theologian. I’ve always enjoyed learning about the worlds various religions. Perhaps there may yet be a second act for me in Jewish nonfiction writing. Who knows? The possibilities are endless. After all, I contain a spark of God within me,  and I have Dr. Hamori to thank for reminding me of that. 

Note: BookishlyJewish received a free review copy of this book after contacting the publisher when the book was suggested through our Suggest a Book Form.

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It has been very difficult for me to create recently. Like many creatives, I have periods where art (in my case, words) flows like water, and other times where writing is like extracting moisture from a dessert. During those fallow periods I find it helpful to take the age old advice and “refill the well,” but not in the way that many people use this phrase. I’m not actively running around participating in exciting activities, reading new and experimental styles, or picking up skills by enrolling in classes. While those things are great, what I need is a fuzzy blanket book. You know the type. The book that feels like it is wrapping me in a snuggle, keeping me safe and warm. I have several of these much loved tomes, and one of them is the graphic novel Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu.

The book follows a Jewish witch named Nova, who is living with her grandmothers instead of taking a traditional witch apprenticeship. Nova’s parents died some years ago and she’s really just needed the comforts of home. But when her old childhood friend Tam, a nonbinary werewolf, comes back to town, Nova is thrust into an adventure she had not necessarily been seeking.

Tam has always missed Nova, and the sparks fly as soon as these two reconnect, but Tam’s stepfather has been making their life miserable for some time now. Tam’s childhood was tumultuous and destabilizing and they are now struggling to escape a cult seeking to use their werewolf magic for nefarious purposes. Worse? The stepfather has been in on it this whole time. Tam has not had much love in life, or other people to rely on, and they finally find that support and caring with Nova and her grandmothers.

Love and compassion for each other, no matter what, are themes that shine off these pages. It is clear that the authors placed a great deal of thought into each word and graphic. The result is a book that heals the spirit. From the way the villains correctly gender Tam, because even despicable people trying to sacrifice another human should be capable of using they/them pronouns, to Nova’s family eating mooncakes in the Sukkah, every page is full of sources of joy and inclusion. The romance is swoony, the adventure exciting but not too scary, and the narrative choices full of kindness to the reader. These was a moment I was concerned we were heading towards a weird love triangle or discrimination against witches scenario with Nova’s scientist best friend but it did not happen. In fact, the exact opposite occurred. I should have known better than to be concerned. I was in safe hands the entire time.

Sometimes a reader just needs to feel safe and secure and loved in order to fully enjoy a book. Those feelings are abundant in Mooncakes. Which is why it sometimes helps me find inspiration when I am no longer in love with my work, or maybe even myself. Tam learns that we are all worthy, and Nova finds a way to move on. This reader learned those things too, and I’m better for it.

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There is definitely a joke to be made about sexy firefighters, romance novels, and Hanukkah – a holiday in which Jewish people light open flames in their homes for eight nights in a row. However, I’m not going to make it because somehow Rebecca Crowley has managed to provide us with Shine A Light, a straight romance featuring a Jewish firefighter and an actress who has recently burned down her apartment, and it is ridiculously sweet. 

Our heroine, Ellie, is an aspiring actress who spends her days working as an executive assistant, a job she hates, because it afforded stability and much needed cash while her mother was ill. She remained in the cubicle even after her mothers passing in order to save up enough funds to move to Los Angeles. She generally avoids her home town of Orchard Hill due to painful memories. But all that changes when she is forced to move in with her sister as her apartment is severely damaged by the fire. And lo and behold, her sisters next door neighbor is none other than sexy firefighter Jonah, who offered her words of comfort after the fire. 

Ellie and Jonah each have their own family issues to work through, but no matter what is going on, they meet each night at their respective windows to light menorahs together. The book is low heat, the physical romance only extends to kissing, but the tension is definitely there. Ellie and Jonah are attracted to each other but they must each first figure out what they actually want in life before starting a romance. 

Crowley has managed to give us a very Jewish sexy firefighter. Jonah is a former rabbinical student, so he is equally capable of waxing philosophical and carrying people out of burning buildings. And in a pivotal scene Ellie remarks on this in a hilarious way. Hanukkah is a holiday of Jewish warriors who defeated a much larger army. They fought not because they couldn’t assimilate into the Greek culture that often prioritized physical prowess, but because they didn’t want to. In a world that sometimes stereotypes us as weak and overly intellectual it is an important reminder that Jewish people can be anything they want to be. On their own terms. 

Note: BookishlyJewish received an e-copy of the book after we reached out and requested one.

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Everybody has that special book, the one they curl up with when the world is too much and they just need a break. The one that tells them everything will be OK. The one that makes the impossible possible while simultaneously giving the reader a hug. For me, that book is the Friendship and Festivals Romance Series by Stacey Agdern which begins with Miracles and Menorahs. 

Protagonist Sarah loves Hanukkah so much, her friends have taken to calling her the Hanukkah Fairy. When the books begins she has recently been named Vice Chair of the Hanukkah festival in the small of Hollowville where she lives. Sounds perfect right? It would be, except a new town trustee has decided the Hanukkah festival would be much better off if it more closely resembled what other small towns do for the winter holidays, namely a Christmas tree and carols. Basically, like every Hallmark movie that refuses to acknowledge the existence of people who do not celebrate Christmas as anything more than tokens, this trustee is determined to bulldoze over the Hanukkah festival unless Sarah can convince the town that Hanukkah is worth fighting for. 

She assembles a helpful crew – including a publicist who gets the festival some great press and lots of interested vendors who help her diversify the food offerings to showcase many cultures, but one thing is missing. Nobody can find a sculptor willing to craft a centerpiece menorah, and without it the new trustee will plunk a giant Christmas tree in the center of the festival (taking a moment here to shout out to the tree vendor for exceedingly ethical behavior – you’ll know what I mean when you get there and you will applaud him too). There is one sculptor that comes to mind – Isaac who just so happens to be the grandson of a Hollowville community member, as well as attracted to Sarah, but he is unwilling to participate in an activity he feels might commercialize the holiday. The fall out is a delicate dance for his budding relationship with Sarah. 

Plot and characters aside, this book makes me happy because it allows for a universe in which an American town would have a Hanukkah festival at all. A festival in which people of varying backgrounds get together to celebrate something other than the culturally dominant Christian holiday. That’s a beautiful thing. It also includes such fun things as a cavalcade of latkes and an entire fair of fried foods from around the world. It allows readers to think that maybe, just maybe, there might be a place larger than their community center that might be willing to celebrate their holiday with them, whatever that holiday may be. 

This is a sweet romance, the highest heat level is a kiss, but it includes a lot of relationship building. It’s a comfort book, pure and simple, about love and yes- miracles. Because that’s what the festival represents to me. A miracle of inclusion. Hopefully it comes true in our lifetime!

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