Unorthodox Love

Growing up, I thought there were two types of orthodox Jews: Germans and Hungarians. Arguments could break out amongst these two factions about the correct way to practice orthodoxy, but the bottom line was that none of this appeared to involve more than trivial stuff. The Germans arrived early to events, the Hungarians dressed up more. Oh and the big waiting-different-amount-of-times-between-meat-and-dairy thing. Such were the limits of my knowledge about the diversity in the world of orthodox Jewry.

I’ve since met Jews, many of whom identify as orthodox, from a wide variety of geographic and cultural backgrounds. It has been my pleasure to watch a small fraction of these many facets of orthodoxy finally claw their way into traditional publishing. Previously, if a book happened to feature orthodox characters, it was usually a story about unhappy hassidim or people who were OTD (a shorthand phrase for those who choose to stop practicing orthodoxy). While these stories are necessary, and often extremely personal and truthful, they are by no means the only narrative. Orthodoxy is not a monolith. Even within modern orthodoxy, there is variation in practice, and I was therefore very intrigued when I read the cover copy for Heidi Shertok’s romance Unorthodox Love, which said it feature a modern orthodox protagonist.

Please do not let the unnecessarily scandalous title put you off. This is not a story about adultery, premarital sex, or orthodox Jews breaking a bunch of rules and having “unorthodox” affairs. The narrative features an orthodox Jewish single named Penina who is having trouble on the matchmaking market due to her infertility. She is feeling particularly pessimistic about her chances at married life when she starts to fall for her new boss, Sam, who is a secular Jew.

Penina is very much an orthodox Jew, and proud of it. She and her family may do certain things that did not necessarily mesh with my particular world view of orthodoxy, but there were so many small details that did – like the different types of sponges used on shabbos in their home. While she acknowledges that her particular dating hardship is because of the way her community functions, she is not resentful or bitter about it. She loves who she is and where she comes from. She has no intentions of leaving. (I use the ashkenaz pronunciation and spelling for words in this review, because Penina appears to do so in the book).

Indeed, Penina is a modest fashion influencer on instagram. Her references to social media usage and her cool outfits are numerous. She does not chafe at her clothing restrictions. She takes pleasure in making them work for her and her followers. Plus, she is very clear with Sam the she is unwilling to compromise on her religious principles in a relationship. She may fantasize about wanting to be with him physically, but she would never take such action before marriage because it just doesn’t fit with her character or her belief system.

The voice of the book, particularly Penina and her banter, is the exact kind of drama I would have expected and the trials Penina faces are very realistic. Including the fact that orthodoxy is not kind to those that are infertile. The focus on family life sometimes makes Penina feel like her uterus is the most important part of herself, making her medical condition all the more painful. Plus, the community is tight knit, meaning everyone is up in Penina’s business. She handles this with grace and humor, but she’s also unwaveringly honest.

Anyone that has ever been made to feel “less than” on the marriage market, Jewish or not, will immediately relate to her. She very eloquently describes how when given the choice to go on a date with a person who has infertility or a person who does not, people will always choose the latter option. I couldn’t help but insert the many various “defects” that people are warned to hide, into that sentence. Too poor, too short, having a disability, being overweight etc. et.c etc. The list goes on and on and varies from culture to culture but the basic principle is the same, and it is brutal. Yet somehow Penina finds her happy ending against that backdrop.

My only one qualm was when Penina is set up with a closeted homosexual man and essentially considers becoming his beard. For such a kind and caring person I was surprised that she did not express as much empathy for his situation as she had for so many others in the book. It’s almost as if she took for granted that there wasn’t a place for him in orthodoxy – despite her own struggles with finding her place in the community. She was more focused on what this meant for herself and her potential gain from the situation- which was out of character for a woman that has been described as relentlessly selfless the entire book. During the second half of the book this gets sorted out satisfactorily for all, and we see Penina acknowledging the feelings of both the man and his family, but for a book with such an amazing message of inclusion under the orthodox umbrella, I was surprised to find this small gap.

Overall, the book felt geared to welcome secular readers – a perfectly valid choice. Any reader whose religious practice involves not reading anything of a sexual nature might not be comfortable with the level of fantasizing involved. Not to mention the numerous wardrobe malfunctions that are fashionista manages to have. Then again, I could be totally wrong about this. I am not familiar with every religion out there and their reading preferences. Readers should go in with the knowledge that although this is a romance involving a religious character that does not believe in premarital sex, there are mild descriptions of a sexual nature. These are exclusively in people’s thoughts rather than actually occurring on the page and nothing is graphic by any means. It’s what I would call a low heat romance but it is by no means devoid of sex.

I can’t really say there’s been an explosion of orthodox literature recently, because that would be a lie, but there has been a nice uptick in different types of orthodox representation. Penina and her fun outfits, witty comebacks, and huge heart are a great addition to that body of work. If she was a real person, I’d love to hang out with her – although I’d probably be exhausted by the end of the day. She’s high energy and high drama and so is this book. It’s a great way for readers to meet orthodoxy in the context of a fulfilling story.

Content warnings: Infertility, shidduchim (if you don’t know what that means, you are not the person that needs the warning)

BookishlyJewish received an e-arc of this book after we asked for one from the publisher. Admittedly this was done like five days before before release, leading to some frantic reading. They have our utmost appreciation for replying so quickly.

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