Author: Bookishly Jewish

When I was a teen, the holidays of Passover and Sukkot were my version of Spring Break that came twice a year. My Jewish day school went on vacation for the entire 8 day holiday, which somehow resulted in two weeks off from school. Yes, I know eight days is not two weeks. Yeshiva Day School administrators clearly use a different kind of math. Regardless, I was home for a long stretch of time and I didn’t mind in the least. I would walk myself to the library in preparation and emerge with two bags packed with books. Sometimes, they would last, sometimes they wouldn’t. I was a much faster reader back then. The key was to pick books that could hold my imagination long after I finished them. Which is why this Sukkot, I’m recommending The Art of Exile by Andrea Max.

The Art of Exile follows young Ada Castle as she tries to infiltrate a hidden, advanced, technological society known as The Makers, in order to help her family bring Maker technology into the wider world. Basically, Ada’s got a lot of secrets, not least of which is that she has the exact kind of genetic ability to manipulate life force that The Makers are looking for. She also has a great sense of humor, as evidenced by her hilarious comments on the map that accompanies the book, and an uncanny ability to get kidnapped. She’s always felt less worthy than her highly accomplished friends and relatives, but during her time with The Makers Ada slowly realizes she has gifts of her own, and becomes increasingly conflicted about her loyalties to her family vs. The Makers.

While everything is couched in science words like “genetic ability,” make no mistake. The Art of Exile is a magic school book. The science is extremely hand wavey, and all the trappings of a magic school book are present, including a wonky sport the main character is somehow naturally gifted at playing, a whimsical mode of transportation to and from school, students divided into houses or disciplines based on ability, and the mysterious yet sage headmaster who shows up to deliver cryptic advice. If you don’t like magic school books, this won’t be the book for you. But if you do – you, like me, will spend the next two weeks wondering what special projects you would present at your Gallerie so that you could be selected by a desirable discipline.

Along with all the spying intrigue, there is also a love triangle, but I’m hoping that a third option presents itself in the sequel since I didn’t feel either of these guys was right for Ada. The book is low heat for an adult reader, moderate for a YA reader, and while the main character is straight there are several queer side characters providing additional representation. There are many allusions to other characters having sex, and one character is portrayed as wildly promiscuous, but nothing other than kissing actually happens on the page. So don’t worry about reading on the train or in your living room with the entire assembled family who are also on extended holiday vacation. In terms of Jewish rep, Ada’s father is Jewish, one of the love interests is Jewish, and there are several Jewish mystical concepts (albeit with different twists in Maker society) that appear in the book. It’s billed as cross over, but I felt it was solidly in the YA camp, and adults who read YA will enjoy it too.

For those who care, the story of the first book does wrap itself up, and contains one genuine surprise you won’t see coming. It’s the last chapter, where we are setting up for the sequel, that ends on a cliffhanger that most readers will see coming from a mile away. I am usually annoyed when there’s a clear lead in to a second book that isn’t available yet, but in this case I was fine to wait for the sequel as the primary plot did have a full treatment. The Art of Exile is a world that will pull you in, make you wish you could visit, but mostly it’s just plain fun. Which is exactly what I need around a long holiday.

Note: BookishlyJewish received an e copy of this book from the author after we asked for one.

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Find It: Amazon | Bookshop

Having greatly enjoyed Sarah Hurwitz’s first book, Here All Along, in which she rediscovers Jewish tradition after a life of mostly what she refers to as secular or cultural Judaism, I knew I had to read her latest book, As A Jew. I went in expecting the continuation of her Jewish Journey. I was unprepared for the breadth and depth to which she tackles some of the most difficult topics Jews face today.

As noted in my review of Here All Along, Hurwitz and I are from very different backgrounds. As A Jew opens with an honest discussion of the internalized antisemitism and shame many Jews who grow up in majority non-Jewish or secular Jewish communities face. As a minority, even within the Jewish minority (ultra orthodoxy, the Judaism that even other Jews often sneer at), I had a big advantage in that regard. I grew up immersed in the ‘iz gut tzu zein a Yid – it is good to be a Jew’ mentality. In fact, one could argue that Hassidism is the OG Jewish Joy movement. The very pride and joy that Hurwitz notes many Jews lost during the enlightenment and associated cultural assimilation that followed, was ever present in my community. Probably because while our communities may have lacked walls and gates, they were still self imposed ghettos. Shame wasn’t our problem (and I am honest enough to admit we have many problems that other branches of Judaism do not). However, I did grow up in a majority Christian country, and I couldn’t help but notice how the world at large treated us like sad relics. People toured our neighborhood as if it was a living history museum – except significantly less national pride inducing than colonial Williamsburg. I understood why Jews who grew up in more open communities seemed to regard our form of Jewishness as embarrassing, or something to be covered up when out in the larger world.

Hurwitz is extremely thorough in examining how the worlds stereotypes for Jews came into existence (this was my favorite part, as we don’t tend to learn history of Christianity and Islam in yeshiva, just the associated crusades, expulsions, and pogroms), as well as how they have infiltrated the Jewish psyche. She is measured, she is clear, and she is a joy to read. Sometimes I was terrified and in despair of the endless cycle of history repeating itself, but always there was hope. For Jewish readers, even those with firm grounding in Judaism and Jewish text and culture, As A Jew, will give you back a piece of yourself. For non-Jewish readers, it will ask you to rethink certain internalized prejudices you may not even realize you are carrying around and make you a more critical receiver of information.

I am sure every person will have their own favorite chapter, but mine was when Hurwitz proclaims that even secular Jews should study and access our textline. Scholarship and knowledge – even from people who have no intention of ever being Rabbi’s – is a hallmark of our tradition. Forging more connections with Jewish texts has been the highlight of my adult spiritual life. As you can probably tell from this blog, I consider myself a person of the book. We’re even going to be announcing a special new Torah relevant feature for BookishlyJewish next week, trying to get more of our readers to engage with both ancient and modern Jewish texts.

There’s too much in As A Jew to go over piece by piece, so instead I will assure you that if there is a topic in Judaism that makes you squirm, feel uncertain, or wish other people would not ask about – Hurwitz has tackled it and mapped out why you are uncomfortable and what you ought to be doing about it. I don’t know what ground she’s left for her next book, but believe me, I will be reading it.

Note: BookishlyJewish received an ARC of this book from the publisher after we asked for one.

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Find It: Bookshop | Amazon

It’s been a weird two years. Which is a generous adjective to use, but I’ve always liked to think of myself as a giving person. It’s difficult, even for writers who trade in words for a living, to describe what it’s like to exist as a Jew right now. Even my choice to use the word “exist,” rather “practice” or “observe” required debate and conscious thought. That’s because Judaism is not simply a religion. It’s a culture, a faith, or if we want to get fancy, an ethnoreligion. It’s almost as if being Jewish is an accident of birth that can be converted into but not out of. Jews come in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Therefore, “being Jewish” means a whole lot of different things to different people. The charity anthology On Being Jewish Now, edited by Zibby Owens, collects the reflections of Jewish writers and entertainers on what being Jewish in this moment means to them. 

There’s a mistaken notion that On Being Jewish Now is a book about Israel and/or antisemitism. It is not. As I said before, Jews have a very wide variety of experience. Some of the essays will necessarily touch on Israel and antisemitism because they are relevant forces in the author’s life, but plenty of them do not. The unifying factor is exactly what is promised by the title. These reflections are about being Jewish and what that means for each of the 75 individual contributors. Some pieces are funny, some are tragic, some involve religious observance and some are as secular as watching football on Shabbat while munching bacon strips. Short of actually meeting and talking to Jews (note that talking implies respectful exchange of words and ideas, not unilateral shouting), reading On Being Jewish Now might be the best way to actually get to know us and our wide swath of diversity. 

In that vein, I’ll share a little about what being Jewish now means for me. Some days, I’m afraid to leave my house. I leave anyway, because I firmly believe that minority groups should not voluntarily exclude themselves from public spaces due to fear. I push the raging anxiety down, which results in a host of unhealthy effects ranging from hair loss to hives to weight fluctuations. I put on a happy face anyway, reminding myself that I might be the only Jew some people ever meet in their entire lives. Basically, I’m an ambassador to people whose collective ancestral psyche tells them I’m the bogeyman.

I’m a living fossil, and an endangered species.

I’m also fiercely proud and find tremendous joy in my religion. This is not new. Jews – including atheist Jews!- have clung to Jewish identity even when pressed by thousands of years of crusaders and inquisitors. One of the few good things I’ve seen come out of the dumpster fire that is the current state of affairs on planet Earth is the Jewish Joy movement. Jews from across denominations have stopped apologizing for our existence. Instead, writers are publishing Jewish stories that have nothing to do with persecution and hate. Casual Judaism is appearing in stories and on the media. As a person who has only ever practiced one form of Judaism, it has been so moving to interact with and learn about the full spectrum of our people. 

In short: being Jewish now is complicated. Which is actually what On Being Jewish Now is about. Was this anthology perhaps a bit rushed? Did a few pieces feel like they were in the wrong categories? Sure. But that’s part of the experience too.  Nobody has the luxury of time any more. Existence is a constant series of crises begging that we do something right now, right away. These authors did something.

The piece that moved me the most was contributed by Lihi Lapid, but there were many worthy contributions, each giving insight into a different experience. The world would like to think Jews are a monolith (an evil monolith at that). We are not. We contain multitudes, and if you crack open On Being Jewish Now and read even 2-3 pieces at random, I think you’ll realize that. This isn’t just a book for Jews. It’s a book for everyone willing to try and understand.

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A while back I started participating in a daily Talmud learning program. Founded in the 1920’s, the Daf Yomi program sought to bring world Jewry together regardless of religious observance, geographical region, or cultural heritage by having everyone study the same page – daf – of the Talmud together. It has been uniquely popular: from ultra orthodox groups learning in yiddish, to Modern Orthodox learning via Podcast, to completely unaffiliated Jews enjoying Miriam Anzovin’s Instagram reels in which she reacts to the daily teaching (but notably makes a point of stating she is not intending to teach but rather to give a truthful reaction. She listens to ones of the podcasts), Jews everywhere enjoy this daily bit of Torah. It is not meant for in depth study, that would take far longer, but rather to give learners a sense of background and grounding in their Judaism. It has been tremendously eye opening and enriching for my personal spiritual practice, with one exception: I kept wondering who in the world all these people referenced are.

The Talmud takes a lot for granted. Back in the day, all of this Torah was oral tradition and it was only written down in the mishna in the 3rd century CE and later the expounded on in the talmud somewhere around 500 CE. Before that, scholars knew vasts amount by heart, including the books of the original Jewish Bible. References fly fast and furious to biblical texts that the authors assumed readers would have at the tips of their fingers. As someone who received a firm grounding in the Hebrew Bible I was very pleased to see how many of these I was able to quickly recognize. However, when it came to references to all the biblical scholars in the misnah and Talmud I was totally and utterly lost. Possibly because as a person born female, I was not taught any of this in school as it wasn’t considered important for my education (although the actual Talmud contains numerous stories in which woman are shown to be knowledgeable, or lose court cases due to the fact that they were expected to have a working knowledge of Talmudic law and did not). So when I picked up Liel Leibovit’z book How the Talmud Can Change Your Life, I was delighted to see the chapters were arranged based on the life stories of the various pairs of scholars that regularly feature in the book.

Side note before we go further – very few woman are named in the Talmud, instead being referred to as the wife or daughter of a man who is named. If you want to learn more about these wonderful women, and grapple a bit with how the Talmud treats women – I highly suggest reading The Mad Woman in the Rabbi’s Attic.

Leibovitz, who reads the audio book himself, explores how the lives of these scholars and their decisions when compiling the Mishna and the Talmud can teach us relevant lessons for today. And indeed, the lessons are extremely relevant! There’s even one chapter that writer’s will love that deals with the universality of story and how the Talmud is an enduring work of literature. It shows us when to break and when to hold firm, how to make decisions regarding leadership, and such tough questions as how to root out the bias inherent in ones life’s work. It does so in the framework of both modern stories like the founding of the Dewey decimal system (yep, that’s the chapter about bias) and the lives of the Talmudic scholars.

The lessons were great, but the history of the Talmud was invaluable to me. You see, the Talmud is considered a book without a beginning or end. Sure, it’s organized into Tractates, and most children start learning with the portion on prayers (Tractate Brachot), but that’s a construct we impose on the text. You can jump into Daf Yomi at any point – and should start with the same page as the rest of the world is on! – and some scholars devote their lives to learning one or two tractates extremely in depth so as to be able to make practical rulings on the referenced contents. I myself jumped in at Tractate Gittin which deals with the laws of divorce. The Talmud throws around references to the other Tractates and scholars from a variety of time points, assuming you know exactly what they are referring to, even if in our modern order you haven’t got there yet. Because there is no “getting there”. You’re supposed to be continually learning them all. Which is kind of beautiful, but also very confusing for someone like me. Leibovitz’s summaries seriously helped me out and made my learning much more enjoyable.

I read this book via audio book, and it is my favorite kind of audio in which the author is also the narrator. Leibovitz’s accent when speaking Hebrew or Yiddish did occasionally throw me, mostly because people with a similar accent have previously forbidden me from learning Talmud. Leibovitz himself is clearly welcoming and encouraging all sorts of people to learn, regardless of gender or affiliation, so this was entirely about my past unfortunate experiences and I’m hoping it helps mend that particular hurt a little for me. His enthusiasm for the subject matter is clear, and he makes a great case for the relevance of Talmud to our modern lives.

If you are thining of starting some Talmud learning but not yet ready to commit, or if like me you are years in and still looking for some additional background, or even if you are up to speed on all of this but just want to hear someone else’s perspective, then How the Talmud Can Change Your life, will be an enjoyable read for you.

Find It: Amazon | Bookshop

It’s that time of year again – when Jews across the world try to explain to their employers that they need to take off a ridiculous amount of time from work because actually Hanukkah isn’t our major holiday. Rosh Hashana – the Jewish New Year, Yom Kippur – the day of atonement or judgement depending on if you’re a glass half full or half empty type of person, and Sukkot – which many people think of as a Fall harvest holiday but also commemorates our ancestors journey through the dessert – are our big block of holidays, and they don’t occur anywhere near December 25. Sorry not sorry.

This year is particularly rough on those of us forced to use our vacation days to celebrate, since most of the holidays fall out in middle of the week. Bright side? Tons of days for reading! Check out some books that either feature the holiday or are good fits for reflection and repentance.

Middle Grade Fiction

Forgiveness and reparation is a common theme for middle grade books, which makes them a great pairing for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. REPAIRING THE WORLD by Linda Epstein features a young lady getting over grief, and gives readers a window into Reconstructionist Judaism while also including both Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. THE MANY MYSTERIES OF THE FINKEL FAMILY by Sarah Kapit has an autistic main character learning important lessons about family secrets during the High holidays and THE DUBIOUS PRANKS OF SHAINDY GOODMAN by Mari Lowe features an Orthodox girl getting it all wrong and then trying to make it all right again on Yom Kippur. For our young poets, THE MAGICAL IMPERFECT by Chris Baron is a novel in verse that features both holidays as does HOW TO FIND WHAT YOU’RE NOT LOOKING FOR by Veera Hiranandani which is told in second person narration.

Finally, one of my favorite books, ANYA AND THE NIGHTINGALE by Sofiya Pasternack, actually begins with Anya building a sukkah – the ceremonial hut Jews build for the holiday of Sukkot. Then she takes off on some madcap adventures with a dragon and the tsar’s fool before everyone can actually sit and enjoy the sukkah.

Find These Books:

Anya and the Nightingale: Bookshop | Amazon| BookishlyJewish Review

The Dubious Pranks of Shaindy Goodman: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

How To Find What You’re Not Looking For: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

The Magical Imperfect: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

The Many Mysteries of the Finkel Family: Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

Repairing the World: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

Young Adult Fiction

If you want the full spectrum of emotion, try reading Leah Scheier’s poignant story of grief and friendship THE LAST WORDS WE SAID, followed by Brianna Shrum’s hilarious KISSING EZRA HOLTZ AND OTHER THINGS I DID FOR SCIENCE which features and incredibly sexy sukkah scene. Then throw in some super hero Jewish witch adventures in Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu’s sukkot graphic novel MOONCAKES.

For the younger YA set, we have D.J. ROSENBLUM BECOMES THE G.O.A.T. by Abby White in which D.J. sets out to solve the mystery of her cousins death and has a real wallop of a Yom Kippur scene.

Fine These Books:

D.J. Rosenblum Becomes the G.O.A.T.: Amazon | Bookshop | BookishlyJewish Review

Kissing Ezra Holtz, and Other Things I Did For Science: Amazon | Bookshop | BookishlyJewish Review

The Last Words We Said: Amazon | Bookshop | BookishlyJewish Review

Mooncakes: Amazon | Bookshop | BookishlyJewish Review

Adult Fiction:

While it won’t be out until May, I’m going to open The adult section with Dahlia Adler’s Modern Orthodox romance SOON BY YOU because this book is one the years most hotly anticipated Jewish releases. Nope, I haven’t gotten my hands on a copy yet, and I’m totally cheating because per the author it has Passover, Lag La’Omer, and Chanukah but NOT the high holidays, but I’m including it anyway because seriously I want this book and think it would have been fun to read over the holiday. Or next year over the holiday if anyone is reading this post then (people usually do dig these up in a seasonal fashion). I’ll include it in those posts too when we get to the actually included holidays.

Want a romance right now with the appropriately timed holiday? We’ve got you. Check out Home for the Challah Days by Jennifer Wilck for a small town tale of forgiveness and Meredith Schorr’s AS SEEN ON T.V. for a tale of small town disappointment in which a journalist from the big city realizes life is not a Hallmark movie, and LATE NIGHT LOVE by Chayla Wolfberg which features TV writers and a third act grovel scene in the middle of High Holiday services.

Find These Books:

As Seen on T.V.: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

Home the Challah Days: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

Late Night Love: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

Soon By You: Bookshop | Amazon

Picture Books:

There’s actually much more out there for kids than grown ups when it comes to Jewish holiday literature. it would be impossible to go through all the available picture books, but I’d like to point out MIXED UP MOONCAKES by Christina Matula and Erica Lyona illustrated by Tracy Subisak, as a stand out for sukkot literature that talks about both Sukkot and the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Find It: Mixed-Up Mooncakes: Bookshop | Amazon

Nonfiction:

ON REPENTANCE AND REPAIR by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg is pretty much a must read for anyone looking to learn about forgiveness and repentance from a Jewish lens. Spolier Alert: It’s very different from the Christian view on these topics. FOOD FOR THE SPIRIT by Rabbi Shmuel Herzfeld has lessons gleaned from the high holiday services. Another hot release this year – AS A JEW by Sarah Hurwitz, while not specifically themed on the high holidays, felt really appropriate for holiday reading to me. Within the first ten pages she mentions the epic disconnect of living in a secular world where everyone thinks Hanukkah is our major holiday because it’s Christmas adjacent. It’s a thought provoking read.

Find These Book:

As A Jew: Bookshop | Amazon

On Repentance and Repair: Bookshop | Amazon | BookishlyJewish Review

Food For the Spirit: Bookshop | Amazon

As a writer, I often worry I’ll be remembered for the worst thing I’ve ever written. I don’t even know what thing is – doesn’t everyone alternate between thinking they’re writing gold and garbage at all times? – but the very idea of this nebulous awful piece of writing sometimes keeps me from putting new words on the page. I know this is normal, that all artists grapple with feelings of inferiority – but in the age of social media, this ever present bogey man looms large. Gone are the days when a debut is allowed to develop over a career of books that each builds on skills attained over the course of a lifetime. One bombed book, and there might not be a chance to traditionally publishing a second. Not to mention, the onus of marketing through those venues that seemed geared towards bringing out the worst in people. Which is why I absolutely devoured Gayle Forman’s Not Nothing, a book that invites us to instead seek the best in each other.

Not Nothing is two stories in one. It is the tale of Alex, who is sent by his social worker to perform community service in a senior living home. The reader is aware Alex has done something terrible – but Forman wisely does not reveal to us the nature of Alex’s crimes until we have already come to know him as a kind, caring, human who simply requires an invitation to his better self. It is also the tale of Josey, the 107 year old man that does the inviting. Having not spoken in years, Josey sees something in Alex that prompts him to open up and share his experiences during WWII, including how he was saved from the concentration camps by his Polish fiance. Pretty soon, all the residents are sharing stories with Alex, and he goes from being a suspect extra cleaner to beloved confidant.

This utopia lasts right up to the moment everyone finds out why Alex is performing community service in the first place. I won’t sugar coat it – what he has done is truly terrible. However, he is also not guilty of everything he is accused of. The way Forman manages to show us the dangers of assigning motivations to others without speaking to them, and how to reexamine our own contributions to the worst moments of our lives, without ever blaming the victim or condoning Alex’s actions, is incredibly clever. We are so quick to write people off these days. To ascribe the worst possible motivations. To assume everything is about us rather than what the other person is going through. Not Nothing invites us to reshape that thinking, much like the characters in the novel invite Alex to rise to the occasion of his life.

Not going to lie. I cried a little.

Moving on from that embarrassing admission, as this is a MG, I will point out some stuff for parents reading this review. One of Alex’s fellow volunteers and first friends has two moms. Queer parents seeking more representation for their kids of books with families that look like theirs, will find that here. There is also some very real homophobia, mental health struggles in a parent, cancer in a parent, and antisemitism. If you’re child doesn’t understand what those terms are, they might not be ready to dive in, or they might need to ask you some questions along the way. Not Nothing is a great story for kids who don’t want any romance (although Josey does tell the story of falling in love with his fiance).

Somehow, a 107 year old narrator felt very relatable. Even for kids. That is most certainly Not Nothing. In fact, it is something worth picking up and reading.

Note: BookishlyJewish received a copy of this book from the publisher.

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Never has reading a book garnered so many nonsensical passerby comments than Lisa F. Rosenberg’s Fine, I’m A Terrible Person. Although this is a digital first release, I was reading the physical book, and people just couldn’t stop themselves. To be clear, these were not people who read the book, or even had any idea what was in it. They were commenting on the title. Which they universally found objectionable. Most assumed the reference to a terrible person meant the book was full of questionable, or even criminal, activity. Which struck me as odd given the innocuous image right under the title, but as I learned through reading, the cover copy and press release hadn’t given me any ability to predict the plot either.

The title refers to a phrase that one the two main characters, Aurora, uses every time her daughter Leyla brings up a question or complaint about Aurora’s destructive and manipulative behaviors. Aurora is not one for self reflection, so she just brushes Leyla off with a “fine, I’m a terrible person,” in the hopes that this sarcastic admission of guilt will absolve her from having to deal with the matter further and allow her to return to extorting those around her. Except, as the reader learns, Aurora actually is a terrible person (not in a criminal way, in a self absorbed and neglectful way). The statement serves to silence those around her who are then subjected to more of her abuses.

The cover includes the line “Can a mother and daughter, bonded by trauma, finally make peace.” The cover illustration is of Aurora and Leyla driving together, and the description says that Aurora heads to L.A. for a family funeral while Leyla is there to secretly spy on her husband who might be cheating on her leading them to share a weekend “of hijinks, chaos, and yes, even some healing”. All of this lead me to believe we were in for a road trip novel in which the two POVs manage to find peace after a series of madcap adventures. There are definitely madcap adventures, but spoiler alert – this is not a mother daughter healing story. Any healing in these pages, is on the part of Leyla who has an actual character arc. Aurora can’t, or won’t, ever change.

I’ve read and enjoyed my fair share of books that have nothing to do with their cover copy, so I know it’s possible to get past that hurdle, however there are a few things that gave me pause here. The novel is dual POV, and we spend a fair amount of time in Aurora’s head. Which is unfortunate because she is not sympathetic. In fact, the more the reader sits in her thoughts, the more they glean that Aurora is truly abusive. There’s no inkling of humanization here – having a troubled past does not justify paying it forward to your own kids – and I think that’s because the author herself disdains Aurora. Her phrases and descriptions – even in Aurora’s head – show a total lack of empathy towards this person. This really works for Leyla’s arc, but if we’re going to cast Aurora as entirely unlikable, then perhaps the novel should have been written in a single POV – Leyla’s. That would also solve the head hopping issue that sometimes occurs where in the span of three or four paragraphs we go from Leyla’s POV to Aurora’s and back again. The novel is written in the third person, but it was still disorienting to me when that happened.

The best parts of Fine, I’m A Terrible Person were indeed in Leyla’s POV. The scene at the cannabis convention was pure hilarity. The connection to her Rhodeslis relatives felt more genuine from her. Not to mention the wonderful parody of rich, private school, mom culture. I loved my time with Leyla! I didn’t care that this was not the story I was implicitly promised by the cover. I was fascinated, and bummed every time I was pulled out of her world to hang out with her irredeemable mother.

If you are triggered by abusive parents who never change, Fine, I’m a terrible Person is not the book for you. If you have nosy people in your life, who cannot help but make comments like “oh what a lovely title for a book, why in the world would you read that?” as if they have any idea of what is inside just from that cursory glance, you might want to read it in a secluded location. If you’re like me – savor your time with Leyla, and try to rush through the Aurora bits as best you can. As Leyla herself comes to learn, she’s worth it, even if her mother will never see that.

Note: BookishlyJewish received a copy from the author

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King Solomon features in many a happy tale for Jewish youngsters, showing off his wisdom and knowledge of human nature to unravel difficult problems and deliver justice to the people. However, in A Ring For A King, by Martha Seif Simpson, illustrated by D. Yael Bernhard, the sage King finds himself at a loss. In a peek behind the curtain of a biblical person’s life, young Ezra, the Kings cup bearer, discovers that even famous Kings sometimes need a little help.

King Solomon is looking for a way to in inspire hope and humility in the people, two virtues that might sometimes conflict. Eliezer, also at a loss, seeks help from an old man who gifts him the titular ring. Engraved on it’s inside is the now famous Jewish phrase Gam Ze Ya’avor – This too shall pass. When Eliezer brings the rings to Solomon he understands how this phrase can help everyone. The rich and mighty will be humbled to understand that their good fortune is subject to change, and those struggling can know that their challenges and misfortunes will also pass. Fully internalizing the lesson, Eliezer shares his reward with the old man who gifted him the ring.

The illustrations give a nice sense of time and place, and the lesson is a good one for small children. Adults might be slightly disappointed that the ring in the title is not the demon controlling Ring of Solomon of lore (or is it? nobody really knows what was engraved on that particular piece of jewelry) but if you go in knowing that information then A Ring For A King is a very sweet story about a familiar figure to share with the children in your life.

Note: BookishlyJewish Received a copy of this book from the publisher.

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If you’re on this website, you probably participate in a few subcultures – the reading or writing communities, some fandoms, and a Jewish group or two. We all have these small microcosms, enabled by the internet, that hugely enhance our lives while also becoming major time sucks. We are, by and large, dabblers in the art of the subculture. Comedian Moshe Kasher, on the other hand, is a specialist. In his memoir Subculture Vulture, he details how six different subculture have affected his life and breaks down some of the reasons why he chose to participate in them. If personal anecdotal experience were allowed to stand in for rigorous sociological research, he could be a scholar of the subculture and Subculture Vulture his dissertation.

This was my second foray into audio books, and the audio file opened right up to the author introducing himself as the narrator. I loved this! While I have never watched a single one of his comedy shows, I now know that Moshe Kasher has a uniquely fun and soothing reading voice. I highly recommend listening during stressful commutes or annoying household chores.

The six subcultures detailed are: alcoholics anonymous (hereafter referred to as AA), 1990’s rave culture, Child of Deaf Adult (CODA), the Burning Man festival, Hassidic Judaism, and stand up comedy. With each section, Kasher gives a brief history and overview of the subculture in question, details his involvement, and sums up how this has affected him as well as what it might mean for society at large. When it comes to AA, which I have a weird familiarity with for a person that’s never even gotten drunk yet alone addicted, I could have used less detail. When it came to learning about the deaf community as seen through the eyes of a child of two deaf parents, I could not get enough! You’re experience will likely vary based on what you bring to the table.

For two of the subcultures mentioned, deaf culture and Hassidic Judaism, I felt that Kasher was not really a participant. The chapters on the deaf community read like a love letter to his deaf mother, but it would have been more interesting for me had he delved more into his own personal experiences as a CODA. For heavens sake, it even has its own acronym! Surely it has it’s own subculture? And for the Judaism chapter, Kasher never really willingly participated in ultra-orthodox or Hassidic Judaism. He looked on as his father did. He even details exactly how he was excluded as an outsider (the anecdote about the family photo was particularly egregious). It was very clear to me that he was viewed as an outsider by every single one of those Hassidic relatives, and I think it was clear to him too.

Kasher has a lively writing style, and his analysis of each subculture is nuanced. He may not be able to explain why he can stay sober without AA anymore, or if this has anything to do with the fact that he went through his cycles of addiction and sobriety as a teenager (too bad he joined and left AA before the ‘never had a legal drink’ meetings started), but he was very capable of explaining why AA culture can alienate a lot of people – including anyone who isn’t Christian. Not knowing much about rave culture or Burning Man, I found the strengths in those sections to be Kasher’s ability to analyze why these movements took off but also how they self imploded or morphed into entirely different entities. The peak behind the scenes into stand up comedy will probably be the most controversial. I’m sure quite a few people will have strong feelings about his musings on the pros and cons of policing comedy and how social media has morphed this particular style of performance art.

I have no idea if Subculture Vulture would have been nearly half as compelling had I read it on paper. Kasher is an animated and engaging audio narrator. It’s possible I’d love the physical book too – but you can only read something for the first time once – and I am glad I chose the audio book. I’m also grateful that my library had it available for me – because library patron is most definitely one of my top subcultures.

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Every time I do an interview, I end by asking the interviewee to recommend a Jewish book to our readers. The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish was the recommendation of Neal Shusterman, and it sounded so interesting I had to pick up a copy for myself! I was very glad I did.

First let us address the elephant in the room. The Weight of Ink is a door stopper. Clocking in at 592 pages, I did have some trouble lifting it when lying down. However, I think even people who don’t like long books will enjoy this one. Each page is necessary for the development of an extremely complex and rewarding story. Or perhaps I should say three intertwined stories. The first, and most compelling, is the story of Esther. An orphan of the Portuguese Jewish Community of Amsterdam, she is sent to live in London with an elderly, blind Rabbi. Sound complicated? Well, Esther lived in the 1660’s so if her personal life tragedy and complicated geographical origins weren’t enough, students of history will know that Esther is about to face some very unusual and scary times in London. On top of that, when yet another family disaster strikes, she becomes the Rabbi’s scribe – a role unthinkable for a woman of that time. Through this opening she gains access to a scholarly life of the mind that was forbidden to most women of the time. Like a knowledge addict, she cannot stop herself from learning not only Jewish texts, but those of philosophy. It is a story of feminism, struggle, and fierce hope.

If Esther’s story was the most compelling (for me), then Professor Helen Watt’s was the most though provoking. When a rich London couple locates a trove of documents from a London Rabbi living in 1660’s London their main goal is to rid themselves of this potential complication to their home renovations. Helen Watt, on the verge of ending her career and suffering from a neurological condition, is called in by the husband who was her former student. She immediately understands the significance of these documents but is thwarted in her attempts to study them by the fact that academia rewards the young and male rather than the thorough and patient. It is a direct parallel to Esther’s frustrations – even in our supposed age of enlightenment barriers are placed before this woman due to her age and gender. The University would vastly prefer their splashy discovery be announced by the young, hot shot, male professor with highly styled hair. However, as a non-Jew who has devoted her life to studying Jewish works – Helen’s position poses some moral questions of its own. Does she have a right to the access she desires to these documents while Jewish scholars are being shut out by the University and she is benefiting from that exclusion? Is she correct in her assumption that this story is a story for “all of us,” or as her younger graduate student flippantly says in an attempt to wound her, is she simply claiming a right to something that is not hers because she once dated a Jew and thinks that makes her special?

Those questions are not easily answered and I sat with them for a good long time. Indeed, some of the narrative found in the trove is universal. Particularly that of a woman’s struggle to access knowledge and power, which seems far more relevant to Professor Watt than her male Jewish graduate student. However, when we learn in Esther’s chapters of how she suffered as a Jew during the plague, and how her ancestors suffered during the inquisition, I could not help but feel that these aspects of the story deserved to make their debuts in the hands of a Jew. How much would it change scholars understanding of the trove to learn that the Rabbi Esther scribes for was blinded at the hands of Catholic inquisitors who subjected him to unspeakable cruelty? Unfortunately, those aspects of the trove might never even be revealed if a scholar does not go searching for them. On the other hand we have the subtle antisemitism of the couple who sells the papers, assuming Helen is a Jew because of her chosen field of study and visibly relieved to discover she is not. Seeing that through Helen Watt’s eyes was fascinating, and possibly more effective, than seeing it through a Jewish lens.

The Jewish graduate student provides no easy solutions. He is not exactly the heroic Jew descending from the heavens to help Professor Watt sort through these papers with a sensitive eye towards their Jewish origins. In fact, when the story began, I shared Professor Watt’s misgivings about him and would have been loathe to leave him alone in the room with the papers for fear he would damage them. His personal life is a mess, his motivations unclear, and his entire personality, while not full blown dude bro caricature (that is reserved for the rival team of historians) borders very close. Only through Professor Watt’s mentorship is he saved from jumping to conclusions and publishing some major mistakes. It is a true testament to Kadish’s skill that she gives him a full emotional arc showing great growth of character by the end.

None of the characters in The Weight of Ink is perfect. While we may sympathize with them, we also see their flaws. That is because they are people, living in a world where life is rarely easy or perfect whether you live in 1660 or 2025. I left my reading satisfied, having both learned something and felt something, which is a rare combination. My thanks for the recommendation.

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