Today marks an auspicious occasion – BookishlyJewish’s first audiobook review! Why did it take so long? I have attempted to read many audiobooks and found my brain unable to process them. However, they were all fiction. When I recently tried to listen to The Talented Mrs. Mandelbaum written by Margalit Fox and narrated by Saskia Maarleveld I discovered I am completely capable of reading non fiction via audio. In fact, I’m better at reading it that way than on paper. It just goes to show, a person can always discover new bookish joys.
I think Mrs. Mandelbaum herself would approve of this discovery. As the first organized crime boss in America, she was a fan of enjoying life’s pleasures. She’s also a character that is widely unknown in the public consciousness even while other infamous figures of the time – like the Tammany Hall politicians – are the subjects of numerous books, college courses, and even high school curricula in NYC. Perhaps this is because “Marm” Mandelbaum’s version of crime – she was a fence that helped plan many of the robberies that fed her inventory – mostly involved theft and property reassignment rather than the drugs and violence of later crime bosses that receive most of the criminal limelight.
Indeed, Mrs Mandelbaum was practically a Robin Hood of sorts, beloved by a community that refused to testify against her and even posted her bail. She was a deft climber of the “the crooked ladder,” where immigrants and minorities barred from entering traditional professions by rich elites who guard those gates fiercely, turn to crime to amass enough wealth or power to muscle their way in. Make no mistake – this is shady underworld stuff. But considering the only other options available to a poor immigrant woman at the time were prostitution or factory work which paid less and had conditions even more dangerous than those of prostitution, is it any wonder that legions of NY pickpockets and thieves sought something else?
While The Talented Mrs. Mandelbaum provides a fascinating historical account of the title character, her various criminal predecessors, and the corrupt politicians and warring police factions of late 1800’s New York City, it truly shines in the epilogue where the circumstances that could have produced such a woman are discussed. America is known as the land of freedom and it offers many (including myself) shelter from religious persecution. But as history shows, women were often oppressed more severely here than in other countries. As a Jewish German woman, Marm Mandelbaum did not think it odd for women to earn money outside the home. She was accustomed to her community banding together in the face of wealth hoarding by a privileged elite and government sponsored pogroms. That ethos was familiar to her neighbours in little Germany. It wasn’t until the rich she was robbing used American moral purity wars to portray her as an uppity woman that she met her downfall. They came after her hard and heavy, seemingly more for the crime of being a woman who dared to boss around men and rise above hr immigrant station than for the actual robberies themselves. It’s a familiar story, a ruling class subverting religion to other a minority and paint them as evil in order to obfuscate their own heinous crimes and greedy avarice. This is not to say Mrs. Mandelbaum wasn’t a criminal. She most definitely was. But so were the people prosecuting her. The Pinkerton Detective Agency? Talk about thieves who used that crooked ladder to amass wealth and then legitimate themselves. They were just as shady as the criminals they were catching.
Marm Mandelbaum is a character for the ages. She refused to stay defeated. During her exile in Canada she was still running her fencing business. If she were alive today I’d like to think she’d be some big CEO tycoon, managing her employees as efficiently as she managed her fleet of pickpockets and bank robbers. Or Maybe not. There’s still plenty of “upper class” criminals who like to demonize Jewish female immigrants in order to push focus from their own inequities. Hopefully, by reading The Talented Mrs. Mandelbaum people can learn how to spot them.
Every now and then a social media personality will espouse an opinion on why ‘kids today don’t read’. Everything from corona virus to books being too short or too long will be blamed. As is the case with most things, there’s some truth to all of those theories, depending on which particular kid and community we are talking about. Such nuance, in which not everything is absolute, is generally beyond the capabilities of internet discourse. Instead, people immediately start supporting and attacking the poster based on their personal experiences. The vast majority of these responders will be adults – some in kid facing roles like educators and librarians – while the kids roll their eyes and back away slowly from these debates about what is ‘wrong’ with their generation. Into this complicated foray comes Abby White’s debut, D. J. Rosenblum Becomes the G. O. A. T., which I will admit I did not immediately realize was a YA.
At fourteen, D. J. is young for what the industry has taught me to expect from YA. A shelf full of seventeen/eighteen/nineteen year-old protagonists graduating high school, going on parent-less trips and internships abroad, or even starting college has taught me to expect YA characters to be mini adults with slightly more angst and sexier outfits. D.J. is very much still a teen enmeshed in her family dynamic. She and her mother are moving in with her Aunt and Uncle to support them after the death of D.J.s older cousin Rachel. While most kids would balk at spending their last middle school years away from their friends, D.J. is viewing the situation as an opportunity. Although Rachel’s death was declared a suicide, D.J. has never accepted that as true, and believes her cousin was murdered. Now that she’s living in Rachel’s town, she can investigate the situation for herself. That being said she’s not going it alone – she manages to rope in her best friend from back home as well as several kids from her new school who were unaware of D.J.’s ulterior motives when she presented Rachel’s death as a potential story for the middle school newspaper.
To be clear: D.J. Rosenblum Becomes the G.O.A.T is not a suspenseful murder mystery. I knew right away what had happened to Rachel and I suspect most readers will too. Attempts at making the investigation more suspenseful or believable failed to convince me. For me, the suspense came in the form of wondering what would happen to D. J. when she finally acknowledges the truth about Rachel. I could be wrong, but I think that was the authors intention all along, and it’s really well done.
A small side note: there is a content warning and resources to reach out to for support, but I want to point out something more subtle in case it pertains to any BookishlyJewish readership. The favorite pastime of many authors (especially, but not limited to, debuts) seems to be making their protagonists book lovers and inserting favorite books into the story. As a book lover myself, I don’t mind, although I do wonder why it happens so often. I point it out because one book D.J. mentions was unfortunately was very jarring for me. It’s author, who I will not name, has been widely acknowledged to have caused irreparable harm to a variety of groups including several I belong to. No, it is not the author you are thinking of, it’s an even older story, which is how I suspect it snuck through. Back then we didn’t have as much fanfare about these things. Luckily, it was just one mention and I was able to move right along. Many readers who are too young to remember the incidents won’t even notice, I just cringe to think of them going to pick up the aforementioned book and accidentally supporting this person which I do not think was anyone’s intent here.
There are several unique things about D.J. Rosenblum, including featuring a Jewish community in a part of America other than NY or LA, but what I especially appreciated was the way this book felt extremely attuned to its market. This is not a cross over appeal, market to everybody, and therefore fully satisfy nobody book. D.J. having a delayed bat mitzvah (a classic MG experience) should tip the reader off that this is a book for the subset of kids who don’t want their books packed with sex or adult style problems and life experiences. There are lots of kids who need those books, and find them true to their lived experience, but there are a whole lot of kids who were left behind by the push to focus exclusively on those styles of books and a whole lot more who want the full spectrum (I read everything from middle grade to adult sci fi as a teen.). D. J. is closer to first crushes than first intercourse, and her one attempt at attending a party is both hilarious and sweet in terms of how she has no idea what she’s doing and how the older kids actually take care of her rather than taking advantage. Her story adds some much needed variety to the YA shelf.
I know it may sound strange given the subject matter, but I thought D.J. Rosenblum Becomes the G.O.A.T. was a feel good book. D.J.’s friends come from an assortment of backgrounds. Her relationship with her mother, who is a single mom and conceived D.J. via artificial insemination, is delightfully oddball as the two of them discuss the insemination and various other topics (one of the first things that made me realize this was not a MG was D.J. recalling a discussion with her mother that was decidedly NOT middle grade in nature). There is also compassion – the queen bees of both the middle school and high school defy the stereotypical roles they are usually given. Instead they are complex characters who show empathy and self awareness.
White does not go easy on topics like mental health, suicide, honesty in relationships, and how to give help even when someone is failing to ask for it. She simply does it in a hopeful way that focuses on younger readers – the twelve to eighteen set – rather than trying to “age it up” to also appeal to adults. Some older teens might find they’ve moved beyond this and into the adult section. Some younger ones will probably shed tears of relief that finally there is a book designed specifically for them. Which is maybe the solution to the whole debate- stop forcing all kids books into the mold of what one guru thinks is the way to “get kids reading again”. Instead, offer up a variety of lengths, maturity levels in content, and experiences, by having authors write what is true to them. Then, when a teen browses or approaches their friendly local librarian, there will be something different and wonderful to offer each of them.
Note: BookishlyJewish Received an e-arc of this book through netgalley
There’s a lot I could talk about in Amanda Panitch’s Middle Grade novel The Two Wrong Halves of Ruby Taylor. It features a Jewish magical creature – we all know I’m trash for those, an interfaith family – many BookishlyJewish readers have asked for that content, a female Rabbi – she’s a marvelously complex character by the way, and so much more. Still, I’d like to start with something a bit more basic to a writer’s toolkit: voice.
Ruby is delightfully “voice-y.” To put it mildly, Ruby is not easily grossed out. She keeps up a running commentary with the reader on everything from animal dissections to the various antics of her younger cousins. This gives the reader a humorous place from which to approach some very serious issues. Namely, Ruby’s grandmother making her feel less loved than her perfect cousin Sarah because she disapproves of the fact that Ruby’s mother isn’t Jewish. Not to mention the resulting fall out on Ruby and Sarah’s previously close relationship or the complicated emotions that arise when Ruby accidentally causes Sarah to be possessed by a dybbuk.
A Dybbuk is essentially the malevolent soul of someone who has died but refuses to move on due to some unfinished purpose. They then posses another being to achieve their nefarious goals. In this particular case the Dybbuk’s original goal is actually not all that nefarious. The dybbuk started out as a woman who wanted to study Torah back in the shtetl but was refused due to her gender. After the resulting betrayals from everyone who could have helped her, and her tragic death, she decided she needed revenge on the establishment. We’ll overlook the fact that Dybbuk’s aren’t supposed to stick around for decades and the fact that you cannot trap them in boxes. Allowing that little bit of creative license leaves us with a Dybbuk that, upon being released from her cage, takes hold of Sarah and proceeds to torpedo all of Sarah’s relationships. Needless to say, Ruby is concerned about this turn of events, but how can she expel the dybbuk when nobody will believe her, and she’s starting to doubt she’s Jewish enough herself? The dybbuk is no slouch – it uses the tension between the cousins to make all of Ruby’s attempts at helping Sarah appear like Ruby’s own petty jealousy.
Along the way to solving this demonic pickle, The Two Wrong Halves of Ruby Taylor delves into some serious discussions about friendship and how one friend can’t be everything to a person, growing up interfaith, modernizing without alienating community members, and the difficult truth that sometimes relationships just can’t be salvaged and are not worth the pain and harm they cause. Throughout, Ruby never loses her humorous charm.
This is also an inclusive book. There is a wide cast of characters of various other religions as well as the presence of LGBTQIA+ people and parents within the community. Panitch has a light touch and the text reads quickly. The only thing I would have liked to see is a sequel told from Sarah’s point of view, because let’s face it, I was more of a Sarah as a kid and I’d love to see what Panitch can do with a narrator who has a more serious voice. As The Two Wrong Halves of Ruby Taylor shows, the world needs all of us and our unique voices.
Cammy is an absolute mess. She’s 29, a temp worker writing marketing drivel living in a literal basement in New York City whose dreams of writing (anything, anything at all) remains elusive. She’s a somewhat reluctant member of the Drama Collective, a group that meets weekly to share writing snippets and ideas for plays, but whose members she hasn’t really been able to connect with—their perceived haughtiness putting her own life in uncomfortable spotlight. Who are they to think so highly of themselves? They haven’t achieved anything! (and yet neither has she) At Drama Collective Gretchen’s birthday party, Cammy faces a terrible thought when the birthday girl exclaims, “I’m thirty! I’m almost dead!” Cammy is also ‘almost dead’ and has achieved nothing. But before she’s able to spiral, she gets a call from her hometown rabbi—her father has died. Cammy wants to run from the fear of failure, and it’ll take the death of her father, the subsequent trip home to New Jersey and a terrible seven days of shiva for her to truly sink to her lowest before capable of rising again (a character arc that so wonderfully mirrors the actual shiva ritual).
Immediately, I connected with Cammy. At 29, I was nearly her equal in every regard. I was also struggling to find meaningful work, meaningful connections and juggling the self-deprivation of not having achieved my dreams. I had a strained relationship with my own mom. I had graduated from university with heaps of accolades poured upon me by my professors that I was going to be ‘something’ and yet found myself unable to make lasting friendships and drowning in the pain of not having ‘made it’ with my writing yet. I also found living in the ‘big city’ (my Chicago to Cammy’s New York City) was an act I viewed as evidence of having ‘made it’ – Chicago was a light upon the hill, a beacon of civilization where the real things happened, and shunned the suburb I’d spent much of my youth.
Cammy was a mess, and yet a delight to read—she made horrible choices, all of which are sympathetic, as the reader is aware of how she’s running from facing her own grief and her terrible failures. Despite so much pulling her back home to New Jersey, she cannot help but feel as though moving home would mean ‘accepting defeat’ – letting down her father, her esteemed mentor and teacher, and everyone who doubted her. Even though so much is painfully self-inflicted, Cammy makes so many self-centered choices, each of which slowly helps her gets down from her (very) high horse. Only at your lowest, do you see what you still have.
The idea of getting a ‘second act’ in life is delightfully sprinkled through out the book and the various secondary characters, offering Cammy a ray of hope in an otherwise depressing point in life. I loved the supporting characters, each of whom challenged Cammy’s ideas of ‘settling’ and ‘giving up on your dreams.’ Nick Ramos, especially, was a character I adored. Another character who was told he was going to ‘make it big,’ his entire trajectory is destroyed after an accident that made his dreams impossible. He shared a descent into self-loathing with Cammy that offered a wonderful moment of connection and offered possibility—that even when your dreams are dashed, it’s possible to find meaning and keep living. But I also loved this character, too, for the way it helps to show that telling children that they are going to be something big can have the opposite affect—that adult adoration can be disastrous to their mental health if they aren’t able to achieve those standards.
Although shiva is a central plot point, the book honestly doesn’t include all that much Jewish practice. Cammy is distant from Jewish practice, eating nonKosher foods in many scenes, avoiding her family’s rabbi, and generally dissing religion at any offered opportunity. I think I would have loved to see a moment of her actually attending shiva—the titular ritual is actually absent as Cammy avoids it every. single. day. In some ways, this book isn’t entirely Jewish at all—the character arc deals more with her facing the problems in her life rather than running from them, problems that aren’t solved through a connection to her people but from the nonJewish people in her life. Her love interests are all nonJews, her mentor is a nonJew, and her own Jewish father shuns religion as well. Even Jewish ritual is repeatedly described as stifling and sometimes even blamed for Cammy’s bad choices (she wouldn’t have snuck out of the house to party if the shiva wasn’t such a terribly forced institution of mourning). She doesn’t have a ‘come around’ moment with her Jewishness unlike other aspects of herself.
All of that doesn’t detract from my joy in reading this book. Cammy has a wonderfully earned redemption arc that left me crying for the last 30 or so pages. At the book’s conclusion, I had the joy of sitting in a comfortable aftermath of a beautifully earned redemption story. Cammy’s recklessness might scare some readers away, but those who can see a character running from facing uncomfortable facts will be rewarded with an incredible character journey.
Note: BookishlyJewish received an e-arc from the publisher
DEKE MOULTON (she/her) (rhymes with ‘geek’) is a writer currently living in the US Pacific Northwest. She is a former US Army drill sergeant and trained as an Arabic linguist during her time in service. Don’t Want to Be Your Monster, her debut book, won the Sydney Taylor Book Award Honor Award and was named one of Kirkus Reviews’ Best Middle Grades of 2023. Her follow up, Benji Zeb is a Ravenous Werewolf, is a Sydney Taylor Notable Book and a Jewish Book Council middle grade finalist. She is represented by Rena Rossner with the Deborah Harris Literary Agency.
I blundered my way into reading Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay when I was a freshman in college who had no intentions of becoming a writer (I deemed it a bad fiscal choice LMAO), but did have a whole lot of spare time to read. I was the annoying person that didn’t find classes that hard. To occupy myself, and explore the road not taken, I pulled up numerous lists of ‘best books’ and worked my way through them with the help of both the college and local library. It was a pretty good time, all things considered, even if I was kind of clueless about a whole lot of things.
I fell into the story immediately. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay goes deep, not only into WWII escape from the shtetl type stuff, but also into the comics book industry. I myself had only ever read a few Archie comics, which I’d bummed off friends at summer camp, but I still knew about superheros. They’re kind of culturally ubiquitous. So it was something of a revelation to discover all the queer content embedded in superhero comics, and to learn people were actively prosecuted for it. The story line that pulled me in the most was the Houdini like escapes from Europe, the unfortunate miscommunication (not going to spoil it), and the way a story about two Jews from very different backgrounds could actually be this big bestseller and literary hit.
Looking back now, I remember very little of that story without a reread. However I distinctly recall the heart aching knowledge that one must hide their true self or risk being cut off from society and family. The sacrifices people make for the children they love. The idea that relationships forged over a shared experience and life can be just as strong as those formed over romance. Those elements of the plot hit me differently now. I guess I’m less clueless. About a lot of things.
I’m ripe for a reread of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, but I don’t know if I’ve got the emotional fortitude. Still, if you’re looking for some solace, this might just be the novel to pick up. Not every super hero wears a cape and not all villains announce themselves as such. It’s nice to see heroism in supporting those around you and living one’s life. It’s the story so many of us live every day.
There’s something very poetic about how I absolutely devoured Avrah C. Baron’s sapphic Sci Fi, First Comes Death, since the villain is literally a devourer of souls, but I’m getting ahead of myself. As the title suggests – first we’ve got to talk about death.
More specifically, we have to accept that the main characters have all died and thanks to a black hole anomaly have come back to life with superpowers related to their deaths. In the case of Ivy, a gang member stabbed as she was trying to leave that life, she can sprout daggers of bone from her body. It’s a useful skill for someone of her background. In the case of Dina, who died when her car crashed into the Chesapeake, she dissolves into mist and travels all over the world on the water currents. However, this is decidedly less useful since she has no control over when this will happen or where she’ll wash up. Yikes. Also yikes? These resurrections seem to have also given rise to a soul sucking monster that is hunting down all these newly alive-again individuals and giving them a second, more final, gruesome death.
Sound a little fuzzy on the science? It is. But I urge you to keep going because once we have suspended our disbelief about these dubious events, we get to enjoy the main features of the book – witty banter, steamy sapphic romance, and two nail biter action sequences. Having read Baron’s shorter fiction before, I think the banter and yearning are particular skills of hers. The witticisms span all sorts of relationships – romantic, friendship, platonic, even conversations with the villain. As a Jewish reader, that kind of fast talking humor is very welcome and familiar. It’s a treat to find that part of my life in a book.
A word on the rep – our girl Dina is Jewish and her parents are epic homophobes. Her car crash occurred as she was on her way to come out to them which she suspected would lead to her being disowned like her gay older brother. Talk about the worst coming out ever. Ivy, who is not Jewish, has been a lesbian all her life and is more comfortable in her own skin. There’s a very cozy extended found family formed of a variety of backgrounds. I’d judge the heat level as medium – there are two sex scenes, but they weren’t that explicit, only a sentence or two were mildly graphic. Which doesn’t mean this wasn’t hot, it was very swoony, but you could probably get away with reading it on your commute if you’ve got a discreet e-reader.
First Comes Death was a quick read for me. I’ll probably go back and spend some more time with the dialogue, because as I mentioned Baron is a master of snappy back and fourths, but if you’re looking to break a reading slump, this might be the book to try.
Note: BookishlyJewish received a copy of this book from the author. And it came with the cutest sticker ever.
In keeping with my usual tradition, I saved my copy of R. M. Romero’s YA fantasy novel in verse, A Warning About Swans, for a long flight. This is because in my prior experience, Romero always manages to pull me right in, and I finish before we land, turning an otherwise tortuous flight into an enjoyable experience. And as usual, it totally worked.
I’d like to call A Warning About Swans a retelling, but the truth is it felt to me like it drew from myths of several different cultures to construct an entirely new fairy tale. The main character, Hilde, was created from Odin’s dreams, and she and her sisters were given the ability to turn into swans. When in swan form, they each have a unique power that allows them to tend their forest. The hitch? Hilde’s power kind of sucks. She is able to guide dying souls to their final resting place, which in theory sounds like the greatest gift to give, but in practice requires her to witness a whole lot of pain and suffering. In a desperate move to escape the death and loneliness that constantly surround her, Hilde ignores all warning and runs off with a boy that claims to be her friend but is actually hoping to use her power for his own enrichment. By the time Hilde figures it all out, she’s trapped in a life of human lies she loathes and to escape she’ll need the help of non-binary Jewish artist Franz.
The choice to write this story in verse adds a very moving aspect to the telling, as each word feels measured and precious. The plot has hints of Odin origin story, every version of selkie story ever told, and also swan maidens. We know these myths and fables like the back of our hands, and so our heart aches to watch Hilde make all the wrong choices, even as we understand why she does. Hilde’s arc is complete and satisfying. She learns to appreciate both her gift and her true friends.
Franz provides and interesting love interest for her, although they initially leave the reader somewhat puzzled. They clearly have a gift for seeing beyond appearances, but are extremely reluctant to embrace it. In this, they could not be more Jewish. Centuries of persecution makes a people sometimes timid to own their own power lest it backfire on them or cause persecution. However, Franz too comes to fully their appreciate their unique contributions, because it is their ability to see what lies beneath words and actions that allow them to come to Hilde’s aid when she most needs it.
If you’re looking for a binge read, A Warning About Swans, is a good one. You can inhale it in a single sitting and will come away with a sense of peace – much like Hilde achieves for herself.
Autumn Povitsky is a high-achieving, booked and busy, straight-A nightmare. She’s currently having a crisis of self—she needs a fake ID ASAP—but because she’s a total square, she has no idea where to get one.
Enter buzzcut hottie Tara Esposito. She’s a rule breaker and party crasher of the highest degree, and if anyone knows where to get a fake, it’s her. But Tara has hung up her James Dean leather jacket for the night. If she doesn’t finish this godforsaken essay that’s already weeks late, she can kiss her upcoming graduation goodbye.
One brainy girl who needs a fake ID before sundown. One serial rebel who needs to turn in an essay before sunrise. It’s obvious what needs to happen here. But with a years-long feud keeping the girls from working together, this may be a night to forget…or one they’ll remember forever.
Psalome Shipmen is a Dazzler, a hostess working on the gaming floors of The Elysium, the galaxy’s most decadent space casino. But she is also a prisoner to the debt she inherited from her deadbeat father, with years of service ahead of her until she can earn her way out.
Kiyokimora GoldWeaver is a disgraced heiress looking to rescue her family business with an audacious scheme to rob the casino. To pull it off, she needs Psalome on board. When they team up, it looks like a simple job – until Psalome meets Ilaria, the jewel in Kiyo’s master plan, and sparks begin to fly.
With a recovering alcoholic card counter and Psalome’s little sister – who happens to be dating The Elysium’s artificial intelligence – as part of the crew, they might still beat the odds… or learn that the house always wins.
Elsie Hoffman has been engaged to her college boyfriend for a year and a half. Ginny Holtz has been in love with Elsie for almost a decade and a half.
When Elsie discovers her fiancé already planned their wedding and honeymoon as a surprise and she’s expected to be in a white dress in seven days, she swiftly realizes she’s let herself become too comfortable with a future she never wanted. She breaks things off, and a week later is on a plane to the Caribbean for her non-refundable honeymoon with her best friend Ginny instead.
Ginny thinks it’s high time Elsie learned how to speak up for herself. So, they make a deal with her. For the next week, Elsie can have whatever she wants, wherever, however, and whenever she wants it, as long as she asks. They never expected Elsie to want them.
What starts as choosing activities and taking selfies soon turns to toe-curling kisses and much, much more. But what happens when the honeymoon is over?
Sadie Katz and Cleo Chapman have been rivals since birth. Literally. They entered the world competing to be the first baby born in the new year, and ever since Cleo beat out Sadie for that title, she has been nonchalantly beating Sadie at just about everything–and making it look easy.
Now in the fall of their senior year, Sadie and Cleo are neck-and-neck for valedictorian. But then a string of increasingly serious pranks take over their high school, and all signs point to Sadie and Cleo as the perpetrators. Suddenly expulsion is on the line, and the only way to clear their names is to team up and find out who is framing them. It’s not only suspects the girls are questioning, though. Sadie’s ivy league dream isn’t feeling as appealing as it once did, and Cleo is wondering if it’s about time she start fighting for what she really wants instead of just accepting whatever comes easiest. With their futures on the line, the two grow closer, and both begin to wonder: Could it be that Sadie and Cleo weren’t meant to be rivals at all, and were instead destined to be something more?
Andy Corren’s unforgettable obituary for his mother, Renay Mandel Corren, a tribute that went on to touch the hearts of millions around the globe. In his brief telling of the life and legend that was Renay, a “loud, filthy‑minded (and filthy‑mouthed) Jewish lady redneck who birthed six kids,” Andy captured only a slice of his loving and fabulously unconventional mother.
In this uproariously funny, deeply moving family portrait, readers meet the rest of his absurd clan: his brothers, affectionately nicknamed Asshole, Twin, and Rabbi; his one-eyed pirate queen of a sister, Cathy Sue; and then there’s Bonus, who Andy isn’t aware of until later in life since this mysterious oldest brother grew up at the Green Valley School for Emotionally Disturbed and Delinquent Children.
DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE by Brianna R. Shrum & Sarah Waxelbaum
October 21, 2025 HarperCollins
Zoe’s always had a plan. Ballet has been her past, present, and future for so long that she’s never even considered otherwise. It’s been the escape she’s always needed. Yet when senior year arrives, it arrives with a feeling of uncertainty she never expected—and a paralyzing fear about choosing the wrong future.
Hanna’s rarely stayed in a place longer than a year. The greatest consistency she has is her piano playing, and her dad diving back into his Jewish faith every time her mom leaves on assignment. So when her senior year begins with yet another move to a new school, she’s not planning on putting down roots—she’s learned that hard way how that ends.
But when the girls’ paths collide, everything they thought they knew is turned upside down. Their relationship could change them each forever—if they have the courage to let their worlds fall apart.
The forest eats the girls who wander out after dark.
As the healer’s daughter, Malka has seen how the wood’s curse has plagued her village, but the Ozmini Church only comes to collect its tithe, not to protect heretics with false stories of monsters in the trees.
So when a clergy girl wanders too close to the forest and Malka’s mother is accused of her murder, Malka strikes an impossible bargain with a zealot Ozmini priest. If she brings the monster out, he will spare her mother from execution.
When she ventures into the shadowed woods, Malka finds a monster, though not the one she expects: an inscrutable, disgraced golem who agrees to implicate herself, but only if Malka helps her fulfill a promise first and free the imprisoned rabbi who created her.
But a deal easily made is not easily kept. And as their bargain begins to unravel a much more sinister threat, protecting her people may force Malka to endanger the one person she left home to save―and face her growing feelings for the very creature she was taught to fear.
It’s the summer of ’96 and best friends (and secret girlfriends) Hannah and Sam are driving across the country from Long Beach, New York, to the fabled queer paradise of San Francisco, free from the harsh gazes of their neighbors and the stifling demands of Hannah’s devout Orthodox Jewish mother.
In San Francisco, they will finally be together as a real couple, out in the open, around other queer people . . . even if the move means leaving behind Hannah’s beloved Bubbe.
When the financial strains of West Coast living push the girls to start stripping at The Chez Paree—yet another secret Hannah must keep from her family—Hannah feels trapped. Sam wants her at the club, but Hannah hates stripping nearly as much as she hates disappointing Sam. Then Hannah meets Chris, an older butch lesbian, who is immediately taken with her. Desperate to stay in San Francisco and away from the leering men at the club, Hannah proposes an escort arrangement.
But as Hannah falls deeper into Chris’ world and Sam starts to meet new queer friends, a rift forms between them. Without Sam, who is Hannah? And what does San Francisco mean to Hannah alone—a space rich with queer possibility or an intimidating, unfamiliar place just as lonely as the one she’d left behind? An achingly tender and resonant story of survival, first love, and growing up queer in the ’90s, Girls Girls Girls is a piercing exploration of the choices we make in the thrilling and often confounding search for ourselves and home.
When she left Seattle to go to college in New York, she was determined to start fresh, to figure out what being a lesbian meant to her, to experiment with clothes and presentation away from home for the first time.
Instead, she lost touch with her freshman orientation friend group, skipped classes, and failed completely at being the studious premed student her parents wanted her to be.
But the biggest derailment of all? Her newly minted ex-boyfriend—and the fact that she had a boyfriend to begin with. When she met Alden, he made her feel wanted, he made her feel free. He made her feel . . . like she could be like him, which was exciting and confusing all at once.
So, Zoe decides a second fresh start is in order: She’s going to take a cross-country train from New York to Seattle for fall break. There, no one will know who she is, and she can outrun her mistakes.
Or so she thinks until she meets Oakley, who’s the opposite of Zoe in so many ways: effortlessly cool and hot, smart, self-assured. But as Zoe and Oakley make their way across the country, Zoe realizes that Oakley’s life has also gone off the rails—and that they might just be able to help each other along before that train finally leaves the station.
Grieving the loss of her mother, college student Lilah is hoping to reconnect with a grandfather who refuses to talk about his past. Then she receives a mysterious letter from a fellow student, Tommaso, claiming he’s found a lost family heirloom, and her world is upended.
Soon Lilah finds herself in Rome, trying to unlock her grandfather’s history as a Holocaust survivor once and for all. But as she and Tommaso get closer to the truth—and their relationship begins to deepen into something sweeter—Lilah realizes that some secrets may be too painful to unbury…
Then:
It’s 1943, and nineteen-year-old Bruna and her family are doing their best to survive in Rome’s Jewish quarter under Nazi occupation. Until the dreaded knock comes early one morning, and Bruna is irrevocably separated from the rest of her family.
Overcome with guilt at escaping her family’s fate in the camps, she joins the underground rebellion. When her missions bring her back to her childhood crush, Elsa, Bruna must decide how much she’s willing to risk—when fully embracing herself is her greatest act of resistance.
Dimitri Abramovich may have won back the throne of Novo-Svitsevo, but even after defeating his former husband, the usurper Alexey Balakin, he seems no closer to securing lasting peace for his people. Enemies are closing in on all sides, and pressure is mounting for Dimitri to play the one card he has left in a bid for stability—offering his hand in marriage for a second time.
But Dimitri is still healing from the tragedies of the war, his return to the throne, and Alexey’s years of torment. Vasily Sokolov is the only person with whom he feels safe, and giving up the comfort of their budding relationship feels unfathomable, even if it’s the only way to sever the alliances being formed among the countries surrounding Novo-Svitsevo. So as Dimitri and Vasily reckon with political treachery, the lasting consequences of Dimitri’s resurrection, and the sinister legacy of Alexey’s use of the Holy Science, they must also work to understand what it means to love each other even as they prepare to let each other go—which might prove the most difficult of all.
Covid lockdown is over, but A’s world feels smaller than ever. Coming out as trans didn’t exactly go well, and most days, he barely leaves his bedroom, let alone the house. But the low point of A’s life isn’t online school, missing his bar mitzvah, or the fact that his parents monitor his phone like hawks—it’s the weekly Save Our Sons and Daughters meetings his parents all but drag him to.
At SOSAD, A and his friends Sal and Yarrow sit by while their parents deadname them and wring their hands over a nonexistent “transgender craze.” After all, sitting in suffocating silence has to be better than getting sent away for “advanced treatment,” never to be heard from again.
When Yarrow vanishes after a particularly confrontational meeting, A discovers that SOSAD doesn’t just feel soul-sucking…it’s run by an actual demon who feeds off the pain and misery of kids like him. And it’s not just SOSAD—the entire world is beset by demons dining on what seems like an endless buffet of pain and bigotry.
But how is one trans kid who hasn’t even chosen a name supposed to save his friend, let alone the world? And is a world that seems hellbent on rejecting him even worth saving at all?
It’s the beginning of the school year—and Briar’s newest resident, D.J. Rosenblum, is not here for it. Ever since her cousin Rachel died, D.J.’s family has been a mess: Her aunt and uncle are catatonic. Her mom is even more scatterbrained than usual. She had to postpone her bat mitzvah a whole year. Worst of all, she and her mom had to move—leaving her best friend, Eva, behind.
Briar does have one redeeming factor, though: Here, in Rachel’s hometown, D.J. can finally get to the bottom of her cousin’s death. With the help of a chatty journalist and a queen-bee hacker, D.J. can fill in the last days of Rachel’s life. And if she can just figure out her Torah portion—with help from her cute tutor, Jonah—maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to solve a bigger mystery.
Jewish views on gender and sexuality anthologized from Biblical, Talmudic, Midrashic, Rabbinic, and Chassidic sources with contemporary and personal commentary.
Amelia Applebaum isn’t in love with Walter Holland. He just happens to be her favorite moderately famous, chaotically bisexual YouTuber. Who she just happened to invite to prom. (But it’s fine. No, for real. If you delete the post, it didn’t happen.)
Okay, maybe her friends are right: She’s slightly parasocially infatuated. But Amelia just knows sparks would fly—if only she could connect with Walter for real.
If only he would host a meet and greet.
If only it were just a short road trip away.
And if only Amelia could talk her best friends into making it the perfect last hurrah before graduation—even her newly single, always-cynical, guitar-toting best friend Natalie.
One thing’s for sure: All roads lead to butterflies.
But what if Amelia’s butterflies aren’t for Walter at all?
When high school librarian Yael’s secret podcast starts to take off, she decides to hire Kevin, a remote freelance editor/producer so she can manage juggling her mental health, day job, and the queer teen book club she’s been hosting at school after hours. To maintain her anonymity, they communicate strictly via email and Kevin only knows her by her podcast persona, Elle.
Little does Yael know that Kevin, who in real life goes by his middle name, Ravi, is the same man she tore apart for climbing out of her bedroom window after a one night stand with her roommate, Charlie. And she certainly never expects him to show up to volunteer at her book club.
In person, Yael and Ravi clash until their sparks turn into something more. Over email, Elle and Kevin are starting to fall hard when they decide to keep things strictly professional. But when Ravi discovers the truth, will keeping it a secret mean the end of everything he’s built with Yael/Elle? And what happens when she finds out? Will they fall twice as hard, or cut ties in more ways than one?
The holiday of Shavuot is best known for the tradition of staying up all night and learning Torah, but it is also the moment when the Jewish people went from a ragtag band of former slaves on the run to a full fledged nation, unified in our common covenant with our God. That unity is what I like to focus on. There are many ways of interpreting that covenant, and our Torah, but it should never divide us. Rabbi Dov Linzer and journalist Abigail Pogrebin epitomize that ethos in their book It Takes Two Torah.
Rabbi Linzer, a Modern Orthodox Rabbi, is more willing to seek outside perspective and acknowledge it as valid than most people associate with any kind of Orthodox Judaism. Meanwhile, Pogrebin is more insightful and clearly dedicated to Torah study than people tend to give Reform Jews credit for. Learning together on their podcast, one torah portion a week, they challenged those stereotypes and each other. Now their conversations have been gathered into one volume.
As a person who struggles with audio formats, I was grateful to have this conversation in print. The discussion was lively, and they did not shy away from some of the sketchier topics – sotah anyone? They also never gave away their original premise. Rabbi Linzer views the Torah as a divine blueprint for life while Pogrebin sees it more as a touchstone text to learn about Jewish ethics without an obligation to necessarily follow all the rules therein as our understanding of the world and social justice evolves. However, there is one common denominator. As Jews we believe it is our goal to grapple with our text, to turn it over and over, rather than just blindly accept it. And these two deliver on that concept!
Although Rabbi Linzer admittedly knows more of the text by heart than Pogrebin (side effect of his day job I suppose) we never get the sense that one of the two is teaching the other. Instead, they are struggling together, each bringing in thoughts from their own traditions to teach the other, and trying to reach some form of conclusion. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t. But conclusions aren’t the point. The point is the argument itself. That is how we engage in Torah and keep it relevant.
It Takes Two To Torah is rooted in its time. There are references to the COVID pandemic and BLM protests. But it is also a durable document. A roadmap for how to engage with each other across denominations in polite, but no less heated, scholarly discourse. In that way, it emulates the everlasting Torah itself. A worthy aspiration.
BookishyJewish received a finished copy of this book from the publisher.
They don’t make them like they used to. Usually, this is a nostalgic cry for times gone by, but in the case of a Batya Gur’s Michael Ohayon detective novels, it’s simply a statement of modern reality. The first novel, Saturday Morning Murder, which I read in translation by Dalya Bilu, was published in the 1930’s, long before modern methods of crime detection came to dominate crime fiction. Which is part of what makes it so delightful.
There’s is no DNA evidence or mass spectrometer here. The most exciting bit of forensics is matching a bullet to a gun that we all already knew was the murder weapon anyway. An entire twisty plot point would be laughable in today’s age of electronic records. So how does Detective Ohayon get anything done? Well, he talks to people and he notices small discrepancies. Michael Ohayon is a master at slowly, methodically entering the heads of those involved in the case. Despite his superiors constant nagging that he speed it up, he takes the time to fully understand the suspects and their milleu. Which is not to say that his own personal life is not a great big dumpster fire of disaster, because it most definitely is, but this ability to connect with those involved in a case gives him an insight into how to make them talk. How to catch what others overlook.
Each book in the series is meant to be a mental deep dive into a particular community. It feels fitting the first such group featured is one that deals exclusively in the matters of the mind – a psychoanalytic institute. In order to solve the murder of a leading analyst, Michael must learn all about analysis, including the people who perform and seek it. It’s an explanatory handbook on a topic readers might not otherwise understand even on a surface level.
Don’t get me wrong, a walk down nostalgia lane has its drawbacks. There’s a certain sexism inherent in Detective Ohayon’s dealings, his interactions with women are pretty deplorable. However, the choice to have the main detective be of Moroccan descent makes his interactions with the “outsiders” of his society more relatable. He too has felt the sting of rejection from a European elite that doesn’t recognize his accomplishments as worthy, or assumes he is less than. Also refreshing is that while Detective Ohayan may not find analysis particularly attractive, it is clear that a significant military side character is greatly benefiting from it. It’s just too bad his analyst has been murdered.
Without the trips to the lab there’s more space for the characters to breathe. It gives Saturday Morning Murder a different pace and style than modern readers might be used to. I don’t think I could read the entire series back to back. However, I definitely intend to read the rest. They’re a nice break from the hectic crush of social media and molecular biology filled thrillers. Sometimes, it’s good to revisit our past.
